Crimson Lace

Chapter 11

ELLE
CHAPTER ELEVEN

Alec's words have left me perplexed. He had asked what had become of me. I don't know the answer, but I am not sure if I want to know.

I scowl over the heaping pile of books on the study table. I'm having a hard time focusing. An unusual thing for me. Usually around books is where I am the most level headed, but now I can't concentrate on a single page.

World War Four, the cold years. Death toll . . . two hundred million. Cause . . .

With one angry fist, I swipe the books off the table. They fall to the floor with a resounding thud. Alec's words have exposed a secret weakness in me, though I can't figure out why or what it is. I know he didn't mean what he said, but it is his emotion behind it that I am trying to place.

Was he mad? Was he disappointed, or sarcastic? I don't think I'll ever know, and I don't want to ask him about it. But I need to talk to him. I know that much at least.

"Eleya," King Keaton's voice catches me off guard.

I move my eyes back to my books as I scramble to pick them up off the floor. He definitely saw my outburst. I stack the books up on top of the table. His face is cold and untelling. I have seen this look on his face once before, about a year ago. Back when he told me that a small gang called the Shift Skulls had bombed the town hall in Gensingon, and that my teacher Madam Lockwood had been inside.

"My apologies, the books . . . fell." I stammer over my lie as I place the last book on top of the stack. "To what do I owe this visit, My King," I ask with a steady curtsey, in an attempt to redeem myself.

He wears his usual black suit with metals across his chest and silver crown atop his blonde hair, but he looks rather bare without a lengthy, blood-red king mantle to drape his shoulders.

"I received complaints of a violent and unruly teenage Serf stirring up trouble at my training center this morning." He raises an eyebrow in distaste. "Care to elaborate?" he asks.

I can't believe someone reported me. Who could have been so childish? I gulp, swallowing my pride and my rage.

"My apologies." That's all I have to say for myself and for my actions.

He shouldn't be surprised. Keaton knows that this isn't the first time that I have been down there. In fact, he knows that I go there multiple times a week. So what's really on his mind? I wait while he collects his thoughts. Whatever he has to say he clearly doesn't look happy about it. My heart starts to race slightly in anticipation.

"That's not all," he starts. "Your friend, the boy, he has gotten into some trouble." It's like a weight is being dropped on my chest. "The trial starts now."

I don't bother to ask details about the crime, nor do I bother to breathe. All I know is that it must be bad because Wesley is good at getting in trouble.

"You do not have to attend the trial, but that is an option if you so choose. However, you are not to cause a scene in my courtroom." And with that, he exits swiftly.

I can't stop thinking of all the cruel ways that Wesley might be punished for a crime. They could send a Burner like Franco to boil Wesley's blood to a temperature that burns him from the inside out, or worse a Chill who could make icicles made of Wesley's blood rip up through his skin. It depends on the severity of the crimes he committed. There are so many abilities, with too many names, too many to count.

I run past Keaton, straight down the hall towards the palace courtroom. I am glad that I showered and changed into a gown after my workout this morning, because otherwise they wouldn't have let me in, but outfits aren't what is on my mind right now.