The Secrets of Lore Seymour

75. Not Alone Anymore

"Your Majesty." Lore bows at Valyork.

Roemithia takes more after her father, almost a spitting image. Valyork has the same deep red hair and vibrant gold eyes. He towers over everyone, casting a shadow as if it were enough to warrant him king. He steps towards us, long and careful strides that do not show how furious he really is. His expression, however, does. A harsh snarl that twists his face in an unflattering way.

"What does the church think it's doing by sending you to wreak havoc upon my home?" Valyork growls, gesturing at the destruction. The vast maze has been completely destroyed. The windows of the ballroom lay shattered. Every nearby building has been seared and stained by ash.

I notice a man standing behind him, Trolley. Was it him who let off that blast that somehow took away my magic? It's back now. I feel it flowing through me, but for a solid minute, it was gone. I've never heard of a vampire with that sort of trait. It's troublesome. And I know Valyork isn't the one to have done it. Everyone knows his trait; telekinesis, which is equally as troubling and probably why he has remained in power even after the war.

"I invite you here in hopes to have a discussion, but this is the thanks I get?" Valyork continues, red in the face. "I should have known one of your kind couldn't keep themselves out of trouble. I should have suspected this was that damn churches' attempt to ruin me."

His eyes take on an almost maddening glint. "Were you sent to sabotage us? Destroy our Warlords? Study them? Study us? Steal us away from our world? It doesn't matter!" He suddenly waves his hands dramatically. "You've attacked my children and destroyed my home. I will have you killed for this!"

I meet Valyork's glare, stepping closer to give him a piece of my mind. To shout in his pathetic face that his daughter was the one who started this when she dared to invade my mind.

Lore presses a hand to my chest, keeping me in place. "Now, now, Your Majesty, let's take a breath. It was not the Holy Church's idea to send Seren. He came with me and I am responsible for him. I take full responsibility for what happened this evening, just like I am taking my responsibility now to inform you that killing a paladin of the Holy Church is not a smart decision," he says, maintaining a careful smile. "Seren was merely defending himself, weren't you?"

"Yes," I hiss, trying not to think of what Roemithia made me relive.

"A convenient excuse," Valyork argues. He starts to pace like a rabid animal. "This was a trick from the start, wasn't it? A way to test us..." His following words begin to jumble together, softly spoken and too convoluted to make sense.

"Then bring a Truth Sayer," Lore suggests even with Valyork having stumbled into a mad rant. The king stops in his tracks, his eyes fixated on Lore. "I know you must have a few, someone who can see who attacked first."

Valyork's gaze drifts to Roemithia. She has moved away from her Warlord, now standing on the sidelines. She clutches her injured arm. Blood soaks her skintight suit that I don't know when she changed into it. Her burning gaze looks at me, then she turns that attention to Valyork.

"Are you going to let him disrespect us like this?" Roemithia asks. She glances towards the crowd reforming in the ballroom. "Like you let them disrespect us during the war and all the years after."

She wanted this fight. She wanted to show that Valyork wouldn't harm me even after what happened. Something tells me, no matter how this scenario ends, she has won. At least that's what I thought until Valyork outstretched his hand. One twitch of his fingers and Roemithia screams. Her uninjured arm is torn clean off, as if she were made of paper. Roemithia falls to the ground clutching the bloody stub. Her arm continues to twitch nearby. Maxwell comes to her aid, grabbing her detached limb and glaring at Valyork.