Page 63 of Vicious King

Two torches flared with fire, lighting up the chamber. I could see the robed and hooded council members around the sides, faces still veiled in shadows. Directly ahead, a shirtless man was being dragged in through one of the other entrances by two Lodge guards. The guards brought him close to me, and one of the council members stepped closer too.

A jolt of surprise shot through me as I realized that the shirtless man was Matthew Towne, one of my father’s chief accountants. They’d become friends decades ago after meeting in college, and as a child, I’d spent quite a lot of time with Matthew when he came to visit my father for lunch or shooting sessions. Nice guy. Smart, funny.

“This man is a traitor,” said the council member who’d stepped forward. He was only a yard or so away now, but he was wearing a bronze mask, so I still had no clue who he was, other than that he had a strong square jawline and a thick neck. “We entrusted him with many of our secrets, and he recently attempted to betray us.”

“No! Please, this is a mistake. I didn’t do anything!” Matthew shouted, struggling in the tight grip of the guards.

“The penalty for your betrayal of Crown and Dagger is death. Elias, take the dagger.”

One of the guards held out a large silver dagger. I reached forward and took it.

“Prove your worth. Prove your loyalty to the society,” said the masked council member. “Execute this traitor for us.”

“Please!” Matthew screamed. His gray hair was dripping with sweat. “Elias, you know me! I taught you how to ride a bike when you were six! Remember? You can’t kill me. Please!”

I didn’t think twice. I lifted the knife and aimed it at Matthew’s chest, and then I plunged it downward. Hard. Fast.

There was no scream. No blood. Just as I expected, it was a trick knife, similar to the one they always used in the second-level initiation ceremony shows with the fake virgin sacrifice.

“That never gets old,” Matthew said, laughing as he rubbed his chest in the spot I’d jabbed him with the trick knife.

“Good job, Towne,” the masked council member said, clapping him on the back. “You can go back to the festival now.”

He and the guards left the room, chuckling with amusement. I held onto the dagger and stayed where I was, waiting with bated breath.

“Elias,” the council member said, turning his gaze back to me. “You performed well. The last three second-level members we had under consideration failed miserably. The first two outright refused to stab him, and the third waited too long. But you… you didn’t hesitate. You immediately did as we asked of you. No questions. No bargaining.”

“So I passed?”

“You passed this test, yes. You demonstrated that you trust us beyond a shadow of doubt, no matter what we ask of you, and you also proved that we can trust you. You proved you would commit murder for us if the need arose.”

How admirable.

“But you aren’t quite there yet,” he went on. The other council members rose and stepped over as he spoke. “We must discuss this privately for a moment. Please wait here.”

The burning torches were snuffed out, and the council filed out of the chamber, through the entrance on the other side. If my memory served me correctly, there was another large chamber through that door, one with a polished granite table and stone benches.

I waited patiently in the dim room, entertaining myself with thoughts of Tatum. Her lips. Her body. Her eyes. Her hair. When she stepped into a room, something in the atmosphere changed. Everyone turned to stare, every single time. She was beautiful but she didn’t know it.

She should know it. She should be told how gorgeous she was every fucking day.

It wasn’t just her looks that drew me in, either. It was her mind. I loved her stubborn nature, her rebellious streak. Loved her determination and her strength. Even when she was at her lowest point all those weeks ago, right on the verge of breaking forever, she turned it around and refused to let herself be destroyed.

It was fascinating to me, because I hadn’t faced much hardship in my life. At least not compared to the majority of people.

I wondered just how strong I’d be if I didn’t have the richest family in the world behind me, handing me everything I could possibly want or need. I wondered how I would’ve acted if I’d been forced to claw my way out of poverty instead, always knowing there was no one to catch me if I fell.

Would I be as strong as Tatum? Or would I crumble under the pressure?

I guess I’d find out soon, when I got her out of here and went against my family and Crown and Dagger. Only then would I know my true strength. My true nature.

Right now, all I knew was that Tatum made me want to be a better person.

The council members returned a moment later, shuffling in slowly, murmuring softly amongst themselves. They didn’t light the torches again. Did that mean something, or was I just overthinking things?

There was a long, tense silence. My impatience was quickly replaced with worry. What if I didn’t make it? I might’ve passed today’s trial, but the council had never said a word to me about how my other trials and interviews went. I simply assumed I performed satisfactorily. Typical King hubris.

Another minute passed. Not a word. I couldn’t wait any longer.

I cleared my throat and raised my head high, steeling my jaw. “So,” I said. Clear, loud. “Am I in or out?”

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