Page 95 of Heir of Illusion

“Silence,” the man commands my father before kneeling in front of me, bringing us eye level. He ignores Clara and Bel, keeping his focus solely on me.

“Do you know who I am?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“My name is Baylor.” He smiles as my eyes turn round. “I see you’ve heard of me? Your father kindly allowed my wife and me to stay here while traveling home from the north.”

My gaze quickly flashes to the pretty dark-haired woman at the table. Her eyes are sad as she watches us, and I want to ask her why, but the king keeps speaking.

“We were sorry to hear of your accident at the lake, Lady Iverson.”

“It wasn’t an accident.” My hands cover my mouth as the words slip free. My eyes flash to my father, finding him glaring at me with a red face.

“What is she talking about?” Bellamy demands, moving away from us to confront our father.

“She’s letting her imagination run away with her, as usual,” Lord Pomeroy spares his son a withering glare.

“Enough.” The king’s stern voice brings silence to the room.

He turns his cold stare on Clara until she finally releases me, taking a few steps back. Without her arms around me, the room becomes much colder.

“What happened to you, Iverson?” he asks.

I tremble under his gaze. “I went to sleep in the pond, but when I woke up, I was in a wooden box underground,” I whisper, too scared to tell him how my father held me under the water. I keep my eyes down, focusing on the dirt caked under my fingernails. “I had to dig my way out.”

“Blessed Fates,” the queen murmurs as her face pales.

The king says something to my father, but I’m too distracted by the queen to hear him. When he turns back to me, there’s a strange expression on his face. Everyone else in the room is either shocked or horrified, but not him. He almost appears… gleeful. As if I’m the answer to a problem I didn’t even know existed. Something about the gleam in his eyes has me taking a step back.

“Clara.” I reach for her, and she returns to my side in an instant, hugging me close again as Bel steps up beside us.

“My sister needs rest,” he announces. “If you’ll excuse us.”

We head for the door, but as if they are acting on a silent signal, the guards move as one to block our path.

“Get out of our way,” Bellamy demands, his voice colder than I’ve ever heard it.

Something pulls my attention back to the king, where I find him addressing my father.

“The girl is coming with me, Nigel,” he says, making my heart drop into my stomach. “And I think it would be best if there were no witnesses. Obviously, you and your boy are spared from that. So long as you comply.”

I look to my father, not understanding what the king means. Witnesses for what? Bellamy moves to stand in front of me, blocking my view of the others.

“Baylor, please—” The queen’s voice reaches my ears.

“This doesn’t concern you, woman,” her husband answers. “Guards.”

Soldiers move toward us, ripping Bel and Clara away from me. My back presses into the wall, where I try to make myself as small as possible.

“Let go of her!” Bel screams as Clara pushes back against the guards.

“Shut up, boy!” my father shouts. “You will only make this harder on yourself.”

As the struggle continues, my gaze connects with the queen’s again. She’s frozen in her chair, eyes wide as she watches the horror unfold. A soldier stands next to her, his hand on her shoulder, as if to keep her in her seat. A tear leaks from one of her eyes, dripping down her pale cheek.

“No!” Clara’s shout pulls my attention from the queen as one of the soldiers bashes the hilt of his sword over Bel’s head. My brother’s eyes roll back in his head, and he falls to the floor, unmoving.

Clara’s fearful gaze finds mine as the guards drag her from the room. “Run! Ivy, run!”

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