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A Power of Old(55)

By:Bella Forrest


I stared at the floor, not wanting to see Memenion’s grief. A long silence passed. I could hear the movement of the evergreens in the breeze, and the cooing of birds back where Queen Trina and her entourage were standing. When I looked back up at Memenion’s face, he looked like he had aged a hundred years.

“It is my own fault,” the king whispered. “I should have known. I believed Ronojoy to be discontented, but I didn’t take the time to ask why—or take an interest in his life beyond him being taught in a manner which I thought was appropriate. I abandoned him. His faults lie with me.”

“It’s not your fault,” I replied earnestly. “The Acolytes turned Varga—I know he was your friend. They are obviously able to be…tempting.”

The king shook his head.

“I was a bad father, and I know it. Don’t try to alleviate my blame, Ashbik. It is mine to suffer.”

I realized that I wouldn’t be able to say anything that would make this better for him, and that the kindest, most honorable thing I could do was remain silent and allow Memenion to grieve. I just couldn’t get my head around the fact that the king could have a son who would turn to something like the Acolytes. How had the boy not wanted to grow up in the footsteps of his father?

Before I could say another word, the Impartial Ministers appeared at the edge of the grassland. Lithan was among them. I scanned the group for Qentos, but I couldn’t see him. Perhaps Lithan had purposefully left him behind at the castle, but I didn’t have time to question the snake—the trials were about to begin.





Benedict





It took me a moment to work out where I was. I had been expecting to see the rune-covered walls of the temple and the eerie green glow that seemed to constantly seep out of its walls, no matter what time of day it was…but when I first opened my eyes, I could see gray walls and light streaming through a window.

Yelena.

She was sitting on the opposite bed, a cushion clutched to her stomach and her red hair looking like it was on fire as it caught the light.

“Benedict?” She called my name softly, staring over at me, and I noticed how dark the shadows were under her eyes—she looked even smaller than I remembered her. Still, I didn’t think I could remember ever being so pleased to see anyone in my life. If she was here, it meant that I was in the castle, I was safe, at least for now, and most importantly, I hadn’t done anything to seriously harm her.

“Hey,” I croaked. My throat felt like sandpaper. “How did I get here?”

The last thing I could remember was being in the temple, talking to Hazel and Ruby through the wall…and Julian? Had Julian been there? I couldn’t work out if it was wishful thinking or not.

“You collapsed at the cove—when the entity left you, apparently.”

I’m free?

“Was Julian there?” I asked.

“He was.” She nodded. “Queen Trina had him in a dungeon, and then Ruby was put there too, and Ash went to rescue her…only to find them both!”

I gulped.

“So Queen Trina is bad news?” I asked, thinking that I’d been a massive idiot to trust her at all.

“Really bad news,” Yelena confirmed.

I sank back into the pillows. I was glad that Julian was safe, but hearing that Queen Trina had something to do with it drove me crazy. If I’d told Hazel earlier about all this, then Julian never would have been imprisoned—or at least he would have been rescued earlier.

“So what’s happening now?” I asked. “Those stones…how much damage did I do?”

Yelena’s face fell a fraction, and I braced myself for bad news. I had known all along that those stones were dangerous. I shouldn’t have been going anywhere near them, but I had felt powerless to stop myself. Every morning I’d wake up in the temple, only having vague flashes of images from the night before. I would find more stones dancing in the grooves on the table, and I knew that I’d somehow collected more of them in the night.

“It’s not your fault, Benedict—you weren’t in control.”

“Just tell me,” I replied. “I need to know. And I’d rather hear it from you than anyone else.”

She twisted a strand of her hair, uncomfortable with my searching gaze. I sighed. I wasn’t so sure I liked it when Yelena pitied me, as she so clearly did now. It was better when we were arguing and she could happily tell me to go to hell without treating me like I was some poor invalid that she had to protect.

“Yelena,” I prompted, irritated with her silence.

“Okay. But don’t go blaming yourself for any of it. It’s the entity, not you. And the stupid queen, and the acolytes. And the stupid ministers.”