Chapter 31
It was strange standing on the beach, looking up at the palace. Scarlen was a little disorientated for a moment as the gentle waves rolled into froth behind her, the soothing sound and salty scent keeping her company as Raven flew away in the distance.
Dipping to one knee, she scooped the cool golden grains, watching it trickle through the gaps in her fingers as she straightened.
The heat in the night air felt foreign after so long in the cold, and she had to wonder what the real temperature would be if her ancestors hadn’t enchanted Borough South to be so tropical.
Had there always been sand and sunshine?
No one had said. Only witch magick brought the rain when needed, and quite often it wasn’t required at all, just the occasional storm to release the pressure.
Home no longer felt somewhere she belonged, not that her father ever made it such a place his children would cherish.
All she had were nightmare memories, a trauma she was certain would remain forever, and fury for what he had done to Lancen.
If only Milon weren’t away, she could confide in him.
Have him stop their father. Do something.
Outside lights streamed up the chalky cliff to the large white-stone building, offering a small creamy beacon to the secret tunnel she knew she could easily navigate to her quarters. Perhaps fall into bed and not bother to wake her father until morning.
It had been a long and hard journey riding upon Raven’s bony back, clinging onto his dark feathers for dear life as he swooped high and low through clouds.
She was sure some of his manoeuvres were done to add to her travel sickness.
If only Rav would show his nice side again, but no. He didn’t seem to like her much at all.
Her walk to the caves below the palace was slow and steady, no long strides through the sand, as so much of her didn’t want to head that way. If only she could have stayed in the north, made peace with Bear, slept in his arms once more.
Instead of thinking about seeing her father, she calmed her thrumming heart by wondering what Bear would say once he was told of her whereabouts.
She hadn’t seen him since he had stormed off, not that she had words for him anyway.
Her father had brutally murdered his mother.
And now they knew he had also killed Blyton.
Would Bear come to kill the king? She stopped at the entrance to a small cove with dusty white walls and seaweed-stained edging.
I could kill my father. It was an idea, and one that did not disturb her. Had he made her so ruthless? How easy it would be to be just like him. Push him over the clifftop. Flay him till he was raw and have no healer mask the wounds.
The damp smell of the cove took her away from her past and the inner scars that no healer could mend.
Her task was a book and an imprisoned knight, but now all she wanted was revenge for her sister, her mother, her brother, and every single wicked thing her father had done to her.
To end him would end the suffering of many, and she had always got close enough to him to strike.
First she would beg forgiveness, but not too much.
Strength had to be shown. Then she would make him believe she was the warrior he wanted, as the kingdom must see a mighty royal family, like those from the past. It’s what he craved.
A kingdom ruled as it once was. It was all so clear now, his scheming, his collection of witches, his addiction to power.
Scarlen made her way through caves and tunnels, climbed slopes and iron stairways, keeping quiet as she plotted and planned her attack. The one battle the king wouldn’t see coming.
The pathway narrowed, then ended at a solid wall of cream stone. On the other side of the wall was a bookcase. At least she hoped nothing in her bedchamber had changed.
She pressed her ear to the cool barrier, straining to hear any movement, but nothing could be heard, so she slowly pushed, poking her head around the opening to peer into the darkness, as no sconces or hearth lit the room.
Quietly entering, she closed the door to her escape route, then checked to see if anything on the bookcase had been tampered with. After a quick look, all seemed in order. In fact, her room was untouched, looking very much the same as when she had left, which seemed a lifetime ago.
If she lit a sconce, it might notify someone outside her chamber, if any guard held that position while she was absent.
So she stood in the darkness by the clean hearth that was only used during stormy nights, her thoughts of her cold cell, the thin cover.
It would have been good to have one of Temple’s food bars at hand, as her stomach was empty and queasy, and on further inspection, no food lined the fruit bowls by the veranda.
Sighing, she sat on the edge of the large bed and stared at her hands, then a jolt to her body slammed her to the carpet, stunning her for a moment before hands grappled with her own, accompanied by panting and groans, one loud as she caught the attacker in the groin with her knee, able to roll out of his hold.
Scrambling back on the floor, the intruder came into focus. His sand-coloured uniform.
‘Mitch?’ she whispered, unsure why she felt the need to be quiet after the noise their scuffle had caused.
Catching his breath, he rolled to his side, one hazel eye glaring her way, the other covered by a dark patch. ‘Adoria? What the fuck!’
She crawled over to him for a better look, then smiled at the guard who used to be Lancen’s best friend. ‘It is you.’
‘Yes, it’s me. Thanks for busting my balls.’ He sat up, drawing deep breaths, wiping the tears leaking from his eye.
‘Erm, you jumped on me, remember?’
‘I didn’t know it was you sneaking around in here.’
She chuckled quietly, not meaning to while he was still in pain. ‘You always could hear a pin drop.’ She reached for his face, concern taking her smile. ‘What happened to your eye?’
His sigh was long and steady as he rested his back against the side of the bed. ‘Your father took it when you ran away. My punishment for not keeping an eye on you.’
Guilt, rage, sadness, it all burned as Scarlen crossed her legs and arms. ‘I’m so sorry, Mitch.’
‘It’s not your fault.’ Even though his words were gentle, they made no impact, she still felt to blame.
‘I didn’t know he would take it out on my guards.’
Mitch lowered his head, then looked up and raked back his blond locks, his jaw strong, and eye now dry, stern. ‘My father told me about Horstal.’
Lord Capley was a close friend of the king. One of the few who knew Scarlen’s face. He was just as callous, but she didn’t think he would stand for such a punishment for his son. Obviously, Capley hadn’t used his clout in that area, as Mitch’s sweet face had been butchered.
‘Why have you come home, Adoria? It’s not safe for you here. It never has been.’
‘It’s not safe for you either, but yet here you are, still here.’
‘I’ve always been here. Born and raised in the grounds.’
‘Your father got you this position, and I know you only wanted it because of Lancen, but …’ She hesitated to tell him the truth.
He would be overjoyed to know his best friend was alive and well, but he worked for the Crown, and his father had raised him to respect the rules, die for his king.
She was still weighing up his loyalty when the door swung open, and there in the glow of light stood her father.
Mitch jumped to attention at once, shoulders back, chin out, breath controlled.
‘Lulu sensed your presence, my dear. I had to see for myself.’ The king’s bright blue robe held a glimmer as he entered to clutch Scarlen by the face, bringing her to a stand before him. ‘Capley?’ he questioned.
‘I heard a noise and came to investigate, Your Majesty. I found the princess.’
‘And your first thought was to sit on the floor and have a chat?’
‘No, Your Majesty. The princess and I got into a … well, we couldn’t see each other clearly, and I—’
‘I hit him,’ interrupted Scarlen, her gaze locked with her father’s.
Renwah blew out a small laugh, releasing a waft of stale whisky straight into her open mouth, immediately creating a swirl of acid in her stomach.
‘I see your time in prison did some good. What have I always told you, my dear? My challenges for you will make you strong. I hope you can see that now.’
She daren’t shift from his vice-like grip. ‘I do, Father. It’s why I’ve come home. I’m going to be twenty soon. I want to show my loyalty to the Crown. I’m not a child anymore.’
He never revealed signs he was studying people, but Scarlen knew he was doing exactly that, trying to reach inside her mind, her soul, know of her truth, her lies, but she held strong, keeping her fear down, mimicking the face Bear had when he played cards.
‘Did the Rebels hurt you?’ His question held a hint of hope.
‘No. They didn’t know who I was, and when we escaped to the mainland, we went our separate ways. They didn’t offer me passage any further.’
‘Why did you escape with them?’
‘I wanted to be home for my birthday, and I wasn’t sure you would let me, so I came home to make my demands. I want an unveiling ball in my honour, as is my birthright.’
He chuckled once more. ‘Aren’t you the entitled one.’
‘It’s how I was raised.’
Finally, he released her jaw. ‘Indeed.’ He turned to Mitch, who didn’t seem to be breathing at all. ‘I’ll inform your father of your ability to do your job now. I know that will please him. You may return to your duty of guarding the door.’
Mitch quietly made his way outside.
‘You didn’t need to take his eye,’ said Scarlen as the door to her chamber closed.
‘I’ll take more than that from him if he lets you run away again, my dear.’
‘I’m not going anywhere, Father. My duty is to the Crown. I want to be like Milon. I want the kingdom to know me, respect me.’