Page 78 of Where Darkness Falls

The cobblestone road leading to the palace is better kept than the one in Aurelius, but the dark tones don’t make it feel nearly as inviting. A part of me wishes I didn’t have to fulfill this duty and deliver her tohim. I could’ve let her go, but the tug in me knows that I can’t. Tiernan won’t rest until he has her, and his other methods for retrieving her could be worse than the basilisk he sent to Delerauh. It’s better for me to be the one to bring her because I know she’s safe in my care.

I angle my body forward in a way that makes it appear like I’m checking on Danté. “Maeva, there is something I need you to understand, but you can’t respond, okay?” I whisper.

She makes a soft sound in the back of her throat, letting me know she understands. “Things will be different once we are within the walls of the palace,” I continue. “The High General that you’ve heard stories about was created within these walls, and that person is who I’m expected to be—especially toward you. The Cadre will be expected to react the same.”

I take a breath, seeing if she will react, but she just continues to look forward, as if observing the scenery and not listening to me.

“You might see things that’ll make you question our morality, but know even our harshest words are meant to keep you safe. If the king believes any of us favor you, he’ll torture you. He’s quite possessive of hisprizes. I swear to you I won’t allow him to harm you, but you have to trust me,” I say.

Maeva tilts her head quickly forward—pretending to sneeze—and I hope that it’s her acknowledgement for all I’ve said. With that, I put space between my chest and her back, knowing that the king will be alerted momentarily of our arrival.

As the grand entrance comes into view, we’re met with maids ready to attend to our needs. We hurriedly dismount the horses, and I pull Danté back within me so he can indulge in some much-needed rest. Maeva’s standing closer to Laisren and Riordan, her eyes as wide as saucers. I follow her gaze to the maids that are all different manners of creatures: orcs, minotaurs, ogres, and fauns. They stare at her just as curiously.

One of the faun maids quirks her head from side to side, as if trying to solve the riddle that is Maeva.

Join the club.

“Wiel-coom hooome, Geeeeiineeiirraiil,” the head orc maid calls. Maeva bites her bottom lip in an attempt to not laugh at the funny way the orc speaks. I must admit that it’s quite comical. For some reason, they always add in extra vowels when they speak, but they’re also easily offended. So, for that reason, I still have my resolve, nodding once to the maid.

“Ladies, this is Miss Maeva Cale. She’s had quite a long journey and is in need of rest before her audience with His Majesty. You’ll show her to her chambers safely. Don’t allow her to leave for any reason,” I say with finality.

They dip their heads in response.

Maeva shuffles forward, unsure what to do, but the head maid smiles with gruesomely rotting teeth. I’m sure she means it to be welcoming, but it’s quite alarming—even for those of us that are used to their company. “Reeeiiiggghtt theeeiiss weeeaaay, Miiieeess Caaiiieeele,” the maid’s shrill voice rings out as she gestures up the stairs.

Maeva offers a soft smile before following them.

After four short steps, she pauses, looking back at us. There’s a hesitation that flits across her features. Her eyes lock onto Virgil, to which he nods his head. “Go,” he says. “We’ll see you once you’ve rested.”

Maeva nods, then she ascends the remaining stairs, disappearing from view with the maids.

Once she is out of sight, I sigh—looking up to the tower where the silhouettes of the king and his Scythe overlook the courtyard that’s overgrown with brambles. The king raises a single hand before disappearing from view.

“Should we accompany you to speak with His Majesty?” Laisren asks.

I shake my head, turning toward my brothers—dark circles seeping into fine lines under their eyes. The journey that should’ve taken a week occurred in a manner of days, and it weighs heavily on each of us. The last thing I could ask of them is to speak with the king.

“No,” I reply. “You’ve all earned your rest—go and enjoy it. I will speak with him alone.”

“Yes, High General,” they say in unison, saluting me as they disperse.

Then I begin the long climb up the entry stairs into the main foyer of the palace. Knowing the king will be awaiting my arrival in his study, I make my way over to the deep set of stairs in the east wing with only my thudding heart for company.

Bu-bump. Bu-bump. Bu-bump.

I should be used to the nature of these meetings and reports, but they never get any easier. His temperament is so sporadic, I’m unsure which side of him will be at play today: the calculating side or the manipulating side. As I near the study, the soldiers salute me in their usual fashion before opening the doors.

“The king’s expecting you,” the soldier on the left says. I used to know the names of all the soldiers stationed within the palace as a child. However, after ten years of constant executions, I only make a point to learn the names of those that last for more than a month. Unfortunately, the soldiers that were here merely weeks ago no longer stand guard. They must’ve been executed after we left for Aurelius.

I assume the same fate will await these two, causing a snarling sensation in the pit of my stomach. It’s easier to be unattached to my soldiers if I never become acquainted with them in the first place, or so I tell myself.

Nodding my head, I enter Tiernan’s study.

It’s in more disarray than it was last time. Reports and documents are strewn about. The books fly across the room, as if they are unsettled, as well. In the center is King Tiernan and Domhnall. Today, the king has adorned himself in a tailored, deep purple tunic, lined with gold. His crown of black diamonds rests on his head.

I bow, counting to five before straightening to my full height.

He claps me on the shoulder, an unfamiliar uptick to his lips.