No.
It didn’t make sense.
Surely, if she mattered to him, he would have ignored protocol.
He would’ve taken her far away from here. Done what needed to be done in order to have their happily ever after. But she didn’t say any of that, instead she said, “I think I need some time.”
“That’s fair. Eat up, it’ll be a while before your next meal. I’ll be outside if you need anything or want to talk.”
She nodded, knowing full well she wasn’t going to take up his offer, and then he got up and left. Once she was sure he wouldn’t return, she went over to the tray, picked up the bun and devoured it. There was a cup of water as well, and she took a few small sips. Her stomach still ached with a dull hunger, but at least she had something in her belly now.
Time passed slowly in the cell—at least, she thought it did. With the lack of windows, there was no way to really tell. It felt like every few hours, Clyde would ask her if she needed anything or wanted to talk, and each time, she politely declined. Finally, a servant came and told Clyde the king had summoned her to the throne room.
She straightened her clothes, trying to look half decent for the king; however, there was little point. Her dress was wrinkled to hell, and the pale pink fabric was ripped where Clyde had held his sword against her. She patted down her hair, smoothing down some of its wildness. Finally, she nodded towards Clyde, signalling she was ready, and he escorted her out of the cell.
In the throne room, King Hendrix paced back and forth in front of his redwood throne with a scowl. His black hair, typically tidy, now appeared straggly from his agitated movements. Prince Kieran sat with a blank expression on his face in the smaller of the two thrones, and a fire blazed in the fireplace behind him, heating the entire room.
Overwhelmed with nervousness, Luna’s legs shook as she made her way down the stone aisle. She focused on the floor, avoiding eye contact until she reached a respectful distance in front of the king. After bowing deeply, she summoned the courage to look up, meeting the gazes of both the king and the prince.
Prince Kieran gave her a reassuring smile, but the expression didn’t reach his worry-filled eyes. King Hendrix seemed beyond angry, as if anger were now his permanent state, hovering over him like a cloud. He sat down on his throne, his hands gripping the arms of it so tightly he was probably indenting the wood. When he spoke, his thunderous voice filled the room. “Darius has made a request for you, Miss Luna—one that I’m struggling to give. Before I make my decision, tell me, what is your side?”
Her voice trembled, nerves getting the best of her. “I wish I had a side to explain, Your Highness. But I am unsure how to defend myself, as I do not know why I am in the dungeons. I’ve hurt no one. I’ve done no wrongs. I’ve always obeyed your rules.” That last part was a fib, but he didn’t need to know that. “I’m happy to explain my point of view on anything you desire, but I’m unsure where to begin. I don’t understand what’s happened.”
The king stared down at her; the pause in conversation only added to Luna’s anxiety.
“Clyde has reported you interacted with a unicorn and seemed rather friendly. Let’s start with that.”
She wasn’t about to tell the king the truth of their history. Instead, she said, “I only found out he was a unicorn when everyone else did. After he, um, transformed into one.” Turns out lying was pretty easy when they come one after the other.
“I see,” King Hendrix said, leaning back on his throne, his elbows resting on his knees as he tapped his fingers together. “I extended the safety of my kingdom to you upon your father’s request when you were a mere baby. I gave it graciously, asking for nothing in return. Not only did I create guidelines to help keep you safe, but I even assigned you your own guard. Although you are not of noble blood, I have allowed you to have the same status and education as any noblewoman in my court. It is well known that the unicorns are our enemies. We’ve been at war with them for many years. Being friendly with one is treason, especially after all I have done for you, wouldn’t you agree?”
Luna winced; she hadn’t thought of it that way.
He clasped his hands together, ignoring her reaction. “Your father has been very helpful throughout the years, and so I’m willing to overlook this. However, some adjustments will be made regarding where you will reside and spend your time. I believe this is a fair offer, do you not?”
It was an offer she could not decline. Without any other choice, she nodded gravely.
“You will be moved into an apartment in the palace, where Clyde will remain your guard. You will still hold your status as a lady of the court, but there will be extra responsibilities you will need to fulfill.”
“What tasks will those be?”
“There will be time to discuss that later,” he said, then rose from his throne, walked over to a small side table at the edge of the room, and picked up a goblet. “Leave us, Clyde”—he commanded, lazily lifting his hand to flick his wrist towards the door—“and send for a servant to collect Luna’s things and deliver them to the room on the fourth floor, at the end of the hall.”
Luna should’ve been relieved that she wasn’t returning to that dungeon cell, but the king’s offer sounded awfully like she would be kept as a pampered captive in the palace. The irony of Damien calling her a captive only days ago hit her like the first wave of a tsunami crashing onto the shore—unbelievable, tragic, and far from humorous.
The king returned to his throne and beckoned Luna to come closer. Nervously, she made her way down the rest of the aisle to where the king and prince sat on their thrones. She curtsied again before she asked, “How may I serve you, Your Highness?”
It was the prince who answered. “He wants you to take your necklace off, Luna.”
That one request provided all the clarity she needed.
The king had been the one to ensure she couldn’t access her powers. All this time, he had known what she was; no wonder he had so many rules for her.
But did he know she now wore a fake?
Her heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to show how afraid she truly was. With as much grace as she could muster, she rose.
The prince chewed his nails, his gaze switching between Luna and the door as if she could merely walk out of them and escape. King Hendrix, on the other hand, looked perfectly at ease, lazily lounging across his throne with a goblet of what Luna could only assume was wine.
