Page 108 of Godbound
I’m not ready for that. Straightening my shoulders, I step into the hall as I am, in a simple black dress, my damp hair hanging loose.
“Lead the way,” I say, closing the door firmly behind me.
The once-familiar palace hall feels strange now, distorted. Every turn, every corridor I’ve walked a hundred times seems different, as if the stones themselves shifted in my absence.
It’s been just a few weeks since I took that cup from Mael’s hands, yet it feels like another life. Someone else’s life.
Each step toward the royal wing burns. I hadn’t stopped to ponder when the summons came, I just ran. But now, with the corridors stretching on and no end in sight, the questions catch up.
Why would Ryker call for me now, after refusing to see me so many times before?
A slow dread coils in my gut. What if this wasn’t Ryker at all? What if it’s Mael’s doing, and I’ve already stepped into the trap?
I clench my jaw, shaking the thought loose before it can root itself. No. It’s going to be fine. It has to be.
The Goldspear guards watch me pass, silent and still, their golden armor throwing fractured light across the stone. Their faces remain unreadable, but I imagine the hatred lurking beneath those expressionless masks.
Surely, they remember what my magic did in the Seventh Shrine. So many of their comrades—gone.
Do they whisper about me once I’m out of earshot? Do their hands itch to grab their weapons?
The messenger leading me moves in stiff silence. When we reacha crossroads, I turn right without thinking, my feet following a path ingrained by years of repetition.
“My lady,” the messenger says, his voice careful.
I slow, frowning as I notice his outstretched arm pointing in the opposite direction. Not toward the meeting hall. My breath stutters. A mistake, surely.
But his face gives nothing away. I glance down the familiar corridor, the one I should be taking, my mind scrambling to catch up.
“The king is expecting you,” he clarifies. “This way.”
My stomach twists. We’re going to the royal wing. To Ryker’s private chambers. My lips part, some instinct, some protest rising in my throat, but I swallow it down. “Yes, of course,” I say quickly. A nervous laugh escapes me, it echoes down the empty corridor.
The messenger doesn’t acknowledge my lapse, though his shoulders stiffen slightly before he turns away.
We walk in silence, but my mind drifts against my will to Kaelzar. How is he faring with Eva and Peonica in such close quarters? I don’t know who I should be more worried about in that volatile mix.
But as we approach the final hallway leading to the king’s apartments, the flickering torches seem to dim, pulling my mind back to the present.
The messenger knocks softly, and the door swings open from within.
My heart clenches as I step inside, my chest tightening until I feel like I might claw at it just to breathe.
The room is warm, almost stifling, sunlight spilling through the tall, open balcony doors. A small table stands at the center. An array of sweets, fruits, and bottles of tea and spirits arranged with careful precision.
Ryker stands beside the table, dressed in immaculate white and gold. As always, the white color means to signify purity, to cloak him in the illusion of honor. Just as my hair should have been.
The moment his bright blue eyes find mine, the air shifts. The weight of his gaze is crushing, his presence overwhelming. Once, I would have read every flicker of emotion in those eyes without effort.Now, they are a stranger’s eyes.
“I was told you already had a meal,” he says, his voice soft. “So I thought dessert might be in order.”
I freeze, uncertain of what to say.
For years, he was my safe harbor, my anchor in a world that sought to break me. But when the storm came, he let go. Now, there is only uncertainty.
A servant appears beside the table, holding a plate, but before they can set it down, Ryker steps forward and takes it himself. “Leave us, please,” he says.
The servant files out quietly, slipping through the side doors. The room grows smaller.
