Page 32 of Revert (The Royal Chronicles #4)

The throne room was dimly lit, the morning light muted behind high stained glass in fractured, colorless shards. Shadows lurked in the corners like silent sentinels, oppressive servants of the king that felt almost alive, waiting and ever watching.

The king lounged on his throne with the elegance and ease of a serpent at rest, looking far too pleased to see me. Foreboding twisted my gut at his delight. Pleasure from the embodiment of cruelty itself was never benign—it was always the beginning of something, as final as an omen of death.

Castiel stood to one side, his face a mask carved from stone.

Whatever softness had existed in his gaze the night before was gone, buried beneath layers of distance and duty.

But I had learned to read beneath the surface.

I could see the tension coiled in the tight set of his jaw, the strain in his rigid posture, the weight behind his unwavering gaze.

With each step closer, memory of my nightmare unfurled from the lurking shadows, entangling me in its haunting tendrils like a snare—another time I had stood in this room at the mercy of the king that had ended with my blood staining the floor.

I struggled to control my tremors as I dropped into a curtsy. “Your Majesty.” Despite the pounding in my chest, I managed to keep my voice steady.

My gaze instinctively darted to the sword at his side. He noticed and stroked the ruby-encrusted hilt with a toying smirk, a reminder that my life hung once again at the mercy of a man who had already killed me once.

“Princess Bernice,” the king said smoothly, his smile thin. “Such punctuality. How curious to find you lingering near my private meetings. Some might call it eavesdropping.”

His voice remained mild, almost playful, but I knew better—every word was a hook, baited and barbed to snag me.

I lowered my gaze. “My apologies. I was lost in thought and didn’t realize I had wandered too near.”

“Ah, how often the mind leads us astray,” he mused. “A hazard of curious women, especially those with thoughts of their own.”

He rose and slowly descended the dais, each step deliberate, while I fought the primitive desire to turn and flee.

“You have a tendency for unnecessary wandering, don’t you? Seeing things you’re not meant to see, speaking with servants about how things should be done in Thorndale. One must begin to question if you’re up to anything suspicious.”

Horror twisted in my stomach. Liora. Had she turned me in after all? Had it been a trap from the start—bait strung with shared fear and a trusting hand? Or had we simply been overheard, the shadows full of ears I’d forgotten to fear?

In the end, it didn’t matter.

“Lucky for you,” the king continued, “you didn’t say anything too indiscreet.

But how closely you danced to the edge. One step further, and you might’ve found yourself in the place of no return.

” He smiled tightly. “Of course, I find nothing so charming as a clever queen-in-waiting, provided her loyalty remains...intact.”

A chill coiled down my spine.

“I trust it does remain intact?”

“It does,” I managed shakily. “Utterly.”

He stepped closer—not enough to touch me, but near enough that the sharp scent of spices and steel filled my lungs. I fought the urge to recoil.

“Good. Because you see, Thorndale is a kingdom balanced on many delicate threads.” He lifted a golden cord from his ceremonial robe and let it dangle between us, swaying slightly.

“A whisper in the wrong place…” He let the cord fall; the sound of its soft brush against his sleeve made me flinch more than I meant to. “…and the whole weave can unravel.”

He circled behind me, his voice like silk drawn over a blade.

“A maid mentioned you spoke of darkness, in Thorndale, no less. A strange thing for our future queen to suggest.” He leaned closer, just enough for his breath to stir the hair at my temple. “One might think you…disloyal.”

My heart lurched at her mention. So she had told.

For one breathless moment, betrayal seared through me…

but it didn’t take root. I remembered the fear in Liora’s eyes, too raw to be an act, nor could I forget the pressure of her hand clasping mine.

The connection we’d shared had been real.

I couldn’t believe she would break that trust, even under the king’s weight.

I was certain it hadn’t been her, nor had it been the second most likely suspect, Castiel.

Perhaps that blind trust made me na?ve, but I was tired of the constant fear and doubt that permeated every aspect of my life.

In a place where everything else was stolen or twisted, my trust was one of the only things that still felt like mine.

“Your silence is damning.” The king’s words pierced my whirling thoughts that had strayed too long. “Truly nothing to say? A pity.”

His cold gaze remained locked on me, but behind him, Castiel shifted slightly, an unspoken warning: speak .

I didn’t know where my lies would lead, but silence would only damn me further. I had been given another chance—whether by fate or by force—and I couldn’t afford to waste it by standing still. Whatever this second life was meant for, I would seize it with everything I had.

With a wavering breath, I pushed past the fear clogging my throat and lifted my gaze to meet the king’s cold stare. “I believe the words were taken out of context,” I said carefully. “It was a private moment of reflection, nothing more, and only born of my true care for Thorndale.”

“Ah, to think you’re dutiful enough to already ponder your future role with such care,” the king purred. “But context is such a luxury in court, isn’t it? People do so love a scandal, and what greater scandal than a princess whispering treason?”

I opened my mouth to object, but he raised a single finger.

“I’m sure you meant no harm,” he said, his voice conveying that he was by no means sure. “And yet harm so often grows from good intentions, does it not? Fires are started by careless hands, kingdoms fall by reckless hearts.”

“A rather fragile system, to break so easily.” I hadn’t realized I’d spoken the treacherous thought aloud until the surrounding guards raised their swords, only lowering them at a lazy wave from the king.

He stared at me for a long moment, eyes narrowed. “Indeed,” he said at last. “Which is why I must do all in my power to ensure every single crack is…eradicated.”

He turned to Castiel, whose hand remained poised over his own sword, his posture unreadable. Whether he meant to join the guards or leap to my defense, I couldn’t tell. I only knew what I hoped.

“I do wonder what you think, my son. Do we have reason to be concerned?”

Castiel was silent for a beat too long. When he finally spoke, his voice was cool, even. “If there was anything to be concerned about, I would have handled it.”

And I knew, all too well, how far he would go to handle me.

A dangerous pause settled between father and son. The air seemed to tighten, as if the throne room itself were listening—waiting to see who would flinch first.

“And have you?” His Majesty’s voice was deathly quiet, filled with warning that even the crown prince couldn’t get away with lying to him.

Castiel steadily met his father’s gaze. “Yes.”

The king smiled. “Good.” The word echoed like a verdict—final, absolute—and no less lethal for the civility with which it was delivered. He turned back to me. “Then I trust we understand each other, Princess.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” My throat was so dry I could hardly force the words out.

“Wonderful. Then we shall speak no more of it. I find even the most unpleasant matters fade quickly…when handled properly. After all, it’s only when left unattended that such things begin to fester. And we do handle things properly in Thorndale, don’t we?”

I swallowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

His smirk deepened as he reached out, touching a finger to my chin, brief yet possessive. A reminder that like everything else, this mercy was just another performance, one he remained firmly in control of.

“You may go.”

I left the throne room on unsteady legs, spine held straight by sheer will alone. Only when the doors closed behind me did I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. My heart still pounded with the echo of threats disguised as civility, but I had survived. Barely.

But I knew better than to hope he had truly let the matter drop.

The corridor beyond the throne room was silent; my footsteps echoed unnaturally sharply down the stone hallway. I took the shortest route to the courtyard, desperate to escape the confining stone walls that made up my gilded cage, the suffocating weight of unseen eyes pressing in on all sides.

I needed to put as much distance between me and the king as possible. But no matter how far I ran, I could never truly escape—not while he held not only my life, but my father’s in his grasp.

The silence thickened as I neared the outer doors— too silent. I couldn’t hear the sound of a single guard nearby, the usual courtiers and attendants nowhere in sight. The emptiness felt almost… calculated . Something was wrong.

I pivoted and quickened my pace in the opposite direction, each breath jagged in my throat. I needed to return to my chambers, or somewhere with witnesses, anywhere but this hollow corridor.

And then I felt it—a shift in air, a flicker of sudden movement. I spun just in time to catch the flash of steel.

A hooded figure detached from the shadows behind a pillar, masked in black from head to toe. Their dagger gleamed as it slashed towards me. I dodged, but not quickly enough. The blade sliced my shoulder; pain flared like fire, hot and immediate.

I cried out, stumbling back. My hand flew to the throbbing wound, already warm and wet with blood. I tried to scream to summon a guard, by the sound caught in my throat. It wouldn’t have mattered; the empty corridor wasn’t coincidence, but a strategic ploy. No one would be coming to my rescue.

The assassin knew it, too. The figure advanced slowly, like a predator savoring its kill. Behind the mask, dark eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. Even in my terror, something caught my attention…as though I’d seen those masked eyes before.

“How unfortunate to be wandering the halls alone, Princess,” the figure’s mocking voice sneered from beneath the hood. “Almost as if you wanted to disappear.”

“You won’t get away with this.” The words trembled from my lips, a hollow defense, born of desperation.

Because we both knew who had ordered my death.

The king’s punishment had come cloaked in shadow, delivered only after he’d savored the sight of me squirming beneath his feigned mercy.

I had played perfectly into his hands, and now nothing could save me from his command.

The assassin’s head tilted, the movement fluid in the shadows of the hood. “Won’t I? There’s no one coming. I made sure of that.”

No . I couldn’t die. Not here. Not again.

I backed away until my spine met cold stone. The assassin slowly closed the distance, savoring my fear.

“Don’t worry.” The words were spoken softly. “It won’t take long.”

I didn’t have time to scream as the blade lifted for the killing blow.