Chapter 49

Russel made his way into the castle proper and was immediately guided to the room that had been prepared. Bartholomew met him as soon as he came inside, the old servant taking stock of the situation without needing any further details. Russel was grateful for that. At least someone was capable of handling things properly. He hoped his gut reaction about what was going on inside his kingdom, about how…wrong it was, turned out to be false. But with the Harvenk werewolf breaching through the entire countryside and then infiltrating the stronghold, he didn’t expect that to happen.

Wouldn’t sending spies into Oclan pose too much of a risk for Harvenk? If found, it could be taken as a declaration of war.

Unless…

Russel didn’t want to keep thinking the thoughts rolling around his head. Because those were worse. The risk to Harvenk would be great, true, but it wouldn’t be as great if someone inside the enemy kingdom knew about potential weaknesses in Oclan defensive positions, sentry routes, and movements. If someone, someone like Drake, Russel surmised, had inside knowledge, he could take full advantage of that fact and relay that information to the spies he’d sent in. Russel had hoped defeating the annoying prick so soundly in Gloucester and taking Lola would have been enough to deter him completely, but he hadn’t been that lucky apparently. Drake had only bided his time. Russel understood that now. Whatever Lola was or, more accurately, whatever she was to Drake was enough of a threat for the crazy bastard to attempt a stunt like this.

“Sire,” Bartholomew said, tearing Russel out of his thoughts.

He looked over at the servant, his worry and concern growing with every second that passed. Lola was still somewhat catatonic and she felt so stiff in his arms. It made him feel even worse for allowing her to get attacked.

“What is it, Bartholomew?” he asked, surprised to find his voice suddenly sounding so tired. He felt pretty awake but with the stress and heightened adrenaline of the past thirty to forty minutes finally starting to come down, he realized he actually was pretty exhausted. His muscles and joints were starting to ache and bother him again but that was a tiny, inconsequential thing now and one he easily pushed to the side.

“I have prepared the room per your instruction but have also taken the liberty to procure appropriate clothing for the young miss as well as a rotating guard to watch over her as she recovers with orders to not let anyone inside to see her, no matter who they are, other than you. Or, of course, if they are with you.” The soft and cultured way he spoke was a comfort to Russel. “Additionally, I have Greta and her handmaidens at the ready to assist Ms…?”

“Tarnvol,” Russel said. “Her name is Lola Tarnvol.”

“Of course,” Bartholomew stated.

Russel felt relief wash through him. He was glad to have Bartholomew looking out for things like that.

“I have also instructed the kitchen to prepare some food. It might be good for her to eat something. Of course, if she is not feeling up to it, then it can wait until the morning.”

“Thank you, Bartholomew. As always, your work is much appreciated.”

“It is my pleasure, Sire.” Bartholomew smiled and gave the king a brief but respectful nod of his head.

They continued on their way through the castle, up the grand staircase, through the various hallways and galleys until they came to the part of the castle where Russel had taken up residence. HIs brothers all shared a different wing of the castle. He had no intention or desire of ever letting Lola stay in that part of the castle alone. She was a clear and obvious weak point to anyone that might want to harm him or his position. His four brothers were going to be at the top of that list.

His apartments had many rooms that Lola would be more than welcome to use. He would have put her in his own room but he wanted her to have her own space. It felt like something she might need to…process what happened to her. A person could easily snap and break under the stress of just a single traumatic event. Lola had been through almost half a dozen in a very short amount of time. He wasn’t a doctor or a healer, true, but he still knew enough about traumatic events and how they affected the mind to understand she would need time.

Several minutes later, they finally came to a single door made of dark black wood and polished heavily. Light seemed to dance and jump along its surface from the lit torches, making an almost hypnotic pattern emerge. Russel barely noticed. He nodded at the door and one of the guards still with him opened it. Inside, several handmaidens were ready to receive Lola and help her. A bath had been prepared in the separate bathroom.

“Your Majesty,” one of the handmaidens said, bowing with respect. It was a woman about Bartholomew’s age with silver hair in a single braid that fell over her left shoulder. She was matronly, gentle, and respectful when she took Lola from him.

“Greta. Please make sure she is taken care of,” Russel said.

The older woman smiled.

“Of course, Sire,” she told him. “We will see to her. She is in good hands with us, I assure you.”

“Thank you. I will be in meetings but have a runner send for me if there are any problems. Any at all, no matter how small or trivial.”

“Yes, of course.”

Russel didn’t want to leave Lola but he needed to address everything that happened. He needed to find out how and why a Harvenk managed to get as close as she had. To protect Lola, he had to better understand this whole crazy situation.

As best he could anyway.

He took a few steps toward Lola and whispered to her.

“I’ll be close by. Get some rest, okay? I will be back in a little bit to check in on you.” He kissed the top of her head.

She continued staring ahead, her eyes still dazed but he thought she might have given him the faintest nod of her head as if to say, “Do what you have to. I understand.”

He hesitated though, torn between staying with her and making sure she was truly okay and dealing with the mess he was now faced with. It was hard. Almost torturously hard. He loved her. He loved her so much that it hurt to see her in so much pain.

“Sire,” Bartholomew said, his voice gentle but urging. “She will be safe. You must attend to other matters now.”

“Yes,” Russel said, still hesitating. It was only after Greta took Lola into the bathroom to get cleaned up that he finally was able to tear himself away. He turned to Bartholomew. “Right. I will be in the War Chamber with the others. I’m counting on you to keep me informed of Lola’s state of mind and her health.”

“It shall be done, Your Majesty,” Bartholomew said with a bow.

Russel gave one last, lingering look toward the bath and then walked out of the room. As soon as he did, he spotted the guard that had let Lola walk off still posted outside the door of his main apartments.

“You!”

The guard turned toward the sound of the king’s voice, a pale look on his face.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” he asked, his face going even paler within the span of just a few seconds.

“With me, now,” Russel commanded. His voice was like steel.

The guard immediately marched toward Russel but before he could stop next to the king and await further instruction, he turned on his heel and started to walk away. Confused and not sure what to do, he stood there frozen for half a second.

“All of you except for the guards Bartholomew posted, follow me,” Russel said.

The guards obeyed. They followed after their king, walking through the enormous and elaborate castle until they all found themselves in the large, circular room known as the War Chamber.

“Find seats,” Russel shouted once everyone was inside.

The other members of the war council, including his four brothers, were still inside, right where Russel had left them. They had been hunched over the map in the center of the room. When everyone started filing in, all four brothers and the few military advisors looked up to see what was going on.

“What is the meaning of this?” Roland asked, irritated that they were being interrupted.

“Speak out of turn again and I’ll have you jailed,” Russel snapped.

Roland’s eyes widened slightly in shock and then narrowed in anger. He started to sputter, clearly wanting to speak again but Raylan nudged him with an elbow and he kept his mouth shut. Even Reid and Rutger wisely decided not to test Russel.

Their brother looked pissed.

Russel stood facing everyone but he said nothing. He just stood there, his face a mask of stern patience. He studied each person’s face as they all waited on him, trying to assess things. Assess intentions. Look for guilt. Something he could grab onto and understand. As he did, others started to filter in. Most of these were guards or soldiers that had been assigned to the castle gates or the perimeter wall.

Still he waited.

It took maybe fifteen to twenty more minutes before everyone was assembled. After they were, he waited some more. People were getting impatient and restless. His brothers were starting to fidget.

But even so, no one spoke.

Finally, Russel took a deep breath and addressed the entire room.

“A Harvenk spy infiltrated this stronghold and attempted to kill a guest of mine.” He stopped and scanned the faces again, looking for even the smallest hints of treason from any of them. HIs storm-blue eyes seemed to bore into everyone. “And I want to know how that could possibly happen. Each person inside this room is here to give me that answer.”

He let that information sink in for several moments.

“And if I find your answers unsatisfactory, it will not bode well for any of you.”