Rogue agents 1: The prima ballerina (Completed)

Meeting the king

*Karolina*

The soldiers lead the way through the labyrinth of the city Streets towards the palace, their posture rigid and authoritative. Normally I would take in the scents of spices and the colourful displays, but I am way too nervous about what is happening.

I walk beside Ryan, clasping his hand in mine, and I can’t help but notice that his palm is slightly damp, he is nervous too.

The city of Zarqa, with its vibrant marketplace and chaotic energy, is a stark contrast to the looming silence of the royal palace in the distance. People in the streets glance at us with curiosity, some whispering to each other as we pass. I feel their eyes on us… on Ryan in particular… like he’s a puzzle they’re trying to solve.

“What’s happening, Ryan?” I finally ask, my voice barely rising above the hum of the city. I want to shake him, to force out an explanation, but the fear in his eyes holds me back.

He glances over, his expression strained. “I… I’ll explain later, I promise. Just… let’s get through this.”

As we walk, the soldiers’ heavy boots echo against the cobblestones, punctuating the unease thickening the air. I can’t help but steal glances at Sebastian and Holly, who are a few paces ahead, their heads bent together in quiet discussion. They've faced danger before, and I envy their confidence. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re stepping into something far beyond what we are ready for.

The palace emerges before us, a majestic structure that seems to rise from the ground like a fortress. Its high walls are adorned with intricate mosaics, glinting in the sunlight, while lush gardens surround it, giving off an air of opulence that’s both enchanting and intimidating. The grandeur of it all sends a shiver down my spine. I’ve traveled to many places, but nothing compares to this… a world of wealth and power that feels alien and overwhelming.

As we enter the palace grounds, the atmosphere shifts. The bustling energy of the city is replaced by an almost eerie stillness, an expectation that hangs thick in the air. The guards stand at attention, their eyes piercing as we walk past them. I want to reach out and grab Ryan’s arm instead of just his hand, to anchor him, or maybe it is myself.

“Stay close,” Sebastian murmurs, his voice low but steady. I’m grateful for his calm presence. But my concern for Ryan grows with each step. Whatever is happening, it’s clearly more than him just having had a bad holiday here.

The soldiers lead us through opulent hallways adorned with gilded decorations and murals depicting scenes of valor and triumph. The air is perfumed with incense, and I can hear the faint sound of music drifting through the corridors. It’s all so surreal, and I can’t help but feel small in this grand space, surrounded by all this tradition and authority.

“Ryan,” Sebastian presses, his tone urgent, “you need to tell us what’s going on. This isn’t just a friendly reunion. What are we facing?”

Ryan’s face contorts with something I can’t quite place… fear, regret, maybe even shame? “I… I can’t,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not here.”

As we approach the grand throne room, I can feel the tension in the air thickening. The heavy wooden doors stand before us, ornately carved and imposing. The soldiers push them open with a creak that echoes like a thunderclap in the silence.

The throne room is breathtaking, a vast space filled with intricate tapestries and marble pillars that seem to stretch towards the heavens. Sunlight pours in through stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the polished floor. But right now I can’t fully appreciate the beauty.

The guards stand at attention, their expressions grave as we step inside and I find myself holding my breath.

Just as I begin to gather my thoughts, the heavy doors swing open with a resounding thud, and we all turn. A man, who is without a doubt the king strides in, his presence commanding. He wears a flowing robe adorned with gold embroidery, the fabric glistening as he moves, making him look like a sultan out of a fairytale. His gaze sweeps over us, and I can feel the weight of his authority even from where I stand.

“Your Majesty,” Sebastian says, stepping forward with a bow, taking the spot as our leader, his voice calm and determined, sounding like someone used to address royalty.

The king all but ignores him and his expression shifts as his eyes lock onto Ryan with a mixture of surprise and something else, something that unsettles me, as he smiles darkly.

“It was about time, Mr Fox,” the king declares, his voice booming through the chamber, smooth and rich. “You have kept your bride waiting for a rather long time.”