Chapter 5
Five
STRANGER
The stagecoach left me at the foot of the daunting castle steps.
Despite the brisk wind blowing gaily through the elegant flags upon the castle spires, the morning sun didn’t lend the stone walls and sprawling gardens any cheerier atmosphere than the previous evening. The hazy, shadowy fog muted everything else around us.
The guards backed away almost immediately. None of them were going to escort me inside.
I narrowed my eyes, studying each of their faces—all blank, sealed mouths, stoic eyes staring straight ahead. Were they even awake? Or had they been reduced to mere puppets, much like when the Red Queen was in power?
Cold metal clanked around my wrists, my waist, and between my ankles. Giving another pointed glance around, I held up my hands. “Isn’t this a bit excessive? Have you all forgotten I don’t have magic?”
No one responded to that either.
The great doors to the castle opened with a low groan.
Letting out a huge sigh, I made my way up the steps and through the doors.
Walking down the wide hallway, a chill wafted over my skin.
Last night, the place had blazed with music, laughter, candlelight, swirling gowns, and clinking goblets. Chandeliers blazed like constellations, and the smell of roasted meats and sweet wine drifted through the halls.
This morning, the castle was more of a tomb, halls smelling faintly of dust and cold stone.
A stark difference from last evening’s Grand Ball festivities.
Most of the torches lining the walls were dim.
Shadows gathered thickly in the corners, along the high vaulted ceilings.
Silence overwhelmed the air, save for my chains scraping against the marble floor as I walked forward.
Another grand set of doors to my right opened with a creak. I turned to look where the great hall stretched, enormous and silent. At its far end rose the seat of power itself—carved from black stone, looming over the room like a monument.
The king’s massive throne was intimidating. The man standing before it was even more intimidating.
He stood tall and still with his back half-turned toward me. Shadows pooled around his boots.
He turned when he heard the chains.
My breath caught.
This truly was not the man I had previously known.
With the restoration of his royal title, his presence was even more formidable, authoritative. Especially with his well-built frame, those broad shoulders fitted into his regal, stately, handsomely tailored suit perfectly.
But this morning, he was not wearing his black crown.
And somehow his hair, which was once a fine silver-white, had turned a wavy dark chestnut brown, ends curling just past his strong jaw.
I furrowed my eyebrows.
Why had he changed his hair?
For a moment, I considered whether I was indeed looking at a completely different person. Perhaps we were all mistaken. Perhaps the king who currently ruled over the land had changed again without our awareness, and this was entirely someone else.
Except when those familiar blue eyes met my gaze, my stomach went into somersaults.
Of course, his change in appearance didn’t matter.
I would be a moth irretrievably drawn to him, much like any other courtier.
But I felt worse than nothing under his gaze. Those eyes, which used to be a warm blue, were steel-cold and empty. When our hearts were linked, I could feel what he felt. He could feel what I felt.
I gave myself a mental shake. I had already decided not to dwell on things that were all in the past.
Oddly enough, there was the slightest twitch on his face as his gaze landed on me.
Perhaps he didn’t recognize me either, since, as Chez had also attested, my hair had transformed since the king had seen me last.
But he didn’t say anything to that effect. He turned to sit on the throne, hands resting on the armrests, thumb twirling the jade signet ring around his forefinger.
His expression smoothed into a determined nonchalance, the tension in the air settling to a cool formality.
Ah, to business.
Regardless, I couldn’t help the stir in my stomach at the smooth, velvet-rich timbre in his deep voice when he finally spoke, “What were you doing at the ball? You were not invited.”
“I was…” I lifted my chin. I wasn’t going to be intimidated by him. “I was curious.”
There was a ghost of a smirk on his face, as if he tamped down rolling his eyes in knowing.
My heart beat faster.
Because yes, he did know me.
He knew me.
Past tense.
The cold took over his face again.
“And was everything you found to your pleasure?” he drawled, averting his gaze. “I can imagine there would have been plenty of eligible male courtiers to satisfy your curiosity?”
“I imagine there were plenty of eligible female courtiers for you to pursue as well,” I quipped. “Though I suppose one might say there has been quite a lot less whimsy of late, a…decline in the castle’s hospitality.”
I thought his chest lifted in a silent huff of amusement.
“I would also very much appreciate the return of an item which I had accidentally left here last night.” I couldn’t help the self-assurance in my manner. “I trust it has more than served its usefulness.”
The king offered no rebuttal. He waved his hand, and an object materialized before my eyes in mid-air as if it had been tossed to the floor. It landed with a thunk at my feet.
My other boot.
Good. I reached over to take the shoe and slipped it on over my stockings.
He didn’t say anything further. Of course, I was certain there was no way in Wünder that the king actually intended to thank me for saving his life.
“You’re welcome,” I mumbled under my breath.
I took a few moments to lace my shoe back up, fully aware that his heavy gaze watched my every movement.
His eyes narrowed when I straightened up again. “How did you become aware of the assassin?”
“I…I don’t know. I just…” I clutched at my chest, trying to think of how to explain what I had felt last night. The intensity of the throbbing of my heart, how my attention was instantly drawn toward the threat amidst the noisy crowd of the festivities.
The king leaned forward in his seat. “You felt it.” It was a statement rather than a question.
A moment of silence swallowed his words. I could not deny it. The furrow in his eyebrows deepened in thought.
“The magic in your borrowed heart has not yet dissipated.” His voice was low as though he hadn’t meant for me to hear.
Frowning, I attempted to work through the implications of his conclusion. “I suppose not.”
The next question I was expecting him to ask was ‘why’. Why had I saved his life? Why had I even bothered? Just because magic had alerted me to be aware of a threat, it wasn’t as though I hadn’t still been in control of my faculties. I could have walked away entirely if I’d wanted to.
How could I possibly explain my reasons? That is, how could I explain without exposing the truth, without exposing my weakness, that which I was more than adamantly denying even to myself?
I took a deep breath, trying to organize the mess in my brain to compose a response.
Standing up again, he merely turned his back. “Perhaps you have heard that I’ve been on a mission these past moons to root out disloyalty across the land.”
Disoriented at the subject shift, I blinked. “Um, yes, of course.” I added for good measure, “I am certain there is not a soul on Wünder who is not aware.”
Ignoring my remark, he went on, “However, it seems traitors still abound. A few weeks ago, my men overheard a scheme against me. I was unable to discover who is behind it, but I am assured that they wish for my destruction.”
I nodded, as I was also entirely certain he was correct. Though I couldn’t surmise why he was telling me this.
His gaze was still directed out the stained-glass windows across from the throne.
“These rogues cannot penetrate the castle under normal circumstances. I imagined they were merely waiting for an opportunity. A chance to get close to me. In a crowded ballroom, they would have finally gotten their chance. It was the first time the castle was open, with easy access for guests…”
I blinked as it suddenly clicked. “It was a trap.”
“It was a trap,” he repeated in confirmation, his tone bored. He turned to face forward again. “The guards have captured several guests who are under suspicion of this criminal act. You will identify the scum who dared to try to kill me.”
I swallowed hard. “You want me to…”
His eyes narrowed. “Why else do you think you have been summoned here?” He lifted his hand to signal his guards.
The doors clanked and chugged open, drawing my attention. Heavy footsteps followed, accompanied by the unmistakable scraping of chains, as five prisoners were dragged into the hall.
Several of the king’s puppet guards hauled each struggling captive forward.
Gasping, I stepped to one side as they were lined up several yards before the throne, forced down into a rough line, iron links clanking as they were shoved into place.
They looked nothing like the polished nobles from last night’s ball. These were rougher creatures entirely.
Men and women, clothing in tatters, streaked with mud and grime.
Most of them had hatred burning in their glaring eyes, chins set in defiance.
A gaunt young man’s gaze flicked nervously between the guards and the king, and an old man, lean and weathered, had his shoulders squared with a stubborn sort of dignity despite the iron collar around his neck.
More intensely than the other night, I could feel more than warnings, more than threats. I felt the young man’s cold terror, the elder man’s defiance like stiff shards, the abject anxiety melting one of the ladies’ insides.
The throne hall fell silent.
The king faced forward again. He gave me a prompting lift of an eyebrow. “Well?”
My gaze swept across the prisoners. I was essentially about to put someone’s life in jeopardy. I turned to look at the king again. “What if I help you reveal the assassin you seek? What happens to them?”
“They will need to be punished, of course.”
Indignation built up in my throat. “I am not about to send any of these people to their deaths.”
There was a shadow of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I never said anything about sending them to their deaths. Now, look carefully.”
Another guard nudged me forward, guiding me slowly along the line so I could scrutinize each candidate more closely.
I tried not to look.
I tried not to stare at one of the women in particular—tall and severe, her dark braids hanging loose and tangled over her shoulders.
One side of her face was swollen where someone had struck her, but the way she glared at the throne suggested she would happily spit in the king’s face if given the chance.
It was her. The woman from last night. She was the one who had tried to kill the most powerful man in Wünder. She didn’t even remotely look sorry about it. Her cold gaze met the king’s gaze directly, expression burning with open fury.
Her hatred was utterly undisguised. It hit me like a physical thing—thick and suffocating, a slick, clinging weight that crawled over my skin and settled in my chest like cold sludge.
It pressed in from all sides, heavy and choking, as if the air itself had turned dark and viscous, dragging at my lungs and pulling me down into it.
The heart in my chest was starting to pound all over again. So hard that I could hear it in my ears. I didn’t need to say anything further.
“It’s her.” The king tilted his head in a slight nod. “Take her to the gallows.”
Wide-eyed, I whirled around. “No! You said you wouldn’t kill her.”
Those steel-blue eyes slid to meet mine again. He lifted his hand, then gave a slight wave. “Kill them all.”