Royal Revenge

The room was so damn suffocating. Not in the way the orphanage or a small space might be, but with the weight of it—the silence, the opulence, the constant awareness that I wasn’t supposed to be here. The thick carpets and embroidered tapestries, the gleaming gold trim around every surface, the bed that felt more like a throne than a place to sleep. It all made my skin crawl.

I’d tried pacing at first, thinking maybe movement would keep the panic at bay, but it didn’t. The more I moved, the more trapped I felt. No matter how much I walked, I wasn’t getting out. I kept staring at the window, but it was too high, I was stuck in this cage.

My mind raced with every step. King. The word felt heavy, strange. Was I actually a bastard of the late king or something? It didn’t make sense. I was definitely not some prince. I came from the orphanage, where surviving was all I had ever known. The World Tree, the song, the blessing—none of this should have been real, at least not like this.

But it was.

The faces of the dead flashed through my mind. The guards, the boy who had tried to kill me. And Darrick, lying there in the pile of bodies, his black eyes staring into nothing. I’d hated him for as long as I could remember, but seeing him like that… There was no satisfaction, no relief. Just an empty pit in my stomach.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The song. Royal Revenge. It was still there, humming under my skin, like it had burned itself into my very self. Whatever it was, it had saved me. But it had also trapped me here.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers brushing against the mark on my forehead. It was warm, pulsing faintly. What kind of sick games are the gods playing at?

Before I could sink further into the torrent of questions swirling in my head, a knock came at the door. It was soft but insistent. My heart lurched, and I stood quickly, my body tensing. The door creaked open, and a servant stepped inside, bowing slightly. He was young, maybe not much older than me, with a blank expression that betrayed nothing.

“The meal is ready, my lord,” he said, his voice low and formal. “You are expected to join the others in the dining hall.”

I didn’t move at first, unsure whether I should follow. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to avoid even the gazes of those people—the ones who had looked at me like I was so much less, something that was born just to be discarded. But I couldn’t stay here forever.

“Then take me there,” I finally said, my voice steadier than I felt.

The servant led me through winding corridors, each one more elaborate than the last. The polished marble floors reflected the light from the chandeliers above, and with each step, I felt smaller, more out of place. The palace was a world unto itself, and I truly didn’t belong in it.

When we reached the dining hall, the doors were opened for me, and I was ushered inside. The room was massive, with a long table that stretched almost the entire length of it. Golden chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting a warm glow over the gathering of nobles already seated. Is everyone here a Vamyr? I couldn’t see anyone without a mark on one arm or the other, and seated close to the entrance were two people I recognized. One young, with brown eyes and long black hair, and an older woman sitting right in front of him.

He barely glanced at me. Some of the others were picking at their food, others whispered among themselves, but a few watched me, their eyes sharp and calculating. The woman from the day before greeted me with a smile that was all teeth, her eyes cold as ice.

I was guided to the head of the table, to the place of honor. It felt wrong, sitting there. I wasn’t a king. I wasn’t even close. But there I was, in the seat reserved for someone far more important than I could ever hope to be. The weight of their stares pressed down on me as I sat, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on.

The plate before me was filled with food—delicacies I’d never seen before. But I wasn’t hungry at all. The sight of it made me feel sick. Still, I picked at the food, pretending to eat just to keep my hands busy, to avoid meeting their eyes.

The murmurs of conversation around me felt distant, like they were happening somewhere else, far from where I sat. I took a sip of the wine before me, the cool liquid sliding down my throat, but it did nothing to calm the knot of anxiety twisting in my stomach.

And then, without warning, one of the servants holding a tray behind me collapsed to the floor. The sound of his body hitting the ground was like a stone breaking through glass—everything stopped.

I turned in time to see him convulsing, foam frothing from his mouth. His body twitched violently before he went completely still.

The room was silent, the air thick with shock. I stared at the lifeless servant, my mind reeling. The many nobles around the table remained frozen, their expressions unreadable.

An amused whistle broke the silence. I looked up to see a man seated a few chairs down, his face split into a grin. He was handsome, with golden hair and a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“Well, well,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “It seems the tales are true after all.”

His words sent a chill down my spine. The other nobles glanced at him, some of them frowning, but no one said anything. The man laughed, a cold, sharp sound that made my skin crawl.

“Boy, what did your song say?” he asked, his eyes locking onto mine with clear predatory intent.

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. I’d lied before and the mysterious boy had seen right through me. But what could I say? The real words were clear in my mind, like they were carved onto my very soul, so I would have to hopefully be able to make things up on the fly.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “The gods have seen, the rightful crowned,” I began, my voice steady despite the panic clawing at me. “A royal blessing now unbound. With untold might, the king will fight, under his rule, there will be light.”

The man’s smile widened, but I couldn’t read the expression behind it. Was he mocking me? Testing me?

“All beasts and foes, in battle’s cry, feel wounds returned, though still they try.” I continued, my heart pounding in my chest. “Each cut they deal, in fury wild, is met with vengeance swift and vile.” I paused so I could gauge their reaction and get more time to think about what to say next. “Those who try can only fall, their blows deflect, returned to them. For every strike they dare to send, meets the most of [Royal Revenge]." I lied.

The room was silent, the tension thick enough to cut. I could feel the eyes of every noble on me, waiting, watching. The young man leaned forward, his grin still in place.

“Did it really?” he asked, his voice full with amusement. “What do you think the gods have given you?”

I swallowed again, my mouth dry. “I don’t know,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

His laughter was sharp, and it cut through the room like a knife. “How amusing,” he sneered.

The woman from the day before glared at me, but she said nothing. The other nobles exchanged glances, some of them murmuring among themselves. I felt the weight of their judgment, the undercurrent of tension in the room. They didn’t trust me. They didn’t believe me.

And yet, some of them were afraid.

I pushed my plate away, whatever slit of appetite I had now completely gone. I couldn’t stay here any longer. The pressure in the room was unbearable, suffocating. I stood abruptly, my chair scraping loudly against the floor as I did.

“I need to leave,” I said, my voice strained. “I—”

Before I could finish, a servant appeared at my side, guiding me away from the table. I didn’t resist. I couldn’t. My legs felt weak, and my heart was pounding in my chest. The nobles’ eyes followed me as I left the room, their whispers like a shadow that trailed behind me.

Back in the corridors, the silence felt heavier than ever. The servant led me back to my room, but the walk felt like it took an eternity. When we finally arrived, I collapsed onto the bed, my mind spinning. I can’t do this.

But there was no way out.

As night fell, the lock made a cracking sound, and the door creaked open again. The boy from before slipped inside. His eyes were sharp, his expression unreadable.

“You are smarter than you look,” he said, his voice low.

I didn’t respond. My mind was too full, too tangled with everything that had happened. The boy stepped closer, his gaze searching mine.

“They’re scared of you,” he said, his voice soft but urgent. “They aren’t sure about what you can do, and fear is on your side, at least for now.”

“They didn’t believe me, I can’t keep up with this,”

The boy smiled, though it didn’t fully reach his eyes. “You’ll have to, at least until I figure something out.”

"Do you actually want me to be king?" I asked, my voice quiet. "Is that why you’re helping me?"

The dark boy’s expression softened, a mix of bitterness and longing in his eyes. He stood, moving toward the door. "The ruling class, once just and noble, is rotten to the core," he said, his voice carrying a weight of truth. "I know how it is to not be one of them,” he sighed. “It's not that I want you to be king, I just don’t want one of them to be."

He paused at the door, glancing back at me with a final, almost wistful look. "But if you really can’t do this, then I’ll find another way."

With that, he slipped out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts, the weight of my new reality pressing down on me from all sides.