Vivienne’s eyes narrowed.We spoke yesterday. Has he already forgotten?
“Ah, yes,” Montaghue drawled. “Miss Banner is here to appeal her Crown housing denial and impending relocation, as well as the legal guardianship of a Miss Roberson.”
Vivienne exhaled sharply, her patience fraying at the edges. “That’s not why I’m here.”
Montaghue’s gaze swept over her, slow and calculating, before he licked his oversized teeth. “So you do not wish to appeal your housing? Or your guardianship?”
“Well... yes, I do, but?—”
“Banner, did you say?” The King’s low, booming voice halted their exchange. “I know exactly who you are.”
Silence fell, the courtiers stilling like statues.
The King’s expression barely shifted, but something about his tone sent a cold shiver up Vivienne’s spine.Why would he know who I am?
“Yes, what an unfortunate turn of events,” he offered, his voice devoid of sympathy. “I was sorry to receive the news of your parents.”
Vivienne drew in a slow, measured breath, but the words did little to disguise the apathy in his gaze.He doesn’t care at all.
“Your Majesty,” she said carefully, “I am here to inquire about their rescue.”
The King’s brows lifted ever so slightly. “Their rescue?” Something dark flickered in his gaze, and when he spoke again, his voice was laced with sardonic amusement. “My dear, the time for rescue has long since passed.”
No. No. This isn’t right.Vivienne’s fingernails bit into her palms.He didn’t even try, did he?
“Your Majesty, they are only delayed a few months,” she insisted, her voice firm as desperation wedged its way in. “Surely there is?—”
The King’s expression hardened. “You have my answer.”
The verdict was a steel door slamming shut.
Vivienne’s chest burned with fury. She couldn’t stop the words before they left her lips.
“Sir, you must reconsider,” she pressed, her voice carrying across the cavernous room through gritted teeth. “My parents have served you and your court for decades. For all their loyalty, don’t they deserve to see an ounce of that loyalty returned?”
The air in the room congealed. The courtiers stiffened as if bracing for a blow.
The King raised an unkempt brow.
Montaghue visibly seethed, his neck turning bright red. “His Majesty does not reconsider, and you will address him properly.” A sneer overtook his angular face as his beady eyes inspected her head to toe. “You would do well to remember your station, Miss Banner.”
“YOUR STATION!”
The Court Crier’s voice struck like lightning, drawing another flinch from the room.
The King exhaled heavily, eyes flicking to Montaghue.
“Apologies, Your Majesty,” Montaghue muttered, pointing discreetly toward the Crier. “He’s new.”
The King waited as the last reverberation of the Court Crier’s outburst faded. Only then did he inhale, a deep, rattling breath, as if the very act of drawing air pained him.
"You can take comfort in knowing your parents’ work will continue," he said at last. He lifted a heavily ringed hand, the gemstones embedded in his thick, arthritic fingers glimmering. "Captain Alonzo Enyo and his crew will pick up where they left off."
At the King’s signal, a shadow detached itself from the periphery of the throne room.
A man slinked forward, moving with the lazy confidence of someone who had long stopped fearing consequences. He was weathered, with skin like sun baked leather, his complexion permanently darkened by years at sea. His wiry frame spoke of endurance over brute strength, and the jagged scar running down the right side of his face tugged his mouth into a near-perpetual sneer. Greasy strands of black hair clung stubbornly to his balding scalp, their stringy defiance matching the glint of something feral in his eyes. When he grinned, it wasn’t a smile so much as a display of an unsettling collection of uneven, stained teeth, one capped in silver, another missing altogether. His clothes were stiff with grime, the dark tunic and trousers bearing the evidence of neglect. Even from where she stood, Vivienne swore she could smell the salt and sweat ingrained in the fabric. She resisted the urge to step back.Has he or his clothing ever been washed?
The King reclined in his throne. "Enyo is one of my chief advisors," he explained, "and has worked on… variousprojectsfor me over the last few decades."
