Chapter 2: The King’s Invitation
1208 Words
My first thought wasn’t to run. I just wondered: How long has he known? Because kings don’t survive assassination attempts by luck, and certainly not Caelum Daevor.
Below me, the guards drew their swords in perfect sync. The sound of steel snapped through the grand hall. Nobles stumbled back. Someone muttered a prayer. No one dared look my way, but anyone paying attention knew the mood had shifted because danger lingered in the air.
I stepped away from the edge of the balcony, being careful. My heart pounded loud enough to hurt. There were still escape routes, servant passages, and hidden stairwells. If I move, maybe. “Try.”
Caelum’s voice cut right through my thoughts. He didn’t shout. He didn't need to. That made it worse. I froze. He watched me from down below, face unreadable.
“One step toward escape,” he said, “and my guards assume you want to die fast.”
Chills ran down my back. He answered the question I'd never voiced. That shouldn’t be possible. I forced myself to keep steady. “You overestimate your importance, Your Majesty.”
Gasps rolled through the room. No servant talked to the king like that. No assassin either, clearly. A guard stepped forward, looking for trouble, but Caelum just lifted a hand. The guard stopped instantly. That caught my attention. He still hadn't ordered my death. Why not?
His eyes stayed locked on mine. “Do I?” Almost amused and then: “Come down.”
It wasn’t a threat. It was a statement, like resistance bored him. I swallowed hard. Running meant arrows, capture, and a public execution. Going down… I had no idea what that meant. The unknown always made things worse. Unknowns killed my family.
I turned toward the narrow staircase and started my descent. Every step felt heavier. The room grew brighter, bigger, suffocating. By the time my boots touched the polished black marble, every eye was on me, nobles, servants, soldiers. They were witnesses to a failed assassin.
I kept my head up. My father used to say, "If fear finds you, stand taller. Make it work harder." His words stung now. I shoved the memory aside. No point listening to dead men.
The guards closed in, three swords and a dagger. Absurd. Maybe I should feel flattered? I stopped a few feet from Caelum, close enough to notice details I’d missed: faint scars near his jaw, silver marks sliding under his collar, exhaustion hidden beneath cruelty.
He almost looked… No. Don’t go there. Giving your enemy a face is a mistake, and I needed my resolve. The king glanced at the tray, then back to me. “How old are you?”
That knocked me off guard. Of all things, he wanted that? I frowned, kept quiet. A guard barked, “The king asked you a question.” Caelum just glanced toward him, and the guard dropped his head. That was interesting, too.
He waited. I answered because silence felt riskier. “Twenty-three.”
His expression didn’t change. “You’re younger than the reports.”
My stomach dropped. Reports meant suspicion had been ongoing, not just tonight.
“How disappointing,” he said.
That hit strange. I stiffened. “You expected someone older?” His gaze sharpened. “You sound bitter.” Recognition flickered in his eyes, maybe then it vanished.
He moved closer, just one step, not enough to touch, just enough to unsettle me. “What was your plan?” He lowered his voice. I stared at him, not saying anything . He tilted his head in my direction. “Poison like that isn’t cheap.”
My chest tightened. “You came close without shaking.” He took another step. “You studied the servants. You watched me well before tonight.” No questions anymore, just statements. My heart betrayed me. He noticed. He always noticed. His mouth curved up, but it wasn’t kindness. It was just understanding. Predators know each other.
“You wanted revenge,” he said.
The world faded. For one awful second, I thought he knew everything: my name, my family, why I’d come. The dead. The fire. The screams. My fingers curled. He noticed that, too, then looked back up. Calm, always calm. I hated him for it. For surviving, for breathing, for looking untouched by all the ruined lives.
“Yes.” The word echoed. Nobles gasped again. Someone crossed herself. The king didn’t flinch. “Revenge for what?” There it was: the danger hovering beneath every word. I blanked my face. “A dead kingdom,” I lied.
His eyes narrowed, just remembering. The silence grew unbearable. Then Caelum turned away, moving toward the throne with no hurry or fear, because why would a king fear a failed assassin?
Halfway up the steps, he stopped. “Remove everyone.” His voice was stone. Confusion flickered. A duke blinked. “Your Majesty?”
“I dislike repeating myself,” he replied, ice-cold.
The room emptied at speed: nobles, musicians, servants were all gone, one after another, until the feast vanished and only guards stayed behind. Fear had everyone moving fast.
He settled on his throne, elbow resting, as if we were chatting about the weather instead of attempted murder. He looked at the captain. “Leave.”
The man hesitated. “Your Majesty” “Leave.” The word struck harder. The hesitation hung for a moment, a mistake. Silver marks on Caelum’s throat started to glow. Every guard saw it. They paled instantly.
The captain bowed. “Forgive me.”
Seconds later, everyone else cleared out. Just me and the king. The air felt too big. Thunder shook the palace. Caelum watched me for so long I got annoyed.
I spoke first. “You dismissed them.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t care if I have another weapon.”
He didn’t even blink. “You do.”
That unsettled me. I hated people who could read me.
“Then why?”
The words slipped out. Why remove all protection? Why grant privacy, spare me at all? Kings kill threats, not invite conversation. He tapped his fingers against the arm of his throne. Thinking.
“Because,” he said, barely above a whisper, “people don’t try to assassinate a king for no reason.”
I stared.
“And I’m curious about yours.”
He was not angry or wanted to punish me. Just curiosity. That scared me much more. His pale eyes locked on mine. It was ancient and too aware.
“What is your name?”
Everything in me screamed not to answer. Names meant power, history, identity but lying felt riskier, somehow, like he already knew.
I swallowed. “…Nyra.”
His face flickered carrying a trace of recognition Enough to rob me of breath..He knew..He leaned back, studying me like he was sorting old memories and then he spoke, five words that shattered everything I thought I knew: “I wondered when you’d return.”
My blood froze. The storm outside kept roaring, and for the first time since I entered the palace, fear wasn’t just fear anymore,it was something colder. Kings shouldn’t know dead families and they sure as hell shouldn’t remember daughters
- Writer
