Chapter 20. Pretend Queen.
William Barren sat at the head of the table, his two companions—whom I had the pleasure of never meeting before—sat by his side: I could only hope at least one of them was reasonable.
At least a dozen warriors stood by the wall of the hall, eyeing us like prey.
Barren’s eyes flickered with excitement as he watched us emerge into the courthall. His pale lips stretched into a crooked smile when I sat across from him; he fixed the stray strand of greasy hair that fell onto his eyes before the room erupted into a ringing laughter.
“Cordelia, Cordelia...” William laughed, leaning on the back of the chair that looked awfully similar to a throne. “Our dearest Cordelia.”
Francis sat in the chair next to mine, gesturing for our friends to follow his lead.
“Oh, Cordelia!” Barren’s laughter wouldn’t stop. I was sure he was going mad—not that he hadn’t been mad already...
The man—with gray hair, blue eyes, and light skin—sitting at Barren’s right, picked up the laughter, as though the reason for such an odd reaction was as bright as sunshine. The woman at Barren’s left remained quiet.
Our gazes met for a split second before she averted her dark—almost black—eyes. Her coily hair sat in a bun at the nape of her neck. A barely visible blush appeared on her brown cheeks.
I’d seen her before, back at the palace. I wished I could remember on which occasion.
“What is it that amuses you so,Your Grace?” Francis’ lips stretched into a smirk as he crooked his head, watching the two men laugh.
“Oh, merely the amount of companions you’ve graced me with.” Barren narrowed his eyes at his right hand, silencing the man at once. “Afraid for your safety on human grounds, orphan boy?”
Florence sat by my right side, her knees brushed mine when she glanced at me with concern. Roxanne, Ash, and Simon settled into their seats as well.
“Surely six vampires cannot be that intimidating to yourarmy.” Francis mimicked William’s position, leaning back on his—rather ordinary—chair. “Are you afraid for your safety, given you surrounded yourself with warriors, William?” Francis countered.
I refrained from rolling my eyes at his provocative nature.
“Why, since your letter stated you wished to discuss war plans, I assumed it was only right for the commanders of the last human armies to attend.” Barren sipped on his wine, his gaze averting to me. “Cordelia,” he tsked. “I’ve waited for you to make an appearance ever since the attack. What took you so long, dear?”
“War can make one rather busy,” I said. “I’m sure you understand.”
“Ah! Of course!” Barren chuckled. “Tamira here,” he pointed at the woman by his side. “Had her handsrather busyafter the Wurdulacs murdered her commander and half of the Royal army.” William’s lips turned into a thin line before he continued, “After your kind failed to come to our aid as you agreed upon with our resting Queen.”
I forced my heart to stay put at his provocations, yet the ache still spread through my lungs. “The deal was not yet in place when the palace was attacked.” I kept my voice even, remembering the last conversation Mother and I had. “The Queen promised us weapons at the following full Moon, the deal was to be sealed at the exchange.” Needless to say, Faris had no way of knowing the palace’s walls had been compromised. Yet the guilt of our failure still clawed at my mind. I supposed that was Barren’s plan all along. “Let’s get to the matter at hand—”
“Have you heard of Timothy's sad end?” William topped off his goblet. “We learned of his disappearance right before the attack, can you believe that?” He emptied the cup in one gulp. “Right after you left.” His eyes narrowed on me. “Some might not believe in such coincidences.”
The commanders glanced at Barren in unison before their gazes fell on me. A piercing silence broke through the air.
“Are you accusing me, William?” I crooked my head to one side, annoyed that I even allowed him to entertain the topic instead of dominating the conversation as was planned.
A bright laughter bounced off the walls of the courthall as Barren wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “Of course not, dear,” he wouldn’t stop laughing. “We both know you aren’t capable of hurting your dearest sweetheart, let alone murder him.” He glanced at Francis, a smirk coercing his lips. “You were such a lovely couple...” Barren sighed, his eyes locked on Francis—who, surprisingly, kept quiet. “It pained me to learn of your change–of–being, truly.” William’s hand fell onto his heart before he let the evil words spill. “Though, I must admit, Sandra was a nice replacement.”
My mask of indifference slipped for a split second before I managed to gather my racing mind. My teeth pierced the inside of my cheek, letting the blood soak my tongue.
“Such a lovely, innocent soul Sandra was,” William murmured. My nails dug into my palms underneath the table. “A little naive, sure, but always so lovely.” William’s piercing gaze bored into mine. He sat at the head of the table, his head crooked to one side: taunting me, begging for a reaction I refused to let loose. “Alas, the Gods are unfair to us sometimes, aren’t they, dear?” Barren sighed. “I hope Sandra and Timothy have reunited in the afterlife. Shame I am not to witness it.” He nodded.
“I can fix that for you,” Francis seethed before I managed to gather my thoughts.
