Ruler [Blood Magic, Book 3]

Chapter 15: Royal Dining (revised)

The royal chambers looked the same as they had in my dreams. Everything was dark, sleek, heavy and dominating. Keel hadn't changed his father's decor beyond a minor update or two; too busy building his little hidey-hole upstairs, I guess. 

Speaking of that, I wondered how long he planned on leaving me waiting. Long enough for my anxiety about his intentions to turn to panic? Long enough for my brain to start a new list of horrible could-happens?

I dared venture no deeper into the room than the twenty-odd steps it took to get to the hulking oak dining table, which sat in the centre of the large, open-concept space. There was a partial wall enclosing the training gym to the right, while on the other side of the table was an area that held a desk and six floor-to-ceiling bookcases, as well as a more informal lounge with the requisite black sofas and chairs and an angular brushed-metal coffee table. Past that, a small riser led up to the bedroom. The bed was a massive four-poster monstrosity that could sleep at least five. Similar to Keel's former room below, cupboards, drawers and wood panelling lined the surrounding walls. The artisan who made those clearly constructed these too, only he'd stained them several shades darker.

The biggest change the room had undergone since Keel's crowning  were the walls, which had been painted a regal but violent shade of red that made me woozy and uneasy at the same time. I wondered if he'd intended this unnerving reaction when he'd commissioned the paint job.

It was hunger and blood and darkness made tangible.

If Keel was embracing the dark - something I spent endless days worrying about long before arriving back here - then I needed to... what?

God, how I missed having someone to jam out problems with. I brought both fists down on the table hard, frustrated at my uselessness. Magic had always been the solution and now that it was no longer effective, I was devoid of good ideas.

Maybe I should give up and join Keel in his darkness, I thought, succumbing to the bleakness. Maybe the way things played out for Garstatt and Etan is the only way this ever goes. Maybe the bond isn't capable of good. Maybe all those poor, desperate ghosts are living on impossible dreams of redemption. Maybe I wasn't meant to be anyone's saviour, not even my own.

I pulled out a chair and slumped into it, exhausted from chasing my brain in circles when answers never came. 

The door swung open behind me, hitting what sounded like the wall with a heavy thump.

"Welcome," Keel said. He'd just walked into the room, but he was already right behind me. My heart beat fast and hard in my chest - a tiny drummerless drum.

When I realized he was waiting for me to reply, I mumbled out a dutiful "thank you" that didn't sound like I was thanking him for anything.

"I thought you might like the change of scenery, and to be honest, on a functional level, this made more sense," he said. Through the bond, the weight of his proximity bore down on me. Any closer and it'd be back to tangling up all my feelings. I also got the distinct impression that if I attempted to move from the chair, he'd shove me right back into it. I was his captive audience. Literally.

"I didn't think you cared about what I liked."

"Now, that's not true, is it? I had the kitchen make you a menu so the meals would be to your tastes, and I housed you in your favourite room here."

Is that how he saw putting me in his old bedroom. Didn't he realize? I dropped my head to the table, of course he didn't realize, he was Nosferatu now. 

"This might be a good time to start showing your king some respect."

I straightened and turned towards him, he wearing his royal robe and crown again. Being seated, he towered over me. "So I'm supposed respect you, be your slave, or else you'll order whatshisname to hurt Lucia?"