The Broken Kingdoms of Osvolta (Kingdoms of Osvolta #1)

14. Guilty as Charged

Chapter fourteen

Guilty as Charged

H eavy doors swung open, their hinges groaning as they twisted in the woodgrain to reveal the throne room. Blinding light from the arched windows lining both walls lit the room. A strong floral scent assaulted Solveig’s nose. Drifting from copious, overflowing bowls of flower petals, desperately trying to mask the stench of centuries-old damp.

General Anik dropped Solveig’s arm as he sneered, “Good luck little witch, you’re going to need it.” He backed out of the room slowly, leaving Solveig to walk down the long, blue carpeted aisle alone.

Guards lined the way, barely a foot of space between them, up to the dais where three gilded thrones sat. Each member of the trio had dressed in all their lush velvet finery and best sparkling jewels. They sat unmoving, emotionless as statues as she walked toward them in day’s old clothes, a harried mess from her journey.

Each throne sat before a large window, from where the sun poured in, casting their faces in shadow, gilding their crowns. Their hair shimmered equal to freshly spun gold as she halted before them.

It was Solveig who spoke first,

“Brother.”

“Mother.”

“Father,” she said, watching each of them.

Queen Asta rose from her throne, her deep red velvet gown rustling around her. “You stand accused!” she screeched, eyes sharp as daggers before her husband and king raised his hand.

“SILENCE! Guards. Leave us, this is a family matter.”

One by one, the guards slowly filed out of the room, their armour clattering as they walked. The king rose from his throne, and Solveig had to arch her neck to peer up at his ageing face.

“Solveig Aila Maleen, Princess of Torrelin, Master of Hydromancy.” The prince to the king’s left sputtered a poorly concealed laugh at the last part and Solveig cut him a threatening glance, one that he met with equal fervour.

“High Inquisitor of Luxenal Copper Mine,” the king continued, unfazed. “You are called before us today to answer the charges levelled against you by your superior, Commander Dissin Sellen.”

“What charges?” Solveig asked, her tone bored to mask the irritation that coiled in her stomach at the idea of Commander Sellen ever being superior to her.

The queen’s jaw clenched tight at the disrespect in her tone. “You may be a princess, but when you stand in chains before us, accused of serious crimes, you will address us in the proper manner.”

Solveig’s eyes slid from her father to her mother and back, “fine. What charges, Your Majesty?” Solveig repeated. Dipping into a bow so low, she had to bite back the grimace and curse that fought to escape her mouth as white-hot pain lanced through her stomach. Killian’s eyes danced with amusement.

“Feeling okay there?” He drew a long, pale finger across his lower lip. The corner tipped up in a sly smile, eyes glittering.

“Never better,” Solveig gritted.

“Enough of this!” the king commanded. “You stand accused of dereliction of duty, aiding the escape of a prisoner marked for execution and the murder of no less than three guards. How do you plead?”

Solveig made a grand show of thinking it over for a few moments before shrugging her shoulders with a resigned smile. “Guilty as charged. Your Majesty.”

“Insolent little brat, who do you think you are?” Asta seethed.

Solveig folded her arms across her chest as best she could, with her wrists still chained. “Let’s see, there was Witch Bitch, Princess Pain, Reaper, Wraith, but plain old Solveig works too, Mother.”

“Watch your mouth,” the queen bit out.

“Or what? What exactly will you do? Put me through an actual trial?” She took a step closer. “Why haven’t you made what I did public? You bet I’m guilty. Worse, I must confess because I didn’t aid his escape, I planned it.” Solveig stared at her mother, a woman who had never been warm and yet somehow in the two years since she’d last seen her, Asta had become colder than ever. As though their separation had severed any remaining kindness the queen had harboured for her daughter.

Asta Maleen rose from her throne, body shaking as though she were trying to hold back her rage.

“You’re to present yourself at the Temple of The Oracle at dawn tomorrow for further questioning. You will also put yourself forward for your long-delayed offering. If you don’t, I will see that every soul in the shadow of this castle knows precisely what you did.”

Solveig cocked her head to the side as she regarded her father. “I wasn’t aware that the queen was now in charge of decision-making. How progressive of you, father.”

The king shook his head. “Your mother is merely parroting a decision I made days ago.”

Solveig yawned. “Am I free to go then? I could do with a bath and a change of clothes. How would it look for a member of the king’s court to show up to temple so…” She glanced down at herself. “Unkempt?”

“Oh, you may laugh now, little lamb, but a lot has changed since you last went to the temple.” Killian smirked from where he slouched on his own throne. “Let’s hope you keep that spirit up. Gabriel will be there after all. Your betrothed, remember him?” His gaze shot down to her naked ring finger. “You should wear gloves. He won’t be too happy if he spots a certain diamond missing.” He rose from his chair and Solveig followed his every step warily as he came close. As a teenager, Killian had often accidentally used his magic on her. With Aldrik beside her, the accidents had stopped, but she had no way of knowing which version of her brother faced her now. Lifting her hand in his, he kissed the finger where the ring should have been.

“It truly is good to have you home.” He smiled up at her, and Solveig gasped as his hand became intensely hot in hers. She tried to pull away, but he only gripped her tighter. His skin beneath hers burned as he pulled her closer. Her palm blistered beneath the sheen of flame he conjured between them. “Better get that seen to, amongst your other injuries.” His gaze flicked up and down her. “We need you in top condition tomorrow.” Solveig bit her lip through the searing agony in her palm as he burned through the skin there before releasing her, shouldering past to exit the throne room. Killian, it seemed, had reverted to his old ways, though he wasn’t hiding anymore, rather revelling in the pain he wrought.

“You’re dismissed, Solveig,” the king muttered, pretending not to notice, as Solveig stared down at her blistered skin.

“A guard will escort you to your quarters and a healer sent to check you over. You remain under charges and may not leave your room unless escorted by one of us or a member of the royal staff. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Solveig sneered, “and the shackles?” She shook her arms, the sound echoing along the walls.

“They’ll remove them when you are safely in your room. We wouldn’t want you getting any ideas about using that strange magic on any more innocents now, would we?”