Page 8 of The Rose in the Shadows

As we went, it got harder to ignore the courtiers who watched me. I tried to focus on the splendor of the decor over their chatter, but blocking it out completely was impossible.

“I heard she’s a Promissan spy.”

“I saw the Crown Prince leaving the infirmary looking quite shocked.”

“They’ll need to execute her, of course. It’s the only way to send a message of strength to whoever sent her.”

My stomach lurched. Could that truly happen? Would they really kill me? How could they sentence me to death for a crime I didn’t even remember committing?

Finally, we paused at a large rotunda in front of massive wooden doors with ornate carvings. Looking up, I stared at the mural painted on the ceiling. Nearly a dozen figures sat on a bed of pillows, all seeming to stare directly at me. In the center sat a broad man with full hair and a long white beard. In his hand, he grasped an enormous sword. He was the most commandingpresence in the painting by far, seeming nearly alive because of how his eyes followed my movements, eyes that glowed with the same bronze light I had recognized in Clayton earlier.

“Keep moving!” A guard yelled behind me, giving me a swift shove in the back.

I fell forward, thrown out of my haze, and stumbled directly into the large chamber through the open doors. The difference between this room and the halls outside it was jarring. The palace outside exuded a sense of lightness and beauty, whereas this space could only be described as ominous. Without a single window, the only light came from candles hanging on sizeable wrought-iron chandeliers. The walls were made entirely of dark bricks, and the floor beneath me was dusty and beaten down as if it was comprised of nothing more than dirt that had been stepped on so many times it had hardened completely.

With a resounding thud, the doors shut behind me, and the guard pushed me again until I fell into the center of the room. Behind me were seats lifted into risers. Few people sat in them; those that did wore sparkling and intricate gowns and suits. Iris found herself a seat there, sitting close to the front. She gave me a small thumbs-up and beckoned me to turn and face the five arched balconies above me.

A bell sounded over the room, and a hush fell over the crowd behind me. Above, four figures stepped into their respective chambers and took their seats. I recognized Clayton standing behind the man seated at an awning marked for House Zion. That had to be his father. Like Clayton, he was an impossibly large man. His gray hair contrasted with his muscular arms, which were noticeable under the fitted black jacket. He did not speak at first, choosing instead to lounge back and look me over appraisingly. The remaining members of the Council all seemed to lean away from him subconsciously, as if they were afraid of him somehow entering their own enclosed spaces.

“I hereby call this Council Meeting of the High Houses of Athenia to order. May we rule with honor and dignity and please the Gods that bore us,” he called out in a bored but firm voice, his eyes never leaving me.

“Praise Gods,” echoed the surrounding room.

The Dragon cleared his throat. “As the reigning Dragon of House Zion and King of Athenia, I recognize Gregory Handel of House Herea, Rosalia Blackmore of House Delia, and Clara Reid of House Palaemon, and I pay my respects to the Virgin Goddess Harmonia. May she look upon this Council with pride.”

“Praise Harmonia,” chanted the crowd in a uniform tone that set the hair on the back of my neck on edge.

Clayton stepped forward from behind his father, handing him a packet of parchment. The Dragon took it silently, looking over it quickly before glancing back at me with irritation.

“I’m told you go by the name Theadora?” The Dragon asked me.

His expression had a certain amount of calculation, as if he knew exactly what I would say and how I would say it. From the curl of his lip to the squint of his eye, he looked positively murderous. He was almost exactly what you’d imagine a Dragon in human form to look like. Ruthless and uncaring.

“Yes,” I said softly before remembering Iris’ advice. “Your majesty.”

“The Crown Prince informs me you have no memory of any events that preceded your waking in my infirmary; is that correct?”

I nodded, and felt the weight of unease settle over me. Judging based on the glares I received from the Council members and the hushed gasp from the risers behind me, questions in this room demanded a verbal response.

He grunted. “I must inform you that lying to any member of this Council within this chamber is punishable by death. Do you still wish to stand by that statement?”

Fear bubbled within me, but no fresh memories rose to the occasion, despite how much I wished they would. No one wanted to understand this situation more than I did, but my mind simply refused to cooperate. “I remember nothing.”

With pursed lips that betrayed just the slightest hint of a smirk, he nodded silently and took a quill pen from beside him, signing his name formally on the papers. As his pen left the page, a sudden and unnatural weight settled over me, spreading over my legs first, then stretching over my fingertips and arms. The force with which it held me was suffocating, far worse than the bindings from the infirmary bed. I wanted to shriek out, but even my mouth somehow remained locked shut. I couldn’t move. Someone, or something, was holding me in place.

The Dragon beckoned to the doors, which were swiftly opened at his command, and a woman crossed the threshold into the chamber with a comfortable ease. She was tall with long auburn hair and her pale blue ball gown seemed to complement her fair complexion. She strode to the center of the room, curtsied low to the ground before the Dragon, and then nodded in acknowledgment to the other Council members.

“Your majesty, Council members, I am honored to offer my services to you today.” She greeted them before turning her green eyes to me. “I’ve been told you understand little of what is happening.”

As she turned her attention to me, relaxation spread happily throughout my body, calming my frantic anxieties just as quickly as that foreign weight had settled over me moments ago.

It’s her power!A voice within me yelled.

I opened my eyes in a flash.

“My name is Lorelai Pelland.” Her bell-like voice called to me. “I’m what you call a Truthseeker from House Herea. Truthseekers can elicit the truth from people. Does that make sense so far?”

Her magic was hypnotizing. In an instant, her voice was the only thing I could hear. Her eyes were the only thing I could see. Lorelai Pelland was the only person in the room and the only person in the world who mattered. I could only nod at her, unable to turn my attention away.

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