The Secret of Spellshadow Manor 6 by Bella Forrest (books for men to read .TXT) 📕

so we’re clear, you will pay for what you’ve done, and you will pay for it with your life. I will come and collect you soon, to set the ritual in motion… So you had better start saying your prayers, Spellbreaker. Now, get out, before I start making alterations to my offer,” he added coldly, keeping his back to Alex.

Alex didn’t need telling twice. He turned to leave, but once again Julius called him back, apparently desiring one last moment of attention.

“Oh, and Alex?”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness?”

“We’re having a mighty feast tonight, and you’re not invited,” the king said, sounding like a spoiled toddler.

“I am sorry to hear that, Your Royal Highness,” Alex remarked, wanting to leave.

Julius chuckled. “Are you? You see, Spellbreaker, I’ve asked that a special meal be prepared,” he continued, his eyes dancing with malice. “I wonder, have you ever tasted roasted Thunderbird?” he asked, his mouth twisting into a foul grin.

Fury pulsed in every cell of Alex’s body. “Am I dismissed, Your Royal Highness?” he hissed through gritted teeth, spitting out every word as he fought back tears.

“Yes, you are dismissed,” the king cackled.

Turning from the throne room, Alex ran out into the vast foyer, darting past the young woman behind reception, hurtling down the spiral staircase two stairs at a time. At every level, he thought about jumping down past the guards and finding an escape route, but, the truth was, Julius had truly cornered him. Yes, there were soldiers keeping watch over every floor, and some following him, but it didn’t matter—Alex wouldn’t have run, even if they hadn’t been there.

The king had his friends, and there was no way he was going to let them suffer for his fear.

Chapter 23

Alex returned to his room, watched by the keen eyes of guards along the hallways, and the ones following at his back, ensuring he went the right way, without making any detours. Although he knew he couldn’t make an escape, part of him wanted to search the grand palace for any sign of his friends. But everywhere he turned, more guards blocked his path. They were here, and that would have to be enough for now. He just hoped that, wherever they were, they were safe and warm, and being treated properly. The thought of them in a dank cell while he lived a life of luxury in a plush bedroom wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on, but he had confidence in the manipulative hand of Venus. With her around, he knew his friends might just be okay. Well, as long as what he was seeing wasn’t simply a well-rehearsed act, made to ensnare people in her trap.

Once he had shut the double doors behind him, ignoring the sneers of the four guards outside, he let out a long, shaky sigh. His heart beat faster, his hands trembling, his mouth suddenly dry. Sinking down to the floor, he let the enormity of the meeting, and his loss, wash over him. All around him, he could feel the sand in the hourglass of his mortality hissing away, the world suddenly very small and desperately precious to him. Never before had he wanted to cling onto it so badly, knowing there was nothing he could do to hang on. Julius had signed his death warrant—now he just had to wait for his moment on the gallows.

Tears pricked his eyes, and for once he let them fall. He was alone, so completely alone, facing his mortality head on. Holding his head in his hands, a wave of nausea crashed through him. He let it pass and kept his head down, his whole body shaking. Looking up slowly, he saw the billowing curtains and the marble balustrade beyond and, just for a second, wondered if he should just vault it and get it over and done with. If there weren’t something he needed to do first, he knew it’d be preferable.

“I want to live,” he whispered to the vacant air.

He stayed there for what seemed like hours, crouched in front of the double doors, trying to push the thought of what was to come from his mind. Julius had deliberately not given him a date or time, of that he was certain; it amped up the panic and paranoia, just the way the king liked his torture. The tears dried, and soon all Alex was left with was a numb ache of dread, pulsing deep in the pit of his stomach.

He got up, dragging himself over to the bathroom. As he was about to reach for the door handle, there was a frantic knock at the bedroom door. Swiveling around, Alex frowned, not knowing who it could possibly be. He walked over to the double doors and tentatively opened one side, peering out to see who waited in the hallway.

Virgil stood there, glancing up and down the corridor with anxious eyes.

“You?” said Alex, dumbfounded to see the Head standing before him.

Virgil nodded. “Can I come in for a moment?”

“Why would I let you in?” Alex asked, hoping the skeletal man couldn’t see he’d been crying.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “This again? Really? I thought we were over that.”

Alex paused. Where there had been four guards, now there were none. “Wait, where are the guards?” he asked, puzzled.

“Look, there’s no time to explain,” Virgil insisted, pushing past.

Once the Head was in the chamber, there wasn’t much Alex could do but close the door and go back in, although not before taking one last look at the empty hallway. There was no sign of anyone, the entire length. It was a very tempting sight, but Virgil’s voice called him back to reality with a rude bump.

“Don’t even think about it, Webber. There are still guards patrolling, I just managed to persuade your particular set to go elsewhere for a while,” he explained.

Alex wandered over to where Virgil had taken up a seat at the small dining table where Alex’s satchel still lay, deflated with the book and vial