Corrupt

Chapter 3

As I look slowly upwards, it is as though time stands still. 

Standing above me, the King is the epitome of royalty, every aspect of him perfectly crafted as if by some artist, agonising over every detail.

"Good evening, ladies," he nods respectfully, gravelly tone sending shivers down my spine. We murmur various greetings in return, all of us biting back our excitement, forcing ourselves to focus on the King's orders.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything? I apologise for appearing without warning," he continues.

"Your presence is never a burden, Your Majesty," Ashia responds, bobbing her head. 

"If I may, is there a leader of your... group?"

"Our group, Your Majesty?" Andrea queries, batting her eyelashes with an innocent smile.

"I appreciate the humility," Nikolas chuckles. "But your group is spoken of around the whole of Carcaseau. I daresay all the others look up to you." He winks at Eloise, who clearly struggles not to faint. "So?"

Together, the other girls slowly turn to look at me. I point at myself, meaning 'Me? Seriously?'. Before I can say anything, the King speaks once more.

"I see," he nods. "Lynette, isn't it?" Hearing my name from his lips gives it a whole new sense of meaning. I'd never once appreciated it as much as I do now. 

"Um, yes, Your Majesty. Lynette Answatch, at your service. But, um, I wouldn't really say-"

"Wonderful. My pleasure." 

He holds out a hand, and I lift mine, willing it to stop tremoring before placing it in his. The whole room watches us, but I am entirely encaptured in this moment, hardly aware of my surroundings. 

'He's looking for a queen!'

My own words echo in the chambers of my mind, a smile rising to my parted lips as my heart flutters violently. His eyes meet mine, letting me see their colours up close for the first time: deep green, with flecks of glinting gold. I assumed the gold would only be in the portraits. I've never seen such beautiful eyes before. 

The moment passes. 

I realise I'm still clinging to his hand and hastily extract my own.

"Um, so, Your Majesty, what is it you've come to us for?" Katie asks hesitantly. 

"Oh, yes." 

I can't tell if I'm simply delirious from such close proximity or whether his eyes linger on mine for a second longer than they should.

"Well, as you know, Eskalis is quickly approaching," the King resumes calmly. "And, as you'll also know, Carcaseau requires a lot of decoration for the ceremony. The whole of Vaskuoyae will be here. So I thought you might want to lead the process." 

"You what?" Hetty squeaks. Ashia stifles a giggle. "I mean, um, you what, Your Majesty? What did you say?"

"If that's okay with you, of course, Lynette," Nikolas smiles, setting my heart ablaze. 

"You want us to lead the decorating? Really? Why?" I stammer.

"Well, why not? You clearly have the talent. So, will you?" 

Eskalis. A nationwide celebration of the exile of evil, of the banishing of war from our perfect world. The event the whole country looks forward to throughout the year. 

And we will lead it. 

I glance at the eager faces around me. I've never seen the girls so excited. 

"We'd love to, Your Majesty." It's a drastic understatement, but it gets the point across.

"Marvellous. Oh, Lynette, will you talk to me a moment, then?" Turning towards the door, he gestures me to follow, and I do, smoothing my rumpled skirts. Drea grins, giving me a thumbs up and a wink.

Once we reach the hallway, Nikolas drops his eyes to meet mine again. My stomach whirls.

"I just wanted to add a little... guidance to my instructions, if you don't mind," he tells me. I nod. "If we could just avoid the... darker side of Eskalis, if you will, that would be splendid." 

"The darker side, Your Majesty?" 

"You know what I mean." His tone morphs to become a little more hostile. "Daeva Korren." The resented words are spat out.

Daeva Korren. Nobody knows exactly what happened. It's a kind of legend amongst Vaskuoyae, the story of an exiled sorcerer, one who tried to ruin the King forever.

"Of course," I agree. "Of course, Your Majesty. So... What should we do?"

"I don't care what you do, as long as Daeva is not mentioned."

"Surely... Surely... Um, may I just ask something, Your Majesty?"

"Yes," the King says sharply. 

"I just wonder... Surely Daeva's story should be remembered? So that Vaskuoyae remember the wrongs? So we can improve?" 

"What is there to improve?" he questions. It feels like I'm treading around a sleeping lion, one that may wake and attack at any moment.

"Well, nothing, Your Majesty, only I wonder if there is something... Something about Daeva that perhaps-"

"Well, simply don't wonder," he hisses, face suddenly inches from mine. His fingers brush my neck, but it is not the gentle touch I felt earlier. 

It's burning.

I swallow back a scream of pain. My skin burns, agony spreading from my neck through the rest of my body. Reflexively, my hand springs to the wound. There is no blood. I don't even know if there's a mark. But the harsh, throbbing sting continues regardless.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty." I wince. 

"I forgive you," he says kindly. "I look forward to the decorations."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," I reply, gritting my teeth.

With that, he turns on his heels and heads off down the corridor. I let my hair fall over my neck, cringing as it brushes against the spot where the burning lingers, and return to the hall.

No time to waste.