"You are playing with fire."
"I know not what you mean," I said, our gazes locked.
"He is a traitor. The penalty is death and—"
"The penalty is whatever you deem fit." I took a step closer. "I request you, your highness. You hold my sister captive. Shall you not grant me this one, small favor?"
George stared at me for a while, as if he was weighing the possibilities.
"Rufus." He growled suddenly, eyes narrowing past me.
I turned to see a dark-haired man of somber demeanor approach, his eyes buried to the marble floor.
"Your Highness." He greeted a stack of worn-out books, balanced in his weary hands.
"These are for you," George said, gesturing to the books, and I frowned.
"Does this mean that…" I paused. "Whatever does this mean?"
George chuckled, the sound a soft practiced melody. "Those are ancient guides for the festival."
He walked past me, strolling with an air of confidence.
"That is not the answer to my question, Your Majesty."
"George." He corrected, halting abruptly. My breath hitched when our eyes met.
"Call me George."
My stomach twisted. Though I knew not whether it was from fury or fear.
What was I doing? Danielle needed me. I had to find her and this man — a tower of dark secrets and well-calculated conspiracies — was my only hope.
George wasn't willing to tell me anything, unless…
Unless I gained his trust. Of course, I had to give him what he wanted long enough for him to slip about my sister.
How hard was it to play the role of the Obedient smitten queen?
"If you wish, you shall earn that privilege, not a moment before—"
I yelped as his hands grazed my waist, disarming me as he pulled me close. My voice died as our lips brushed and the guards averted their gazes.
"Whatever shall I do?" George murmured, his tone dark and teasing. Yet, somewhat comforting and luring.
"Perhaps Your Majesty shall have my new guard escort me to my chambers?" I asked, casting a glance at the tortured man. "And carry the books, of course."
George grinned, staring at me like I was the rarest being in the world. Something about his gaze made me feel wanted, special — desired.
"Release him," George instructed and the guards dragged the man forward, handing him the books.
I dared to reach for George's hair as if selling the illusion of compliance. The more I sold him the idea of submission, the faster I could gain his trust. I learned. "I shall never forget this."
Without another word, I turned, walking toward my chamber. The man trailed behind me.
Once we were inside, I locked the doors.
"You spared my life." He whispered in disbelief.
"The king spared your life," I corrected, running my hands through my hair. "Give me the books. Have you seen a girl— a blonde-haired child with rosy cheeks and a stature smaller than most? She is timid, you must have…"
The man stared at me for a while, as if struggling to paint a picture with my words. I held my breath when he started speaking. "My apologies, I have seen no such child."
My heart sank. Gesturing for him to leave, I withdrew a small drawing from the confines of my corset.
I took it everywhere with me. My breath hitched as a lump grew in my throat. I had to find her no matter what.
Even if it meant hosting the grandest festivals Keyes had ever seen. I reached for one of the books and started reading.
Each of them, the texture, lettering, pages — was painfully familiar.
Why? I had no clue. I had never been to Keyes.
Why did everything about this kingdom feel so — familiar? Personal.
I scanned the pages, registering the history of the festival. It was hosted once every five years to celebrate George's coronation as King, as well as the end of the massacre.
Could it be the same massacre that killed the princess? Or the one she supposedly died in?
Could it be that George feared the return of the princess rumored to have perished in the massacre? Was he searching for her even now, to ensure his reign went unchallenged?
The thought gnawed at me.
I dropped on the bed, leaning back as I continued reading through the pages. The festival happened in three parts — Food, dinner, and then the celebration.
First, one hundred traditional dishes were homemade to be served within the twelve towns in Keyes. Handmade gifts were shared with families as invitations to the grande festival.
Then, the Royal dinner. A special delicacy prepared from the Queen's chosen recipe was made. Then served to the royals from the kingdom and other kingdoms.
Finally, the musical Festival. Where the several happened for five days.
I sighed, standing and strolling over to the window. Outside, I saw the vast landscape of Keyes with fresh soil and young children. Women tended the animals and men ran around, serving hard labor.
Right in the midst of it was the castle. Adorned with the finest gold and the strongest men, in leather-clad capes and drapes, ready for a silent war.
"Your Highness?"
I turned to see a maid, her eye glued to the ground as she continued. "The Queen has decreed that preparations for the festival must begin at once."
"Very well," I shifted in discomfort.
The maid hesitated and I frowned.
"Forgive me, your highness. Her Majesty has instructed you to prepare the dishes alone."
"Alone?" My voice faltered, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. "One hundred dishes, within a week? How is this to be done?"
The maid offered no response.
I parted my lips, staring for a while before I closed them. This Queen wished for me to fail.
However, Failure was an expense I could not afford.
For Danielle's sake. I had to succeed. I had to gain everyone's trust and then, slowly stab them in the back so that while they choked on their blood, they would spill her whereabouts.
I took quick strides out of the room and towards the kitchen, stumbling when George was leaning against the wall.
"I daresay the kitchen is your preferred domain, Your Highness?"
"George." He corrected, the softest smile gracing his lips.
He seemed so genuine. Yet, he had so many secrets and was a beast with everyone else but me.
"Here," He offered me a note. "I listed all the dishes from the past few years. Should you require my assistance, I would be the happiest man on earth to oblige…" he did a tiny bow, almost mocking. "The rarest jewel earth has ever seen."
Yet he could not release my sister.
"Your Highness," A maid spoke, "The queen has requested your presence."
George offered me one last look before leaving. I stared at the first dish, along with the recipe. Something fluttered inside me when I realized it was handwritten.
The feared King of Keyes — whose mere name carried enough terror to kill a man — was hand writing recipes for me? His makeshift wife from the poorest town in an unnamed kingdom.
The irony. The bitter-sweet irony.
I raised my sleeves and started the first dish. A task was only impossible until someone did it. That person was me.
Once I was done with the first dish, I was ready to collapse. I reached forward to taste it and grimaced.
"It lacks salt!" I slapped myself. "Where might I find salt?"
The maids paled at my words. One of them, a blonde-haired girl was about to speak but the other, the one who called me earlier held her back.
"The store, your highness."
I frowned, why were they acting strange? Did I say something wrong?
"Salt is needed in the dishes, right?"
"No, no, your highness. Salt is an important part of the dishes. Only royals are allowed in the storeroom. However, if not, I would have gotten it myself."
I shook at the absurd rule, "Where is the store? What is your name?"
"Aidel vera. Here, walk down and open the first door, your highness."
Of course, the vast kitchen would have a store in-built.
I nodded and strolled into the store, the smell of dust hit my nose and I coughed, fanning it away with my hands.
The store looked like it had never seen a human's eyes. There were webs around and dust gracing the shelves. There was no salt here.
I turned around to leave when the door slammed, the sound of a click ringing through my ears. I choked. "Aidel?" I called panic filling my throat. "Aidel are you there? Is anyone there? I am stuck!" I banged the door, dust slapping my face at each impact.
I was about to give up and start screaming when I heard it.
A low, sinister hiss. Turning slowly, I froze in place, now faced with death as a python coiled, several feet away from me.