His Angel

The walk to my father's room was short but dreadfully uncomfortable. The dimly lit hallway had a more eerie feeling than usual. The low light emanating from the few deliberately placed candles danced in the dark as though they quivered with fear.

My father usually only summoned someone when he was pissed the hell off. He definitely was not the most difficult one to upset either. If the wind blew too hard in his direction, he was mad and ready to set things on fire. It must be old age or just a bitter ass demon in him.

The two guards who lead us to my father's chambers were silent the entire walk. They opened both doors that lead to my father's chambers simultaneously as my mother and I slowly walked in.

“Young King and Madam Margaret”, the older guard announced.