His Captive Sorceress

Chapter 33: Royal Court

I follow Trevus through the slim door back into the palace. I remain a few steps behind him, my eyes pinned to his broad shoulders. The gold threaded seams of his regal oban catch the light with each step he takes. I can't believe I'm here – just feet away from Trevus again. I thought Nepolis was the last time I'd lay eyes on him. But our relationship isn't the same. I'm posing as a stranger, and he'll treat me as such. We're together again, but still so far apart.

We continue down a short passage. The left side opens up to a lush courtyard. The garden is surrounded by four passages, each with one side open to the greenery, with only the occasional pillar to interrupt the view.

A part deep down wants to tell Trevus the truth, to tell him who I am, how sorry I am. But it'll just cause Trevus more pain and likely result in my confinement and death.

Flowering vines creep up the stone columns that support the floors overhead. Every column is carved with images of heroes, armies and wild beasts. Stone masons must have spent months chiseling every detail. I've never seen wealth like this before.

"As you lack knowledge of the palace, tread with caution," Trevus says. "Study the written palace etiquette that awaits in your chamber. Recite them by heart. The consequence of forgoing it is not simply dismissed."

I've only had a handful of interactions with nobles before – when I was brought out on display at Antiock. My usual approach of hostility and disrespect won't fare well here.

A bell clangs in the distance. Trevus stops. "The king summons his court to the throne hall. You shall be my company."

"Okay," I say.

He shakes his head. "Listen well, as I shall only explain once. Address highborn of the castle with Sir, Lord or Lady. Address members of the royal family with Majesty."

There's nothing he could've done to strongarm me to using such a ridiculous title as his prisoner, but holding such an abrasive attitude as his assistant would only draw suspicion.

"May we abstain from formal titles in private conversation?" I ask.

He raises an eyebrow at my request. It wouldn't be the norm here.

"For the sake of natural conversational flow." I avert my eyes for the last part – "Majesty."

"That is acceptable." He continues onwards, in a hurry to get going.

We head down the series of passageways and garden courtyards. Guards in black and servants in white occupy every intersection. Searching for the julite unnoticed is going to be difficult.

We reach a set of tall double doors, but a crowd of immaculately dressed lords and ladies block the way through.

Upon spotting the prince, they begin to nudge and whisper to one another. The nobles split down the middle, opening a path for us.

Trevus continues forward, and I follow right behind him. Every set of eyes is pinned on us. I double check the color of my hair – the illusion still holds. This much attention was something I wanted to avoid. I keep my gaze low.

Polished white stone forms the floor of the throne hall, and gold fills the seams between each piece. It's hard to comprehend having such vast wealth that you use it for flooring.

A raised dais at the end of the room elevates an empty throne. Trevus climbs the dais, raising his tall frame a head higher. I stay at the base, not wanting to step on something reserved for royalty. The last thing I need is to embarrass myself in front of all these people and become their dinner gossip.

Trevus takes a seat on a smaller but still extravagant chair right of the throne. "Stand at my back," he says.

I step onto the dais and shuffle behind his chair.