𝗖𝗥𝗜𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗟 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘

22) Jake

I sit at the window in the palace library, my fingertips brushing the pages of a book that I'm not even reading.

Instead I'm looking out at the gardens, which are steeped in a fog that keeps most of the view hidden from me.

Like a mirror to my state of mind.

It's the kind of day where there's nothing to do except sit in the library and try to read.

At least I think that's what I would usually do on a day like this, but I don't remember.

I absentmindedly reach my hand up to my chest where my shirt is unbuttoned half way, and trace the line of the fresh scar just above my heart.

It's a habit I've taken to.

My uncle told me I was attacked a few days ago, because I was reckless and left the palace unsupervised to visit some bars in the city.

That's how they were able to get to me.

A criminal gang known as Blessed-Cursed.

The king said they've been conspiring against us for years, and when they saw me out alone they took their chance.

Apparently they didn't just want me dead, no, they wanted to destroy me from the inside out.

They made this gash on my chest, and the blade was lined with poison.

My uncle said it's a miracle the royal soldiers he sent to look for me found me in time to be treated, preventing my mind from disintegrating.

But they weren't fast enough to stop the initial symptoms of memory loss.

I know my name, I know that my uncle is the king, and that I'm his only heir.

Everything else is hazy, and I feel... detached, as if I'm floating in some unreachable space and nothing gives me purpose except instructions from the king.

Minho says that everything will be ok and that I just have to trust in him.

Something in my gut tells me not to, but I don't have much of a choice. I have no one else.

I also don't know how to fill my days when I'm left alone.

So here I sit, in the library, with a book I may or may not have read before, wondering what I did to make Blessed-Cursed hate me so much that they wanted to ruin me so completely.

I glance up when the doors suddenly open, and a pair of guards enter.

They tell me that my uncle has summoned me to the throne room. Immediately.

This almost certainly cannot be a good thing, but I'm grateful just to have something to do.

When I arrive I pause in the doorway before going in.

The king sits upon the dais, and in his hand is a chain with someone leashed to it.

My stomach churns. I may not know much about who I am, but I know for certain that I am not like my uncle.

The person he's holding captive is petite with striking deep red hair, and a face that lights up with relief when he spots me.

I'm not sure why.

There's also a group of guards gathered around someone right in front of the throne.

I stop beside them and kneel, the cold of the marble floor seeping through my clothes into my shin.