Chapter Twenty-Seven

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Tabitha

Alot of unexpected things happened during this trip. The secret portal. Ogres. Skylar. The relationship I've built with my Dravens. Though they were unexpected, they all make sense. None of them stand out as odd. What is strange, though, is that when we reach the castle floor, there is no one here. No guards. No servants. No people. Nothing. It is like a ghost town.

The castle is clean, and not as if it was deserted. People are certainly caring for it, so where are they?

Each of my men looks as stumped as I feel.

What is my father playing at?

"This is purposeful. He knows we are here," I say.

"Yes," Kozzanth answers.

"It's best we keep moving and not dwell on what is going on," Theodas says. "Where would your father be?"

"In the throne room," I answer confidently. It's the only place he feels he should be—deserves to be. It makes me sick. "I'll lead the way."

The quiet of the castle has my senses on high alert. We are more on edge because of it; too focused on whether there are people hiding around every corner. It's distracting.

Each footstep is tenser than the last, and when we make it to the third floor, I feel as if I may pass out. I navigate the halls with ease, moving toward the east wing, which is where the throne room is. We reach the doors without coming across a single person. We heard not a single sound, save for our own footsteps and breathing.

The doors are larger than ever. Deep red with golden trim and handles. Twice the height of my men. It's gaudy. I hate them. It's the last thing I should worry about, but I can't help but take note of how much I hate everything in this castle. Perhaps even the castle itself. Why do I get this grand home while some have tiny huts with no water? How is that fair? It isn't. And it won't be the way we live. Not for long. I will figure something out. A way to make sure all of my people are treated fairly, and not a single person believes they are less than me. After all, they aren't.

I steel my spine and take a deep breath. What is on the other side of these doors?

Will my father be waiting with all his guards surrounding him, prepared to fight? Will the room be empty, like the rest of the castle? If so, why? Has he run? Is he afraid? Was he not here to begin with? If so, where is he?

This bizarre situation is throwing me off. It's probably why he's doing it in the first place, meaning I should listen to Theodas and not dwell on it. But who wouldn't question something like this? It has me worrying about where everyone is rather than where my father is. He's smart. Cunning.

But I'm better.

I step forward, stopping inches from the doors, prepared to swing them open and go to war for my people. I feel my men behind me. My Dravens. My protectors. With my hands grasping both handles, ready to push them in, I glance over my shoulder at my giant warriors who have been by my side during this entire ordeal. In the grand scheme of things, we haven't known each other long. But it's brought us close together and I feel we know each other well.

Their faces soften slightly, and Kozzanth gives me the tiniest nod of his head. It gives me the bit of confidence I was missing, and so I push the doors open. Silently, they swing outward, showing off the room that is spacious beyond any single person's needs. It's hardly furnished, which only makes it seem bigger. Paintings of different areas of my realm hang on the walls, along with a map of each realm. I focus on the Oedaeth realm and inwardly groan. Had I paid attention to that when I was a child, perhaps it would have helped us when we were stuck there.

The throne is directly ahead, it's back to me, with the front facing the large open doors that overlook the courtyards. I cannot tell if someone is sitting in it.

This throne room is not typical of others. Father uses it to overlook the realm, especially during the busiest times of day. As if he wants people to get a glimpse of him sitting in the throne, high above everyone else. As if he wants people to know he is better than them. That they are below him in all ways possible. It's disgusting.

How did my father do these things, and I not realize how wrong they were?

Perhaps it was just the innocence of a child who had love for her father.

Or maybe it's because I'm incompetent.

Time will tell…

The state of this realm after I take over will be the answer to that question.

"I knew you'd come."

The sharp voice cuts through the silence. My eyes fall shut as a shiver races up my spine. His tone is calm, confident, and cocky. Just as I remember. It reminds of a snake, if only a snake could talk. It's precisely what my father is. Sneaky, slimy, and poisonous.

"Why haven't you prepared, then?" I respond. "Where are all the guards? Those who will fight for you?"

His laugh is low. It's meant to be condescending and not to show humor.

"My sweet, innocent child…" His hand slides over the armrest, gripping the edges as he pushes himself to stand. Somehow, I'd forgotten how tall he really is. He turns, stopping on the side of the chair, a golden staff in his left hand. It's thin enough for him to grasp, and tall enough that it ends at his shoulders. He twists it, and tiny golden flecks glint off the shiny surface. I blink a few times, taking in his dark, soulless eyes. Hair that is longer than I remember, yet somehow darker, to match his black heart. A smirk slithers across his thin lips as his hand tightens around the staff. "What makes you think I need help to kill you?"

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