Page 11 of A Kingdom of Lies
Althea nodded, offering me a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Let me be the first to admire your bravery. But the moment I sense something is wrong, we will come and break up your meeting. That is final.”
“I have no doubt,” I replied.
The anxiety storming within me was like a siren call to my magic. It took most of my concentration to keep it smoothed, controlled.
“Wewillbe listening,” Gyah confirmed through a light snarl. “I do not trust Doran and nor should you. No matter where he finds himself standing. It is clear he sees himself as more than his title for he has already broken Altar’s balance once before.”
When he ordered his gryvern pets to kill my mother.
“I will be fine.” I hardly believed myself as I said those words. Would I be? I had nothing to bargain with. Nothing to offer Doran in trade for my father. But I had to try.
“Good luck.” Althea rested a strong hand upon my shoulder and squeezed.
“And what if he doesn’t show?” I asked as Gyah began to guide the princess away. They both paused, shared a strange look and then glanced at me.
“He will come,” Althea confirmed, stoic. “Doran is many things, but reckless is far from one of them.”
With that, they left me alone, bathed in this silent and powerful place. I hugged my arms to my chest as our small party walked out through a curtain of hanging vines held up by broken pillars on either side. All I could do was wait and hope that Doran would come before my worry consumed me entirely.
There were pews buried beneath green foliage to my left. Whatever this place had been used for before likely involved a crowd. I recognised the shapes of more stone and wooden benches on either side of the room, mirror images of each other, and a relatively clear pathway down the ruin’s middle.
I decided to sit and wait, unsure if my legs would have given out with the heavy weight of anxiety that had rested upon my shoulders.
Time was an unclear concept here. I focused on the branches of pink blossom that protruded through a half-crumbled wall before me, unsure how much more of this deathly quiet I could stand before I gave up and walked away.
Welhaven warned me of the change before I noticed it myself. A prickling sensation spread up my spine so fast it had me gasping out as I instinctively looked towards the dais. I watched as the air above the podium split as though sliced with a knife. It parted in two spindles of light, and from it stepped a man with heavy feet and laboured breaths.
King Doran Oakstorm had arrived.
I stood abruptly, hand resting on the dagger sheathed at my waist, magic rising to the surface just in case. But Doran didn’t pose a threat as he stood with limp arms at the sides of his bulging, swollen belly. He was simply a man, one full of greed. Even his hands looked bloated, his fingers a deep scarlet as the rings adorning them constricted the blood flow.
“I am pleased to have received your invitation,” Doran rasped, voice echoing across the ruins. “Robin Icethorn. I was beginning to think that you would never reach out personally. The Cedarfalls have inserted themselves in your business for far too long.”
I had to stop myself from thanking him, as though relief that he had actually turned up flooded through me.
“Did only half of my invitation arrive?” I replied, keeping my voice as calm as possible. “Because, from what I remember writing, it was for both you and my father. Yet you have come alone.”
“I thought it best to let kings discuss matters without distractions.”
The man made me sick to my stomach. He spoke with clarity, although he was utterly dishevelled. As he got closer, carefully plodding down the steps from the dais to greet me on an equal level, I could see the dark stains across his dirtied tunic. How his golden-thread jacket was frayed at the edges with seams that were unrepairable. Even his face shone with grease, prevalent around the plump chin and cheeks that looked hard to the touch.
“So, I am here. What is it you have to say to me.”
“I want you to return my father,” I demanded before Doran stopped walking. “Not in pieces.”
“Well, of course you do,” Doran replied slowly. The way his voice scratched up his throat made me want to demand he coughed; it irked me, itching at my skin. “Alas, it would seem thatwantis something shared between us. Because I also want my Tarron returned to me. Myson. Do you see how we do not get everything we wish for in this world?”
“My father wasn’t involved in Tarron’s death. This has nothing to do with him.”
“Except your father is a Hunter, is he not?” Doran asked, tilting his head to the side. “And it was Hunters who took my dearest wife from me. So, you see, I do have a quarrel with him.”
Doran continued walking towards me, but I refused to step back. I didn’t want him to see that his presence caused me discomfort. I simply kept repeating Althea’s confirmation of my safety. Doran’s touch might not cause me pain, but I still didn’t want it. “I understand the grief you–”
“Ah, now I see it. You wish to relate to my pain so we can work through it together. Manipulate me just as you did my son.”
“Excuse me?” His words stung as though he’d slapped me across my cheek. “I did no such thing.”
“Tarron Oakstorm was a strong man. Smart and focused. My prized boy. Until you came along and ruined it for him. Although I understand it was not your hand that took his life, your presence certainly caused it. You poisoned his mind with ideas of a future that Tarron would never have dreamed to discuss with me. He knew what was required, and you distracted him from it.”
