Chapter 20 - Nick (Part 2)

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"Late for what?" Nick frowned.

The pendulum clock had thrown him out of the blissful world of 'Lucas and The Horse Lords', and back into his own. He patted the leather couch, then the silk cushions. His mind hadn't deceived him; he was still in the King's office, and his only daughter had really spent the last couple of hours reading him that hilarious story.

"Dinner." The Princess flung the book onto the coffee table and slipped back into her diamond-coated mules. "We have to hurry. Mama hates it when I'm late."

Nick stood up, carefully swiping the biscuit crumbs from the cushions into his hand to put them back on the empty plate. King Ariel's scroll silently scrunched with every muscle he moved. If only the Princess didn't have her eyes all over him, he would have shoved it under the couch and pretended it had never happened.

God of Patience, the King could never find out.

"Leave the crumbs." Princess Alana grabbed his arm to drag him along. Since she was in too big a hurry, he barely managed to step into his shoes and was forced to leave them untied. "Papa will think he did that. It's Mama you need to worry about. Believe me when I say that you don't want to get on her bad side."

"It's fine. I believe you."

They sprinted down the corridors, rushed through the empty hall, and jumped down half the steps of the spiralling staircase. Nick spent most of the time looking at his own feet. He wasn't Fox; he wasn't going to trip over his laces and fall flat on his face.

The Gods may have spared him from that embarrassment, but not from panting like a dying man when she halted in front of a colossal door framed in carved golden ivy and sycamore leaves. The richness of the castle kept on astounding him. It was hard to imagine that Lord Brandon—    who preferred the freedom of the deep forest to his own home—used to live here.

The Princess hummed in disapproval, studying him from head to toe. "Hang on. You can't go in like this."

"W-what?" He froze when she crouched down and tied his shoelaces. No God or Goddess could save him from blushing so much his cheeks stung from the heat.

She rose back up, then wiped the last of the crumbs of his jacket. He shuddered as her fingers softly brushed over the side-pocket in which he had stuffed the scroll. On her lips curled a mocking grin that slowly grew wider. "Nervous?"

"A little."

"Don't be. It's just dinner. You do know about Papa's little ear problem, don't you?"

Nick nodded. Captain Jonathan had informed him that he shouldn't address King Thomas when the ear covered with an obsidian stone was facing him. Apparently, the injury was a touchy subject, though Nick didn't understand why; being partly deaf surely didn't make him a lesser monarch.

"Then nothing can go wrong. Leave Mama to me." She turned away from him and twisted the golden handle before he had the chance to do that for her.

Clearly, he wasn't made to be chivalrous.

He entered the enormous tree-high hall, which was lined with marble columns and a giant window on the eastern wall that looked out on the rose bushes in the garden. Above the frame hung a large golden cuckoo clock, its pendulum swinging rhythmically. 

Five past six. Not that late.

The only person present was a woman who seemed like an older and paler copy of the Princess; she could only be Queen Crystal. Sparing them no glance, she picked up one of the silver forks that had been laid out on the long wooden table carved with the same sycamore leaves. "You're late. Again."

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