Page 19 of Revert
The flicker of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it never reached his eyes. “Let us dispense with pleasantries. I imagine you’re curious why I’ve summoned you.”
My pulse thundered in my ears. “Of course, Your Majesty,” I said, careful to keep my tone even.
He rose with slow, practiced grace, each movement a controlled display of dominance. “I brought you here to ensure you understand what happens to those who reach beyond their station. It’s come to my attention that you’ve taken an...interestin certain parts of the castle and its history.” His gaze sharpened. “Archival records. Old halls. Forgotten murals.”
My breath caught. I didn’t flinch, but the faintest tremor betrayed me, a flicker he surely caught. I didn’t dare glance at Prince Castiel, who stood silent behind the throne, unreadable.
The king stepped down from the dais, advancing one intimidating step at a time as if closing in for the kill. Though my body screamed to retreat, I held my ground. “Thorndale holds many secrets. Some meant to be discovered, while others…are not.”
Every instinct screamed for me for me to run…but I remained frozen as he closed the distance.
“Curiosity can be a noble trait,” he continued. “In a queen, it can even be useful. But curiosity must be carefully directed, lest it become a danger.” His smile tightened. “After all, even the most beautiful pieces can be broken if they no longer fit the board.”
The threat behind his civility rang clear. I kept my voice steady. “Of course, Your Majesty. I only sought to better understand the kingdom I will soon serve.”
“A noble sentiment and commendable goal.” His presence pressed in, stopping directly in front of me, close and intimidating; my legs trembled with the effort to remain still rather than instinctively stepping back. “And one I hope is true. But history is not always kind to clever women. Some become queens, others...traitors. History has decided both.” His gaze darkened as it swept over me like a judgment. “Your usefulness is… conditional, girl. Thorndale has no patience for broken pieces.”
“You needn’t worry.” Prince Castiel interjected suddenly. His voice was controlled, but I caught a flicker of some raw emotion in his otherwise impassive gaze. “She’s clever enough to know where not to step.”
I dared a glance towards him. His tone had been deliberate and carefully chosen, so that the line could be read as either a caution…or defense.
The king’s attention returned to me, contemplative. “I’ve noticed changes in the court. Subtle ones, almost as if someone has begun to shift pieces without understanding the board they’re playing on.” His eyes gleamed with veiled menace. “You wouldn't know anything about that…would you, Princess?”
My heart pounded as I evenly met his gaze, willing my expression to remain placid. ”I’m afraid I don't understand the question.” A lie. I heard his unspoken threat, but had no escape.
“Don’t you?” The king’s smile reappeared, more grimace as he turned towards the prince. “And what of you, Son? Have you noticed anything…unusual?”
I stiffened, bracing myself for him to placate the king. “Nothing of concern, Father.” His voice was flat, dutiful…butthere was a subtle edge beneath it, almost defensive. Surely I’d imagined it.
“Good.” The king’s tone chilled further. “Because if there were…you would tell me. Immediately.”
“Of course.” Prince Castiel inclined his head in a deferential nod, but his jaw pulsed with a strain that spoke louder than his words.
The king’s attention returned to me, his final move yet to be played. He began to circle, slow and deliberate, stopping directly in front of me so I couldn’t escape the full force of his hate-filled eyes. He reached out, not a strike, but something far worse.
His gloved fingers brushed beneath my chin, tilting it upward in a mockery of gentleness. Not painful, but possessive, like inspecting an object already in his collection. I couldn’t help but compare his cruel touch to the gentle fingers of his son.
“Tell me, Princess Bernice,” he mused. “Do you believe in fate? Or have you deluded yourself into thinking you can rewrite it?”
I yearned to say a word in defense but I couldn’t speak; I wasn’t sure I remembered how.
Still Prince Castiel didn’t look at me, but I caught the slight movement—a brief dip of his head, almost a warning—subtle, almost imperceptible, but unmistakable, as if he sensed the burning retorts I ached to speak but didn’t dare.
Yet the defiant part of me, blind to reason, couldn’t stay silent once I shook myself free from silence’s unyielding grip. “Your Majesty’s concern for my loyalty is…touching. I’ve always believed loyalty should be earned, not demanded. I hadn’t realized my actions—or your rule—warranted such scrutiny.”
The moment the words slipped free I regretted my rash boldness. Though the words appeared innocent on the surface, no polished turn of phrase could disguise I had just spoken backto the sole authority who ruled this kingdom with an iron hand veiled in courtly silk.
The air immediately shifted. The king’s sinister smile didn’t falter—but something colder slipped into his eyes, a flicker of amusement edged with warning. “Careful, my dear,” he said softly. “Even truths, when spoken too freely, can sound dangerously close to treason.”
Prince Castiel’s posture had gone rigid, his gaze fixed on the stone wall ahead but his jaw clenched tightly—one small betrayal of the tension coiled beneath his controlled exterior, a silence that screamed louder than any warning.
A flicker of motion stirred the corner of my vision—one of the king’s guards stepped forward, hand hovering over the hilt of his sword. Fear seized me in its cold grip, but before I could react, Prince Castiel moved.
A subtle half-step to the side, just enough to place himself slightly between me and the guard, a silent barrier between me and danger.
For a breath, our eyes almost met before he looked away, his impenetrable indifference returning before I could decipher anything beneath.
The memory of his sword raised against me in another life made this small shield even more difficult to comprehend, leaving me uncertain what to do with the contradiction.
