Page 21 of Kingdom Of Veil And Vow

“Nothing other than the location. It is going to be in the king’s dining hall,” I say, bracing my hands on the back of the chair set at the head of the table. “The king has managed to keep whatever he is planning between him and Simon.”

“That guy gives me the fucking creeps,” Theo chimes in from where he is seated at my right, his eyes such a light shade of brown that they remind me of damp sand.

Darin lets out a nervous laugh. “Which one? They both make me want to crawl out of my skin.” He winces before sending an apologetic look my way. “No offense.”

I nearly snort. “There is none taken. I am not the man who sired me, only cursed to share his blood.” He and Theo chuckle, Alden’s hard stare catching my attention. “We should discuss the issue of taking another vow, if you are chosen.”

“No need.” Theo knocks his knuckles on the table, rattling the map’s pieces. “We understand the duties of the job. And the risks.” Darin nods in agreement, while Alden tilts his head.

“You’re sure? Blood oaths cannot be reversed, and I cannot predict what he might make you vow.” The oaths of the Trusted are given in private, and though I wasn’t asked to give another vow besides the one I had been forced into at ten years old, becoming a Trusted still bore an extremely high cost.

“Theoretically, it won’t matter what he makes us vow if the plan is for him to die anyway, right?” Alden asks, his elbows bent as his arms rest on the table. He’s a broad man with a foreboding glare, one that matches the deep brown of his hair. In our limited interactions, I have found him to be steely. Observant. Looking at him now, I can’t decipher the emotions that play behind the mask he wears, and it’s disorienting. I’m sure Grayson would laugh at the irony.

“Correct,” I answer. “At least, that is the theory.” Despite King Dolian’s fondness for using blood oaths, I’m not sure even he understands exactly how the magic works.

“Then let us hope justice will be brought.” Alden’s jaw flexes, his chest rising and falling with a deep breath.

“Jerrick is coming with candidates of his own. I don’t know who for sure, but I wouldn’t put it past the king to pit you against each other in one way or another to see who comes out on top.” I look at the three of them, my stomach churning with guilt. This is their choice, but I can’t help but feel like their lives are in my hands. “You may end up fighting for more than just a position as one of the king’s closest guards.” The insinuation hangs heavily between us, but none of them balk in the face of death. “Okay, then,” I say, standing tall as I nod. “May the king remember our faces as the ones who betrayed him.”

King Dolian sits tall in a chair that’s so extravagant in stature that it may as well be another throne. Gold frames his shoulders on both sides, gems in varying colors edging the chair’s tufted red fabric. The pointed-spire crown on his head sparkles beneath the flame gems lighting the chandelier above, a disinterested expression on his face. Darin, Theo, Alden, and myself file into the king’s dining hall and line the left side of the massive table. We’re joined a few minutes later by Jerrick and his men, one of whom I’m surprised to see is Commander Miles. It is bold of Jerrick to bring him, considering he failed to bring the princess back. Then again, he had apprehended the shifter.

Lining up across the table from us, Miles and Jerrick are joined by a man named Hudson, who greets me with an annoying smirk. At a handful of years older than I am, Hudson prefers to bounce around, commanders obliging his wishes to go on whichever excursion or task that seems the most interesting to him. Which usually meant he was the one they sent to retrieve late tax payments. He is merciless, willing to harm and maim for the sick thrill of it. I should have guessed that he would be one of Jerrick’s choices.

The third man, I don’t recognize, though he glares at Theo as if he has a personal vendetta against him. Theo merely cracks a smile.

Simon enters, followed by a handful of unfamiliar guards that spread out around the room. I’m still armed with blades at my thighs and a hidden one in my boot, but being surrounded by men I don’t know makes me wish I had my armor.

Taking his place to the right of King Dolian, Simon clutches his hands behind his back, puffing his chest out as his serious gaze moves over us. “Gentlemen, understand that it is a great honor to even be recognized as a potential candidate for joining the king’s Trusted. These positions are the most prestigious in the guard, and you should all feel proud at the fact that you are standing here in front of your king.” Simon continues, speaking of the duties expected as a member of the Trusted. “It is because of these reasons that we have created trials for potential candidates. This one in particular will test your dedication to the king’s safety, even when the risk is your own life.” He claps twice, and three servants enter, bronze chalices balanced on silver serving trays. One by one, a cup filled with red liquid is set on the table in front of each of us, Jerrick and myself included. When he arches a brow in the advisor’s direction, Simon offers an unnerving smile in return. “We will test all of your dedication today.”

Grinding my teeth together, I stare down at the chalice. Sweet cherry wine, just as Tienne had said. But how the fuck is this supposed to test our dedication?

“Poison is a highly effective way to kill a king,” he says, and my blood runs cold, the candidates stiffening at his words. “It can be hard to detect, nearly impossible to stop the ramifications of if not detected early. The role of the king’s Trusted is to ensure he remains safe in all scenarios.”

What are the odds the drinks are actually poisoned? Glancing at the king, I wouldn’t put it past him to take us all out for the thrill of it.

“So, candidates, what lies before you is duty. At the risk of yourself but for the good of the kingdom,” Simon says, that rodent gaze landing on me. “What will you do?”

Chapter Fifteen: Xander

I don’t hesitate as I reach for the chalice, the tart taste of cherry hitting my tongue. My proximity to King Dolian hinges on the fact that he believes me to be a supplicant. To be loyal to him and him alone. So I take a hearty gulp of the alcohol and hope to the gods that it isn’t the last thing I do.

I’m disappointed to see Jerrick set his cup back down at the same time I do, cutting a pissed off look my way before eyeing his candidates. I turn to look at Darin, Theo, and Alden, relieved when I see them finishing their drinks and setting their own cups down. We eye each other warily, waiting for the poison to rear its head in the form of foaming mouths or passing out—like with belladragis or gelsemium. When precious seconds pass without any reaction, I breathe a little deeper. None of us.

The relief is temporary, however, when I look across the table to find that Jerrick and his three men appear fine as well. What the hell?

“To give one’s life in honor of his king is no small feat,” King Dolian says as he stands from his ornate chair, clasping his hands behind his back. He pivots towards the other side of the table, his pace slow. “It’s an honor I don’t take for granted. A loyalty that I’m aware is as rare as the jewels mined from our mountains.” His eyes find mine briefly across the expanse of wood, and I ensure my expression remains blank under his inspection. “As my Trusted, you will be asked to test that loyalty over and over again. I recognize that there are foes lined up at my front, ready to strike me down at the first opportunity.” He continues walking until he rounds the edge of the table, coming to a halt behind Darin. His hand twitches at his side, and a sinking feeling takes root as the hairs at the back of my neck rise. “Which is why I won’t tolerate hesitance from anyone meant to protect my back.”

What happens next is a blur of movement as the king slides a hidden dagger down from his sleeve. My nostrils flare, every muscle in my body locking as he curls his arm around Darin’s neck. It’s instinct, years of training myself to not react to the king’s displays of power, that holds me in place, but Darin doesn’t have time to register what is happening before the blade is slicing through the delicate skin at his throat, blood spraying from the open wound over the chair and table in front of him. Between Darin and I, Theo and Alden hold themselves as still as possible, though the former struggles wiping the shock from his face. Blood coats his side when Darin turns towards him, his hands attempting to wrap around the fatal cut.

No one moves as Darin chokes on his own blood. His complexion whitens, and then he collapses, eyes falling shut as crimson leaks onto the tiled floor. King Dolian backs up to avoid the spill, holding the dagger with an ease that has always surprised me. For all the pompous ways he regards himself, it’s hard to remember that he was also trained to be a soldier. That as the second son, the spare, he had no reason to ever think he would be king, especially when his brother produced an heir. As such, he would have learned how to fight in order to keep his brother safe, should danger ever make its way to the castle. Except danger was present in the castle the night Princess Rhea was born. King Conrad and Queen Luna’s deaths had long been blamed on a mage suicide mission, but a part of me always wondered if it was him. I have seen firsthand what he will do to his own flesh and blood. I don’t doubt he wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone who stands in the way of what he wants.

Bending down, King Dolian wipes his dagger clean over a spot on Darin’s tunic that hasn’t yet been sullied by the blood pouring from his neck. When he stands, he spins the dagger over his palm so that the hilt is pointed at me. “Clean this mess up and notify his next of kin.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Plucking the dagger from his hand, my eyes meet his, and the perverse pleasure I see in them forces my fingers tighter around the hilt, my mind wondering what it might be like to plunge this blade right into his neck. My toes flex in my boots, each muscle that had held me still now urging me forward. I sway, an action easily excusable as a bout of lightheadness, but the magic of the vow knows. My intentions are clear, and the magic doesn’t hold back as a wave of pain floods over me. Shit. I need a different thought to latch on to, something to pull me away from the destructive edge my mind is teetering on as the sensation of pins pricking my skin begins to seep into me.

I cycle through the people I trust, the list pathetically short as I force a stilted breath in through my nose.

“Your loyalty will be tested again. Next time, be prepared for battle.” King Dolian says to the room.