Page 21 of Reign of Betrayal

As beautiful as this castle is, I will not forget where I am and why. The palace’s dwellers wear secrets darker than the deepest dungeons. The royals scheme and plot. Their hidden agendas are filled with malice. Their hearts are stained with evil intent and wicked ambition that casts darkness over the luxuriousness of the surroundings. The contrast between the castle’s beauty and the malevolence that lurks within each hall serves as a gut-wrenching reminder—even the most radiant exteriors can hide the most nefarious deeds.

We continue halfway down the hall, stopping in front of a white door with gold trim. The guard stationed outside gives me a polite, curt nod and opens the door. Before I head in, the guard stops me, removing my shackles. He gives me a look that says I better not give them any trouble. I want to laugh, but I don’t.

As I walk into the room, he shuts the door, locking it behind me.Great. This is still a prison—just an upgrade on the scenery.

The first thing I notice in the room is the four-poster wooden bed—wood, not stone. There are layers and layers of luxurious blankets with multiple-colored threads. The reds, golds, and whites weave in an intricate pattern. The fireplace is made of some sort of glinting white stone. The roaring fire is setting a beautiful radiance around the room giving a false sense of calm.

The room has a white leather lounging chair in front of the fireplace. The leather is so buttery soft, I just want to lay on it and sleep for an eternity. To the right, there is a table with two wooden chairs, and to the left, near the fireplace, is a door I assume leads to a washroom.

Before heading to the washroom, I open the armoire near the bed and grab a soft, silky white nightgown—white, not gray.

I go through the washroom door and see a deep marbled tub. I was hoping for a shower. The vanity holds many oils and soaps with invigorating scents.

I turn on the tub and let the water get hot while I pick out a bath oil and soap for my hair and body. I pick a scent that reminds me of vanilla and berries. Once the tub is filled, I remove my bloodied gray tunic and pants discarding them like vile trash on the floor.

I go to step in the tub but hesitate. Memories surge—the tub at the prison. I remind myself that this is not the prison. I will not have a sack tied around my face and neck, while practically being drowned. I step one foot in. The water is hot and soothing, yet I can’t seem to put the rest of my body in.

My heart begins to race. I don’t think I can get in. I am breathing quickly, trying to steady my nervousness. It is just water, and I am alone. I will be fine, I tell myself. I step another foot into the tub but cannot bring myself to sit down.

I decide this will have to do. I wash my hair and body with the amazing smelling soap and rinse myself off. It is so nice to have warm water. I will never take it for granted again. Once I am clean, I step out of the tub, heart still hammering away, and dress in my night clothes.

The material is luxurious. It glides over my skin, hugging me ever so slightly. Once dressed, I brush my hair, and head back to the room, climbing into the bed. The bed is soft, yet firm. I can definitely get used to having a mattress. Laying on this bed is like resting on the most supportive cloud. I pull the blankets up around me, staring at the ceiling, thinking about what tomorrow might bring. Suddenly, the blankets feel suffocating and oppressive, like they are their own prison trapping me to the bed. I kick them off and lay there bare in my nightgown. I decide to close my tired eyes and try to drift into a dark slumbering abyss. The last thing to skitter over my thoughts is a pair of bright green eyes before darkness claims me.

I wake to the sound of knocking. I sit up in a daze, confused. The sun is up. A slice of light is peering through a crack in the thick drapes over the window, leaking warm radiant light into the room—the sun! I groggily run to the window and draw the drapes. The sun is bright and warm and…bright. Despite its golden rays stinging my eyes and making me squint, I welcome it.

For the first time in a long time, I smile. I never thought I would feel the sun kiss my skin again. With each cleansing breath in the sunlight, I feel the weight—the darkness of the Hollows slowly lifting away.

Knock, knock, knock.

I walk over to the door, swinging it open. The guard knocking takes one look at me, his gaze traveling down my body, and back to my face. I notice his cheeks redden.

The guard clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable. “Ma’am, you are… you are in a nightgown,” he whispers.

I glance down at myself. The thin-strapped, silky nightgown clings to my body. I didn’t even think about what I was wearing, I am so used to wearing my prison grays. I partially shut the door, shielding myself behind it.

“Ah, what can I help you with?”

“You are to head to the seer momentarily. Here… I have breakfast for you.” The guard hands me a tray. I take it as he pulls the door shut. I place it on the table, and examine the food: eggs, fruits, bread, bacon, coffee, and juice. My stomach growls just looking at it—well, all of it except the bacon. After my late husband forced me to butcher a pig for our wedding night dinner, I can no longer stomach the taste of pork. There is a reason for the saying ‘bleed him like a pig’. I shake my head, ridding my mind of the thought.

I pick up the goblet of orange juice and take a sip. It’s cold and refreshing. The sweet and tart notes are amazing. I devour the eggs, a piece of bread, and some fruit.

After scarfing down my food, I head to the armoire to grab an outfit. There are only dresses—no pants or tunics. Darn it. I pulled out a beige dress and brown shoes, which I don. I go to the washroom and grab my palm blades that are in my pants, stuffing them under the corset on the bodice. This will have to do for now; however, I need pants so I can hide them better in the waistband. Then, I head to the vanity to brush out my messy hair. I don’t actually care how I look, but I guess I am expected to look semi-presentable.

Once I am content with my appearance, I open my door. The young guard that saw me in my nightclothes has his back to the door but turns around when he hears the door open.

“Much better,” he smiles, shyly. “This way. I will take you to meet the seer now.”

He looks young—too young to be a royal guard. I can’t help the question that slips out. “How long have you been a guard?”

He swallows hard. “This is my first week ma’am.”

Double burning hells! They practically have a child guarding me—a prisoner… a murderer. I scoff. I guess they do not think of me as a threat. Perfect. Larah, Elm, and I can plan the demise of the royals easier that way.

We head down many hallways, a labyrinth of sorts, it seems. After stepping off the grand staircase, I notice Vanna at the end of one of the halls, with two crying children beside her—a little boy and a little girl, each on opposite sides of her. Her arms are wrapped around them both in a comforting way as they disappear through a doorway. Odd. I don’t believe there are royal children.

We continue walking, and the guard stops in front of a heavy metal door.

“This is it.” He gestures for me to open the door. I walk in as he waits in the hallway, shutting the door behind me, making it click loudly.

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