With a final nod to Franco, the night watchman left, the heavy wooden door slamming behind him, leaving an echo that reverberated in Anders’ head long after.
Anders stumbledas Franco shoved him to his knees in front of King Aurelio, landing with a wince on the cold, stone floor of the throne room. For the second time in just a few days, Anders was on his knees surrounded by Southern guards. It wasn’t something he wanted to make a habit of.
The King of the Southern Isle sat atop a vast throne that looked anything but comfortable to Anders. Unlike his own father’s throne, which was smaller, wooden and covered in furs and skins for warmth, King Aurelio’s was carved from a slab of creamy-white marble with seams of glittering gold running through it. The effect was both impressive and intimidating. Which, Anders mused, was probably the intention.
“Name,” the King intoned, without looking up from the paper in his hand. An olive-skinned man in his late forties, themonarch of the Golden Isle wore a heavily embroidered, cream doublet and matching breeches, a gold crown sitting atop his subtly greying, dark curls. He was a symbol of strength and prosperity, and Anders felt a sharp, ugly feeling twist in his gut at the thought of the poverty his own people in the north suffered, while the King of the Southern Isle flaunted his wealth so arrogantly.
But this wasn’t the time for anger or jealousy. He needed to escape his current situation, and the only way to do that was to convince King Aurelio he was contrite.
Anders kept his head down, eyes on the ground. “Anders, Your Majesty.” He realised he couldn’t give his real name, unless he wanted to start a war between the two kingdoms, so he borrowed the last name of his childhood best friend who had drowned. “Anders Boreas.”
“I assume these documents are falsified, then?” The King tossed the papers in his hands to the floor and Anders recognised them as the identification papers the ship’s captain had given to him to help him enter Orovia. A heavy weight settled in the pit of his stomach; he should have refused them or discarded them somewhere. If those documents were the thing that got him killed, after all this…
“Not falsified, Your Majesty. They were given to me by a grieving father, he wanted to help as I had no papers of my own. I felt unable to refuse his gesture, so I took them, but I never used them.”
“What is your business in Orovia?” The King’s tone was commanding. It reminded Anders of his own father. Although King Aurelio’s accent was more fluid and lyrical than Anders’ father’s clipped speech.
Anders dared to raise his head and meet the King’s dark gaze. “I have no business here, Your Majesty. I was simply passing through on my way home.”
“You’re a soldier? From the Northern Isle?”
Anders nodded. “A cartographer, Your Majesty. I’m returning from the war in the east, I arrived on a trade ship two days ago.”
The King raised an eyebrow. “A cartographer? And you expect me to believe you’re not here to study our city’s defences and take your findings back to your superiors in the north?” He leaned back in his throne and narrowed his dark eyes. “How did you come to be at the ballet performance?”
Anders dipped his head. He couldn’t admit he hadn’t bought a ticket or reveal his shadow magic—if he did he'd likely be executed with no further preamble. He cleared his throat and hoped the King wouldn’t see through his lie. “I saw a poster at the inn where I had taken a room for the night. It sounded like an agreeable way to pass an evening, so I purchased a ticket for the yard. I was not aware that the prima ballerina was the Crown Princess. When I saw her stumble, I feared she would be injured, so I acted instinctively. I meant the Princess no harm, Your Majesty.”
Anders waited, breath held, for the King to pass his verdict. He didn’t dare raise his head as the sound of his voice reverberated around the room, settling over them and leaving nothing but silence. He studied the stone tiles, nails digging into his palms where they were tied behind his back.
Finally, the King spoke again, his voice lowered. “What do you know of this curse that afflicts my daughters?”
Anders looked up, air rushing into his lungs. Relief flooded his veins. “Nothing, Your Majesty. But I overheard a conversation between the guards and offered my assistance. I have travelled the world with the army and seen many strange and wondrous things on my journey. I believe I can discover the source of the enchantment, given the chance, and free the Princesses from their affliction.”
King Aurelio leant forwards, closing the distance between them. “And what would you ask in return for yourassistance, Anders Boreas?” His tone sent an icy finger running down Anders’ spine. Did the King know he’d given a false name?
He swallowed, steadying his nerve. “Only my freedom, Your Majesty. To be permitted to return to D’Argentis, to my family.”
The King scratched his short, dark beard as he mulled over Anders’ words. His eyes flickered about the room as he considered the terms, settling on Anders’ face after a few moments. “Very well. You shall be permitted to investigate the…predicament my daughters find themselves in. And if you are able to solve the mystery and break the curse in three days’ time you will be granted your freedom.”
Anders forced down the bubble of joy that threatened to erupt from his chest. He wasn’t going to be executed. In three days, he would be a free man, and surely his father would be impressed by his tale of how he escaped from the Gilded Palace with his life.
The King ordered two guards to release Anders from his bonds, show him to a guest bedroom near to the Princesses’ rooms and remain with him.
Rubbing his chafed wrists, Anders moved to follow the guards out of the throne room, but something the King had said nagged at his mind. He turned back. The King had already begun a hushed conversation with one of his advisors and Anders was forced to interrupt.
“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but why three nights?”
King Aurelio waved a hand dismissively. “What’s that?”
Anders cleared his throat and raised his voice. “You said that I must discover the truth in three days; why three?”
A look of irritation crossed the King’s face, creasing the corners of his eyes, and his knuckles were bone-white where he gripped the arms of his marble throne. Anders worriedhe’d overstepped, but the King sighed. “Because, boy. No one has made it longer than three nights. Every person who has attempted to solve the mystery of my daughters’ curse has vanished without a trace on the third night.”
Chapter 5
Anders
“Father, you can’t mean that. The Silver prisoner is going to beinside the palace? In a guest room ten steps away from Livia and I, while we sleep?”
