The Raven Lord | Book I

XXII. The King of the Mortals

Inside, the palace easily matched its exterior. 

The three of us were led down a wide hall, guards on all sides, like prisoners headed for the gallows. 

We passed large portraits hung about, assumingly of the royal family, and suits of armor stood guard at every doorway and window. Despite its foreboding feeling, torches were so thickly hung on the walls that we found ourselves half blinded at every turn. 

I smirked. Little did they know, the very things they were trying so hard to keep out, were walking through their fortress halls, unnoticed and unsuspected. 

"You'll wait down here," the main guard, a burly dark skinned man, said as he pointed a finger down a winding dark stairway. 

I merely tipped my chin, before descending ahead of my companions. 

At the bottom of the stairway was a cell, its bars thick and wrought from steel. Behind me, I felt Ash tense.

"Get in," said the guard from behind. "His Majesty will be notified of your arrival. If he deems you worth an audience, he will call." 

Saskia and I reluctantly moved for the cell, resigning ourselves to wait. But when we looked back, Ash was frozen, his complexion paler than usual. He stared at the cage of iron, his chest moving up and down rapidly. 

"Ash?" I said, smiling gently so as not to alert the guards, who inched their hands toward the hilts of their swords. Moving toward him, I placed my hand on his shoulder. "This way." His sapphire eyes met mine, a kind of fear clinging to them. With a slow nod of his head, he stepped inside. 

The clunk of the key in the lock sounded through the now silent room as Ash slumped onto one of the benches, leaning his elbows on his knees. Saskia watched him, her violet eyes soft. 

When the guards had gone and we were alone, I fixed my gaze on the man beside me. His breathing came in shallow, ragged huffs and his fingers clenched so tightly into a fist that they turned snow white. 

"Sorry," he muttered after a while, "I don't do well with... cages." 

Saskia's eyes fluttered along his face before she looked away, investing herself in fussing over the state of her muddied clothes. 

I traced my eye along the scar on his cheek, its jagged edges coming so close to his eye. "How did you get your scar?" 

Slowly, his eyes met mine. He smiled faintly, pressing his lips into a thin line. "It's one of many."

"It's so similar to Silas' scar," I observed. It was something I had wanted to ask about for so long, but had thought it at all other times inappropriate. Now, my friend needed a distraction. 

He nodded. "Hunting accident."

I dipped my chin, deciding to drop the subject. Ash was someone who usually opened up to me easily, so if he was avoiding something, he really didn't want to talk about it. 

Hours passed by in silence. We dared not speak, knowing every word we uttered was being listened to. Ash fell asleep, his mouth parted slightly, while Saskia stared at the far wall. I used the opportunity to send a message to Lex, feeling it click in my mind as I sent it, but I got no response. 

When I grew impatient, light flooded through the cell as the door at the top of the stairwell was flung open. Three guards from before marched down the stairs, the middle one stepping forward. 

"You're to have an audience with the king." 

﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀