Chapter Two Xander
“Has the king been down here yet?” I ask him, our steps careful as we descend the slick stone stairs, the stagnant air heavy with the scent of mold.
While lit torches provide bursts of light every few feet, the darkness is still oppressive.
Thick in a way that constantly presses at my shoulders.
As if someone is standing just behind me, breathing down my neck.
“Not yet. He should be getting an update from the commander of the returned guards now.”
Commander Miles. My pulse quickens, and I push my steps to do the same. “Then we need to hurry.” I’d rather not risk a surprise encounter with the king or that asshole unless it’s on my terms.
Finally reaching the lowest level, I blink as my eyes adjust to our dim surroundings.
“She’s in the cell at the end.”
Though he keeps his voice low, the sound is enough to stir the prisoners closest to us.
Most are newer arrivals, still clinging to that small bit of hope that someone might show mercy and help them escape.
I had been tempted, years ago, when I learned that some were chained here for infractions as small as stealing a loaf of bread.
It hardly seemed fair to include them amongst those who murdered their neighbors or committed crimes so heinous I didn’t want to reference them even in my mind.
But I had learned my lesson when it came to deviating from my plans.
To going off course. It’s one of the reasons why I govern myself with three unbreakable rules.
The sound of metal clanging snaps my head to the right where I meet the wild gaze of a haggard-looking man holding an empty wooden cup. “Let me out! I’m innocent!” he begs as we pass, his cheeks wet with tears. “Please! Tell the king to show mercy. Tell him—”
I curl my fingers towards my palms as I look back down the long hall.
“There is no mercy to be had.” The justice system within this kingdom has been shaped by the king—a man who cares not for his suffering citizens but only for the power he holds.
Instead of pouring back into his people, he is taking from them at levels no previous monarch has before, and because of it, the Cruel Death is not the only thing the people fear.
The man continues wailing as we pass a long line of empty cells. “Grayson, if you dragged me down here just to show me a fox in a cage, I will—” The words die on my tongue as I step fully in front of the last cell, my feet coming to a halt.
“Better shown than explained,” Grayson repeats, stopping at my side.
Blinking, I shake my head. “I still need it explained.” Taking a step closer to the barred entrance, I peer through the shitty lighting of a torch hanging farther down the hall from us.
The cells are small—a cot lined with canvas tucked into one corner, a toilet in the other.
Only a few feet of empty space separates the cot from the bars, but the lighting doesn’t spill all the way in, and when a figure moves in the shadows, it prompts me to step back. “Who is this?”
“The fox,” he answers, head tilting. “Or rather was the fox. Before she shifted.”
“Shifted?” I confirm, eyes focusing on the faintest outline of the being where they sit on the bed. “A shifter?”
“According to the guards who brought her in. She shifted right in front of them.”
My exhale is rough. When I woke up this morning, I knew three things with absolute certainty.
First, the princess had escaped with a mortal guard named Flynn.
Second, only mages could cross through the Spell without loss of life.
King Dolian was to thank for that. Third, I had never been in the presence of a shifter before.
Somehow, all of those facts have now been challenged, and I haven’t so much as eaten a bite of fucking breakfast yet.
I clear my throat, folding my arms over the armor at my chest. “Hey,” I call out, wincing as my voice reverberates off the metal and stone. “Are you truly a shifter?”
Only the sound of the roused prisoners we passed murmuring for help in their cells answers.
“We should go,” Grayson says when another silent minute passes. “I’m sure King Dolian is already expecting you.”
I nod, preparing to follow him when something catches my eye. Squatting down, I look at the shiny bead of liquid that dots the ground right outside of the cell. Blood. It trails past the bars and the torchlight into the cell, getting swallowed by the darkness.
“Are you injured?” Goosebumps flare over my skin beneath my armor as I stare into the darkness. I swear I can feel her staring right back.
“Xander, come on.” Huffing out a breath, I stand and follow him down the hall, sorting through the information I’ve learned since waking up. “You good?”
“Fine,” I mutter as we climb the steps back up, passing through a series of guarded doors until we reach the main level of the castle. “I’ll go meet with the king and try to stall him while you bring clean supplies to the shifter.”
Grayson’s steps stumble, his shoulder bumping mine. “Come again?”
“There was blood outside her cell. I need you to make sure she won’t die before I can talk to her.”
“And why do you want to talk to her?”
Tall double doors loom ahead, the golden sigil of the Mortal Kingdom emblazoned on their front.
It’s the same roaring lion that decorates our armor.
Two men stand guard in front of them; one is Brisk, a young man new to both the guard and the resistance—a secret group fighting for a better life for all in this kingdom.
The other is Cyrus, a gnat who is jealous I made the Trusted before him.
He glares at me, and I send him an irritated look of my own.
“She lived with the princess in that tower and likely knows her better than anyone else. She holds knowledge that I find valuable.”
“You think the princess is still a threat?” he asks quietly.
“Possibly. Be quick. I’ll keep the king distracted for as long as I can.” He nods before turning right and disappearing down the hallway that will eventually lead to the servants’ quarters.
My interactions with the princess had been minimal, really only forced observation of how the king treated her.
I had thought her to be trapped in more ways than one, but now, with the revelation that she possesses magic, I wonder if it was all an act.
Why let King Dolian abuse her when she held the power to stop him from doing so the entire time?
If only my mother held secret magic, perhaps her fate would have been different.
Bitterness seeps onto my tongue, but I again force those feelings deep within me. I will not let them be a distraction.
Cyrus steps forward, holding his hand out as I approach. “State your business.”
Stars above. I level him with a bored stare. “Cyrus, you know that I outrank you.”
“It doesn’t excuse you from questioning, boy,” he barks, leaning forward, his fingers stretching for the hilt of his sword.
I focus on keeping my breathing steady, counting slowly in my head.
I’m used to constantly needing to prove myself.
It’s how I’ve spent my life since the age of ten when King Dolian finally found where my mother was hiding us and forced me to say goodbye to her.
A damn decade and a half surviving his torment and trials to prove I am loyal to him and him alone.
My father. Though I truly don’t believe myself to be above anyone, the stars might as well fall from the sky before I let this asshole in front of me try to make me feel like I’m less worthy than he is of my position.
“Do you know what it takes to be one of the king’s Trusted?” I ask, my voice calm despite the rage igniting within me.
“Of course I—”
“You have to go through rigorous training. Both physical and mental,” I interrupt, enjoying the way his cheeks heat at the slight. “You have to prepare for all of the ways someone might dare to harm our king, and you have to be willing to put your life on the line to stop it.”
He bares his teeth. “You think I don’t know that? I have spent years longer on the guard than you have, and I—” His words are cut off by a sharp intake of breath when I seize the edge of his chest armor with one hand and press the cold golden blade of my dagger to his neck with the other.
“In training, you are told there is no one and nothing greater than the safety of the king. And you have to be willing to kill anyone who poses a threat.” He tries to jerk away from me, but I angle the blade slightly and watch as his body grows rigid, a growl slipping past his lips.
“Are you a fucking threat, Cyrus? Because there are only two reasons for the way you just treated a member of the king’s Trusted.
Either, you want the king dead, which makes you a threat.
Or you think you actually have leverage against me.
That you have power behind your pathetic presence.
Which makes you a fool. So which one is it? ”
“I am no fool—”
“Then you must be a threat, and I have a duty to eliminate threats to His Majesty.”
He hisses as the blade nicks his skin, beads of deep red pooling from the small opening. “Are you going to stand there and let him treat me this way?” he shouts to Brisk.
“He outranks you. Outranks us both.” Bright blue eyes meet mine, an amused glint in them. “To go against him would be breaking the chain of command.”
“And we know what the punishment for that is, don’t we?” Cyrus lets out another frustrated rumble at my question. “Want to change your answer?”
His neck strains against the edge of the blade, crimson still meeting gold. I see the moment defeat overtakes him, his eyes dulling as they hold mine. “I am no threat.”
“Which means?” I coax.
“I am a fool,” he says, loud enough that those walking by look.
I let my dagger linger against his skin before lifting it away, sheathing it without breaking eye contact. “Back into position, Cyrus.”
He gives me a withering look, fingers wiping away the blood from his neck before he tugs on the door handle behind him.
Pulling it open, I wait until his view of me is blocked before sending Brisk a quick look that promises to move him to a different post. Then I stride into the throne room where the king stands atop a multi-step dais, one hand in the pocket of his perfectly tailored dark blue pants while his other arm drapes over the back of his massive throne.
I feel his eyes on me as I walk to the base of the steps, dropping to one knee and bowing my head.
He lets silence build to an uncomfortable level before he finally speaks.
“You’re late.”
“My apologies, Your Majesty. I rushed over as soon as I was informed that Commander Miles’s unit returned.
” Though I never vowed in blood to be truthful to King Dolian, the cut on my palm gives a phantom sting as if I have.
My oath may appear less restrictive than the other guards’, but he ensured my life was hell because of it.
To King Dolian, I am not his son. I’m barely worthy of being called his guard.
No, to him, I was an experiment. Something to break and remold into whatever he wanted.
He stripped me down to my bare bones over and over again, and only when he believed that I held no self-worth, that my loyalty was to him and him alone, did he begin to relent.
I have spent my entire life pretending that I would die for the king in front of me when, in truth, I have been building his demise right behind his back.
“Rise.” His voice echoes in the vast space of the throne room, and when I obey and lift my head, I find his expression is less than pleased, his ringed fingers tapping idly along the golden edge of the throne.
I remove my helmet and tuck it into the crook of my arm as he continues, “Commander Miles was just informing me of what he witnessed at the mage border.” I glance at where the commander stands with the king’s advisor, Simon, noting how he cradles an arm wrapped in white gauze to his chest. Behind him is the remaining member of the Trusted besides myself, Jerrick.
Rigid in his posture, he stares in the king’s direction, but I know he is taking pleasure in the king’s anger with me.
“They are gone!” King Dolian shouts, drawing my gaze back.
“She is gone.” He rubs a hand over his short beard, hazel eyes burning brightly as he steps away from the throne.
“We will retrieve her again, Your Majesty.” Simon steps forward, his hands clasped behind his back as he bows his head. “This is only a temporary delay. She cannot hide there forever.”
“An investigation is well underway into how Flynn was able to join the guard and bypass the oath,” I say, to which Simon chuckles. I meet his beady little eyes.
“I think the answer is already fairly obvious. As a mage, Flynn was clearly able to heal his cut before his blood bound him to the oath he was taking,” Simon says, King Dolian descending the dais steps. “King Sadryn planted one of his own here to spy on you, Sire.”
The king ponders this as he draws his eyes back towards his throne, as if making sure the seat of his power is still there.
“To what end? They could not have known about the princess.” Though his phrasing is coy, I have no doubt that everyone in this room is aware that Princess Rhea has magic.
Just as I don’t doubt they have all given blood to be kept quiet.
“They have always abided by their own agenda,” Simon says, an odd look crossing his face. “King Sadryn might have wanted her simply as a way to torture you.”
King Dolian contemplates this, pacing in front of Simon and I.
“Well if that is the case, they will learn of the consequences for taking something that is mine.” His attention falls back to me. “As you are aware, we are down three members of the Trusted.” I nod.
Jerrick steps forward, head bowed. “I have men I would like to recommend for the job, Your Majesty.”
“As do I.” Jerrick’s eyes snap to mine, annoyance flaring.
But if he thinks I’m going to sit idly by while the rest of the Trusted is filled with men who are no doubt like him, then he’s sorely mistaken.
The deaths of the other guards are the opening I need to bring in members of the resistance.
People I trust to help gather information that can only be gleaned from a position this close to the king.
The more of my own men I can gather, the better.
“Gather three of your best candidates each, and we will begin their trials soon,” the king says, waving his hand as if this conversation is beneath him.
It’s how he treated every conversation regarding my mother after he took me from her.
“Now, Commander Miles, tell me more about this prisoner you’ve brought to my dungeon. ”