Page 112 of The Nymph Prince

“Are you well?” I asked, slowing my pace to be closer to him.

Malik looked at me a long moment. “No.”

“Why?”

“Your Highness,” one of the guards said, bowing. He and the other guard outside of the heavy doors moved aside to let me pass

Troy gave me a kiss on the cheek before continuing toward the kitchen. Kingdom talk bored him and he avoided it. Malik followed me inside the throne room, unlike other times when he’d stood out in the hall.

What’s going on?

Father sat on his throne made of bone, clicking his nails on the arm of it as he watched me approach. Fishing net hung between the sharpened points of the bone at the top and jewels were woven into it.

“You’re late,” he greeted in a tone that rang with his disappointment.

“Apologies, Father.” My throne sat beside his and was adorned with gold and gemstones. I walked up the steps of the dais and plopped down in the seat. Such an uncomfortable thing it was. I would’ve preferred a throne made of cushions instead of fancy gems. “Why did you ask me to join you here?”

My responsibility of hearing petitions and handling affairs in the throne room had been lessened ever since we’d begun planning for war. My current duties consisted of training and ensuring that the army was doing as it should. So my presence that morning seemed odd.

And after the talk with Malik, I felt uneasy.

“Because I wished for you to see this.” The front of Father’s pale hair had been braided and pulled back from his face. His perfectly arched brows were dark, as were his long lashes. His blue eyes focused on something ahead.

I looked to see two guards walking from the side entrance, bringing a man forward.

The man’s arms were chained behind his back and he looked rough. His clothing was dirty, and his dark hair was matted together. Bruises and cuts marked his cheeks and blood stained the front of his tunic.

I pitied him. No one should be treated that way.

“What is his crime?” I asked, keeping my voice low enough so that only Father could hear.

He looked at me before addressing the man. “You stand before your king on this day, accused of treason. Explain yourself.”

The man spat on the floor and glared at Father. “You are no king of mine.”

Father’s right hand tightened into a fist, but his expression remained calm. “What was your plan? To sneak men into my kingdom in the hopes of assassinating me?”

“Not you,” he responded with a sneer. His dark eyes drifted to me. “You look well, Prince Lorcan. Such a pity that your pretty head still sits on your shoulders. I was looking forward to putting it on a pike in front of your precious palace.”

The blood left my face. He’d meant to kill me? But why?

“Do not speak to my son, traitor,” Father growled. “Your accomplices have been executed already, but I wanted the prince to see you before I took your head.”

Malik glared at the man as he held the hilt of his dagger.

“When did this occur?” I asked, my voice louder that time.

“Late last night,” Father answered. “Guards caught this man and five others come through the portal. They were armed and headed for the palace when they were captured. Out of the other men, only two were merfolk.” His blue eyes seethed with rage. “This man dared sneak humans into my kingdom.”

“Why wasn’t I informed of this sooner? No matter the time, I should’ve been told.”

“We’ve been trying to get more information from him. To know his reasoning behind the attempted attack,” Father answered. “Telling you was a waste of time, for you were asleep. Malik was informed. That’s all that mattered. He kept you safe, did he not?”

As silly as it might’ve been, I was hurt that Malik had kept it from me. He should’ve told me first thing that morning. I looked at him, and his guilty expression was a sign that he knew he’d been in the wrong.

“Oh, stop this pouting nonsense,” the king said. “I ordered him to keep his silence on the matter. You were busy fucking your mage, and there was nothing you could do to help.”

“Nothing I could do to help?” I questioned. Anger sizzled through my veins, and I stood from the throne. I stepped down and approached the chained man. The traitor. “You forget my gift, Father.”