52. Penelope
Penelope
“There are four trials you must undergo to receive The Order’s blessing to become queen.
Each one will be more difficult than the last. If you fail a trial at any point, the test ends and you fail that attempt.
You are allowed three attempts over the span of your lifetime.
If you fail all three…” The Magister paused, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing, “…you will permanently be barred from the trials and put to death.”
My mouth opened in surprise at The Magister’s words, but I forced it closed. I was back in the Ritual Room. The Judic lined the stone walls, standing silently while their leader explained what The Order expected of me.
“Death. Got it.”
I refused to look back at Vaughn. I kept my attention on the men who would be judging me on these trials.
“The first you will face is The Trial of Knowledge. It is here that we will assess whether you understand our history, our enemies, and the political world in which we operate. A queen beside the Unavowed must know why The Order exists and how power truly works. We will weigh your intelligence, your historical understanding, and your strategic thinking. We will ask questions. We will give scenarios. You will answer.”
I nodded.
“Trial two is The Trial of Loyalty. Throughout history, this is where most fail. A queen must put The Order and the Crown above all personal relationships. It’s choosing duty over emotion. Exile or execution. These test your political instinct and your judgement.”
“Magister.” I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to ask questions, but I couldn’t stay quiet.
“Is this trial not one I just underwent this very morning? My best friend—the person I’m the closest with—is being consumed by the Order for not only harboring me, but she’s paying for her mother’s crimes as well.
I have chosen the Order and the Crown over Marian LaRoe despite knowing how horrible she is suffering.
I am choosing The Unavowed’s judgement over what my heart wants.
Is that not loyalty? I have remained silently at my king’s side, trusting his decisions.
Trials are necessary. I understand that.
But does real life not count? Do I not get credit for what I’ve proven?
I am sacrificing my very relationship to the only person outside of The Order that has cared for me. Does this not count towards my trials?”
“Did you not beg The Unavowed for mercy on your friend’s behalf?”
I paused. “Mercy is not betrayal. Marian is my friend, and I know what must happen. I accept what The Unavowed has planned for her. My loyalty is with The Order.”
“You have much to learn. Your loyalty is not merely about choosing, it is about relinquishing your need to justify. You fed her defiance, and in doing so, you let emotion rule you. If you wish to stand beside the Unavowed, you must learn to lead with judgement, not heart.”
“Magister.” I didn’t lower my gaze. “The heart is only dangerous when it is uncontrolled. When it’s understood…
” I hesitated, “it becomes leverage. Marian was not responding to authority in that moment—she was responding to familiarity. I am her friend. She knows me. Had I not acted like a friend, Marian would have recognized that. She would have fought harder. … She would have remembered my lack of empathy and that could have affected our future with the betrothal. I acted… and then The Unavowed stepped in. He reinforced it. Marian got what she needed in that moment, and she obeyed.”
I lowered my eyes but brought them back up. “If what I did was wrong, then I will learn from it. I will do better. I just felt the outcome was what was important. Does it matter if we achieve it by compassion or control, so long as we get the best result?”
Silence. It lasted so long that I couldn’t stop the slight shake that took over my hands.
“Trial three is The Trial of the Blade. It is here that you will prove whether you can defend not only yourself but the Unavowed. The Order does not accept weakness beside its king. We will test your physical ability. Your tactical thinking in combat. Your very survival instinct. You will be placed in a dangerous confrontation. You may not survive it.”
All I could do was nod.
“The last is The Trial of Sacrifice.”
I wanted to roll my eyes. Had I not just done that with Marian?
“True rulers are defined by what they’re willing to lose.”
My hand lifted like a schoolkid. “Marian?”
He shifted on his feet, and I knew I should have kept my mouth shut.
“Magister, I’m sorry. I am willing to undergo the trials.
I will face whatever challenge or question you put before me so that I may get The Order’s blessing.
I just…” I let out a breath, lacing my fingers together to stop from fidgeting.
“Over the last year, I have faced many… trials. I have spilled blood for the Order. I have protected it during beatings and investigations. I have done extensive research into the history. The timelines. And I have done it all while being very careful as to not flag or bring attention to my mission for helping to restore the Crown. My heart is here. My mission is with you. All I’m asking is that my loyalty and my sacrifices be recognized. That’s all.”
“The Judic will meet and consider your request.”
“Thank you, Magister.”
He gave a deep nod, turning, and heading through a back door. The Judic followed in a singular line behind him. I turned toward Vaughn, wincing.
“Sorry. I screwed that up.”
His face was soft, and a smile appeared as he held open his arms. I stepped in, wrapping around him.
“You didn’t. A real queen would have voiced her thoughts, and you did exactly that.” He hugged around me, kissing the top of my head. “Nothing may come of it, but you tried, and that’s what is important.”
He let go, stepping back. “We shouldn’t be this close out here.
Let’s go for a walk. It’s time I show you The Order.
” Emotions swept through, and his brow creased.
“I won’t hide anything from you or sugarcoat what you’ll see.
To rule the outside—the light—one must rule the dark.
From good… to depraved. My family knew this.
The light is always the goal, but here, where nothing is off limits, is where the control truly lies.
It is the foundation of every country, every government.
It is a necessity, whether we like it or not.
If we don’t rule it, someone else will. Here, we monitor.
We see. Like I said, control, and this is the only country where the power is split between two. ”
My hand lifted. “So… with America. The president runs their place like this?”
“No. They have a Main Master, like me. His name is Elec Wexler. The president is a puppet. They come and go every few years. The entity as a whole, the government, is who is in control. But not the one that everyone sees. There are darker, secret departments that exist, and they’re the ones who brought in Elec Wexler for The Garden of the Gods. ”
“So, all countries appoint a Main Master, except us.”
“Yes. You got it. The monarchy didn’t appoint me, which is why we’re different. We, The Order, are sovereign, but in partnership with the Collective High Council, which are the overseers of every place like this.”
Vaughn led me out of the Ritual Room.
“The first place I will take you are the slave quarters. There are numerous halls filled with those who will be auctioned, sacrificed, bred, and trained for staff. Each hall stands for something different.”
I slowed, not able to wrap my mind around his words.
“Bred?”
Vaughn’s face tightened as he nodded. “The menu calls for it. It was one of the first rules to go into effect. It’s there. I can’t change it. It just is. We accept. It is the only way.”
“Menu.” I nearly choked on the word. “People here eat babies?”
“It is a delicacy.”
“…Have you …eaten—”
“No.” His jaw tightened. “Nor will I.”
I let out a deep breath. “I won’t have to—”
“No.”
“Thank God.” I cut my eyes over. “And that law can’t be…
” At his look, I nodded, pressing my hand firmly to my stomach so I wouldn’t be sick.
“So, each hall is for a different kind of slave. Why do the Masters buy them? For sex? To kill? I’m sorry, maybe I was sheltered a little too much.
I don’t quite understand, but I’m trying. ”
“Anything.” Vaughn’s hand settled on my lower back as he led me to a hall off to the left.
“They can do whatever they want with them. When they buy a slave, they own their life. They can use them for sex. They can murder or eat them. We once had a master who used the skin of his slaves for his own decorative wallpaper. We’ve since remodeled that apartment and opened it to everyone.
We call it, The Flayed Suite. It’s popular to have drinks in there on auction night. It inspires the men.”
“Inspires?” Harder, I pressed into my stomach. “What else?”
“We have a Master who likes to make wigs from his slaves. He’ll scalp them, and if they survive, he befriends them until it’s time for the next auction. They rarely survive the first forty-eight hours. I think only one or two have, but it is known to happen.”
“Scalps them. …Okay. Right. What else?”
Vaughn slowed, coming to a stop as he turned me to face him. He didn’t appear upset or angry. More amused, if not a bit sad.
“You’re trying so hard. There’s everything you can think of, and a million things you can’t. It’s going to take time, Penelope.”
I bit my bottom lip, trying to keep the worry from my face.
Time… How would I ever be able to accept the horrors The Order held?
I was na?ve to that amount of sadism—psychopathy.
Truly clueless, and out of my element. That scared me.
And I was smart to be afraid. How could I be prepared if I couldn’t even comprehend motives or desires that went that extreme?
“Vaughn, I don’t have time. I must know and understand this now.”
He looked around, making sure we were alone before he brushed his lips over mine.
“You are not them. How could you possibly understand something you don’t feel? There’s accepting it and controlling it. Sometimes, we can relate. It is not our place to try to empathize—there is no empathy for the abominable. There is only placement. That’s The Order.”
All I could do was stare up to him and nod.
We headed through two large white doors with gold trim, and the hall seemed to grow darker with every step.
Torches randomly lined the walls on each side of stone, and screams echoed.
A door somewhere slammed shut, and more than one baby cried in the distance.
I didn’t need to be told this was the breeding hall.
The agonizing pleas spoke for themselves.
How was I going to understand this? Live this?
The Order…
It was the home of the depraved, built on the unjustifiable.
Vaughn kissed me like I was his world and then introduced me to hell.
This underground kingdom defined evil, and I had chosen a man, a life, centered on ruling it.
If I had known from the beginning that it was this bad, would I have said my vows?
Would I have loved Vaughn any less… or understood him sooner?
I didn’t know.
What I did know was that I loved him now, and despite whether he ran this place or not, someone would. They were all over the world, being operated by the most powerful people on the planet.
Even as I tried to process all I had learned, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to grasp the true significance of just how many levels of humanity existed.
What most viewed as the baseline for ‘bad’ probably wasn’t even permissible to The Order.
I wasn’t even sure most could comprehend just how dark the world could go.
We sacrificed regularly. Masters ate babies.
They killed slaves in the vilest ways they could manage.
Were all of the Masters like that?
I didn’t think so, but what did I know?
Nothing.
I knew absolutely nothing.
If I wanted to be queen. If I wanted Vaughn. I had to know it all…