"Watch and learn, Yith. This is how the Castle Court works," Lord Cale whispered to his eldest son.
But the boy wondered, Should I even be here for this?
"It's good she's here." Lord Alrik said as he stood yet again, eyeing Kaelynn and resisting the urge to cover his nose. "Such a precious jewel in our sight." He smiled coyly. "Hidden for so long, right under our noses."
Whispers rippled across the room. Everyone knew the Thornes were nothing if not a thorn in the flesh as they either twisted truths or stated the obvious with smiling sarcasm.
And the Queen didn't appreciate it one bit.
"State your words, Lord Alrik or sit down and be silent."
Her command didn't faze him. If anything, it proved to him just how sensitive she was about this stinking cripple.
"Welcome to court, Kaelynn Raventhorn. At your service." He bowed slowly, leaving the ash-blonde girl speechless. He quietly hoped she wasn't as mute as she was paralyzed. That would make things even more amusing. "Now that she is here… I suggest we bring back the old practice."
Lady Nysha caught Queen Isolde's eye. One glance was filled with silent fear; the other was calm.
"We are all here arguing over assassins and royal blood, while the undead pour from the Veil as a result of the king's unnatural death!" Lord Alrik thundered, drawing nervous shifts from the other lords.
"Yes, I know about the prophecies you've all been hiding."
Lord Vikar stood sharply. "If so, I wonder what's more important. The king's death or the undead still years away from Veldera?"
"Oh, shut up, seahorse," Lord Alrik spat dryly.
"We already know who killed the king."
A red vein throbbed on Lord Vikar's temple. "I hope you're not implying it was me, Lord Alrik ."
"You?" Lord Alrik whispered, prompting chuckles from those behind him. "The Creator knows that even with a knife in hand, Lord Vikar, you'd probably stab yourself."
"I…!" Lord Vikar snapped but sat down.
Lord Alrik smirked. "As I was saying—"
"Who killed the king, Lord Alrik ?" Queen Isolde's voice stopped all whispering. "The Creator knows I'm dying to understand who murdered my husband." Her voice cracked at the end. "So tell me… or I will have your head."
It was at that moment Lord Alrik realized his head might be handed to his daughter on a platter if he didn't speak.
"Prince Cedric."
"What?!" Prince Cedric shot up from his seat. "Lord Alrik , I could have your head…"
"Sit down, Cedric!" the Queen roared. "You will not respond to such baseless accusations. Not when your father is no longer here to defend you."
The Castle Court was nothing less than a battlefield, a place to crush the weak or lift the powerful.
Queen Isolde knew that as the Black Queen, she'd need to be ruthless with what little time she had left on the throne.
Therefore…
"Thank you for your… observation, Lord Alrik . I'll investigate the matter."
But the court stirred with unease. Everyone could see what was happening. The Queen was shielding her son.
"I know you will," Lord Alrik said with a knowing smirk. "But the old practice is paramount. Kaelynn must be sacrificed to the Creator to end this suffering of the veil cracking and demons eating us up."
Queen Isolde sucked in a breath. So this is where he was heading, she thought grimly.
The old practice. The sacrifice of firstborns. With the king's unnatural death and the Veil torn… her firstborn daughter, one she had hidden now had to die for the kingdom.
The wolves were foxes, cunning even in broad daylight. The owls were vultures, picking apart the remnants of the carcass. The seahorses… were timid, hiding behind their banners. The hounds were dogs… loyal to the throne, bred for one purpose: to slice heads and obey orders. And serpents… were quiet.
Who would the crippled side with when the time came?
Suddenly, the inner court gates burst open.
A man crawled in.
His legs were half-eaten, rotting, leaving a trail of blood and pus behind him.
Everyone instinctively stepped aside as the man dragged what was remaining of himself toward the Black throne.
General Loric unsheathed his sword. "Stand where you are!"
The man lifted his head, and the terror of a war settled in his eyes.
A terror that hadn't faded in over a hundred years. It sent a chill down the spine of every onlooker.
The horror of eating flesh and savoring blood.
The sickness of the veil.
"Aaargh!" the man shrieked.
Then he ran, with all the strength he had left.
But he wasn't heading toward the throne.
He was running straight for Kaelynn in her wheelchair.