Parallel (Mortisalian Saga Book 1)

by L. J. Stock

  “Princess,” Alec snapped, calling me forward. “You need to wake him. He will be more likely to respond to your voice than anyone else’s.”

  I didn't hesitate. I just pushed past the two of them and kneeled on the edge of the bed, panic sending adrenaline through my veins. I gave my father a small nudge as he groaned in his sleep, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he bowed in pain. Each vein in his neck could be seen clearly even in the dim light of his room.

  “Father?”

  The small disturbance in his sleep sent his muscles rigid. His hands balled by his sides, his head thrown back as his skin dampened further. I was terrified I was doing more harm than good and looked to Alec for help.

  “You have to do better than that, Princess.”

  Nodding, I walked closer to my father on my knees, the pain evident on his features now. Alec was right. I was losing time and progress. I may not have understood what was going on, but I could see the decline in my father’s pallor from where I sat next to him in the dark.

  “Dad!” I shouted, shaking him as hard as I could, my heart in my throat. “Wake up. Now! Please Dad, wake the hell up. I need you. Daddy, please!”

  The grunting and writhing stopped suddenly as the last words that fell from my mouth echoed around the room. My father’s body jackknifed into a sitting position, his intake of breath loud in the sudden silence and his hands tight around my forearms as his eyes met mine.

  “What's the matter, Cass?”

  Throwing myself against him, I thanked whatever deity had been listening. I could hear Alec explaining from somewhere in the room, but I wasn't interested in explanations in that moment. I'd already had enough of them to last a lifetime.

  “Did you have someone watching him?” my father asked, pulling me close in reassurance.

  “Yes, Milord. If he is responsible, we will know.”

  “Then find me some evidence. Now!”

  “Your Majesty.” Alec bowed almost in half and backed from the room, standing and sprinting the moment he was over the threshold. Damon had said they thought they knew who was involved, and from the look on his face as he watched the door, he wanted to be the one to haul the person in.

  “Who?” I asked no one in particular, folding my legs under myself as my father detached me from him and climbed from the bed, pacing the moment his feet hit the floor.

  “The baron's valet.”

  My head spun so I was facing Damon, who had answered me freely.

  “How?”

  “Rasmus saw him amongst your things on one of the picnics. The Regius Custos have been watching him since. If he has something that belongs to you, and either delivered it to a Veneficus, or he is one himself, either way we'll know. He's had someone following him regardless of whether they're with you or in the palace.”

  “It would make sense for him to make a move tonight,” Aiolos said, stepping into the room. “It would have been his last chance now that the princess has decided against a union and the baron was asked to leave. He would assume we would have lost interest.”

  “And you hadn't?” I asked.

  “Not while he was a suspect, Milady, and not while there was a chance he had something of yours.”

  I shuddered, unable to help my reaction to knowing that I'd been violated without even realizing it. The thought of fighting against an entity that had not just magic, but black magic on their side, scared me to death. We didn't have something that formidable on our side. How were we supposed to win this fight when there was no balance?

  “Aiolos, wake the other guards. We need to have a meeting.”

  “Charon, secure the larger meeting room. I don't want anyone who isn't in the Regius Custos near the place.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty.”

  “Damon, take Cass to her chambers so she can dress.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Before I could speak for myself, I was swept from the room and escorted through the growing number of guards lining the halls. They all seemed to buzz around like an agitated wasp’s nest. As we walked, one guard detached from the whole and I recognized him immediately.

  “Rasmus?”

  “Damn rumors in this place,” he grumbled, pulling me into a hug the moment we were out of sight of the others. He addressed Damon over my head. “What do we have?”

  “Somebody gave the bastard a way in.”

  “Should have known,” Rasmus growled, moving just as quickly as Damon was. “The king?”

  “He's fine. Cass was able to wake him up. I woke her up.”

  There was no denying the tenor of Rasmus' grumble after that comment. I knew he had to be curious as to why Damon was in my chambers that late at night with no chaperone or other guards around. I'd had a suspicion he had his theories, but the slip had more than likely solidified any idea he had. Not that it mattered at that moment in time. We had someone in our own home working against us. With the accession ball now moving towards us at the speed of light, it was a danger we really could have done without.

  “Don't look at me like that,” Damon snapped, pulling me back to the conversation. “She was upset about her mother leaving and had a particularly nasty run in with the baron. I sat next to the door with it open, talking to the guards. Completely above board.”

  “Why wouldn't it be?”

  I rolled my eyes with enthusiasm and pushed past the two of them as I headed up the stairs. From the grunting behind me, I figured they realized I'd had enough and taken off without them. That little testosterone-fueled pissing match had been about who was the better guard – or, ‘a little friendly competition’ as Ras called it. That was all well and good, but now was not the time for it.

  “Cass.” Rasmus was the first to speak as we rushed up the stairs two at a time.

  “Yes?” I asked, unwilling to be derailed from my target.

  “Slow down.”

  “No. We have somewhere to be.”

  “I know, but you’re faster than you look,” Ras called out after me.

  “Like we have time to be slow right now? As much as your competitive natures are a constant source of amusement to me, I don't have time for it when we don't know what the hell is going on. What if the baron is involved? What if they lose him?”

  “They already have him,” Damon said quietly, finally breaking his silence.

  “What?”

  Damon pointed over the balustrade and into the Great Hall where several guards surrounded a young man I recognized. The baron bounced around them in his robe, chattering away, his face looking puce even from a distance. They were too far away to hear anything, but it was easy to imagine what was coming from the baron's mouth, even when we were more than aware this enthusiastic defense of his valet would be over once he was read the charges. No one wanted to go against the king on a treason charge – especially not the baron who had already pissed off the king enough for one day.

  “Where will they take him?”

  “The cells in the castra for now. He'll be questioned and tried. There's no doubt in my mind he will be executed. It's the cost of going against your monarch. Always has been.”

  “Especially with the proof I'm sure they have,” Rasmus added, leaning on the thick stone rail.

  “Then why the meeting?” I asked, backing away and making my way up the stairs a little more calmly than I had just moments earlier. The two of them followed, rushing to catch up with me as each step was executed with a purpose.

  “Because we don't know if he's given something of yours to the Veneficus. If they have something that belongs to you, we need to strengthen your guard, and make sure you’re protected around the clock.”

  “Strengthen it? How? Have more of you surrounding me at all hours of the day and night?”

  “Yes,” they said in unison, looking at one another before looking back at me.

  “You need guards at the farmhouse,” Damon added.

  “More when you decide to go out riding,” Rasmus suggested.

  “S
o I'll be a prisoner in my own home?”

  “The suasor will be able to find something to ward it off. It'll be temporary.”

  Oddly, the thought of it being for even a day didn't appeal to me. I had two men with me at all times as it was. Adding more to that just seemed like overkill. I stepped into my room and waved them back. They'd only argue with me.

  I dressed quickly, the room still empty even though I'd been there all night. My ladies were obviously oblivious to the goings on in the heart of the palace and I almost envied them their ignorance, which was ironic considering how much effort I'd spent trying to be included in everything.

  One day, I was pretty sure I'd make my mind up.

  Preparations

  Sitting through hours of talking, debating and arguing could be exhausting at the best of times, but in the middle of the night, locked away in a room full of soldiers, it was beginning to take its toll on me. Especially when they were talking perimeter searches and covert techniques. I should have been used to the shop talk at that point, but sitting in a session with soldiers still amazed me sometimes. There were days I honestly couldn't believe that this was my life now.

  Technically, I shouldn't have been tired at all. I'd been asleep for almost twenty-four hours before my mom spoke to me about leaving. Then I'd gone back to bed and had that weird transient dream. I'd had more sleep in two days than I'd had in the entire month prior, and yet, just listening to the grumbling and security planning for the ball made my head fuzzy again.

  I'd managed to commandeer myself a corner of the room by the fire, in a huge chair that was part of a matching pair. My father was occupying the one opposite mine, thankfully taking the focus from me as I hugged my knees to my chest, trying to decipher the voices that were barking off ideas for the weeks leading up to the ball. This was something that, up to this point, I’d been successfully repressing.

  The thought of actually making the title of princess official scared me to death. It meant that I was heir to the throne of Mortisali. In this dimension, the kingdom was the whole globe. If that wasn't pressure on a girl, I really didn't know what was. I was pretty certain that there were world leaders in the other dimension who had grand dreams of seeing the world as one country, with one religion; to rule all of the continents under one iron fist would mean inescapable power for them. It was a terrifying thought considering what some of the world leaders were capable of.

  Oddly, that wasn't a power I wanted to have. I had no interest in ruling in the palace, let alone everything on a global scale. Being in the hospital for as long as I had been directly equated to me being sheltered. I had been blissfully ignorant to everything but the sounds in my head. Even here in the palace, someone else protected me at all times. I always had a guard. I shadowed my father, and I learned everything there was to learn, and still I felt insignificant. In theory, ruling seemed like something I could do if I absolutely had to. It was in practice that it terrified me.

  These imposing men were leaning over maps of the province we were currently residing in as well as the drawings and schematics of the palace, and it was all becoming a little too real for me. The ball and my new life where my days were mapped out for me. All of it loomed over my head and was slowly and dramatically being hammered into me as the evening progressed, even if no one actually asked for my opinion on the matters they were discussing.

  I kept my mouth shut right up until they started talking about how I would be led into the ceremony. Four men on point? I didn't think so. That would have meant two at my front and two at my back at all times. It was hard enough on the days both Rasmus and Damon decided they would work together, leading me around like a lost lamb who’d wandered too far from the herd. Two more would make me feel claustrophobic. Not the best reaction to what was already likely to be a debilitating and horrific experience for me.

  “No.” The one word was loud and projected through the room. I wasn't certain anyone would hear me, but the silence was instant. Every head turned in my direction. “I’m sorry, but no. That’s too much.”

  “Milady,” one of the guards, whose name escaped me, said with appeasement.

  “I said no. It's a waste of time and resources.” I dropped my legs and turned in the chair, my back rigid now that I had their full, undivided attention. “My father will be left exposed and I'm not willing to do that. If you think they're going to come crashing through our front door at this ball, having four men blocking my path is only going to confuse matters further and alert them to exactly who I am.”

  “She has a point.” Rasmus sighed, moving across the room to stand a little closer to me. “The tiara can be removed, which could, in effect remove the crosshairs from her while she blends in with the crowd. Trying to explain a wall of guard? That won't be so easy.”

  It was silent for a while, the strategists mulling over the points that were laid out. There were a couple of seconds where I actually felt proud of myself for rendering them silent long enough to contemplate my suggestion. Then it all went to hell. A guard countered Rasmus’ argument rather than mine, but another and another followed it until the room was awash with noise again. The stone walls didn't help with the sound either. The noise just seemed to rebound, bringing them in around us until I finally stood up with my shoulders back, rendering them all silent again. When the peace and silence settled, I asked a question that had been plaguing me for hours.

  “I don't understand why we can't just postpone it.”

  I'd barely gotten the last syllable out and you could have heard a pin drop. No one moved. Eyes shifted to their commander then my father before gravitating back to me again. It wouldn't have been so bad if I'd understood what, exactly, I'd said to garner this kind of reaction. Most of them looked as though they were catching flies, their mouths hanging open as their brains pulled at their arguments.

  “What?” I shifted, dropping back into the comfortable chair, feeling like an ant under a magnifying glass. I was getting better about having attention aimed at me, but this was different. My father wasn't any help either; he simply looked to Alec and gave a nod.

  “That wouldn't help, Princess,” Alec said respectfully, cutting off any other explanations that would have been much more blunt.

  “Why not?”

  “Milady, each of us was chosen for the Regius Custos for a reason,” Alec said quietly. He'd been silently leaning against the mantel of the fire since we'd been there. He'd been taking everything in, watching his men work without interruption, until now.

  “Reason?” I looked around the large group of men who were all holding their silence and watching me. “Does someone want to enlighten me?”

  I scanned the room with more scrutiny this time. Each of the men seemed unaffected by this comment, like they’d expected it to come up eventually. It became evident that I was the only one in the room that was left to my own conjecture. They constantly seemed to forget I was still new to all of this.

  “All of us have nymph blood in our veins,” Alec continued, as though this was the answer to everything.

  “That's not a revelation, Alec. I was aware of that. I thought it was a requirement.”

  “It is, but there's a reason for that. Not just the obvious, Milady. Nymphs have a tie to the elements, as you know. When Thánatos was cast out of the kingdom, King Layland's mother knew she had to protect him. She and a few of her sisters worked some of their magic, bonding the guards to their monarchy and vice versa. Every ceremony now has a tie to the elements, and your ball… It will tie you to the monarchy, and us.”

  “Wait. I'm not following. What are you trying to say?”

  “Your accession will insert you into the rightful order. It's a ceremony that normally happens at birth. It's not–” he paused, searching for the word, “–intrusive, but until that happens, we are bound to protect your father only. He is the only monarch at the moment, which means our lives are his if they’re needed. We will die protecting him if a situation arises. As much as we can protec
t you, we will, but until you fulfill the ceremony, your father, the king, will be our main priority.”

  My mouth fell open in surprise. No one had said anything about tying myself to the guards or the monarchy. I'd assumed being the king's daughter and sharing his blood would have been all the connection that was needed, like the secret service with the first lady or the guard for Prince Philip. This ceremony suddenly seemed much deeper, more magical even, and I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

  This information was only the start of my mental meltdown.

  I was able to process that these men offered up their lives to guard the royal family through choice, the key word in that statement being choice. The revelation that it was by some magical connection took away all my conception of their roles. If that was true, their personal obligation had suddenly turned into a command.

  I looked around the room, taking in all the faces of the men surrounding us, none of them seeming shocked or dismayed by this information like I seemed to be. Some even had their heads bowed reverently as though they were acknowledging their part in honoring this barbaric tradition.

  “We still have a choice,” Damon said quietly, crouching beside my chair, his hand inadvertently brushing my thigh. The fact that he knew what I was thinking was a huge statement to how well he understood me. The fact that he touched me in reassurance and was taking the risk to do it in front of the guard and my father, was an entirely different story altogether. “We're given every detail of what this service entails before we agree to step into the role. We have the freedom to say no.”

  “Then why–”

  “Because we believe in our roles,” Rasmus answered. “We believe in you and your father. We know you can make a difference, and protecting you from harm is my way of making a difference. Being a part of the bigger picture is an honor.”