Page 7 of Lady Knight and the Thief

TheKingwasafickle man. Some days, he was kind, jovial even. On others… King Caelith Blackthorne ruled with a dark cloud hovering over the kingdom. Most days, his mood ran somewhere between madness and glee. Even the most skilled seers in the realm could not always predict which way the feather would fall.

Today, King Caelith had a keen edge to his gaze, a stillness in his posture that made Cypress take pause.

The banners of House Blackthorne hung from every rafter, and behind the throne, as if he was reminding everyone who entered whose den they’d entered. As always, the throne room was cold–even in the height of summer. The thick stone walls of the Keep insulated against the heat to a near freezing degree. The only respite for the chill was the warm breeze coming through the large windows at either end of the throne room. It caught on the edges of Cypress’s ruined skirts, and theonce againdisheveled length of her braid.

A servant announced Cypress’s and Lieutenant Oswald’s arrival to the court, voice echoing through the opulent room asthe large door slammed shut behind Torren. As always, Cypress was introduced as Lady Cypress in the presence of the King and court.

When King Caelith set his eye on Cypress's prisoner, he waved his hand, and the court fled until only King Caelith, Cypress, Oswald, and Torren remained.

Cade and Caelith shared many features, but it was easy to tell them apart by the color of their eyes. Cade’s were the deepest navy blue, like a midnight ocean.

King Caelith’s eyes, on the other hand, were an uncannily dull, flat,lifelessgrey. From her years serving the royals, Cypress saw the edge of madness around the rim of his iris.

Cypress tore her gaze from the King and instead focused on her surroundings, looking for any sight of Cade.

Golden candelabras with unlit candles were spaced evenly along the pillars on the walls, and she had no doubtsomeonewould be within the secret corridors listening to their conversation.

There were fresh flowers draped across every surface, likely sourced from the castle gardens, but the Prince was not hiding amongst the pillars.

Silence reigned in the opulent throne room as the trio stopped before the raised mezzanine. Cypress dipped low in her curtsey while Oswald practically prostrated himself before the King in his dark, uncomfortable-looking throne. As far back as the first kings, they had all used this as their seat of power.

It looked to Cypress like a chair carved from wood, then splashed with molten metal. The now solid and blackened metal almost oozed over the edges of the seat and dripped from the branches above Caelith’s head. The feet of the chair looked like claws from of a bird of prey.

“Explain,” The King ordered in a booming voice.

Cypress cleared her throat. “This thief was intercepted while breaking into Prince Cade’s quarters at the Joust,” she said, laying out the basics of the fight and aftermath. “Prince Cade identified the male as Torren.”

King Caelith nodded, resting his head on his hand, elbow propped on one of the thicker branches peeking out to the side. “What are you looking for, boy?”

Cypress watched the muscles of Torren’s jaw work, some ember of fire in his stormy grey eyes as he glared at the king.

“The scepter. We need it to keep the Wylds sleeping,” the thief finally gritted out, as if the admission cost him something.

King Caelith hummed, nodding. “And this is the only reason you have returned?”

Returned?Cypress narrowed her eyes at the word.

“Yes,” Torren seethed, the ropes around his arms and chest straining against the rising and falling of his chest.

King Caelith sat back on the throne, rubbing his chin. “And, I am to believe your return hasnothingto do with your birthright?”

Torren curled his lip and spat at the king’s feet. “I don’t want any fuckingbirthrightyou gave me.”

Cypress sucked in a breath and braced against the inevitable outburst that would result in the disrespect.

Only… It never came.

King Caelith merely looked down at the small globule of Torren’s spit, mere hairsbreadth away from his velvet slipper, then raised his eyebrow and gazed once more at Torren’s face.

Prince Cade strode through the large doors a heartbeat later, a scowl lining the normally relaxed face, blond hair windswept, cheeks flushed.

When the pair of Blackthorne royalty were side by side, it was hard to deny their relationship. Prince Cade was a mirror of hisfather; even their builds were practically the same, despite the king being thirty years his senior.

“What is he doing here?” Prince Cade demanded as he approached his father’s seat.

“Apparently, he needs the scepter,” King Caelith drawled, still just peering at the dark-haired male bound in the center of the room.

“I thought he was exiled,” Prince Cade said, crossing his arms, leaning against the side of his father’s throne.