Royal Rebellion {on hold}

Chapter 16.2

A/N  A shorter chapter. Hope you enjoy! :)

After Earl and the others were gone, Skye and I tore out of the dungeon. At the top of the stairs, she stopped me.

"Julian!" Skye gasped. "I need something in my room. It's important. It's a small wooden box with a flower engraved on it." I hesitated then nodded.

"You should go first, escape." Skye nodded and pulled away, following after Earl and the others. I hoped in the chaos, they would be able to escape safely and unharmed.

Turning, I took off in the direction of her room. Twice, I had to duck into an alcove to let the guards pass. When I finally made it, the guards who were supposed to be at the door were not there. Strange. Or maybe they weren't there because I wasn't supposed to be back yet.

I slipped in the room, padded across the living area and opened the door to Skye's room. It was plain and simple, the room dressed in a simple baby blue and white. A single wooden nightstand stood by the bed and a small vanity stood opposite. I walked over to it, scanning the organized surface. Jackpot. Quickly grabbing the box, I turned to leave but paused when something caught my eyes. It was a small seal for letters. The design was quite unique.

It depicted a small bird on a branch and the same strange, complicated loopy symbol I'd seen before in the background. Marcus's voice swam into my head.

"...a little birdy told me..." No. It couldn't be. I-I was reading too much into it. I shook my head to clear it of such foolish thoughts and tucked the box into my tunic pocket, running out of there.

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Screams pierced the air, coming from the direction of the throne room. I skidded to a stop. Should I help those in there or should I leave? The longer I stayed, the higher the chance I'd be discovered. Worse, I might encounter Father or Darrel. They never seemed to shield away from a battle.

I burst into the throne room and instantly regretted it. Father stood on the dais, his sword dripping onto the floor. Bodies lay around him and blood splattered the walls. He was the only one alive and his robes were still impeccable.

"Julian." Father dusted imaginary dust off his clothes, his expression not changing in the slightest. I shuddered. I hadn't heard my name come from his lips in a long time.

"This is your 'army'?" Father gestured to the fallen rebels at his feet with his sword. I stayed silent and frozen. "You really are a nuisance, boy!"

A body slammed into me from behind and stumbled forward, slipping on the blood-coated floor. Darrel kicked my leg, sending me crumpling to my knees.

"I've kept you alive this long and you repay me by causing trouble. Just a bit longer and I won't need you," father continued.

"I'll enjoy our time together," Darrel sneered. I paled and swallowed hard, scooting away from him and shakily getting up.

"I don't-I don't understand why you hate me so much." Father walked up to me and I backed away but he grabbed my face, squeezing.

"You are a curse," he spat. "How dare you make me look at her everytime I see you!" he roared. He threw me to the side and I fell on my bad shoulder. Pain wrapped itself on my arm, sending tendrils of lightning down my spine. "Just a bit longer," father repeated, as if reassuring himself. It suddenly dawned in my mind. I'd inherited mother's messy brown-blonde locks and her exotic blue eyes. When I look in the mirror, I guess I do see her in me. But she always had that spark of mischievousness and the twinkle in her eye, whereas I was just a scarred and fearful little boy. We were so alike and yet so different.