The corridor felt longer than I remembered, colder too. I could feel eyes following me as I was dragged by the arm by those brutes. Servants whispered; some stepped back, others watched with a kind of fascinated horror, as if witnessing a prisoner walking toward her public execution. How ironic: the castle wasn't so different from that little village after all.
Salazhar walked ahead of us in long, steady strides. The sword at his hip clinked against his thigh with each movement, reminding everyone what awaited those who dared resist. The sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the dust suspended in the air. A beautiful scene, if not for the fact that I was being taken like an animal to slaughter.
Salazhar stopped before a massive set of double doors, and the knights dragged me behind him. Instead of leaving me there, they hauled me all the way to the foot of the small platform where the throne stood, too close to him. Then, with no shred of delicacy, they released my arms and shoved me forward, forcing me to fall to my knees, practically at the king's feet.
"Miss Ashael Kalevra, in audience with His Majesty!" one of the knights announced loudly.
"Oh, Salazhar! What is the meaning of such aggression toward my daughter?!"
I froze. Had I heard that correctly? My daughter? My… daughter? For a moment, I genuinely wondered if I had hit my head when I fell. Or maybe I had fainted and woken up in another reality. Or… I don't know, maybe I was hallucinating from stress. That was the only possible explanation. He had never even called me by my name, let alone anything so intimate.
King Corvin Aramyra III rose from his throne with surprising speed for someone so old and dressed in such a heavy mantle. He descended the marble steps as if he had just witnessed a miracle, while his advisors and guards exchanged uncomfortable looks.
"Your Majesty… please, don't get too close–"
"It's dangerous, your grace–"
"She might–"
The king turned sharply and shot them a piercing glare.
"Silence."
Ignoring everyone, he knelt in front of me and pulled me into an embrace. A tight one, the kind you give a lost child who finally returns home after years. He left me there, still kneeling, then stood again and turned to climb back up to the throne as if he were performing a scene for the audience watching him.
"My daughter," he exclaimed, his voice far too loud to be sincere. "How I've missed you!"
I wanted to laugh. I swear I did. Maybe I even should have, but I wasn't entirely sure if laughing in the king's face counted as treason. Still, the whole scene was far too ridiculous for one person to endure. Missed me? He had never spoken to me before. Never looked me in the eyes. Never acknowledged my existence. He hadn't even sent a single coin when my mother fell ill. And now… this?
"Ashael, my daughter… you will always be a part of me. Always." He adjusted his mantle, as if trying to appear even more paternal. "Tell me, how is your mother? She still lives in the village, yes? I should send her a gift, after all–"
"She's doing great," I cut in, without thinking. I didn't even know if interrupting a king was punishable, but I simply couldn't bear to hear him speak about my mother as if he had ever cared. "Deep underground."
The king froze, and a heavy silence rippled through the hall so quickly that even Salazhar raised an eyebrow.
"She died last summer," I added, keeping my gaze fixed on him. Ridiculous. He hadn't bothered to learn even the most basic fact, yet he dared call himself my father.
The king's discomfort was so visible it almost developed a life of its own. He cleared his throat awkwardly, running a hand through his hair as if that could somehow fix the situation.
"Ah… yes… my condolences for your loss," he said, and it was painfully obvious he did not mean it. I could see in his eyes that he simply wanted the topic to end. "But I suppose you must be curious as to why you were summoned here."
I tilted my head slightly. Curious wasn't exactly the word I'd use. Cursed? Maybe.
King Corvin adjusted his mantle over his shoulders, straightened himself on the throne, and drew a deep breath, lifting one hand in my direction.
"Ashael Kalevra," he began, his voice wrapped in solemnity. "In the name of the blood that flows through your veins and the lineage you inherited from me, I offer you the opportunity to return to this palace not as a forgotten shadow, but as one of my daughters. A legitimate princess of Aramyra."
The hall froze. Even the servants carrying trays in the back became statues carved from stone. I blinked. Then blinked again.
"I'm sorry… what?" My voice cracked. "What do you mean by 'legitimate princess'?"
Corvin spread his arms and looked at me with an odd smile.
"I mean that I shall recognize you before the entire court, before the allied kingdoms, before Zahra'Sar, the Mother-Sun herself, as my rightful daughter. You will be elevated to the position denied to you at birth. You will become Ashael Aramyra, legitimate princess of the nation of Aramyra, heir to my care and my protection."
He stepped forward, his face carrying that familiar, unreadable expression. Yet one truth stood out: the entire situation was absurd.
"The closeness we never had… I wish to correct that. I wish to mend our bond as father and daughter."
I stared at him in silence. For long seconds, the only sound in the hall was the distant flutter of the banners shifting with the wind. The king seemed to be waiting for something, a joyful cry, perhaps; or for me to faint from emotion; or maybe even throw myself at his feet, thanking him for his "generosity." I was certain of it, because nothing in his eyes looked genuine.
I tried to hold myself together, I really did, but the laughter just slipped out.
I burst out laughing right there, not caring in the slightest if they thought I was insane. The situation was so absurd it was impossible to stay serious.
"Stop lying," I murmured between the laughs that made my chest ache. "Just… stop."