Lord of the Wicked [✔ COMPLETE]

Chapter 7: The Storm Ahead

The day of King Clarke's arrival arose with dark clouds and a heavy downpour, and a tail of silent sorrow. As always the table was filled to the brim with food as if it were a buffet, the sort of setup he figured only a royal would be served every day. Valek stared down at his empty plate while Ysella pushed around the scrambled eggs she had on hers. Neither of them wanted to be there, and if they'd be given the choice both of them would become someone else in an instant.

"Lord Valek," Ysella began softly, without looking up. "I owe you my apologies."

"You owe me nothing," Valek said.

Ysella lifted her head and looked at him with dull eyes and a stern mouth. "I do. I have no right to belittle you based on your appearance. It was especially cruel of me to say those things. Lord Valek, I'm truly sorry."

Before, Valek hadn't put a second thought to it, nor deemed it rude, but now that she'd mentioned it he suddenly found himself slightly offended. Indeed, who was she to demean him for being short and skinny? "Apologies accepted." And then, once those words had left his mouth, he was back at not caring.

For this year, he had expected himself to become stressed out about the upcoming finals, but what he was about to receive instead – a betrothal, a war, a coronation – made the finals seem like a joke. On the opposite end of him Tsega offered him pancakes, when he didn't respond she dumped a stack on his plate, along with a scoop of mixed berries. Then, she laid a hand on his arm and stooped forward.

"It's going to be fine," Tsega reassured him. "If anyone can handle this, it's you. What you did the other day took leadership skill, the sort only a king can manage."

Valek stabbed his fork inside the stack of pancakes and gritted his teeth. A part of him knew that it had been the right decision, seeing as the boy would've died anyway, but another part of him was disgusted by what he'd done. That part of him was restless and sought forgiveness and redemption. Both of which he'd never find.

A shadow cast over Valek as Old Olly hunched over to refill his glass with milk. No matter how much time he spent with the man, and no matter how friendly he was towards Valek, his odd hollow eyes still made him feel uneasy. It made him wonder, if all the people residing in this realm were the outcasts from another realm, just what exactly did Old Olly do to become one of the wicked?

With a frown, Valek stopped cutting his pancakes and looked around the table. That same question could be asked of any of them. Who exactly was he having breakfast with? A disturbing thought crossed his mind, wondering whether he was in fact at the enemy's side rather than the courageous rebels he believed them to be.

After pondering over it for a moment, he decided to confront the one person he'd have no problem asking anything to. "Tobben?"

Tobben looked up. "Hm?"

"The other day, you said this is where the wicked come. The exiles. So..." Valek cut a square out of his stack of pancakes and shoved it inside his mouth and continued while chewing. "Why are you here?"

A loud ring echoed through the dining hall as Tobben dropped his cutlery onto his plate. "Because... We are born out of wedlock. Our father, who is a king you'll hopefully never meet, banished us when we were just five years old." With a swift move of his hand, Tobben pushed his blonde hair behind his ear, then shrugged. "All Tycho and I carried with us was a horse to share and a bit of dry bread. But, by some miracle, we survived the journey here."

"So... does that mean you guys are both a prince?"

Tycho shook his head. "We're the products of a scandalous affair, obviously we'll never inherit any title. However..." He leaned his chin on his palm and grinned. "They do call us the Bastard Lords, so if that counts as a title, and I say it does, we did inherit something of our dear father."

Even though the twins appeared numb and casual about it, Valek could see the pain in their eyes and decided it'd been enough and asked no further, instead he gave them a nod of gratitude, then faced Tsega. "What about you, Tsega Tsui?"

"Oh, me?" She dashed a smile. "No, I wasn't banished or anything. I chose to become an assassin and Brimstone seemed like a cozy place to settle in."

"Why would you choose this kind of work?" Valek asked.

"Honestly? The money." Tsega threw a strawberry inside her mouth and shrugged. "Combined with my natural skills and lack of ethics, becoming an assassin was the ideal job for me."

Ysella leaned forward, looking more intrigued than anything. "What about your family, do they know?"

Tsega shrugged. "My family knows I work for the Raveriks." She placed another strawberry on her tongue and looked wistfully at the wall. "I only changed one slight detail, leaving out the whole assassin stuff."

For some reason, this made Valek laugh. "What does your family think you do, Tsega?"

"Sewing."

After a long silence, Darko Drazik was the one who probed for clarification, "Sewing?"

She nodded. "They think I sew clothes for the royal family."

The loudest laughter broke loose. Tycho leaped up and announced, "Behold, everyone. The royal tailor!"

Tsega spat out a stream of orange juice and huddled over in laughter. "Whatever," she muttered once she'd calmed down. "Details, details. Tailor and assassin, it's basically the same thing."

And, just like that, the morning's dark cloud that had hovered above the breakfast table was cleared and replaced by brightness and laughter, they barely heard the storm outside anymore. Even Ysella, who'd been dreading the betrothal since she was just a little girl, laughed and joked along. In that hour, she no longer felt the dense dread that always weighed her down. Just like Valek, she felt like she finally belonged to a family.

Something each of them knew all too well was that all good things come to an end, and so when a loud thunder announced the arrival of the royal family and their company of staffers and guards outside, their joy came to an abrupt end. They straightened their postures and fixed one another's hair and collars before marching outside where they lined up near the entrance and quietly watched the chaotic horde of horses and carriages come to a halt and swarm before them.