Kingdom's Vice Series: Journey to Alleria ( #1 2014) #Wattys2015

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The hall is silent now. No one speaks a word, in Olak Tongue or otherwise.

The King stands in the hall, visibly shaken by Faeore’s words. He stumbles back and leans onto his throne to support himself.

‘I...I...’ he stammers in a breathy voice, ‘How cou—could you know about that?’

Faeore lowers her eyes sadly, ‘You cannot hide everything from me, Father. That book wasn’t hidden very well.’

A pang of anxiety hits me in the chest. Did I not put it back where I found it? I did my best to conceal it behind the shelf as I discovered it, but if Faeore found it afterwards, it couldn’t possibly be my doing could it?

The King sighs, ‘There are things that are meant to be made known in our time and in our turn,’ he tells her firmly. ‘You went behind my back and read my private accounts, for what? Closure? Your impatience likens you to the Ivorians!’

My head shoots up at the word.

‘My impatience is the result of my Father’s lack of trust!’ Faeore yells back without hesitation. She’s witnessed her Father’s wrath before, but she certainly doesn’t seem afraid of it anymore. ‘Is it true that you loved her, even though it was against the law?’

Xertormei nods sadly, ‘Yes, I did love her. I still do, but there is nothing that can be done to bring her back. To do so would be dishonourable and not to mention it would bring ill upon us all! You cannot undo fate’s work, Faeore.’ He says. ‘Her position in life had decided that she would die once her duty was done. It was the natural order of things in her world.’

Faeore is weeping again, ‘And your love did not disturb that natural order?’ she asks as if she is pleading with him to say differently.

A pause, a sigh, and a regretful glance later, the King admits he did nothing. And it is at this moment, that the dreaded Gweyntarr Al’Taine enters the hall.

~.~.~.~

Gweyntarr doesn’t cross me as the crying kind, but as she walks in slowly and sees the flood of tears pouring down everyone’s face, she recoils.

‘Forgive me,’ she says, ‘This appears to be a bad time to...’

Duhamas rushes up to her and grabs her arm, pulling her aside.

‘Ow!’ she exclaims as he drags her away, ‘That hurts, Duhamas. Unhand me you brut!’

He pulls her some more and speaks to her, his words concealed by her hair.

‘Away with you!’ he hisses, ‘Now is not the time for your mockery, Gweyntarr. We are discussing information that is of no concern to you. Faeore does not need your icy glares.’

She scoffs and jerks out of his grip, ‘Please, I’m not here for that.’

‘Then what do you want?’

She smiles a wicked smile. ‘You’re wanted in the courtyard,’

‘By whom?’

She shakes her head and watches Faeore intently, ‘I cannot say. But you must go. Now.’

And with that, she leaves with Duhamas in tow. They leave in silence, neither of them saying where they are going or whom they are meeting with. My mind wanders what all this secrecy is about.

~.~.~.~

Though I remain in the coldness of the King’s hall, listening to Faeore condemn her Father some more, I hear feint whispers in my mind. There is a collection of voices: Gweyntarr’s, Duhamas’s and a male voice I never heard before. The three of them seem to be conspiring something. I cannot decipher their words exactly, but I remember only three: summon, protect, and betray. The last one has the hairs on my neck reaching the skies.