The Lost Hero: Chapter 19

Misly held her head high and ignored the sly looks as she went about her business in the palace.

She had a dreamy sort of smile, one she had practiced in front of her mirror until it was perfect. Paired with her long lashes and dark curls, it spoke to her soft, sensuous nature. Normally used to invite attention, it now served as armor against the whispers.

The first weeks had been horrid. The fear that the queen’s favorites would be punished. Banished, perhaps, or imprisoned under suspicion of complicity. Many fled to their estates, relying on their private guards to protect them.

Misly’s parents quickly declared allegiance of those claiming to support the king. They did not have enough political or economic clout to risk being found suspect.

Misly could not blame them. It was why she was in the palace in the first place, why she suffered through years of lessons and tutors. She had three younger siblings to think of, their futures and her family’s safety.

She thought of her sisters and brother when others of the court pointed out how close she had been to the queen. When their barely veiled threats grinned malevolently at her, she draped herself on the furniture and smiled her vapid smile.

“She was such a dear, though. I would never have thought she could do such a thing to poor King Baephus!”

She still didn’t. The one lesson she attended and remembered was literature. Keto had written this plot, some two hundred years ago. The princess deposed, believed to be dead. The king controlled by his puppet masters. Unbeknownst to the traitors, the princess’ lover had hidden her away, disguised as a servant girl until she could reclaim her rightful place.

Juen hadn’t seemed interested in the Athusan prince, but as he vanished the same night, Misly suspected he was involved in some way. He certainly wasn’t dead, as the usurpers claimed.

Had they not seen his wrists? The breadth of his shoulders? He would have torn the palace apart stone by stone had they tried to detain him.

As he was definitely the type to rush to the aid of a distressed damsel, Misly felt sure he had rescued her queen.

But how? And where? Nothing had been seen or heard of them for months.

And she knew there were discrete searches being done. Riders arriving at odd hours, whispers in corners. Whether these were supporters of the rightful ruler or not, she didn’t know. But it told her enough; she must play her part and protect her family the only way she could.

So she did. Weeks passed and she smiled even as her heart grieved. She watched helplessly as the infirm king was led about like a trained bear. His face was as vacant as her smile.