Page 14 of The Healing Dragon (The Red Book #2)

“The kitchen staff will begin preparing lunch soon. ”

“It won’t take long. I’m just wondering if he is in possession of more than one book written by Klause?”

The lengths my father went for the cursed book has me thinking he knew something else. There must be more than one journal by this infamous Klause person.

“Not exactly.” He looks to the doorway as voices alert us to people coming.

They are still far enough, but Oli hurries to whisper, “Klause is not the only one of his kind. He is not like us. I’m sure you know as much.

There are cousins of his who knew of his movements.

Your father had one journal by a cousin but he destroyed it. ”

“What was their name?” I ask, but it’s too late.

A cluster of people enter the kitchen. Without sparing us a glance, they get to work.

“You must return to your duties, Lady Janelle,” Oli says with a strong authoritative voice.

I don’t bother arguing with him because when he starts his role as a soldier in front of others, it’s impossible for him to snap out of it. I know he thinks it keeps everyone guessing about our friendship, but he has to know it doesn’t fool everyone. All I care about is that it fools my father.

I salute Oliver and march my way out of the kitchens to find the next bathroom I need to clean.

I’m dragging my steps, but the sooner I finish my tasks, the sooner I can go searching for the names of the people who knew Klause.

What they wrote could be crucial to deciphering what my father is doing to Matias.

With that in mind, I make my way to my father’s office. It's close to lunchtime, so he will not be here for the next few hours. With a hint of excitement, I slowly turn the doorknob to his bathroom. If someone happens to inquire why I am here, I plan to use this as my excuse.

I look over the bookshelves first. I pay close attention to the spines. If this journal was made around the time the Red Book was created, it’s very old. I go spine by spine but it’s not long before I’ve gone through all the books.

It’s very possible it’s not here. There’s a small library on the other side of the house. But that hide-out would be too obvious. That’s if my father even thought of hiding it. Would it cross his mind that someone will look for it?

Only the Fates know what crosses that man’s mind.

After all, he declared war not just on the Oscuro King, but on a young, powerful one.

Only a desperate man would resort to that.

I should have seen the signs of my father going off the deep end, but I was too busy trying to survive his controlling grip and rigorous schedule.

My father never trusted the other royal families. I grew suspicious of them by the way he spoke of them, but the truth was that he envied them. He was an outsider, and despite marrying into the family, he never truly belonged.

The oldest sibling carries on the title and duties according to tradition.

I was the youngest, meaning my oldest brother would be the one to take on the title and duties.

But due to my birth name, I never saw myself as free of responsibilities.

I try not to let my thoughts linger on my brothers.

They were strangers to me. Two fallen soldiers of my father’s schemes. I shake my head and stop myself there.

I always watched the Oscuro brothers, not with jealousy, but with wonder. Knowing those close bonds weren’t meant for me, I was glad they were out there. I was happy simply to know that they existed somewhere out in the world.

As a child, I felt that if those kinds of connections existed, one would eventually find me. Well, one did and I destroyed it.

Before restarting the search and pulling each book out, I decided to check my father’s desk. Despite his organizational style, it’s worth checking if the books are here. My father never locks his desk drawers. He is far too impatient to unlock them every time he needs to get something.

On the right side, I see all the accounting documents.

My father is the type of person who might not do the work, but he sure will double-check it.

I have no clue who is doing all his accounting work here, but it looks like he’s still running a tight ship.

I look over a few lines and see all types of food items being documented and accounted for.

The sight of various fish makes me roll my eyes.

There’s no doubt they belong to his favorite dishes.

A hushed tiptoe of rubber soles carefully paddling on the floor alerts me to the presence of someone trying to sneak up on me. I first imagine it's Jesse trying to be playful, but I dismiss that as soon as it crosses my mind.

I close the drawer and move towards the bathroom. I’m a few steps away when the intruder stops trying to conceal themselves.

“What are you doing here?” Ernesto asks. There’s a smirk on his face, like he caught me with my hands on the cookie jar.

The bathroom is only one foot away from me. I hold back from explaining that I was cleaning it because that would be odd. I don’t explain myself to this dog. Starting today would only raise suspicion.

“Is it any of your concern?” I ask.

I don’t wait for him to answer as I open the door. I realize I left my cleaning supplies in the office, but I make use of the few wipes under the sink. In addition, I pick up the toilet brush and toss it into the toilet.

“You have some high and mighty air for someone scrubbing toilets.”

I can’t deny he has me there. Thankfully, he hasn’t noticed the lack of cleaning supplies .

“Shouldn’t you be doing something for my father?” I ask. “Like bark.”

Ernesto lets out a booming laugh that fills the room. I move out of the bathroom and pass him. He keeps taking steps closer, and it is only a matter of time before he blocks my way out. His laughter keeps me from hearing the horde of footsteps until my father and his man are at the doorway.

I must’ve been looking for far longer than I thought.

“What is happening here?” my father asks entering the room.

The rest of his men, who are a total of five, stand by the door, carefully watching the scene unravel.

I might be mistaken, but I believe I see a flicker of something in mid-air.

It could very well be Jesse. It makes sense that he would resort to following my father around if searching the house was unfruitful.

“Your dog won’t leave me alone,” I say to my father as I gather my cleaning supplies.

Crying to my father with complaints has never been my way. I haven’t made an attempt since childhood, when I was punished for it. But I need a reason to leave before he notices I shouldn’t be here.

Ernesto joins us by the door. He crosses his arms and sends a cocky grin my way. “I was simply supervising the quality of the work, King Oscuro.”

The mistake is done, and as soon as the words leave his lips, he knows it too. His eyes widen and his mouth gapes. The poor dog just called my father by his enemy’s name.

My father is not a forgiving or understanding person.

He will not simply acknowledge that there has always been one King Oscuro longer than any of us have been alive, regardless of first name.

The title has stayed in that one family since the beginning of the Red Book.

It’s normal for a person to make a mistake and have that well-known name attached to the title roll off the tongue.

Hoping my father would be thoughtful is na?ve. My father doesn’t want to be king for the people but for his selfish needs. There is something broken in him. I first thought his faults came from not having a father himself.

How can a boy not raised by a man learn to become one?

There is something further wrong and hollow inside my father.

His darkness is not just the absence of love and care.

I have come to learn his darkness is sinister.

He is not unique. He isn’t the first and he will not be the last. Hunger for power takes many shapes and faces but persists through the years.

My father’s eyes do not leave Ernesto as I scurry away. The soldiers outside the door move apart to let me pass, then walk inside the room, shutting the door. I make my way to the stairs, then up to my room. I don’t stop moving until I reach my bed and kneel at the foot of it.

The door opens after me and clicks shut.

“It’s not your fault.”

I look at Jesse, who stands before me with furrowed brows.

“What?” I ask and my voice comes out like a gasp.

“Regardless of how much of an ass that man is, you feel guilty that he is about to be punished.” He kneels next to me. “Breathe, Janelle.”

His words break through my haze, and I realize I’m hyperventilating. I need to get a grip. What is wrong with me? I don’t care about Ernesto or his fate at my father’s hand. It’s his choice to be here.

I look down at my hands and see they are shaking.

I fist them tightly and take a deep breath.

One, two, three, four, five. I breathe out, then repeat.

The five count is something I haven’t had to do in a while.

As a child, it’s what I used to do to keep myself sane.

Whatever my father threw at me between training sessions and social expectations, the counting always centered me and helped me gather my bearings.

After all, screaming until my lungs were empty was never an option, despite being far more relieving.

“You still do the five count,” Jesse says while staring at me.

We are eye to eye on the floor.

“I counted out loud?”

“No,” he whispers. His hand traces my lips. “But I can see them make the sound of the numbers.”

He snaps his hand back like my skin burned him.

I lick my lips, and I rise to my feet. “I will go find us food.”

“Actually, I will,” Jesse says.

Before I can object, his cape is over his head, and the door is shutting after him. I look back at the bed and decide this is where I’ll be spending the rest of my day.