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Rise of the Dragon Queen

Page 23

by Sherri Beth Mitchell

But he was at dinner to eat roasted goat sprinkled with bay leaves and lemon juice with everyone else. Slices of potatoes were heaped in large bowls, running with butter, and platters of chicken livers littered the giant table. Turnip greens and mustard greens steamed near the overflowing plates of fruit. The dragon rumor flitted about the table, quite nearly causing a debate or two about the search for the Parent Gods over the Great Water.

  When crème-filled pies were placed upon the table for everyone’s enjoyment, Silvia happened to glance up to see Gregorich staring at her in a most unusual way. She was annoyed and a little unnerved. “Why do you look at me so?”

  “Meet me in the courtyard after dinner,” he replied in a flat voice.

  She did not care for his dismal tone one bit. “I refuse to meet you in a place that is not peopled.”

  He shrugged. “Very well, then. We shall do this another way.” He took a long draught of whiskey, set it down, and rose from his seat of golden bones.

  Silvia took this as a sign that he wanted to talk right then and so she also stood up. Stealing a glance at Keelan to make sure he was following her, she ambled after the King away from the dining table a little ways, where they could talk in loud whispers without being overheard. When they stopped, they were facing each other, but Silvia’s back was to the dinner table.

  Hapshamin smiled and his eyes twinkled mischievously. He smoothed back a rogue strand of blond hair and said, “I know some things you think I do not know.”

  “Such as, Your Highness?”

  “I know you murdered those people, Silvia. I also know you come from a large estate six days’ travel from here…not Alwak.”

  Silvia’s heart wanted to stop beating. Raena must have gotten to Gregorich, she thought miserably. How had that happened? Dalton and Grant were sure they had thrown her off the trail; they had been so confident when they had returned earlier. But the man before her had just said her true name, and had accused her of—wait a moment. He said she had murdered ‘those people’. And just who were ‘those people’?

  “Whom was I supposed to have murdered? And how many? I haven’t the time for silly games, my Lord.”

  “You murdered that poor woman’s family while they slept—all five of them. Why, the woman herself barely escaped by hiding under the dirty linens.”

  What in the Dark Moon had Raena been saying? Silvia was getting more and more lost, and it must have shown on her face for he laughed aloud at her.

  “What?” he said sardonically. “Do you not remember cutting their throats one by one so they could not scream and warn one another? It was only sheer luck that you stumbled in your strange surroundings and by doing so aroused the attentions of that old woman. I am only glad she lived to tell me the tale of your wickedness.”

  She did not like his mocking. “I have not the faintest idea what you are talking of and it is beginning to grate my nerves. Do I honestly look like a murderess?”

  His smile vanished, replaced by a sneer. “You have already proven yourself to be a liar, so why not a murderess? After all, I would bet my palace against a wooden cottage that you come from the same place as that young man who came to dine at my table the other night with Horace. Did you murder people in your own household as well? Did you run away from the crimes you committed there?”

  “How dare you even think that I could be capable of such things!” Silvia said, folding her arms across her chest. “I do not understand why you would want to believe such a tale. Honestly, Your Majesty, do you believe everything someone tells you just for the simple fact that it sounds interesting or ghastly?”

  “You can pretend all you like, milady, but you know what you did to your lover and his family.” He moved closer to her, standing only a little taller than her. His breath was hot on her face. “And if you do not agree to my engagement proposal you will be sentenced to execution for murdering those innocent people…tomorrow morning.”

  Silvia’s anger boiled over. “Oh yes, that will win you a sure wife in the future. I can hear the ladies of the city gabbing about it already: ‘Oh, he had her executed because she refused to be married to the likes of him! Can you imagine what sort of a beast he must be to do such a thing?’ It wouldn’t be prudent of you to sentence me to death, Your Highness.”

  “And it would be prudent to let a murderer walk the streets of my city freely?”

  “Why not? You walk the streets freely, after all.”

  Gregorich’s nostrils flared. “Are you truly accusing the King of Darkania of being a murderer?”

  “Perhaps I am,” she snapped. “Is that so far from the truth?”

  “What truth? What have I done to make you accuse me of this?”

  “Who says I am accusing?” she taunted. “I am only hinting. But it should be a crime to take children away from their families for your own evil purposes. After all, it would be close enough to murder if you destroy a family by separating it.” She hoped she was not exposing Quentin too much, however it was too late to stop now. Her blood was rushing through her veins so hard that she almost felt dizzy. She also had a queer urge to turn into her dragon form, to show the king what it was to be afraid. She wanted to see his fear, was craving seeing the look on his face when he finally realized that his end was near. If only she could do it now!

  For his part, Gregorich Hapshamin appeared a bit confused, but also very wary of the unforeseen conflict that he was having with his guest. “I do not know what you are speaking of, and I do not care. Whatever it is that you are implying has little relevance to the conversation at hand. You have a choice, Lady Silvia, or whatever your name may be. You can die for your terrible sins and cleanse my city of your filth. Or, you may repent on all that you have done and start over by marrying me and living a full, healthy life as the queen of one of the grandest cities this side of the Great Water. Most people do not get so lucky; they live or they die as the gods would have them do, and they get no choice in the matter. You do. You should seriously consider your options, my dear.” His face was intent as he frowned upon her, his forehead creasing deeply under his crown of blond hair.

  Silvia let go of her fury, raising her voice only a little. “You disgust me!” she hissed into his face. “You believe so many things, and yet you believe in nothing but yourself and what little hold you have upon your city. I am no murderess and I will not stand to be called one unless it is so. And if you think,” she said in a lower, more dangerous voice, “that I would ever marry the likes of you, you’re wrong.”

  “Because of this so-called engagement you already have?” he said in contempt. “No doubt you are still spitting lies. However, if you would like I can have your ‘engagement’ called off. I am a King, you know.”

  This initiated a warning growl from their feet, where Keelan was standing, his hackles raised.

  “It will certainly not be called off or canceled in any way for any reason!” She tried to take a deep breath to calm herself. She wished she could put her hands around his throat and squeeze until there was no air left in his body.

  “Is that your final decision?” Hapshamin said with a touch of genuine sadness.

  “Yes,” she said with conviction. Her eyes were narrowed and she had taken a step forward without realizing it.

  “Excuse me, Lady Serena.”

  Silvia turned to see Hans standing nearby, a fatherly look of worry on his face. “Yes, Hans?”

  “I was wondering if you need anything before I retire?” He looked pointedly at the King with absolutely no sign of respect.

  “Accompany me to my room in a moment, if you would. I am feeling a little tired myself.”

  “Of course, milady.” He walked off a little ways to wait, but not without glancing back.

  Gregorich began talking again, drawing her attention. “If that is your decision, then I must now act on it. I am sorry that you have chosen the shorter path. Lady Silvia, you are now officially in the custody of the King’s Guard and are no longer a guest, but a prisoner in my pal
ace. You are sentenced to death by hanging as you hang for the murders of five known individuals whilst they were unaware of your vengeance.”

  Silvia’s mouth dropped open as Gregorich grabbed her arm roughly and led her out of the dining hall. She heard shouts from behind her and looked back to see Hans and Frero wrestling with the Royal Guards in an attempt to follow. Everyone had risen from the dinner table, unsure of what was happening. Dalton and Grant were quickly heading towards a side door, watching her over their shoulders. One of the Guards had somehow grabbed Keelan and was holding the struggling animal with all of his strength. Hope fled out of her body as she saw her love being held captive, and although she briefly wondered where Quentin was, she did not hold any faith in getting rescued. Through many different passages and down several long flights of stairs she was taken. Her nightmare of Gregorich changing into a hideous monster flashed through her mind. Terror overtook her and in her shock, she hardly fought against the king. She couldn’t make herself change into the dragon in so small a space, or she’d bring the walls and ceiling caving in on them all. Slowly, the moans and groans and screams of pain grew louder and clearer as they got closer and closer to the dungeons. By the gods, was she to be strapped up to one of those awful contraptions, tortured in her last hours?

  “I wonder what your parents would have to think about your failed retribution. A pity the situation has turned foul for you. Tomorrow morning the prisoners will be sent off to war after you are executed, my dear. Until then, you shall be placed among them in a last attempt to change your mind,” he said smugly, tightening his grip upon her arm. “If you choose to be my queen all charges and accusations against your person will be dropped and you will live a happy and spoiled life.”

  Tears had formed in her eyes, but Silvia refused to let them fall. “You are a cruel, wicked person, my Lord. A spoiled wife for a spoiled brat trapped in a man’s body…is that what you want? You are selfish to think that everyone will bow down to your will because you are king. I intend on teaching you a thing or two before my execution.” She had no idea what she was saying, and didn’t care. She was to die in the morning, ruining all of her plans to regain the throne and take revenge for her dead parents. Her anger was mixed in a despair so deep that her thoughts began to get muddled. How could she salvage this? How could she prove who she was to her people and get her crown in a single night? Her mother and father floated before her mind’s eye with discouraging looks, and her tears finally burst forth. “You cannot do this! It just isn’t fair!”

  Gregorich chuckled darkly as they came upon the entrance to the dungeons. George and Stefan opened the door with very puzzled looks and let them in. Her cell was really a cage within a cage. The largest holding cell contained a tiny vertical cage within it that was only six feet high and five feet across. Dirty, half-starved men gawked and gaped at her as the King himself unlocked the outer door, took her to the little cage, and threw her in.

  “Normally we keep the women in small cells in another dungeon where the men cannot look upon them,” Hapshamin said in a nasty voice. “In this case…I will make an exception.”

  He slammed the door and locked it, leaving her to the deprived creatures that were already sticking their arms through the bars to touch her. When he got out of the big cell and locked that door as well, the King yelled, “Tell me in the morning if your mind changes!” and he left. George and Stefan were ordered to follow him, leaving not one Guard behind to help her.

  Silvia was horrified and scared beyond belief. What would she do? There was no one to aid her—she recalled the images of Keelan, Frero, and Hans being restrained. She hoped that Quentin was with Keelan now; Keelan would need him badly when she was put to death. But how would she fend these prisoners off? They crammed their arms through the steel bars and ripped at her dress, speaking obscenities to her. Many tried to jerk her to the sides to reach her better. How many were there? At a guess she would say fifty in the big cell, and many others throughout the dungeon. And what would happen if they pulled her completely to one side when half of her clothes had been ripped off? She couldn’t pretend not to see the body part that a lot of the men had already exposed, nor could she ignore the murmurs of sexual requests and orders that hummed through the crowd. She was too frightened to even try her magic, and wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on a spell anyway. She sobbed openly, screaming for them to stop and trying to fight off their hands. Her dress was torn badly in many places already, exposing her naked flesh. She thought about turning into the dragon (cursing herself for not doing it on the way down to the dungeon and gobbling up that fool of a king) but she was afraid the steel cage would limit her transformation or make it excruciatingly painful. She cried out as her nuuisaket was pulled off roughly, at the same time avoiding a grimy hand that was trying to grab her breasts.

  But then the men stopped grabbing at her and yelling bad things, all of them becoming silent almost as one and backing away from the cage. Silvia looked about wildly, not understanding why they had stopped. She tried to scoop the remains of her once beautiful dress about her body to hide her skin.

  “Look at her!”

  “Is it really her?”

  “Can’t be—she’s too young.”

  “Queen Madeline?” one asked uncertainly. He looked older than Hans did, especially the way he cocked his head to one side to look at her better with an eye that wasn’t clouded over. “Is that you?”

  Silvia now realized what had stopped these men from trying to ravish her. When her nuuisaket was torn off, it let loose her full mane of red hair, and with her face she was her mother’s twin. Trying to take charge of the situation now that they had quit attacking her, she stood up on shaky legs. Gathering up her nerve she composed herself and tried to look regal. Lifting her head up high, she said, “I am Madeline’s daughter, her only surviving child, and the true ruler of this city.”

  “She died at birth,” said one man. “You cannot be her.”

  “I was hidden away in another place. My death was faked for my protection. I have returned to seek my place.”

  For several long moments they did nothing but look at her and she didn’t think they would believe her words. But then one by one, and two by two, they all went down on one knee, crying apologies and pleading for forgiveness. Silvia was a little surprised they were so easily convinced but used those minutes to calm down and quit shaking. She tried to think of a spell that would repair her dress, and was rewarded with hasty magical stitching. It was strange to watch, and the men around the cage gasped and pointed. When the magic was finished with the dress she could hardly tell that it had been damaged at all except in spots where large pieces had been torn away. She resolved to perfect that spell when she next had the time. She began to look at the bars keeping her inside the cage. What could she do to get out? And did she really want to be out there anyway? A few moments ago all the men in the big cell had tried to rip her clothes away; what would happen if she were not locked up, but out there with them? Or did it really matter at all? She was to die in the morning anyway. Yes, she would die, the prisoners would be sent to fight for Rohedon, and the city of Darkania would fall to even more evil ways.

  Sighing, she leaned against the bars, speaking softly in Kieluna, trying to find the right things to say to escape from her prison. After a moment, the bars began to quiver underneath her skin. She stepped back and watched in awe as two of the bars started bowing out towards the other bars, slowly making a hole for her to slip through. Grateful that it had worked, she climbed out of the small cage. The bars went back to their original shape behind her. Everyone scooted out of the way to make a path for her as she walked to the bars of the outer cell. She went out of the big cell in the same fashion and turned around, exhaling a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Perhaps she had been afraid they would resume their vicious sexual assaults on her while they could, but all were still genuflecting to her.

  She cleared her throat and said, “I shall re
turn when I can.” She began to turn away, but the men started to stand up, each of them pleading for her forgiveness. They begged for their lives, and they begged for mercy and a quick death. She let them apologize profusely for several long minutes, knowing that each of them needed to say their piece on how sorry they were for trying to take advantage of her. All of them seemed to speak at once, but she heard the sincerity in their voices, saw the tears of regret. When she had heard enough, she raised her hand, and all went quiet. “I accept your apologies, though I do not condone your earlier behavior for an instant. What you tried to do was wrong, and I hope that you learn from it. Speak not a word of what you did to anyone, and no one shall ever know you did me wrong.” Keelan and Hans would personally murder every one of them for touching her as they had.

  One man, small in stature, stepped forward. She recognized him as the man who had stolen cattle for she could easily see the welts on his arms and neck where he had been scorched with the iron. “My Lady,” he said, bowing slightly, “I overheard one of the Guards earlier this day say that we were to be sent to Wexford in the morn’ to fight in the war.”

  Silvia dropped her head and shook it sadly. She tried to think of what to do and what to say. She did not want to lie anymore. Finally, she looked up at each one of the ragged men: they were scruffy, unshaved, despairing…And yet a light had appeared in their eyes, and she could almost swear it was some form of hope, a new dream reborn in their depressing lives. For a moment, she herself felt the weight of the world upon her back. Who was she to think she could help all of these men? And how? One could tell they were depending on her to sustain their last remnants of dreams of freedom. It was then that a familiar face came forth through the crowd of prisoners, a face that she recognized but never imagined that she would see again. He only wore a faded pair of breeches, and a pair of sandals that probably hurt his feet more than the cobblestone and rocks of the city streets. Silvia’s heart thudded; she wanted to bring forth the hate and disgust that she felt for this wretched individual with the tombstone face, but could not do it. She would never have thought he had been the person on that horrible stretching device, but his skin sagged and drooped where it connected to his torso. At his armpits were nasty, bloody cracks where the skin was already trying to heal back together. A flood of pity washed over her and she reached out to clasp the hand of the man who had murdered her servant.

 

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