CHAPTER 48
She was King Quicke now, yet she still felt like Grace, like something trapped between what she used to be and what she had become. Parkston's rejection.
Inside her chamber, the air was thick with the scent of burning cedar wood. She stood before the ornate mirror, staring at the man reflected back at her. Her broad shoulders, her strong jawline, her deep-set eyes, everything was unfamiliar. She raised a hand, watching the way her fingers trembled as she traced the contours of her face. "Who am I now?"
Her pulse quickened. The bulb flickered violently as if caught in a sudden gust, though the windows were shut. A whisper curled through the room. Grace exhaled slowly, steadying herself. She had no time for weakness.
While Grace wrestled with her reflection, Queen Jonah sat in the dark of a private chamber, her hands clasped tightly. Across from her, a hooded figure leaned against the wall. "He humiliated me," Jonah said coldly, sipping a glass of dark wine in her hand. "In front of everyone."
The figure's voice was smooth, laced with amusement. "And yet you kneeled."
Jonah's grip tightened on the glass. "You told me he was unstable, that King Quicke was unfit to rule. But what I saw today was power."
The figure stepped forward, the faint light catching the edges of his angular face. "Power can be misused. His strength does not mean he belongs on that throne. You belong to that throne Jonah, you might come from another kingdom, but Alasgacar can also be yours".
Jonah narrowed her eyes. "And what do you propose?"
The man tilted his head. "You want to rule and I want balance. The answer is simple, set him and destroy his authority. He is not the king he claims to be, not as powerful".
Jonah scoffed. "And who will believe that? He now has the Morphines, Queen Judith, the entire kingdom under his command".
The figure released a brief smirk. "Then we make them see. We remind them of what should not be."
Jonah remained silent, deep in her thoughts. "What if the king is a lie?" She whispered.
Meanwhile, Grace had barely settled into the chair in her study when Robert entered, his boots heavy against the marble floor. He gave a quick bow.
"King Quicke," he greeted, though there was something measured in the way he spoke the name.
"Robert," she acknowledged, folding her hands over the table. "I assume you've come with an update."
He hesitated before stepping closer. "I have. And I believe the man we captured, Nuel, was telling the truth."
Grace raised an eyebrow. "You doubt Queen Judith's men?"
Robert exhaled sharply. "I doubt a great many things." He held her gaze. "Nuel was desperate, yes, but not a liar. His panic was real. And that means the true threat is still among us."
A flicker of unease stirred in Grace's chest, but she did not let it show. "You believe we've been misled."
Robert didn't hesitate. "I do."
Grace's fingers tapped lightly against the table. "You think I made a mistake."
Robert's jaw tightened. "I think you let emotion cloud your judgment."
She leaned forward slightly. "And what do you think I should do, Commander?"
Robert didn't flinch. "Watch your back. The real enemy is waiting for you to lower your guard."
Grace studied him and couldn't utter a word.
That night, the palace was quiet, but the silence felt wrong. Grace walked the halls calmly. The flickering lights cast shifting shadows along the stone walls.
But as she reached the grand staircase, she had another encounter. Grace could finally tell things are getting more vivid and the situation isn't as cloudy as it is now.
A whisper curling around her as though it was smoke. "You don't belong here."
Grace whirled around, but the hall was empty. The shadows seemed darker, stretching longer than they should.
"Who's there?" Her voice was steady.
But she didn't get an answer.
She felt a cold sensation, her hands clenched at her sides. Someone or perhaps something was watching. And it did not want her here.
….
The next morning, Grace was awoken by the urgent pounding of a fist against her door. She sat up instantly.
"Enter," she called.
The door swung open, revealing a breathless guard. "King Quicke," he said hastily, "there's been an incident."
Grace was on her feet in seconds, slipping on her cloak. "Where?"
"The grand gate."
She moved swiftly, Robert at her side as they followed the guard through the palace corridors. The scent of iron, was think and greeted her before they even arrived.
The body lay sprawled across the floor, blood pooling beneath it. A nobleman. His throat slit cleanly, his expression frozen in a look of horror.
But it was his face that made Grace's stomach twist. It was Nuel. She froze, Robert froze. They couldn't take their gaze of him.
Grace or rather King Quicke fell to the ground, her crown adjusted because of how low she bent her head. She held Nuel in his blood and didn't know how to express herself. "How did he get here". She whaled angrily. "I thought he was locked up, I commanded it".
The guard responded. "He was struggling with the knife on his throat, King Quicke, but we didn't the person who slit him". He paused before continuing, "The figure was hooded, they were covered to perfection".
Grace didn't say a word, instead she carried him draped in his bloody robe and headed back to the chambers.
"But king". Robert called out
Grace responded agreesively. "You have no right to say a word". She kept walking. The commanders who excorted her maintained a distance.
Commander Robert, still in frustration spoke again. "You can't just take him in, King Quicke. We have to discover who killed him first before doing so". He paused, seeing how ignorant Grace had turned.
The grand hall fell opened, trails of blood followed as Grace layed Nuel to the floor.