Page 84 of The Curse of a Kingdom
It had always been strange that he was able to smell them before anyone else in the castle could. That was, until he’d gone to the forest with Nava and found out he was somehow linked to the Beekeepers, the natural enemies of the Zorren.
If he were going to be dispatched early to fight them, he needed to make it to the king’s room and find the keys to the bracelets before then. He finished tying the straps of his trousers and reached for one of his favorite black tunics. It had dark gray embroidery that depicted leaves and flowers sprouting out of a branch.
He traced the silk thread, his mind going back to the night of the solstice when he’d kissed Nava in front of the queen’s tree. She was his future—hisqueen. He shifted his hand over his chest, trying to massage away the sudden ache that bloomed there. Did he want that longing? She was in love with a man who wasn’t him—one who had his face but didn’t share his beliefs.
What if Nava hated the person he was today once she realized he was determined to stay this way? Pressing his lips together, he finished doing up the clasps of the tunic and walked out of the room.
The first month of him being back—or stolen back—the king had shown him his private library. He had seen the bracelets and the keys displayed in a glass case. That was when he’d learned how the jewelry worked. The ins and outs of their magic-canceling properties, the fact that they didn’t affect the royal kin, and that they were trackable by the king himself.
The library was adjacent to the king’s bedroom, but Orion also knew the king was likely visiting with one of his ladies. So if he was quiet enough, he might be able to get the keys without him being the wiser.
Both libraries in the castle were closed off to everyone but the king, Orion, and Ellis, the keeper of the records. The doors of this particular one were ebony with gilded nature-inspired patterns and gold handles. He opened them quietly, and his footsteps were muffled over thick, red-and-wine-patterned wool rugs.
The room was vast, with large arched windows at the end, black ornate frames, and painted glass on the top panels. The pink and orange shades of the morning outstretched over the floor. The small sitting area by the fireplace had three large winged chairs in front of it; the scent of leather and old paper hung in the air, mixing with the soft notes of lavender and flowers—maybe camellias—from an arrangement on the coffee table.
On the far left wall, floor-to-ceiling bookcases held thousands of leather-bound books in various shades and stains.
The clear glass display case for the keys was past the bookcases, perched against one of the stone walls. There were many magical artifacts inside. A blade with three large rubies in the handle, an old book that was held together by worn bindings. He searched for the wooden case of the bracelets and the smaller one that held the keys . . . but it was missing.
He gripped the handle, and the glass shook with his pent-up emotion. If the keys weren’t here, that meant they were in the king’s room, which really complicated things.
Groaning, he pushed away, gazing around the room, hoping to find them misplaced somewhere else. His eyes came upon a wooden panel hung next to the glass case like art. He didn’t remember seeing it there before, but it called his attention now.
He approached it, studying the intricate carvings of wood and gold details; the king stood tall with both hands extended in front of him as he dropped a child toward a sea of clouds. Orion’s heart started to beat at double speed, and he traced the carvings, so similar in detail to the one on the throne room’s door. The one that had the queen holding a child.
“Orion.”
He jumped in his spot, dropping his hand off the wood panel like a child caught doing something wrong, which he guessed was accurate.
Orion turned to meet his father’s curious gaze. The king strolled into the sitting area of his private library, holding both hands behind his back. The light rolled over his silk robe and matching wide pants.
Behind him, the doors that connected the library to his private chambers were open wide, which hadn’t been the case before. Entranced by his search for the keys and the strange art piece, Orion hadn’t heard it open.
“Father.” He dipped his head into a bow, his skin prickling as a drop of sweat formed at his temple.
“I didn’t know I was supposed to expect you this morning or I would have had breakfast served here. It’s already difficult enough to get you to join me for dinners.” The king sat on one of the large leather chairs by the fireplace, crossing his legs and hands in front of him, his eyes shimmering like the cat that caught the bird.
He was in trouble. So much for his half-baked plan to sneak in here and retrieve the keys. Orion didn’t want his father knowing he was hunting for a way to remove the tracking bracelets from Nava and Devon. “I had a dream about the queen again,” he said after clearing his throat, going for a partial truth in hopes of distracting his father.
The king stiffened on his seat, his features shadowing with a haunted expression. “She is still visiting you in your dreams? She hasn’t visited mine for quite some time now.”
The queen more than haunted his dreams. She appeared out of nowhere, especially if Orion was in the library. “I kept searching in the main archives but haven’t had much luck finding much about her, or me for that matter. I didn’t want to bother you if you were busy with one of your cohorts.”
The king’s eyes went vacant as his lips twisted into a grim expression. “How did she look in your dream? Do you remember?”
Orion shook his head. The first time he told the king he dreamed of his mother, his father had asked many questions. A man starved for any piece of information that would fill a void. However, Orion had always felt very protective of these particular dreams. There was a reason the queen wasn’t haunting his father, so he would work this up on his own.
“You aren’t finding anything in the main library? I should have a talk with Ellis about his lack of help.”
“You know well most of it's burned to the ground, and the keeper breathes on my neck the whole time. I don’t need him hovering any more than he already does.” Orion hesitated in his spot before making his way to where the king sat and taking the other seat. “You did say I was allowed to check this library . . . if I ever needed it.”
The king pushed forward, assessing him with increasing interest. “IfI were to be in the room, Orion. However, this will be all yours. There is no need to rush into anything—your mother is gone, and you can find all the answers soon enough.”
Of course he hadn’t missed that part of the information; the whole point was he had assumed the king was occupied elsewhere. He looked at his father. Old, thin skin over youthful features. A weird combination that had taken him long to get used to.
“What is that?” he asked, gazing back at the mounted wood piece he had been staring at. “It looks so similar to the one in the throne room.”
“It’s art. I like to collect it.” The king’s pleasant features shuttered, and the prickling sensation in the back of Orion’s head increased. This was more than art, an aged intricate carving that showed the king throwing a child to mist. A complete opposite to the one of the queen holding a small prince in her arms.
