House of Kings(59)
He turns without another word and the entire group makes their way to the far wall. Raheem walks just to my side, the woman following closely behind Trinity and me.
A man presses a button on the wall and I realize the giant set of ornate doors are the opening to an elevator. It dings a few moments later, and the doors slide open to reveal a giant lift.
Marble floors, mirror walls. A chandelier hangs above our heads. The space is large enough to accommodate all eleven of us. Up we rise. Up and up and up, and it feels that surely we’ve risen to the top of the mountain before the doors slide open with a ding.
The doors let us out into a great hall. Huge ceilings rise above us, twenty feet high, at least. Stone walls rise and rise, wooden beams stretching overhead in every direction. Flames glow from the walls here and there, casting the passageway in shadows that dance and flicker like ghosts.
Beautiful rugs chase around the stone floor. Tapestries hang along the walls. Paintings are scattered about. The space is littered with iron and gold.
It’s beautiful, ancient, and grand. But there are no rivers of blood seeping into the stone floor as I imagined. No skeletons hidden in corners. No rats and wild dogs as pets of princes and princesses.
It’s a historical castle.
Down the hall we walk and finally, we take a turn into a massive room.
A gigantic table dominates the space and sitting atop it, is a spectacular feast. Servants usher us inside, and one by one, we are seated. And as the chaos of the seating takes place, I notice others joining the table. Soon there are a dozen other Royals seated. There is no speech made, no grand words. They simply dig in.
These people are familiar with one another. They’ve dined together for centuries. They do not need introduction. They don’t need to hear big words spoken. They are comfortable around one another.
“You should eat as much as you can,” Raheem says as he leans in towards me. He begins dishing food onto my plate, which is difficult to do myself, with my hands still bound together in front of me. “It may be some time before you are given the opportunity again.”
My eyes widen as I meet his gaze. And I am beginning to see what may be coming.
“Eat,” he quietly commands again.
And so, I do. But everything sits in the bottom of my stomach like a wet lump of coal. The food, though I’m sure spectacular, is tasteless to me.
Whispers here and there ask who I am. Simple explanations of a Conrath Royal are given.
How soon until Cyrus tells them all what he thinks I have done?
Anticipation creeps up my veins. Through my toes. Up my calves. Through my back muscles. Over my shoulders. Twisting around my arms, and down to the very tips of my fingers.
Like a ticking bomb that’s about to explode right beneath me.
Cyrus bursts into laughter, along with a few others, and I jump. Hard. But not a head turns in my direction. Raheem grabs my hand, holding it firmly.
“Why did you come with me?” I suddenly ask Trinity, because I have to change the subject. Right this very moment.
She licks some kind of sauce from her fingers. And I feel all of her defenses rising, scared. Unsure. “Because I have a debt to you to repay.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, my brows furrowing.
She glances over at me, her eyes open, timid. She grabs another chicken leg, holding it poised, ready to bite into. “Because when you opened your eyes and saw me and the Sheriff sitting in front of you, you should have assumed it was me who betrayed you. I helped Jasmine do terrible things to you. You had to know you didn’t have my loyalty and that out of the two of us, I was the most likely to have betrayed you. I thought for sure I was dead.”
She blinks, letting her eyes drop away. She bites her lower lip and shakes her head. “But you didn’t. You didn’t kill me. And you didn’t believe that it was me. I don’t get you. Not even a little bit. But I intend to pay that back.”
She takes a bite out of her chicken, not looking at me, and the message is clear: she’s done talking about this. I study her for a few moments, trying to understand her, as well.
She’s acted like she hated me from the first moment she laid eyes on me. I’ve been met with nothing but disdain and disinterest from the beginning. But when it came down to the wire, when it was time to see who really remained loyal and who would doubt me at the first obstacle in my reign, here is the last person I ever expected at my side.
“Thank you,” I finally say, far too late to flow smoothly as a conversation.
But she simply nods her head.
A sharp slap and ringing sound suddenly makes everyone at the table jump harshly.
I squint my eyes back open to see the cause. And find Cyrus has smacked one of the snake branding irons down on the middle of the table. The rounded end has embedded deep into the wood, permanently damaging the beautiful, enormous table.