I look up as the light around us changes and gasp. The other side of the passageway is nothing like the one we entered through. Naked winged beings carved out of marble stand guard over wide steps. At the top, blooming jasmine vines crawl up white columns and potted shrubbery decorates each side of the doorstep. The entrance is a massive wood-planked door with golden hinges and a knocker shaped like the Stigian shield.
“Talk about over the top. This is just the palace entrance from the secret tunnels?” I ask.
My father shakes his head. “The LeFurs have always had a taste for unnecessary extravagance.”
Micah straightens the lapel of his filthy red jacket and walks up the stairs. “There is nothing wrong with enjoying the finer things in life. Some of us just happen to walk on the side of gaudy.” He pushes the door open, revealing a foyer with a huge chandelier and precisely placed pieces of wood lining the floor. They create an intricate design that must have taken months to lay.
The further we move into the castle the more elaborate the architecture becomes—high arches, gold hand-carved wall trimmings, hand-painted ceilings with ethereal scenes, and endless spiraling staircases. Chandeliers adorn with crystals and candelabras designed to represent climbing vines speckled with blossoms. My neck aches from craning it back to take it all in.
“Her Majesty asked me to inform you that your room is how you leftit upon your separation,” the warrior says to Micah.
“I’m surprised that my sister didn’t turn it into a closet for her dirty laundry,” the king mutters.
My father snickers. “A practice room for battle axe throwing with your image painted to the walls.”
The warrior gives both men an unamused glare as we turn into a long corridor with doorways spaced meters upon meters apart. The rooms beyond them must be massive. Micah eases a door open and peeks his head around the frame. He releases a breath that makes his lips rattle together and my father peers over his shoulder.
“It looks the same, Micah. I don’t think the servants have even touched it,” Papa says.
The king walks inside and thumbs the dusty pages of a book left open on the table in the sitting room. The furniture is hand-carved in dark woods and covered in rich sapphire fabrics. This is a room designed for a future king.
Micah glances around like he has entered the past, and his features take on a youthful appearance. I know how jarring it can be to return to a familiar place after changing into a new person. He was a prince who was sick of traditions that demeaned others, now he is the king of a free people.
“Princess Raelle, if you’ll follow me, I will show you to the room where your belongings are,” the warrior says.
Both my father and Micah look up from the items they’re fiddling with, concerned expressions on both their faces. Before they have a chance to voice their objections, Zek says, “Don’t worry, I’ll be right outside her door.”
“Do not leave her alone for even a second, Zek,” Micah orders.
Papa chimes in saying, “And if I find out you do, you will regret it.”
“Understood,” my guard says, bowing his head.
The warrior leads Zek and me to one of the last doors, and I reach for the handle, coming up short.
“I’m going to summon a healer, otherwise it will leave a hideous scar, Your Grace,” a small gray-haired man with bifocals says as he chases after the shirtless, stalking frame ahead of him.
“What is one more fucking scar?” Kyron mumbles, his gaze falling on me.
I freeze in place and shift under the weight of his stare.
“At least allow me to inspect the wound and sew it together.”
Kyron holds up a hand, and the man I assume to be a medic clamps his mouth shut.
Zek steps between the prince and me, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I see Micah has brought in a new lapdog to keep an eye on you,” Kyron says, eyeing Zek like he’s planning the best way to take him down.
“Someone has to watch over her, and we all know that the Lucent army couldn’t handle it.” Zek returns Kyron’s glare. “An accidental lapse in His Majesty’s judgment. He shouldn’t have left the job of the Royal Guard to a backstabbing general with ulterior motives.”
“You mean the same Royal Guard who she rode past not once but twice in defiance of the king’s orders?” Kyron purses his lips and raises a brow. “At least I knew where she was at all times.”
“Of course you did. What better way to keep track of your enemy than to plunge your cock in?—”
I push Zek out of the way. My cheeks burn with anger and embarrassment. “I have nothing else to say to you, Kyron. I’ve said all I need to say.”
“Good. I’m exhausted,” he counters, falling into pace behind me.
