Page 4 of Kingdom Of Veil And Vow

Finally reaching the lowest level, I blink as my eyes adjust to our dim surroundings.

“She’s in the cell at the end.”

Though he keeps his voice low, the sound is enough to stir the prisoners closest to us. Most are newer arrivals, still clinging to that small bit of hope that someone might show mercy and help them escape. I had been tempted, years ago, when I learned that some were chained here for infractions as small as stealing a loaf of bread. It hardly seemed fair to include them amongst those who murdered their neighbors or committed crimes so heinous I didn’t want to reference them even in my mind. But I had learned my lesson when it came to deviating from my plans. To going off course. It’s one of the reasons why I govern myself with three unbreakable rules.

The sound of metal clanging snaps my head to the right where I meet the wild gaze of a haggard-looking man holding an empty wooden cup. “Let me out! I’m innocent!” he begs as we pass, his cheeks wet with tears. “Please! Tell the king to show mercy. Tell him—”

I curl my fingers towards my palms as I look back down the long hall. “There is no mercy to be had.” The justice system within this kingdom has been shaped by the king—a man who cares not for his suffering citizens but only for the power he holds. Instead of pouring back into his people, he is taking from them at levels no previous monarch has before, and because of it, the Cruel Death is not the only thing the people fear.

The man continues wailing as we pass a long line of empty cells. “Grayson, if you dragged me down here just to show me a fox in a cage, I will—” The words die on my tongue as I step fully in front of the last cell, my feet coming to a halt.

“Better shown than explained,” Grayson repeats, stopping at my side.

Blinking, I shake my head. “I still need it explained.” Taking a step closer to the barred entrance, I peer through the shitty lighting of a torch hanging farther down the hall from us. The cells are small—a cot lined with canvas tucked into one corner, a toilet in the other. Only a few feet of empty space separates the cot from the bars, but the lighting doesn’t spill all the way in, and when a figure moves in the shadows, it prompts me to step back. “Who is this?”

“The fox,” he answers, head tilting. “Or rather was the fox. Before she shifted.”

“Shifted?” I confirm, eyes focusing on the faintest outline of the being where they sit on the bed. “A shifter?”

“According to the guards who brought her in. She shifted right in front of them.”

My exhale is rough. When I woke up this morning, I knew three things with absolute certainty. First, the princess had escaped with a mortal guard named Flynn. Second, only mages could cross through the Spell without loss of life. King Dolian was to thank for that. Third, I had never been in the presence of a shifter before. Somehow, all of those facts have now been challenged, and I haven’t so much as eaten a bite of fucking breakfast yet.

I clear my throat, folding my arms over the armor at my chest. “Hey,” I call out, wincing as my voice reverberates off the metal and stone. “Are you truly a shifter?”

Only the sound of the roused prisoners we passed murmuring for help in their cells answers.

“We should go,” Grayson says when another silent minute passes. “I’m sure King Dolian is already expecting you.”

I nod, preparing to follow him when something catches my eye. Squatting down, I look at the shiny bead of liquid that dots the ground right outside of the cell. Blood. It trails past the bars and the torchlight into the cell, getting swallowed by the darkness.

“Are you injured?” Goosebumps flare over my skin beneath my armor as I stare into the darkness. I swear I can feel her staring right back.

“Xander, come on.” Huffing out a breath, I stand and follow him down the hall, sorting through the information I’ve learned since waking up. “You good?”

“Fine,” I mutter as we climb the steps back up, passing through a series of guarded doors until we reach the main level of the castle. “I’ll go meet with the king and try to stall him while you bring clean supplies to the shifter.”

Grayson’s steps stumble, his shoulder bumping mine. “Come again?”

“There was blood outside her cell. I need you to make sure she won’t die before I can talk to her.”

“And why do you want to talk to her?”

Tall double doors loom ahead, the golden sigil of the Mortal Kingdom emblazoned on their front. It’s the same roaring lion that decorates our armor. Two men stand guard in front of them; one is Brisk, a young man new to both the guard and the resistance—a secret group fighting for a better life for all in this kingdom. The other is Cyrus, a gnat who is jealous I made the Trusted before him. He glares at me, and I send him an irritated look of my own. “She lived with the princess in that tower and likely knows her better than anyone else. She holds knowledge that I find valuable.”

“You think the princess is still a threat?” he asks quietly.

“Possibly. Be quick. I’ll keep the king distracted for as long as I can.” He nods before turning right and disappearing down the hallway that will eventually lead to the servants’ quarters.

My interactions with the princess had been minimal, really only forced observation of how the king treated her. I had thought her to be trapped in more ways than one, but now, with the revelation that she possesses magic, I wonder if it was all an act. Why let King Dolian abuse her when she held the power to stop him from doing so the entire time? If only my mother held secret magic, perhaps her fate would have been different. Bitterness seeps onto my tongue, but I again force those feelings deep within me. I will not let them be a distraction.

Cyrus steps forward, holding his hand out as I approach. “State your business.”

Stars above. I level him with a bored stare. “Cyrus, you know that I outrank you.”

“It doesn’t excuse you from questioning, boy,” he barks, leaning forward, his fingers stretching for the hilt of his sword.

I focus on keeping my breathing steady, counting slowly in my head. I’m used to constantly needing to prove myself. It’s how I’ve spent my life since the age of ten when King Dolian finally found where my mother was hiding us and forced me to say goodbye to her. A damn decade and a half surviving his torment and trials to prove I am loyal to him and him alone. My father. Though I truly don’t believe myself to be above anyone, the stars might as well fall from the sky before I let this asshole in front of me try to make me feel like I’m less worthy than he is of my position.