Chapter 19
Nineteen
Roman
“You’re drunk,” Galen says, pulling me through the crowded ballroom.
“Well, it is a party.” I gesture to the dancers behind me. “We haven’t celebrated in ages, why are you so uptight?” I plant my feet as firmly as I can to the ground so he can no longer pull me.
His eyes cut like ice through his dark mask that matches my own. His gaze wanders past me, so I follow it. He’s locked eyes with that Lord’s nephew. Evan or something close.
“See something you like?” I snicker, taking the last sip of my wine.
“What?”
“You haven’t peeled your eyes from that man since he arrived.” My words slur, the wine going straight to my head. I’ve never been one to handle alcohol particularly well but considering the tensions the last few weeks, why not indulge?
Several moments pass by and I realize Galen hasn’t responded to me. His eyes still locked on the Lord’s nephew. “Truly, Galen. Could you be any more obvious? At least wait until I’m not in the room before you make a pass at someone else.”
His grip tightens around my forearm. “You need to go to bed before you say something that you’ll regret.”
“This is my party.” I wriggle away from him. “ You go to bed if I’m bothering you so much.” Before he has a chance to say anything else, I turn and disappear back into the crowd of dancers.
“A dance, Your Majesty?” The voice startles me, and I almost drop my empty wine glass. I glance down, and she looks up at me with big, brown eyes. Her blonde hair piled high in dozens of ringlet curls. The golden color reflects off the lamplight, and suddenly, I’m sick. She looks so similar to the woman we have in chains downstairs. The woman Galen has beaten and starved.
The wine in my stomach threatens to spill onto the floor.
“I must decline.” I push past her and weave in and out of the crowd, only stopping when I reach the dark hallway meant for the castle servants. Exhaling, I take a moment to ground myself and lean against the wall of the hallway, letting the wine resettle in my belly.
The hallway is barely lit, not unusual for this time of night. But what strikes me as odd, however, is that there are no servants coming or going.
Shouldn’t they be refilling drinks and filling food trays?
I suppose it’s no matter. Better they don’t see their king drunk out of his mind. The thought makes me chuckle. How high and mighty I have forced myself to look. How cruel and unjust. If only the people really knew?—
“Your Majesty?” The Lord of the Jade Guilds nephew appears before me as if from thin air.
“Oh.” Clearing my throat, I pull my mask off. “Sorry, Evan is it?”
“Evren,” he says. The dark lines of his wolf mask are sharp and angular and they catch the light as he straightens from a bow. “My apologies, Your Majesty. It seems I got turned around looking for the washroom.”
I cast him a smile, but with his mask, I can’t tell if it’s unreturned.
“Please, remove your mask, Evren. No need for them outside of the party, and I would be pleased to meet the next heir of the Jade Guild face to face.”
I want to see you .
I want to see who has caught Galen’s eye over mine.
Evren’s hand reaches for his mask but stops before dropping back to his sides.
“I should be getting back to my uncle.” He steps forward, but I stick my arm out to block his path.
“Now, now.” He takes a step backward, and his dark eyes find mine through his mask. There’s something familiar in them that makes the hair on my arms raise. “It would be rude to disobey a direct command from your king, wouldn’t it Evren ? Remove your mask.”
The air in the hallway seems to be running out as my lungs work tirelessly to catch up with the erratic beating of my heart. Why are his eyes so familiar?
Evren says nothing before slowly unclipping the back of his mask, letting it slide off completely and hang at his sides.
“Your Majesty.” He bows, concealing his face.
“You may stand.”
He keeps his face to the ground, his grip tightening around the mask clutched in his hand. When I’m about to ask again, he lifts his head. My breath catches. His dark hair matches his eyes. The same tone I’d know anywhere. His defined jaw is lined in dark scruff. Just like his . Just as that Enchantress described.
“Remind me,” I say through a labored breath. “You are Lord Thaddeus’...nephew?”
His eyes cast down a moment, and I don’t know why but it is the last bit of proof I need.
“That’s correct, Your Majesty.”
Heat rises to my cheeks, and before I can stamp the temper down, my hand is around his throat.
His body slams against the wall. And even though he must be strong enough to fight back, he doesn’t.
“I do not like being lied to,” I whisper. “Tell me your real name, and I’ll let you live.” My fingers tighten, but still, he doesn’t fight back. Our faces are inches apart, and when he opens his mouth, I already know.
“Sorin,” he says. “And if you’re going to kill me, you’d better decide quickly before I kill you first, brother.”
The sharp prick of a blade pierces my side. Glancing down, I see the steel is lodged between my ribs.
“Don’t call me that.” I take a stumbling step away from him until my back is pressed against the stone wall opposite him. “I should lock you up right now.”
“Tell me where Elora is.” He holds his hands up, as if he means peace, his brows furrowed. “Please tell me where she is and I’ll go.”
“And why would I tell you?” My eyes dart between his blade and his face. But his face… It’s too similar. Too close to Silas’. To our shared father’s. I glance away, toward the end of the hall where the party is growing more raucous, sounds of revelry floating down the hallway.
“If Galen—” Biting my tongue, I don’t let the rest of the words slip free. That if Galen knew I helped him, helped her , there would be no telling what he’d do.
Sorin takes another step forward, dropping the blade completely this time.
“Whatever it is you’re planning, Roman, stop this now. There’s still time to rectify?—”
The way he says my name sends a ripple of anger through me. As if he has any idea who I actually am. “Do not speak to me that way,” I growl, pushing myself off the wall.
“My king,” he says with a bow, “and my brother… Make the right choice and end this now. Tell me where she is and we’ll leave and never return. The kingdom is yours to do with what you please, but she…” He runs a hand down his face, and it’s only now that I see just how broken he actually looks.
His hands tremble, purple lines the underside of his eyes. There are at least five years between us, but it may as well be a lifetime. “We will leave the country. Tonight if you wish. Just let her go.”
His rich brown eyes hold mine and the wine in my stomach sloshes again.
He looks more like our father than I do, and perhaps it’s that very fact that has me questioning whether or not to kill him. I envy him. Not only for the looks he shares with Silas, but knowing he didn’t grow up under his constant scrutiny. His judgments. His cruelty.
“She hasn’t done anything to deserve this,” he whispers. “You can make one right choice. I promise, the throne is yours.”
One right choice.
All I have to do is tell him which corridor to take. Which passage to follow. No one would ever know we spoke. And yet, I hesitate. Do I even want the throne?
The thought catches me off guard. For so long, it was all I hoped for.
“The throne is the beacon of power. No one can hurt you there, Roman. And only those foolish enough would try.” Galen’s words stroke against my mind. He’s right. As long as I am in charge, no one can hurt me. No one can hurt him.
“Your Majesty!” a guard shouts from the end of the hall, pulling my attention. His weapons are drawn, his face red and cheeks puffed. “Your Majesty, come quickly!”
Nodding, I wave my hand to dismiss him before turning back to Sorin, but when I do, he’s vanished. Like a phantom in the wind, the only proof he was ever here is the small dagger left at my feet.