Page 57 of The Thren's Fated

Tendrils of fear gripped Lena once more, though she wasn’t sure why. He was agitated. Something was definitely wrong.

“There is no time,” Screl said quietly, as the shuttle approached the floating island. “And besides, the Sovereign wishes to see you.”

INTERLUDE

I will stand up to my father. I will tell him everything. I will not let him harm her.

CHAPTER 18

Commander Screl was silent as the shuttle flew them toward Arysetta. Not that silence was unusual for him, but there was definitely a distinct tension in the air that had been absent on the last ride.

Lena watched through the small window as they glided high above the city. The amorphous buildings that seemed so small from the floating isle grew large and intimidating, and there was something pleasant, yet bizarre, about the lack of straight edges.

As they approached the palace, Lena’s body hummed with electric excitement, though a seed of anxiety continued to stay rooted in her chest.

Why did the Sovereign wish to see her? And why was Screl so nervous?

The shuttle landed with a thud on top of the gray central tower, and a large Thren ushered them into the building. She had expected a little more pomp and circumstance regarding the return of a prince, but kept her thoughts to herself.

They entered the building in the same way they entered every room on Screl’s ship; a Thren ran a tentacle along a completely smooth surface and a doorway appeared, as if by magic.

If the ship she had spent the last few days on was a maze, then this palace was King Minos’ Labyrinth.

Two Threns met them at the entrance and led them through undulating corridors and seemingly solid walls. No matter how hard Lena tried, she couldn’t see anything of note, no way to demarcate where they were going.

Screl walked beside her, his tentacles still and hands gripped into fists, and she had to hustle to keep up, her short legs no comparison to the towering alien.

The two pilots had stayed with the shuttle, while the other Thren walked right in front of them. Lena assumed he was a bodyguard of some sort, not that Screl really needed one as far as she could tell.

The group crowded into a small room, and with the press of a tentacle to the wall, she felt a sinking sensation in her stomach, as if they were descending on some sort of lift.

She stifled a laugh as she thought about how strange this would have seemed just a few days ago, standing in an elevator with four hulking, tentacled aliens. Screl loomed close, and she could feel his arm pressed against hers, but the others kept a safe distance.

The lift must have stopped, because a few seconds later, another door appeared, and they exited. Two more turns and a final doorway and they were in a large, oval room with five colossal thrones at the end. The elaborate silver chairs formed a semicircle around a dais embedded into the floor in front of them, with small sets of stairs on either side.

The room was enormous, with large windows showcasing a spectacular view of Arysetta. Hazy light shone in, and Lena wondered if it would be dark soon, her internal clock absolutely ruined after days on the ship. The walls were the same silvery smoothness as everything else she had seen, with no other decoration to speak of.

Four of the thrones were occupied, with the largest Thren she had ever seen seated in the center one. Lena assumed that must be the Sovereign, and of course the empty chair belonged to Screl.

The excitement from earlier gave way to fear as they walked toward the dais. Why did this feel like she was on trial, about to be condemned? For what? She had no idea.

Screl put his hand out, and she stopped just outside the embedded platform, the Thren entering on his own.

“Prince Rohieth,” the Sovereign said, his voice a thunderous boom that echoed through the minimalist chamber.

Screl bowed low, keeping his eyes on the floor.

“Sovereign. You wished to see me.”

His voice was clear, but quiet. He didn’t make eye contact with his parent, just kept his eyes glued to the ground in front of him.

“My offspring. You have caused me much trouble of late.”

Icy fear gripped Lena’s heart, clenching her stomach into knots. Was she in danger? Was Screl?

The Sovereign moved his gaze to her. His eyes had the same shimmering quality as Screl’s, but were so dark that they almost appeared black. They rippled as if he were observing every detail, and she held her hands clasped together, scared to make any movement.

He was definitely over seven feet tall, his skin a mottled gray with barely a hint of the blue that Screl and Dronzal had in theirs, and he wore silver body armor, as did the other royals at his sides.