Chapter 202

I followed the mousy man down the hallways of the palace, nerves rippling through me. Behind me, Charles, Theo, and David all followed, their footsteps echoing off the marble floors. That hollowness didn't do anything to alleviate my nerves. Instead, like the noise of their shoes bouncing off the floors and walls, my nerves bounced all over the place, too.

The mousey man stopped in front of a set of doors. “Your companions will need to wait here,” he said.

Charles reached for me, gripping my hand firmly and giving me an encouraging look. “We won't go anywhere,” he promised.

I nodded, words failing me. Once the three were inside whatever room the mousy man had led them to, the door shut, and he continued to lead me on. We wound through back hallways, getting further and further from the entrance to the palace all the time. How far in were we going to go?

A horrifying thought occurred to me. What if he was actually leading me toward a dungeon?

This must have shown in the speed with which I was following the man because he turned to me with an impatient look on his face. “One does not keep the king waiting,” he insisted. “Do hurry up.”

I nodded, keeping my head ducked, but increased my speed to follow him. I can only imagine the sort of trouble that I was walking into, seeing as how most of the things I had printed wouldn't necessarily be well received by the king, especially if he was the sensitive sort. You never knew with people. Sometimes, one’s intentions didn't matter.

After what seemed like hours, we finally reached a small door. The mousy man knocked firmly on this, then stood back to wait with his hands tucked behind his back.

This certainly didn't look like the sort of door that led to a king’s private office chambers. It was just a regular door, nothing fancy, no carvings or gold paint or anything. In fact, I think the doors inside Charles’ apartment back in Lustrum were fancier.

The door opened slowly, but no one came out. The mousey man pointed me inside without saying anything. I clasped my hands together, my fingers aching under my grip on myself, and stepped inside the door.

Rather than meeting the king, who I would have recognized from his public appearances, a stern-faced man, about halfway between the age I was and the age my parents would have been if they were still alive, greeted me.

I internalized a gulp. If everything were to be believed, then at least one of my parents was still alive. And he was the most powerful man in the werewolf kingdom, as well as the most dangerous.

“Miss Elena Laurentia?” the stern-faced man asked.

“Yes.” My voice squeaked when I said this. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I am Elena Laurentia.”

“ID, please.” He held out his hand, waiting.

I dug through my purse until I got a hold of my wallet, then fished out my identification, setting it on his waiting palm.

The man scanned it over carefully, a deep frown on his face. Then he finally handed it back to me.

“This way, please,” he said, starting off across the room at the same time.

This room was lightly furnished with only a couple of chairs. End tables nestled up against these. And gilded pictures adorned the walls.

On the opposite side of the room from the door I'd come in sat another door, identical to the first. It dawned on me that this must be some sort of waiting room or receiving room for guests.

The manservant opened that other identical door and once again pointed me in without making a motion to accompany me. I swallowed hard and entered the room.

This time, the room that I entered was more of what I expected in dealing with a king. I'd entered some sort of personal library. Massive bookshelves lined two of the walls, titles in gold ink sparkling in the warm light of numerous lamps.

Dead in the center of the room sat a massive desk. And at this sat the king.

He looked up at me, his expression unreadable. “Shut the door,” he ordered.

I did as he requested, then stood just inside that door, waiting for him to tell me what else I should do with myself.

The king drew in a deep breath, his eyes closing as he did so. No doubt he was taking in my scent. But unlike most of the people I've run across who could actually smell me, the king didn't make any indication whether he could or could not. And if he could, there was no indication that he liked what he smelled.

After long, awkward moments, his eyes opened, and he scanned me from head to toe. This time, it was more obvious that he was not pleased with what he saw. His expression scrunched, and his eyes narrowed.

“So this is the infamous miss Laurentia.”

I gave him a bow, unsure whether it was the appropriate motion for such a meeting. But at the very least, I wanted to convey respect, especially since, from the beginning, my intention was never to disrespect the king or the monarchy. I simply wanted to help make our **** a better place.

After another moment of awkward silence, he pointed at one of the chairs opposite him across the desk. “You may sit.”

I scurried over to take the place he had indicated. I sat delicately on the edge of the chair, folded my hands in my lap, and crossed my ankles, keeping my knees together. From there, I stayed as prim as possible, again waiting for him to speak and indicate in what direction this conversation was going to go.

“And you claim to be my daughter?” He demanded.

I shook my head. “No, your majesty. I make no such claim.”

“It's all over the news,” he snapped.

“The breaking news story is the first time that I heard anything of the sort.” I tucked in the little lie to try to protect the identity of monk Blythe. “I never even got to finish watching the coverage when your man showed up to collect me. So, I'm afraid I don't even have all of the information they are reporting.”

“What they are reporting is halfway to treason,” he growled.

“As I just said, I haven't even seen the entire newscast. So, I can't speak to what they're reporting. But as a reporter myself, I take the facts very seriously. I swear by truth.”

“Do you, now?” He stroked his chin thoughtfully.

A little whiff of something came at me—his scent, and I could have sworn I'd smelled it before. But if I had, I couldn't place the moment.

Something in the King's expression changed any shifted gears. “Since you value the truth so much, why don't you tell me the truth on a tricky little point that keeps cropping up whether I wanted to or not.”

“If I happen to know the truth about that, I will happily confirm what you say.”

He nodded slowly. “I understand there are lots of rumors about me.” He flashed me a grim and toothy smile. “One of the hazards of celebrity, I'm afraid. But among those is the rumor that I have a secret child. Have you heard those rumors?”

My heart fluttered. I didn't like this line of questioning. “I hadn't heard such rumors until very recently,” I confessed. “And I've never seen anything that offered even a shred of proof to substantiate such a claim.”