Scorched (Phoenix Chronicles Book 2)

Chapter 9: Home Sweet Castle

Eric stared up at Osha's entry gates, squeezing his fists tight. Home.

Home?

In the pocket of his uniform trousers rested Abigail's bracelet. Part of him didn't want to know how she came to be on that executioner's platform. He wondered about the child as well - what would make a boy a threat enough to bring him to an isolated base? 

Walking through the gates felt almost as surreal as it had walking back into Treywick. The passage of time always fascinated him, and while it seemed to only have been a few weeks, it'd been three years since he'd almost defected from the Army and been whisked back to Osha to face his pare--the king and queen.

They'd sent him away again after a year of training to become the Commander. After his two year mission in search of the heir, he was back in his own city.

Where Abigail should be. 

He had to know. On his first chance, he'd check. 

The Osha Palace stood tall and jagged against skyline, the turrets like blades slicing into the clouds above. Built of shiny black onyx, the palace gave off the eternal feeling of night - something Eric had never found discomforting in the least. The night called to him, more now than ever before.

"Home sweet home," Samson said from beside him as they passed through the hulking double-doors. "As bustling as ever." 

Servants, soldiers, and stewards moved through the main hall in fluid ease, used to the traffic. A woman with a pinched expression paused at the sight of an entire unit entering the main gates. 

"Commander Lee, you're back?" She sniffled as she approached, dipping into a curtsy as she reached him. "Their majesties weren't expecting you for another month at least."

 "Mrs. Vue, I need to speak with them at once. It's a matter of some importance."

Mrs. Vue's nose wrinkled, but she nodded. "They're in the second study on the third floor. The king's in a mood."

Eric nodded. The king often had moods to plague him. He turned to his men with orders. "Samson and Jensa with me. Bring the prisoner. The rest of you report to the Lieutenant on duty and then go see your families."

They obeyed at once, with Tyrella Tremaine being brought forward by Jensa, who gripped her arm with a ferocity Eric didn't appreciate.

"Release her. There's nowhere for her to go now."

Jensa loosened his grip, but didn't let go. The three of them ascended the steps at the far end of the hall, rising higher until they reached the third floor. The freshly polished black stone, decorated by torches, expensive rugs, and paintings accompanied them all the way to the second study. 

Eric knocked once they arrived, receiving a curt, "enter." 

The study, which was the larger of the two on the third floor, held books banned in Braskey - most on the lore of Guardians and Ancients.  Some towns still had their own secret, locked away libraries like Treywick, but none had the expansive forbidden tomes like the castle. 

They lined the walls, leather bound in tans and reds, with the occasional green or blue. An oversized desk sat on one side of the room, a plush armchair placed before it. The king draped himself over it, his ruddy beard manicured to the last hair on the queen's orders. At the sight of Eric, Bainon propped himself up, a twinkle lighting his amber eyes.

"My boy!" He stood, marching over to Eric and clapping him on the shoulder. According to those who knew, Bainon hadn't recieved Tarvril's height, but he had gotten the looks. Eric searched the King's face for any sign of his own features there.