Page 134 of Falling Princess

If he isn’t permanently broken.

For once, I’m glad I’m incapable of tears.

I stepped forward into the castle.

CHAPTERFORTY-TWO

Ientered the great hall and found it devoid of life. No royal guards. No maids. No footmen or servants or pages for the knights quartered here, like Lorcan.

No king.

“Father?”

Eerie stillness as I made my way through the library and up into the grand ballroom. Not a single sound when I braved the darker regions of the castle with a glow stick from Lorcan’s supply bag in hand. The hydroelectric system must have been damaged; the few working electric lights flickered, leaving most of the castle in deep gloom, despite broad daylight.

My shoes whispered over the travertine and crimson rugs in the hallways. I sneaked up the back staircase into the royal apartments.

Nothing. No one. Not even a terrified servant hiding in the linen closet. Everyone is gone.

“No matter,” I told myself with false cheer, just to hear a human voice. “The kitchen stores are enough to feed hundreds. I can last a year or longer, with all that food.”

There came no reply. When I swallowed, my fear caught in my throat, choking me. I left my water supply with Raina.

“Father?” I called out in a rasp.

No response.

I can’t decide whether I’m alone, or in more danger than I’ve ever been in my life, or both.

“Father?” I called again.

I passed the portrait of my parents and me, painted when I was a baby.

Mother, if you have any sway with the goddess, please. Please help me now.

I continued toward the throne room. The eerie stillness grew heavier and more menacing.

Why isn’t there anyone else within the castle? I’ve never seen it this empty. I’ve never been afraid in my own home before. I keep walking. Soundless. Shrinking into the shadows.

The throne room door won’t open. Locked and possibly barricaded. I pressed my ear to the carved wood. No voices. Nothing.

I circled around to the side entrance. The throne room is built to be a refuge, but it’s also a means of escape. I know every nook and cranny of this castle.

That knowledge saved me.

It’s the color that confuses me at first. The high-pile red concealed the wetness. It squished under my feet, prompting me to look down. Nothing was immediately apparent as being out of the ordinary. A strange smell touched my nostrils. Metallic and earthy.

Familiar. Lorcan smelled like that when he came back from Manchester.

I continued moving deeper into the gloom, trying to summon the courage to call out.

I looked down again. The white caps of my Converse were streaked with red.

Blood.

I gasped and fumbled the glow stick. With shaking hands, I held it high.

Bodies.

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