Scarred (Never After #2)(30)

A grin sneaks its way on my face, satisfaction bubbling in my chest as I straighten off the wall and make my way toward the tunnels.

My brother isn’t as infallible as he would have everyone believe.

And the people deserve to know when they’re being ruled by a mad king.





CHAPTER 17





Sara B.





News of Michael’s proposal has spread, and things are happening in the castle. Almost everyone in the king’s inner circle already knew why I was here, but now, their heads bow a little deeper, their spines notch a little straighter. Respect that I have done nothing to earn is handed to me on a silver platter, simply because a man with the “right” blood in his veins asked for my hand.

Marisol came barging in at the crack of dawn, whipping open curtains and laying out color swatches, droning on about the engagement ball and how it was my duty to plan it.

She knows nothing of duty.

Her blonde hair is coiffed and her gray eyes spear through me as she shows me the thirtieth shade of purple and asks me to compare it to the last twenty-nine, as if I’ve been paying attention.

“Marisol, I hate the color purple.”

“What?” She half chuckles. “It’s the color of royalty, my lady.”

“Great. Pick your favorite and we’ll go with that.” I groan, standing up from my place on the couch. “I need some air.”

Marisol’s eyes narrow as she stares at the two fabric swatches in her hands, but my words make her look my way. “How come?”

My chest burns at her question. “Do I need to have a reason other than it’s something I wish?”

Pursing her lips, she shakes her head. “You have a very busy schedule coming up. You won’t always be able to run off and do as you wish. Especially once you’re queen.”

The bite in her tone doesn’t go unnoticed, and my nerves bristle. “More of a reason to take advantage now, then. Besides…” I pull my lips back into a thin smile. “I have every faith that you and Ophelia can handle the rest of the ball arrangements. Am I mistaken?”

Marisol’s shoulders draw back. “Of course not, milady. It would be our pleasure.”

“Fantastic.” I stretch my neck to the side, the resounding crack unraveling all my pent-up tension. “Have you seen Sheina?”

Marisol averts her eyes. “I haven’t.”

My stomach twists. We’ve been here for days and ever since my new ladies showed up, it seems like she’s disappeared completely. I’m curious to know what she’s doing, but more than that, I miss my friend.

“I think I’ll go try to find her.” I move toward the door.

“Wait!” Marisol screeches. “You can’t just go running around the castle on your own.”

Tension knots up my spine and I turn, taking calculated steps until I’m standing in front of her. We lock eyes and she sucks in a breath, holding my stare, but I don’t say a word.

Her fingers clench the swatches she’s still holding, and she drops her gaze.

I lean in close, my voice quiet and sharp. “I wasn’t asking permission, Marisol. You are not my keeper, and I will do as I please.”

“I—apologies, milady.”

Anger works its way through my middle and up my throat, but I push it back, allowing the uncomfortable air to sit stagnant for long moments.

Eventually, I step away, smiling. “It’s settled then. I’m going for some air, and you’ll stay here and plan the ball.” I reach out, placing my hand on her shoulder and squeezing, my nails digging ever so slightly into her shoulder. “I trust you’ll do an incredible job representing me. After all, it’s not every day a king chooses you to be his wife, and I need a stellar reputation.”

Her shoulders stiffen, and affirmation of what I suspected trickles through my insides. She’s envious.

Spinning around, I make my way to the door and turn the handle, stepping into the dimly lit hall. Someone appears in front of me, making my heart slap against my ribs.

“Oh,” I gasp, my hand rising to my chest. “Timothy. I didn’t expect you here.”

He doesn’t respond, just stands there, his dark eyes watching me.

“Still not allowed to speak?” Sighing, I rest a hand on my hip. “If you’re always here, who’s with His Majesty?”

This time he reacts, but only barely, lifting his brows as he takes a step closer.

“So, you’re my guard dog now, I take it?” I run a hand down the sleeve of my dress. “Very well, let’s go for a walk.”

I turn away and move forward, hearing the clank of his footsteps behind me.

It must be five or ten minutes before I try to speak to him again. I’m sure I’m lost inside the maze that is the castle halls, but if Timothy isn’t willing to step in and help a girl out, then I won’t ask him to steer me in the right direction.

“Have you seen Sheina?” I ask, trying for the thousandth time to get him to crack.

I’m not surprised when there isn’t a response.

“Who’s Sheina?” A loud voice booms from around the corner. My footsteps stutter at the voice and I stop walking when Paul appears, dressed down in tan corduroys and a light shirt, a monstrous grin on his face.