The Claimed: Rashika's Resistance

Chapter 11: Betrayal

It was shockingly easy to lie to the King.

Perhaps because of his reaction. When I told him Rashika's Resistance planned to attack the Holy Shrine of Rashika the following night, his eyes twinkled with delight even as he murmured horrified admonishments. The lies flowed from his lips so gracefully — so unobstructed by conscience.

Or perhaps because when he congratulated me on my findings, I suddenly realized the scraps of approval had only ever been enough to string me along like a half-starved puppy. I could never repay the debt of my own life, and I could never earn his love.

Or perhaps because Honey watched us from the loveseat beside the King's desk with glazed eyes and a bright smile, and for the first time, I noticed the imperfections. The subtle droop at one side of her lips, the slight tick of one temple, the flash of something sinister occasionally breaching the surface of her eyes. A smile that said, I'll serve you today and stab you tomorrow.

A smile I now wore as well.

* * *

My footsteps echoed all of the way down the long, dark corridor where Queen Romalda slept. Uniformly-sized gold-framed paintings of dreary landscapes decorated the walls at regular intervals. Lanterns spaced evenly between the paintings appeared to sway in the dim light and shifting shadows. I leaned forward and clenched my calf muscles to pad along on the balls of my bare feet, fingers trailing the wall to guide my way.

I passed one, two, three metal doors on the left, vacant cells for the Claimed she had never bothered to take.

At the end of the corridor, I slipped the keyring off of my belt and slid a tiny gold key into the lock of the Queen's door. Then I paused, remembering the day my trainer had entrusted the keys to me, demonstrated opening every door in the palace, and left me with a stern warning.

You may enter these rooms only in an emergency.

I doubted this qualified as an emergency in the eyes of my trainer or any other member of the Royal Guard. In fact, I knew how the Royal Guard would view my current actions.

Betrayal.

The faces of the few Royal Guard members I knew filtered through my mind, hazy and distant as though in the dark... or maybe in this case, washed away by too much sunlight. My trainer and Pamil would be horrified if they could see the thoughts spinning dark webs through my mind. Pim... well, Pim would be perplexed. Worried. Maybe even heartbroken.

The metal of the key dug into my fingers. Could I really betray everything I had ever known?

I pressed my left hand over my gut, and the tender bruise from Izra's fist throbbed in response, carrying with it her voice.

You know nothing.

With a gentle chink of key latching in lock, the door slid open.

Everything had shrunk in the years since I had last seen the room, and the once frightening paintings of barren landscapes now only looked forlorn. Centered against the back wall, a rickety single bed drowned in a swath of animal hide from some furry beast poached in the snowy northern mountains of Busk or Bund. A large jar of clear liquid perched on the bedside table.

I remembered the severity in the Queen's tone when she reprimanded me for my last uninvited visit, brow furrowed and hands splayed over hips not as skeletal as her current frame.

Stay away from my room, Epsa — and most of all, never touch that jar.

I craned my neck to cast a glance back toward the open door and empty corridor beyond. Then I stepped up to the bedside table and twisted the lid off of the glass jar.