Guilt stabbed my gut as I forced myself to move away, out to the foyer, then out the door. Once I reached the hallway, I ran until I approached the elevator.
I waited for what seemed like an eternity for the ding, paranoiathat I was being watched setting in. Dinner time wasn’t for another two hours at home, so I would have to wait around for my momma to return. My mind spun with worst-case scenarios. What if the king believed she was trying to kill him and had her locked up in the prisons? Or worse, sent to her death? I feared she would never come home.
When my dad got home, I explained what happened, and he simply nodded and closed his eyes. He didn’t seem surprised in the slightest, but it didn’t stop the color completely draining from his face. However, when I pressed him to tell me what was going on, he refused. He said it was too dangerous for me to know.
When dinnertime came and my momma still wasn’t home, Dad and I fixed a quick, easy meal for ourselves, our stomachs not really feeling up to the task of digesting food. Fear and anxiety burned holes through my insides, as constant thoughts of my mom’s well-being refused to relent.
We ate in silence, too lost in our own minds to carry any sort of conversation. The excitement I’d felt earlier that day about training had all but evaporated. It felt childish to be happy about anything at the moment. Not until I knew my momma was okay.
When I went to bed, she still hadn’t returned. I was just about to drift off to sleep when a sharp knock made me jolt from the mattress. My heart pounded a ferocious death drum as I heard my father answer the front door. Muffled voices filtered through my door as I stood in the dark, my hands shaking.
Dad’s voice began to rise, as did my breaths. They couldn’t be taking him, too, could they? He had nothing to do with what happened in the king’s kitchen.
Suddenly, my bedroom door burst open, bright light streaming in from the hallway. Two silhouettes stood at the threshold, one of them belonging to my dad. The other, I knew by the unkempt hair alone, belonged to Grim Valor, the king’s Punisher.
“Cotton Sjodin.” Grim sounded as if he enjoyed my fear. “The king has ordered you to come with me.”
“On what grounds?” my father demanded from behind him. “He’s just a boy! He’s done nothing wrong!”
“It is a pity. But have you ever heard of the phrase, ‘Wrong place, wrong time?’” Grim said, not waiting for permission from my father, as he stalked toward me and slapped a pair of silver cuffs over my wrists.
I was too stunned to speak. Too scared to fight back. My power had yet to awaken, and even then, there was the chance it wouldn’t be an offensive form of magic. Plus, it was well-known to the public what Grim’s magic did. So it would’ve been pointless to fight back even if I were bigger and had my magic.
“You’re coming, too,” Grim said to my dad. “There are a few things the king wants you to know.”
My father stared at me, heartbroken and helpless to stop this nightmare from unfolding. “Of course. I want to be with my family. So wherever they are, so am I.”
Grim gave my shoulder a shove before grabbing hold of my wrist and dragging me out the door and into the empty hallway. When we entered the elevator, my shoulders sank in defeat when I spotted which button he pushed. The one to the underground portion of the King’s Palace. The prisons.
I looked at my dad, hoping beyond hope he would find a way to get us all out of this mess. Having never been to the prison before, I didn’t know what to expect. I just wanted to see my momma, make sure she was okay.
Grim led us down the frigid corridor, passing by the cells that contained moaning prisoners. The coldness felt grimy, like it was infected with an ickiness that sank beneath the bones. If only I could hold my breath so I didn’t have to breathe in the stenches.
After several minutes of marching to our fates, we arrived at a door at the end of the corridor. Grim typed in a code, leading us into a room that housed only a metal table and chair bolted to the cement floor. In the chair sat my mother, black streaks of mascara running down her pale, tear-blotched cheeks.
“Momma!” I cried out, trying to run to her side, but Grim quickly yanked me back.
“Oh no. We have something else for the two of you.”
I spotted two sets of chains attached to the floor and wall. My mouth, already drier than any desert wished it could be, evaporated all moisture remaining. Dad and I didn’t speak; the only sounds were my mother’s whimpers, ones that she tried to hide.
Grim soundlessly guided me to one of the sets of chains, my father following behind. He removed the cuffs that bound my wrists in front of me, only to cuff them to the wall above my head. Once secured, he locked the cuffs on the floor around my ankles. I never realized tears were flowing from my eyes until the warm saltiness dripped onto my lips. This couldn’t be happening. We’d done nothing wrong!
“It’s okay, baby,” my mother said through her sobs. “We’re all going to be okay. They just have some questions for us. That’s all.” A black mark underneath her eye and on her swollen cheekbone said otherwise.
“Daisy…” My father’s face said everything he couldn't say aloud. He wanted to save her, protect her. The anguish pulling on his features tore at my soul. He had never been helpless. I never thought I would see the day he was at the whims of another. Sage Sjodin was a transmitter, powered by microwave energy. He had the unique ability to transmit mental messages to others, but only those approved by the king. Unassuming, he always kept his head down and was trusted by the king, as was my mother. So how did this happen?
The door opened, and King Forest strutted in. His relaxed shoulders and expression put me more on edge than when he’d been silently enraged in his kitchen. My stomach churned, burning with fear. I clasped my hands together above my head in an attempt to hide the quivering.
The king approached the table and sat across from my mother, crossing his arms. A fake expression of disappointment drew his facedownward. “Remember what I told you when you took the job as my personal cook?”
My mother nodded frantically, unable to hide her sobs at this point. Her shoulders hunched forward, and strands of her straightened hair had fallen out of her ponytail, covering her face.
“I believe I said, ‘No one is ever to witness the black crystal you put in my daughter’s food.’” The king stood straighter, towering over my mother, who now resembled a broken doll. “You not only let your son glimpse it, but my daughter caught it as well. Let’s only hope she thought it was spices; otherwise, I’ll have to have her memory wiped of the event. Do you see the problem, Daisy?”
My mother nodded, defeated. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I’m glad we understand each other. But now, I must deal with your son. He can never speak of what he witnessed today.” King Forest turned his attention to me. “I deeply regret having to do this, but it is a necessity to ensure that this secret remains between us.”
