Page 92 of Through the Wicked Wood

“He’s here, Your Majesty,” the guard says. I toss the drink back, grimacing at the bitter after taste.

“The prisoner?” I ask, setting the crystal glass down on the bar top before turning to face him. Careful not to address Sorin as my brother.

Shaking his head, he avoids my gaze again. “No, sire. Just your—” he stops himself, shifting on his feet. “Just Sir Galen, Your Majesty.”

Running a hand down my face, exhaustion seeps deep into my bones. When was the last time I slept properly? I suppose it was the last time he was here, I never sleep well when he’s gone and this time it’s been weeks.

“And the others?” I ask.

The guard dares to glance at me now, fear emanating in his eyes.

The Corrupt King.

“The others?” I ask again, stepping forward, so close our boot tips nearly touch.

“There was an issue in the transport,” he says, shifting his eyes to either side of my face. My heart sinks and despite the several drinks I’ve had, panic begins its deep crescendo in my chest.

“Go on,” I say, “tell me where they are.”

“We…they…no one knows, sire,” the guard stutters. “The guards who were to bring them have all been killed and,” he pauses to glance down momentarily, shifting in his boots, “the prisoners have escaped.”

Biting down on my tongue, I press my eyes shut. Only for a moment. But that moment is all I need to snap into the role of the king they deem so corrupt. A mask I’ve learned to wear well these last five years, fitting the mold of merciless ruler.

“Then why”—lunging forward I grasp the man’s chin in my hand, squeezing tighter until his face is contorted with pain—“are you still standing here?” I grit through my teeth. “Find. Them.”

“Y-yes, sire,” he stammers. Releasing his chin, I snap my fingers and without hesitation he’s out the door and I’m alone.

I sink down into one of the chairs by the fireplace, staring at the dark void where the embers should glow. My father loved the study. I’ve never thought much about it, but maybe that’s why I often come here, to try and remove his memory and make it my own.

A few moments later, another rap at the door.

“I thought I told you—”

“It’s me,” Galen says, slinking into the room silently.

My heart slams in my chest, all feelings of panic slowly replaced by relief as he stalks toward me. He is here and he is safe. An entire kingdom at my disposal, and yet the only thing I truly feel is mine has just walked through the door.

Corrupt.

Let them think it, I tell myself.

It was all worth it for this, wasn’t it? For him.

“You’re back,” I say with a long sigh, tension unclenching between my shoulders at the sight of him.

“I am,” he says, sliding into the chair next to me, his hands grazing my shoulders ever so slightly as he does. “Though, I’m sure as you’ve heard there was an issue with the transport of Sorin and the others.”

Nodding, I glance at him in my peripherals. Drinking in the sight of his sharp features, his icy, blonde hair and even cooler gaze. He looks tired, but with a face like his, it doesn’t change the beauty of it. My nerves settle and the need for sleep intensifies knowing he’s here.

To all others, I am the king.

Tainted.

Damaged.

Too weak to fill the shoes of his late father.

But to Galen, I’m simply Roman. He saw me when no one else did. He saw all the things my father wanted me to be and he saved me from them.

---