I sense that my arrival has halted all conversation in the room, as the dozen or so people sitting around the large table in front of the throne turn to look at me. I catch a quick glance of Adrian among them, but I don’t make eye contact as I stride to the front with purpose.
The sound of my boots against the hard onyx floor echo throughout the large chamber.
“Father,” I say as I reach him.
“Elysande,” he says, everything about his tone sounding entirely too formal. “I wanted to check on you last night after I heard, so I entrusted Adrian with the task. Are you doing well this morning?”
I’m too caught off guard to hide my surprise as I whip my head toward Adrian. Something flashes in his eyes that I can’t read. Maybe because a sense of betrayal that I feel inside is written on my face.
I thought he came of his own accord. If I knew my father had sent him… would things have been different?
I can’t be sure. All I know now is that an uncomfortable feeling has replaced anything good from last night.
“I’m okay,” I say with as much power in my voice as I can muster. “Where is he?”
“Locked in a room until we decide what to do with him.”
I glance around the table at all the members of my father’s court. All elves, both male and female, all with varying roles. I’m not even sure what half of them do, but the king must be taking this matter seriously if he brought all of them here this morning. Meela’s father, Syrus Soraya, the hand to the king,sits by my father with a permanent scowl on his face. I’ve never liked him. It’s just a feeling.
“And the one I saw fleeing the scene… crying?”
My father and Adrian share a look. “We haven’t had anyone come forward as of now… and with your vague description, it’s hard to know who it was, or what she was doing there.”
Unease fills me, because I sense there is more to this story. After the shock of last night wore off a little, I’ve had more clarity today. I hope he doesn’t plan to sentence Daegan without interrogating every possible witness first.
I want to find her.
Just when I’m about to explain as much to him, the heavy double doors open with a creak once more.
Daegan’s father, Taevis Vaelor, the leader of the dragon shifters, walks in with his head held high and a fierce, determined expression. It’s slightly intimidating, but I’m more eager to hear what he has to say, so I don’t shrink away or cower. I keep my head high and my shoulders back. It’s hard to draw my eyes from the powerful male who has commanded the room in an instant, but my eyes finally shift behind him, where I find Raef along with another older male following.
When they finally reach the far end of the table, they halt. As they fan out, they reveal a fourth person.
“That’s her!” I blurt out.
Everyone looks at me, then back to our newest visitors.
“That’s the maid I saw leaving the scene last night.” I don’t wait for anyone to ask questions. I look directly at her and ask, “What did you see?”
Daegan’s father eyes me with a look of disapproval, then flicks his gaze back to my father.
“Your Highness, this elf is one of your very own. A maid in your castle. And if you’d allow her the chance, she’d like to explain what happened last night.” He holds my father’s gaze, unrelenting and challenging.
“Please, enlighten us,” my father says, ignoring Taevis’s daring glare and focusing on the female who is now the center of attention in this room full of powerful elves.
Her frame is caved in on herself, and she’s visibly shaken. But as she clears her throat and begins to speak, she holds her head a little higher and shakes some of her nearly white hair out of her eyes. “Last night, I had just finished my shift cleaning some of the rooms in that wing. I had left something in the recreation room, you see, and so I went back for it. Alone.” She looks down at her feet for a moment, then takes a deep breath and lifts her gaze again. “The guard was in the hallway. I thought nothing of it. But then, as I was bentover searching for my lost earring, I heard the door click behind me. When I turned to look, I noticed he had shut himself in there with me, and he was looking at me like…” She stops, shudders, and looks down at the floor again. This time, her gaze remains glued there as she continues. “He tried to attack me.”
She stops, and her eyes shift directly to me. I meet her stare, and I know.
“One of my own guards? They would never,” the general of my father’s army, an elf named Lyriel who is close to two hundred years old, huffs.
She and I hold eye contact the whole time. I see the pleading in them. I feel her despair.
Finally, I look away from her, directing my ire at Lyriel. “Are you calling her a liar?”
“Maybe she misread the situation,” Lyriel fires back at me.
“How can an attack be misread?”
