Despite the outside of Castle La’Rune being so dark and gothic, the inside was nearly all white, the floors a beautiful marble.
“Did my note get delivered?” I asked quietly.
“It did.”
We stopped in front of an enormous black door, easily four times my height.
Torrin squeezed my arm. “Do not try anything reckless.”
“You said that yesterday,” my voice trembled as I spoke, and I furrowed my brows as I turned to him. “Why are you helping me?”
His eyes bounced between mine. “He is my friend.”
All I could do was blink at that comment, and before I could reply, Torrin opened the doors, and we stepped inside the throne room. The sound of our shoes echoed in the ample, open space.
Ahead of me, Queen Ryia sat on a tall, black throne, her head resting on her hand. The one to her left was empty, the King not present. A handful of guards were stationed throughout the room, and a few moved to block to door from which we entered.
I couldn’t acknowledge the blue velvet curtains that rested above the left wall, a wall lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, nor the marble floor that was black now instead of white as we inched forward. No, I had no chance to acknowledge anything in the room once I realized who stood beside the Queen, his hands tucked behind his back.
Quill.
Chapter Eighteen
Hiseyeswidenedatthe sight of me, as did mine.
What the hell is Quill doing next to the Queen? Who was he? A spy? A servant?
No, he wasn’t a servant. Quill wore an all-black suit with golden decals. It was even more fine than the clothes he usually wore. His normally tousled black hair was styled back neatly, save for a curl against his forehead. I glanced atop his head and noticed something I couldn’t believe didn’t catch my attention immediately.
A…crown.
I felt faint. Utterly confused. The Queen’s eyes widened, and she glanced at Quill, who clenched his jaw.
“This girl was caught sneaking along the western side of the castle—” Torrin began.
“Torrin, please take the rest of the guard and leave us with the girl.”
A guard to our left frowned. “But Your Majesty—”
“I am not afraid of this little girl. Do not question me. Go,” she ordered with an icy coldness.
Torrin just lightly squeezed my arm before he stepped away. The sound of footsteps retreating was the only noise until the door loudly clicked shut. Then, it was just the Queen, Quill, and me. I couldn’t control my trembling. I still couldn’t fathom my punishment, let alone what I was witnessing in front of me.
“Well, Lena, how wonderful to see you again,” the Queen said with a smile and in a tone that seemed genuine. “Silas has told me much about you.”
I froze, my eyes shooting to Quill. His eyes remained widened, and his breathing staggered. The Queen looked at him and noticed his reaction, her smile fading. “Have…have you not told her yet?”
His eyes darted to hers for a moment, a face of guilt overtaking him before his eyes met mine again.
“I…I don’t understand…” I breathed.
But I did. I couldn’t understand why, not in the slightest. But I understood the simple fact.
It was not Quill Callon I had fallen in love with. It was Silas La’Rune, the Prince of Otacia.
The room began to spin, and I felt faint. I considered one day telling Quill about who I was—whatI was. Gods, the mistake I could have made…
The Queen’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Take her to your room. Then, after you two talk, sneak her back out the way she came. I’ll make sure the guards aren’t over there.”
