Ruler [Blood Magic, Book 3]

Chapter 23: Making Friends and Influencing People

The weirdest thing about the immediate aftermath of Keel's near assassination was that nothing changed. For almost a week, I continued to spend my days in my suite and my nights in Keel's surveillance room, watching the cameras and watching the king. The black-and-white images now became more purposeful. I scrutinized the council members as they filed in for meeting after meeting in that place that I couldn't peer into. I imagined a room that Keel must have deemed safe from his enemies. When not in these meetings, he was in his chambers, either sitting cross-legged in the middle of his gym in meditation or at the hulking dining table with Arthos, engaged in hours of conversation. All I could do was observe their body language and study their facial expressions - drawn, often frowning, tight with worry. What was going on? Why hadn't Keel come to see me? Why had Arthos insisted I not ask too many questions, just keep my head down and focus on my job? Were they really going to turn Keel into the miracle king? He who bonded with a sorceress and gained immortality. It made me want to hit something. And sometimes I went into my gym and I did just that until my arms could not lift another weapon or swing another swing.

Five days after I saved Keel, Arthos showed up with a white cardboard box in his hands and an order from the king: don the garb inside and present yourself in the throne room at ten minutes to midnight. When I tried to question Arthos about it, he shoved the box  into my hands and told me he'd return in three hours, then he rushed from the room.

I stared after him in bewilderment. What the hell was going on?

I carried the box to the bed and flipped open the lid. Intricate thorny swirls and sparkling green gems adorned the uppermost piece of fabric. I lifted it out and it unfurled to reveal a floor-length black cloak. The pattern I'd seen when I'd opened the box circled the bottom of the garment, the edges around the hood, and a V-shape that extended down my neck between my breasts. It was beautiful, elegant, and heavier than it looked. Beneath it laid a black dress shirt and a pair of black slacks, the standard semi-formal attire of the Nosferatu. As I lifted them out and unfolded them, I saw they'd been tailored to my size.

I stared the clothes and had no idea what to think. After all these days of watching, I'd finally be appearing on the cameras. It felt strangely unsafe. Despite my bold pitches, I'd grown used to the shadows and the silence. I knew what to expect from those. I didn't know what to expect from Keel and the throne room and the fancy clothes. Maybe that's why Arthos had brought them so early. So I'd have time to absorb their weight, and make a truce with my anxiety.

A half an hour before Arthos was set to pick me up, I slipped into the garments and stood in front of the mirror. I looked... grown up, regal, and with my red-ringed eyes, a little intimidating. It was all a little reminiscent how Keel looked the first time I'd seen him in his royal robes. As I took myself in, I understood that whatever was about to happen, everything was going to change all over again. I brushed my hair and left it down.

Arthos showed up right on time, and he'd changed too. A black cloak draped from his shoulders to his feet, obscuring everything but his boots and the tips of his clawed fingers.  

"So what's going to happen up there?" I blurted out as soon as he stepped into the room.

"Big things."

"Should I be afraid?"

"Not if you meant everything you said when you saved His Majesty's life."

"I did."

"This is another ritual, Mildred, so like when you arrived it's of utmost import-"

"That I do whatever Keel says as soon as he says it. I figured that out already, you know, based on the clothes. And no, I won't get you locked up again. I promise."