Arlos had been captured.
Queen Emma's reaction was nothing short of euphoric. When Oliver delivered the report, her usually composed demeanor cracked, revealing a smile so genuine yet terrifying that it sent ice through my veins.
The way her green eyes gleamed frighteningly made me wonder if Arlos might actually prefer the quick death I could have given him to whatever fate awaited him in the Queen's dungeons.
Unfortunately or maybe not, my heroic deed didn't earn me an immediate ticket back to Millbrook. Queen Emma was still neck-deep in negotiations with King Francis Lorendia—something about trade agreements and military alliances that apparently required her personal attention for a few more days.
"For your safety, Harold. Until we're certain Arlos had no accomplices lurking about, you'll remain under close protection."
She had said.
And so began my unwilling imprisonment in the capital's finest hotel.
