Page 13 of The Curse of a Kingdom
The fae with the green armor, whom she assumed was the leader, took a step forward to the large doors, holding his double-sided sword all too casually in his hand. It was as if he expected someone to jump out of a dark crevice in the never-ending halls.
Perhaps he was expecting Devon to attack.
She swallowed and followed each one of his movements. They kept Devon and her in the middle, caged between the six of them.
“You will address the king as His Royal Highness. Do not look him in the eye unless he addresses you. Hold your tongue or you will lose it.” He turned and faced her, and she could almost see his bright magical eyes behind the shadow of his mask. Her lips parted when she realized he was speaking to her.
The day kept getting better by the minute. She didn’t need to be treated like she had no self-restraint when Devon Black was standing next to her, being a perfect little captive.
Nava’s gaze traveled to the aforementioned man. He stood with his back straight, a calm but bored expression on his face. What the hell? What made him so relaxed when they were captives to these maniacs?
The doors groaned with their weight as they opened. Her stomach tightened as she tried to peek between the large wings of her captors, but the men were too large for her to get a clear view of what surrounded her.
The room was circular, with vaulted ceilings so tall she couldn’t see the end in the haze. Light streamed in from the large stained glass around the room. Colorful shades of blue tinted the polished floors beneath.
Candelabras hung from the pillars that surrounded the room, and wax dripped down them, permanently suspended in mid-drip. The light of the flames burned hot, illuminating the space with orange light.
A shiver ran down her spine and dread grew inside her stomach as they walked in, their steps echoing in the mostly empty room.
She looked at the three thrones in the center of the room. The one to the right was empty. Large men occupied the other two. No, not men. Fae, judging by the large wings behind each of their backs.
The king of the Copper Kingdom was definitely a faerie.
Between the two, Nava wasn’t sure who was the king. If she took a wild guess, she would think it was the one who was swallowed by black swirling power; she could barely tell what he looked like with the shadows that wrapped around his body.
This wasn’t like the small ink emanating from the guards. This was genuine raw magic, the scary kind.
They were closer now, and she squinted, trying to see their faces, but still the shapes were blurry with the distance.
“Bow to the king, witch.” Herous’s voice took her out of her reverie, and her stomach churned when the warm air of his breath hit the side of her neck. He pushed her forward, and she stumbled to the ground unceremoniously.
Nava hated the man and struggled to get up as the other guards stood watching. She cursed, trying and failing to get to her feet, unable to use her arms and hands, which impeded her. She met Devon’s gaze as it dropped to the ground, following her with a tensed jaw.
His chin twitched, and she understood. He was hurrying her to get on with it. The shackles that held her arms shrieked with her movements, and her joints protested from all the times she’d fallen today.
“Your Majesty, King Oberon Yearwood, and His Royal Highness, Prince Orion Yearwood. We found these trespassers in the west garden this afternoon.”
Finally, taking pity on her, one guard came down and lifted her from her shoulders, settling her near Devon before he took a stance back.
“Keep your eyes low to the ground,” Devon whispered between tight lips.
A voice deep and cold broke the silence. “How could these humans make it past our walls and gates?”
“They used a portal, sir. The man claims it was an accident—”
“An accident, you say. How would a sorcerer manage to portal into our heavily warded palace?” The king’s voice was less than impressed if she had to guess. “That’s a better question, Fael of Heira. Aren’t my people’s magic more powerful than that of a human?”
Nava frowned and chanced a look at Devon; his lips tilted up almost imperceptibly. He didn’t need the ego boost, that was for sure. The silence that descended was charged. They weren’t the only ones in trouble with the king.
“Of course, sir.” Fael, head of the soldiers, dipped into a deep bow that showed her just how low she needed to go.
“Bring them forward. I’m curious to see the two humans who've challenged me.” Oh, no. That didn’t sound like a good start.
Alarm bells rang inside her head. She needed to get out of here, quickly. A hand wrapped around her arm, so tight that pain extended through her limb and all the way to her shoulder.
Herous brought her forward, and even though she wanted to squirm and fight, she kept her eyes low to the ground. Her heart was beating so fast, it stumbled with double beats. Nava might have a panic attack if her sudden surge of fear was anything to go by. “I will enjoy seeing your head on a spike, witch.” He whispered the words against her ear, and she winced.
Did the kingdoms around the world still do such macabre, ancient practices like put heads on spikes?
