CHAPTER 54
Grace hadn't felt this conflicted in a long time. Every moment that passed only tangled her thoughts further, leaving her caught between reason and emotion.
As she sat in her chambers, trying to gather herself, the air in the room suddenly shifted. A strange stillness settled in, the kind that made her uneasy. She stood abruptly and moved to close the windows, but just moments later, they swung open again.
Frowning, she shut them once more. But before she could step away, a gust of wind forced them open again.
Her patience snapped. She let out an irritated sigh, striding over to the window. This time, she gripped the handle with more force, but the moment she pulled, the hinges cracked. The doors broke apart in her hands.
She stared at the broken handles before tossing it to the floor. Someone would come to fix it eventually.
Just as she turned away, a knock sounded at her door, it was soft yet rigid. She already knew who it was.
When she opened the door, King Charlenugo stood before her. His presence was striking, clad in black, he commanded absolute authority. There was something different about him today, perhaps it was the lack of his usual guards, or the way he held himself with an almost calm posture.
"King Quicke," he greeted as he strode inside without invitation.
Grace adjusted her crown, standing tall.
"We are to wear matching attire," King Charlenugo said. "Not just for today's trial, but always. We must never appear dissimilar."
Grace nodded. "Yes, Father. I am aware."
Silence settled between them.
Then, in a quieter tone, King Charlenugo asked, "What do you make of Parkston? Do you believe he killed for his ex-lover?"
Grace frowned, she stepped toward the broken window, staring out at the darkened sky. "I don't know how I feel, Father. This is a lot to take in."
King Charlenugo remained still, watching her. "If Grace was truly dead, then why does he still act for her sake?"
Grace exhaled, gripping the window frame. "What if she wasn't dead? What if it was all a facade?" She turned to gauge his reaction.
But King Charlenugo didn't flinch, her questions didn't seem to stir anything in him. "Then he should have handled things differently, Quicke." He paused, then straightened his stance. "It's time, Let's go."
Grace followed him in silence. This might be the last time she saw Parkston, he was going through all of this because of her, yet there was nothing she could do.
The grand hall was alive with murmurs. Nobles and warriors lined the space, their towering figures casting long shadows against the walls, the tension was heavy.
In the center of it all, Parkston knelt on the cold floor, his head bowed down.
Grace's gaze landed on his arm, what was left of it. The bandages wrapped tightly around the severed limb, it would remain a painful reminder of what had already been taken from him.
King Charlenugo stepped forward, clearing his throat, his voice boomed across the hall.
"Welcome, great people of Alagascar. It is a privilege to stand before you once more". His eyes swept over the crowd before settling on Parkston.
"The man before us is a killer, though his victim was not one of our own, justice must be served."
He raised a hand and declared, "We shall move to the Light Room."
A murmur rippled through the hall, "this was no ordinary trial." They whispered.
Parkston was hoisted to his feet by the guards. Grace kept her expression neutral, at least she tried to.
Queen Jonah stood still, untouched as ever. Meanwhile Judith followed behind, moving with a quiet precision.
Grace forced herself to remain composed. She had to, even if it meant watching the man she had once loved meet his end.
The walk was long and for the first time, Grace passed through rooms she had never seen before, hidden passageways, locked doors leading to unknown chambers.
Finally, they arrived.
Commander Robert stepped forward, pressing his hand against a large stone pillar. A low rumbling echoed through the walls as the doors swung open and brilliant, blinding light flooded the space.
Grace had never seen anything like it. The room stretched endlessly, bathed in golden illumination. Lights shimmered like suspended stars, casting radiant reflections across the floors. Lush gardens lined the edges, filled with exotic flowers in full bloom. Birds flitted through the air, their melodies soft.
She couldn't stop herself from whispering, "It's beautiful." But No one responded.
She glanced around, confused. Despite its vastness, there were no seats. Nothing to indicate that this space was meant for spectators.
"Bring him forward," King Charlenugo commanded.
Parkston was dragged to the center of the room, his chains clanked against the floor.
All eyes were on him.
King Charlenugo moved with slow, deliberate steps. He stamped his foot once, the sound reverberating through the chamber.
His voice carried over the crowd. "This is the Light Room," he began. "A place feared by all. Some call it another kingdom entirely, and I do not disagree."
He let the words settle before proceeding to speak. "This is where justice is served. Not in the halls of kings, nor in the whispers of the court, but here. When a murder is committed, we do not hold council. We come here."
Grace's brow furrowed. But why call it the Light Room? she wondered. The name doesn't match the weight of its purpose.
King Charlenugo's voice grew heavier. "Whenever the Light Room is mentioned, we must fear what is to come."
A sharp gust of wind rustled through the chamber, as though the room itself breathed with the weight of judgment.
And in that moment, Grace understood, that the light in this room wasn't warmth, rather, it was exposure.