The Siege of Shadows: Book one

Thorns of the Throne (31)

We didn't wait long before the summons came. A fae servant with silvery skin and hair the color of dawn knocked softly before ushering us through the labyrinthine halls of the castle. As instructed, I kept my head low, my heart pounding with every step.

Kael was tense—his every movement betrayed it. Though he held himself with the calm, collected air of a soldier, his hands twitched as if reaching for the sword that was no longer at his side. His shoulders were taut, his gait stiff. Even through the forbidding air he wore like armor, I could sense his unease.

The fae we passed whispered as we walked. I kept my gaze locked on the intricate patterns of the floor, but their words reached me anyway.

"The Beast has returned."
"Cursed prince, still crawling after all these years."

The venom in their voices made my blood boil. Beast? Cursed prince? It was all wrong. I risked a glance at Kael, who walked ahead of me, his towering form unyielding despite their disdain. Everything about him—his measured stride, his commanding presence—spoke of control, strength, and dignity. Nothing about him was beastly.

He must have sensed my rising anger because his gloved hand reached back and briefly touched mine, rubbing slow circles against my skin. The gentle motion sent a surprising wave of calm through me, even as it reminded me to keep my emotions in check. His touch felt like a silent reminder: Not here. Not now.

When we finally reached the grand, ornate doors that led to the throne room, I could feel the weight of the moment pressing on my chest. A fae with pink hair and golden eyes stood before the doors, sneering at Kael before cracking one open and slipping inside.

Moments later, his voice echoed through the chamber beyond.

"Your Majesty, the Beast is here, as you summoned, and his pet."

My jaw clenched at the word pet. It stung worse than I cared to admit. But what angered me more was the way they continued to call Kael a beast—as if his value began and ended with that cursed title.

Before I could dwell on it further, Kael's hand brushed mine again, grounding me. When I looked up at him, I saw something that stole the breath from my lungs. Beneath the impassive facade he wore like armor, there was a flicker of gratitude—a quiet acknowledgment of my anger on his behalf.

The realization filled me with a deep sadness. What kind of life had he endured to make even the smallest act of compassion feel foreign?

For just a moment, I forgot where we were.

Then the doors were thrown open, and Kael's hand dropped away.

I swallowed hard as we were ushered into the throne room. My legs felt heavy as lead, but I forced myself to follow Kael. He strode confidently ahead, leading me down a golden carpet that stretched across the expanse of the white stone chamber.

At the far end, a platform rose with shallow steps leading to a grand throne. It was an opulent monstrosity—gold and white, adorned with intricate carvings and gemstones that sparkled in the sunlight streaming through tall windows. Sitting atop it was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen.

He looked as though he'd been carved from ice and stone, with long, snow-white hair cascading around a face too perfect to be real. His eyes were a frosty blue, sharp and unyielding, and his clothing—a pristine white tunic and breeches—was immaculate. Even his boots gleamed. The only hint of menace was the thorny golden crown atop his head, its cruel spikes adorned with diamonds.

Kael sank to one knee, his head bowed low. I quickly followed his example, my heart racing as I pressed myself to the ground.

"Rise, Beast," the king commanded, his voice smooth but cold.