Aligning the Forgotten ✓

Chapter 9: Roux

The wine in the king's chambers is always bitter, from the first sip to the last. Yet I force myself to empty the chalice hoping to please him. He's providing the drinks; therefore, I must accept them and appreciate his effort to quench my thirst.

Across the dining table, a strength long for only three people, Binx takes the first sip from his own chalice and winces as he smacks his lips. He's never cared for the king's wine either, but glares coming from the leader of Esaria are more dangerous than not accepting the drink from him in the first place. Binx clenches down on his distaste and takes another sip, all before placing the chalice back on the wooden table.

Over the past month, I've frequented the king's chambers. Most of the time, when he's there. Other times, I go to visit his private library and read in silence without prying eyes. Although the castle has a public library for residents, its frequented to the point that every time I take a seat in a dusty chair, prepared to crack open a leather-bound novel, I'm scrutinized. For some reason, the residents of this castle believe it's okay to start a conversation at the same time someone is nose-deep in an enthralling story.

The only time I've been in the king's private sleeping quarters is that first night when he gifted me a golden dagger, a sentiment for what I had sacrificed to become his warrior, the first in a long strong—yet to come. I haven't taken the golden dagger out of the box since; it's stuffed underneath Celestine's bed and I have no plans on moving it. A treasure that valuable, more than the crystals provided by ancient witches, should not be revealed to the world.

Sitting at the head of the table and hunching over the paperwork in front of him, the king draws his brows inward. He's a hulk of a witch, one of the strongest I've grown to know. The tattoos that travel up his neck are dark and thick, bracing his jaw in a cup-like fashion and disappearing underneath his leather jerkin, only to reappear again on his hands in swirls of that haunting ink. I flinch as I remember bits of Renit's tattoos, only visible in my memories.

I don't remember when I saw those tattoos, but as soon as I see them, they're gone again. Binx raises his eyes to me, but when I meet his gaze, he looks back to the king—expectantly. Flashes of Renit come back from time to time, yet I can't locate those memories or when they happened. They're dreams, blinks of scenarios—then they're gone before I've fully absorbed them.

They're lies, likely, and false truths are nothing I wish to go through again. I haven't had the chance to start my mission—to find him—as fighting in a war is more important to my leader. What he wishes, I will do. Even laying down my life and fighting for a kingdom that has lost too many soldiers already. For them and for my king, I will fight.

As the king tries to find the proper information he's been looking for during the past ten minutes, I take sips from the warm bowl of porridge in front of me. Sometimes, the king is generous enough to invite us to dinner and whatever he eats, it's better than the meals the rest of the castle is scarfing down. Sitting at this table and sharing a meal with the leader of Esaria—there will be no higher honor.

"You trained well today," Binx says to dull the silence further.

I nod, silently thanking him. It's a mercy he points out today's training after I finally managed to beat him in a battle. Binx had left his right side open, allowing me to slide in and knock him to the ground, granting defeat when I pointed the tip of my sword against his throat.

"I've been putting in extra work, considering we have a new mission," I offer.

"This isn't a mission to take lightly." Binx exposes his palm to me—as if I hadn't thought about this before. "The battlefield differs greatly from what you've experienced in this castle. There's nothing like the bloodshed witnessed in war."