Thirty Nights Forgotten

Chapter 11: The King's Mate

Addy’s POV

Ugh, my head…

Before I even open my eyes, I can feel my head throbbing with a dull ache. Reaching my hand up to my hair, I begin to panic when my fingertips brush along some dried, sticky blood.

What happened to me?!

The last thing I remember was Nicholas hiding me away in a tree while he fought off our attackers. And then…and then happened?

Flashes of fragmented memories flicker across the insides of my eyelids, like a broken movie reel. A group of soldiers marching into view…my hand slipping, rustling the tree branches…the soldiers glancing up and finding me…

When I realize I had been tied up and knocked out, my eyes flutter open in a panic.

Sitting up quickly, I clutch the cold, wet floor as dizziness takes hold.

“Nick?” I manage to croak out. “Nicholas? Are you here?”

My throat is dry and scratchy, and I’m suddenly overcome with a desperate thirst. How long have I been knocked out? I’m starving and in desperate need of some water.

“Hello? Is anybody there?”

No one is answering me, and my immediate thoughts turn to Nick and Nicholas. Did they manage to escape our attackers, or were they captured too?

As my vision comes into focus, a slow realization dawns on me. I’m in a cold, dark cell surrounded by stone walls and iron bars. It’s completely empty except for a chamber pot in the corner.

I’ve been here before, I realize. These are the dungeons of Nicholas’ castle.

Well, I’m guessing it’s not Nicholas’ castle anymore. And I certainly didn’t get Nick’s old cell, which was much more comfortable than this.

“HELLO?! I’M STARVING OVER HERE!”

My voice echoes unanswered throughout the empty corridors, ringing against the stone walls of the dungeons.

If I can just get someone to answer me, maybe I’ll recognize them. I remember many of the faces of Nicholas’ guards, so if I can get one of them to talk to me, maybe they’ll fill me in on what the hell is going on.

And maybe, if I’m lucky enough, they can help me get out of here and find Nick and Nicholas.

Nearly an hour or so passes before I hear footsteps in the distance, echoing hollowly in my ears. When I realize they’re growing closer, a mixture of excitement and nervousness begins to build.

However, the guard that appears around the corner is unfamiliar to me, which certainly puts a damper on my plan. At least he’s brought me some food, and my stomach growls loudly as he approaches.

“Excuse me? Can you tell me why I’m here?”

The guard slides my meal tray through a small opening on the floor, but he doesn’t answer my question.

My eyes land on his uniform, which looks different than what I remember Nicholas’ guards used to wear. They all wore a black tunic over their armor with the symbol of the House of Ourey.

But this guard is wearing a different color, and a different symbol I don’t recognize.

“Sir? Why am I locked up? I have a right to know! Who’s in charge around here?”

He glances up at me, but when our eyes meet, he pauses for a long moment. His face scrunches together in confusion, but there is a hint of something else…does he recognize me?

Just as I am about to ask, he turns and quickly disappears down the corridor, his footsteps growing further and further away.

Damn it!

I am left with more questions than answers, but right now, I’m too hungry to care. The bowl of stew he left for me looks rather suspicious, but at least he left me a piece of crusty bread and some water to go with it.

As I scarf down my meal, I can’t help but think about that symbol that I saw on the guard’s uniform: a white wolf howling in front of a snowy mountain range. That doesn’t look anything like the sigil for the House of Ourey.

Does that mean that the Oureys are no longer in control of the kingdom? If not them, then who is?

Just as I’m finishing my meal, I hear more footsteps once again, but this time, it sounds like he brought a friend.

As two men appear, I realize that one of them is the guard I just saw, but the other is wearing a more formal uniform. Perhaps he’s his superior?

“This is the girl?”

“Yes, Captain. This is the king’s mate.”

“Impossible! She is supposed to be dead.”

“I know, but she looks almost exactly like her. I’d know her face anywhere.”

Oh, good, they recognize me!

“Yes, I am King Nicholas’ mate!” I say excitedly, scrambling to my feet. “Can you take me to see him? He’ll be very upset if he sees me locked up like this.”

“Did you just say, ‘King Nicholas?’”

The captain steps forward, his face growing hard as his cold gaze studies me closely.

“Y-Yes. Can I see him? Can I see the king?”

The captain glances over at the other guard.

“Are you absolutely certain this is her? She says she belongs to King Nicholas.”

“I can assure you that this is her. The king will want to see her right away.”

“Fine, then release her and bring her to the throne room. But if she is not who you say she is, you’ll be back to cleaning chamber pots once again.”

The guard nods quickly, but he steps forward as he fumbles with his keys.

Something feels off about their conversation, but I can’t seem to place it. But for right now, I’m going to keep my mouth shut and let them take me – especially if there’s any chance that I’ll get to see Nicholas.

“Don’t you try to run off,” the captain growls, grabbing my arm roughly in his hand.

He drags me quickly through the dungeons, and when we emerge into the courtyard of the castle, I immediately find my bearings.

However, something feels off. Before, there used to be the nobles of the court wandering leisurely around the courtyard, but now, there are guards stationed everywhere as though on high alert.

As we make our way into the interior of the castle, I let out an audible gasp.

It looks as though the place has been completely ransacked.

Crystal chandeliers hang broken above our heads, and the only source of light is from the candles lining the path. The floor rugs have been ripped to shreds with large claw marks, and the opulent paintings that once hung on the walls are either missing or damaged beyond recognition. Broken vases and sculptures lie scattered everywhere.

When we pass by one of the rooms on the first floor, I see a team of servants working slowly to clear the rubble. How long has the castle been in such disarray? What happened here?

I don’t dare ask my captors as they drag me through the corridors toward the throne room, even though I know my way.

When we enter, it looks like the servants had already cleared this room of debris. There aren’t any opulent paintings or ornate rugs in this room, so it looks rather bare. However, there is still a throne sitting at the top of the stone steps, with a royal blue tapestry hanging from the ceiling above.

There it is again! That white wolf symbol in front of snowy mountain peaks.

“Bow before His Majesty, King Elijah the Conqueror, Emperor of the Demon Realm and King of Alphas!”

“Hold on...King Elijah? Who the hell is that?!”

The captain shoves me down onto my knees before stepping away, leaving me to cower before the man who appears from the shadows.

There is so much about this interaction that reminds me of the first time I met Nicholas, and yet, the man who steps closer looks nothing like him.

King Elijah is tall and well-built like Nicholas, but that is where their resemblance stops. The man in front of me is wearing a crown, but his dress is somewhat informal for a king. His broad chest is covered in roughly cut furs, and I can’t help but compare him to a Viking.

If I had to guess, the guy is maybe a little older than me in his late twenties. His wavy, sandy-colored hair hangs down to his shoulders, and his chiseled jawline is covered in a thick stubble, but it’s his eyes that make my breath catch in my throat.

Those icy blue eyes of his are the color of glacial mountains, and it’s the most intense, piercing stare I’ve ever seen in my entire life. In fact, it feels like he’s staring straight into my soul, and I can see how those eyes would strike fear into the hearts of his enemies and subjects.

When he approaches me, my head lifts up to meet his gaze, and something in his eyes makes me unable to look away.

His hand reaches down toward my face, stopping just short of touching me.

“Annabelle,” he whispers, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Is that really you?”