Page 31 of Heir of Illusion

I disagree, but it’s not my place to correct her. I know from experience that brushing off those types of comments can be its own form of coping.

“The king is angry today,” she continues. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but he’s been this way all morning. Most of the servants are avoiding that wing.”

I can relate to that. His bad moods are terrifying.

“Does it have anything to do with whatever Warrick pulled Remy away for earlier?” I ask.

“I’m not sure, but it’s possible.”

“Would you mind taking this to my room?” I ask, handing her my bag, which contains the book I stole.

As she takes it, the strangest urge bolts through me. For a moment, I want to rip the satchel from her hands and refuse to part with it. Brushing off the odd instinct, I release my grip on the bag, telling myself it would be madness to take such a conspicuous text into Baylor’s study.

“Good luck,” she says as we reach the stairwell that leads to the king’s private floor.

“I’ll need it,” I whisper.

Taking a deep breath, I begin my ascent alone.

Chapter

Nine

My lonely footsteps echo through the empty halls of the east wing.

Glancing down at myself, I try to ascertain the state of my appearance. Since I meant to hide in the library all day, I never changed after my training session. I’m still wearing my fitted sleeveless tunic, now stained with several drops of blood. The fabric has torn in a few spots, leaving my skin visible underneath. Half the hair from my once sleek braid has come loose, curling around my face.

I would love to bathe and change into fresh clothes, but Baylor doesn’t enjoy being kept waiting. Instead, I untie the ribbon that still holds a few of the strands together and use my fingers to comb through the thick, messy waves. I let it hang in front of my shoulders, hoping to distract from my attire. Unfortunately, this is the best I can do.

I arrive at the king’s study and the guards usher me inside, not bothering to announce my presence. That lapse in protocol sends a shiver of apprehension down my spine.

I find Baylor pacing back and forth behind his desk, quietly muttering to himself. He keeps his eyes down, not acknowledging my presence as I enter the room. As odd as his behavior is, what concerns me most is his appearance. His jacket has been cast aside, leaving him in an untucked, wrinkly tunic. His usually smooth blond locks now fall into his face, tangled and stringy.

Alarms blare through my mind, signaling that something is wrong. He looks terrible…He looks like someone capable of murdering a God.

I shake my head, pushing the dark thought away.

“Baylor?” I ask tentatively.

At the sound of my voice, his head snaps up and his wild gaze connects with mine. For the first time since I’ve known him, the gift of eternal youth appears to have abandoned him. His usually brilliant skin is gray and haggard. Sweat peppers his brow, reminding me of what happens to mortals when they’re struck by illness.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, forcing myself to move closer while still keeping the desk between us as a buffer.

Lines appear around his mouth as he grimaces. “Someone has betrayed me, pet.”

With Baylor, every betrayal ends the same way. I ball my fists, bracing for whatever name I am about to receive. My mouth turns dry as I run through my mental list of courtiers. I’ve suspected several lords of harboring negative sentiments toward the king, not that I’d ever share that with him. Whoever it is, their betrayal has affected him deeply.

You can do this, I tell myself as I force my spine to straighten.You will be strong. You will endure.

“You are no longer allowed to leave the palace,” he announces.

The words echo through my mind, bouncing off my skull. Why would I not be allowed to leave? I thought we were discussing a betrayal…

My stomach sinks to the floor as a terrifying suspicion creeps into my mind.

“And I want a guard stationed by your door at all times,” he continues.

Dread floods through my veins, poisoning my blood. It’s only by the grace of the Fates that I manage to stay upright as the realization settles like a lightning strike straight to my gut.

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