The Princess and the Warlock

Chapitre Trente-Trois

My father's appearance hadn't changed in the slightest since my absence.

His eyes still were two hateful spheres of gunmetal gray, almost matching the color of his hair that was starting to thin, to pull back into his scalp as age started its slow perusal of his youth. His shoulders were broad and widespread, as thick and blocking as a doorway. I retained my slenderness from my mother, surely, and mostly everything else. I tried and tried to see the slightest resemblance between us, but if there was a trace, it was hidden deep.

I was still struck speechless and frozen by his sudden appearance, my heart pounding.

"My, my, how different you've become," he mused softly, coming closer. He had been standing in the cover of the stairs, emerging when I'd come rushing down the steps, and was now standing before me. He was wearing clothes that were not fit for nighttime—his luxurious robe was a mixture of silk and fur coverings draped over his shoulders and back, tied off but a buttoning at his throat. His tunic was bedazzled with various jewels that were sewn on with gold thread strained over the bump to his stomach, one that he desperately tried to hide with tighter stays. "I feel like I'm in a dream."

A dream. I had thought earlier that I was in a dream, but now it had very quickly transformed to the likeliness of a nightmare. My throat was too dry to produce any words, so I stared down my father, breaths very scarce or nonexistent.

Father took a step around the newel of the railing so that he came directly in front of me. Though I was on the bottom step, his eyes still loomed above mine, claiming their dominance. "My wayward daughter, home at last."

I finally, finally, was able to find my tongue—it had been hiding in a corner, afraid to come out. Dragging it, kicking and screaming, I forced it to work. "I'm sure you missed me, Father."

If I thought that talking would be a good idea, I was horribly mistaken. His eyes tightened sharply, the lines of his mouth, crazily enough, grew tighter. "Daughter, where were you going?" he asked, not dropping the conversational air to his tone. I glanced over his shoulder for the first time since he appeared, and found that there was a guard standing there, dressed in black and blood red. His gaze was distant and both on us but not, unfocused but snapping. That must've been why Father was acting civil, not shouting the palace down. Though he's never let a palace guard tame his tongue before. "Trying to find me, perhaps?"

"I—" I opened my mouth to say something, to answer, but stopped cold. If I were to tell him that I was going to find Kaius, to rescue him—I didn't even know what he'd do. "I panicked," I said instead, blinking at him. "I—I didn't realize I was home. I wasn't settled yet...in my mind."

Father made a "mmm" noise in the back of his throat, tilting his head slightly to the side. I knew he could see through my words as easily as if he were reading a book, knowing each word and each page. He's always been able to do that—but after being away for so long, it felt strange having all of my feelings known to him again.

I recalled our last meeting, him snapping at me about Prince Grimond. Our very last conversation.

"I think I know where you want to go," Father said after a moment, turning on his heel to face the guardsman standing post. "Can you go ahead of us to see if everything is in place?"

The guardsman bowed his head before moving off, in the direction of where I'd previously been heading.

My stomach sank to my toes.

Father looked over his shoulder at me, his thinly veiled gaze of pleasantness vanished from sight. "You've caused quite a trouble," he spoke to me, and though his voice didn't change—level, even—the contempt in his eyes were dark. "Quite a lot, actually. Though, I'm sure you knew that. I'm sure that's why you've stayed away so long." He reached out and grabbed ahold of my wrist, tugging me off of the steps. His fingers were as cold as ice, a bulky pressure bruising my muscle. I gritted my teeth to keep from yelping in pain, allowing him to tug me down the hall. From experience, I realized that objecting was far worse than going along. "Prince Grimond has told me of what transpired at the border, though I haven't heard much. Don't worry, though, you will tell me the rest."

My breath caught in my throat as he jerked me sideways, down a curving hallway. "I don't—know what you're talking about."

"Convenient," he spat, and brought us to a door that was already thrown wide. There were large, concrete steps that led to a level that I'd never gone beyond—the door had always been locked to me. He went first, still pulling me after him. The stones were freezing underneath my feet, my footsteps jarring. "You know, I'm going to mind my tongue. At least until you've gotten a chance to see what I want to show you."

We'd gotten to the bottom of the staircase and he pulled me to the left, fingers tightening on my bones. "Father—"

"We're here," he announced, just as we stepped up to a rickety door, neighboring one nearly identical to its right. Father opened the one on the left, pulling me inside. Once the door swung in, though, his grip loosened considerably. There were four guardsmen in the room, each in one corner of the small space. There was a large curtain that hung against the near wall, as if it were shielding something.

There was a single chair set in front of the curtain, and Father took me to it. "Sit," he ordered, and I obeyed, my heart beating fast.

"What are we doing?" I asked him, forcing myself to keep my voice calm and my eyes locked to the window, though I wanted to scream and bolt. Find Kaius. But I had a feeling that whatever Father brought me down here for, it wasn't for anything good. "Father?"

"I thought this might put your mind at ease. Settle it." Father glanced at the guard who was standing nearest to the curtain; with a curt nod to his head, the soldier grabbed ahold of a thick rope, pulling it. Being connected, the curtain pulled aside, a hush of fabric swishing together.

The first thing I saw was Prince Grimond standing in the room beyond. He was wearing his usual garb—fitted trousers and thick tunic, belted over with a gold buckle and a thick jacket. His reddish hair was smoothed down in all the places it could, though the top of his head was still balding. He was leaning heavily onto his cane in the middle of the small, decrepit room, gaze averted to a heap of something on the floor.

As my eyes registered, I couldn't contain the gasp that escaped my body. All of the breath was sucked from my lungs when I realized that the heap on the floor wasn't a mess of nothing—the lights were so low that I hadn't noticed. But it was a person. Their dark back was bare and bloody, their head hanging toward the floor. On their knees, it almost looked as if the person was praying, save for their hands bound behind their back.

Their hair was white and tousled, run through with blood and grit.

It was Kaius.