Cloaked Beauty

Chapter Thirty Five

The end is near. This is the second to last chapter before the epilogue.

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Woah.

"I am not the king of girl

Who should be rudely barging in on a white veiled occasion

But you are not the kind of boy

Who should be marrying the wrong girl

I hear the preacher say speak now or forever hold your peace

There's a silence

There's my last chance

I stand up with shaking hands

All eyes on me

Horrified looks from everyone in the room but I'm only looking at you"

- Speak Now - Taylor Swift

Chapter Thirty Five – Celeste

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I didn't react the way I should have, or the way I wanted to. I didn't run. I didn't scream. I didn't ask questions. I didn't refuse. I didn't shake my head.

In fact, I did nothing. My body had completely frozen, had completely stilled. The words just didn't make sense.

“Celeste Edulici, you are under arrest for high treason.”

“What did I do? What high treason.”

“For the murder of Her Royal Highness, Princess Penelope Field North.”

It still wasn't registering in my head. For a long time, I didn't notice any of my surroundings. I was completely out of it. How did they accuse me of such an act? Why did they? I had committed no crime-

Someone pushed me forward, causing me to stumble onto my knees. I caught myself in time, my hands coming into contact with hard solid floor. A weird solid kind of floor. Suddenly coming to my senses, I glanced around. I gulped.

Oh shit! They had put me in the dungeon. I stood up quickly and ran forward, but found my exit to freedom blocked by steel bars. My hands clamped around the cold steel bars. I held onto them so hard that my knuckles turned a pale white, but I didn't let go, The pain caused me to be aware of my senses, and I needed that.

“You guys have the wrong person you know,” I stated. My voice echoed throughout the dungeon. The knight standing guard at the staircase that led back up to the castle smirked.

“They're not going to believe you,” a voice said.

I turned my attention to the front of me, where I realized someone was sitting in another cell. It was a woman, her light blond hair messily piled into a ponytail. Deep amber eyes stared back at me. Glancing to my left, I realized we weren't the only two people in the holding cells.

“Who are you?” I asked warily.

“Elena,” she answered. Her voice was louder this time, but light. “You are?”

“Celeste. What wing of the dungeon is this?” I asked.

“What do you think? This is the Radeskian wing.”