Sir Grant stood up straight and yelled, “Let us out of here this instant!”
“Quiet!” the figure shouted, and a flap of skin formed over their mouths, sealing their lips completely.
Only Silvia remained unchanged and not behind bars. She took this as a sign that the woman wished to speak with her more. She was scared to death and it probably showed. The woman had more knowledge of magic than she did and was not to be tested. But Silvia wasn’t going to back down from a coward who wouldn’t show her face, and she wasn’t going anywhere without a fight. “Who are you? Tell me, for I am losing what little patience I have left,” she said. There, that sounded brave, she thought. Now if she could keep the woman talking while she thought of a way to save her friends…
The person chuckled. “Who am I? Oh, I have had so many names over the years in my travels. But I do believe you already know one of them.” The figure peeled back its hood.
Silvia’s eyes widened. “Eulonda?” What was going on? .
“Yes, child, that is one name for me. Are you going to stand there gaping or are you going to say something else?” A sneer began to form on her lips.
The young Queen snapped out of her shock. “Where have you taken the prisoners?”
“I have transported them to my father,” Eulonda replied with a nod of her head. “My half-brother was procrastinating so much that I decided to send them on myself.”
Silvia’s disbelief returned. “Do you mean to say—“
“Yes,” Eulonda interrupted impatiently. “Lord Rohedon is my father, just as Gregorich Hapshamin is my half-brother.” She chuckled again, obviously pleased with herself. “You are in deep trouble, Lady Silvia. Do you know that? You have made a mess out of all of my plans.”
Silvia’s face reddened in anger. “I beg your pardon, but I am not in any sort of trouble, and you are showing a great disrespect to your Queen,” she responded.
“Ah, you accepted his proposal. Good.” She seemed not to see the puzzled looks on their faces. But they saw something unreadable flash in the older woman’s eyes. “Now, if you wish to talk of disrespect, then we shall talk about it. You have disrespected my brother by lying to him from the beginning, little girl.”
“Apparently you are very mistaken,” Silvia said in a dangerous tone of voice. She glanced down, fingering her wedding ring. A smile tilted her full lips as she stated, “I am the Queen, but I did not accept Gregorich’s proposal before exposing his true identity.”
“What do you mean?” Eulonda asked, alarm in her tone. “What have you done with him?” For the first time, she seemed a little off her guard, a little frightened.
“The people of the city decided his fate, and he is no longer with the living. Eeirch has taken him to the Land of the Dead for all eternity.”
“You deceitful child! How could you do that to him?”
Silvia’s hands formed fists on her hips. “He greatly deserved what he got and no one tried to stop it from happening. It was very clear who was the real wrongdoer!”
“He deserved nothing from you!” Eulonda screamed. A solitary tear trickled slowly down her cheek. “But now I will avenge his death. I will do what should have been done in the beginning. I knew who you were the second I saw your face without that bloody cover over it. You never should have lived outside the palace walls the night of your birth, child.”
“Oh, so you are going to do away with me?” Silvia was treading on dangerous ground but did not care to stop. Dessica had always told her that women with red hair had the worst of tempers. “What wonderful revenge for your brother. Tell me, how will you do it? We are in a most appropriate place for the event,” she said, gesturing at the torturing devices around them. “You can stretch my body until my appendages tear apart, or you could pour boiling oil on my naked flesh. You can run me through with any manner of weapons or we could walk back out to the gallows to hang under the bright morning sun. Which do you prefer?”
“You would much rather me do it than my father,” Eulonda said quietly, “for he would not be so patient with your mouth.”
Silvia felt an intense fury deep within her. She struggled to keep her dragon side at bay, at least for the time being. “I will destroy you and I will destroy your father.”
Eulonda whispered something in a harsh tongue and Silvia was thrown against the cold bars of the cell by an invisible force.
She gasped for the air that was knocked out of her and pushed herself away from the cold iron at her back. “Nihal nol dua!” she cried, and the older woman was hurled through the air, smashing into the far stone wall face-first, where she collapsed. Silvia stared at the heap lying on the floor, and then started trying to find the counter spell to take the extra skin off of her friends’ faces. She found the words, and breathed a sigh of relief when their mouths reappeared. But the breath caught in her throat as unseen ropes bound her legs and feet. Unsteady, she fell hard on her side as Eulonda slowly began to get up, her face bleeding profusely.
In a flash, a red blur shot through the bars of the large cell and headed straight for her, grabbing the back of Eulonda’s neck with its small mouth and violently shaking her. But Eulonda was not out of strength, or without her wits. Her hands reached behind her and after a moment got a firm hold on the fox. She plucked Keelan off as if he were a flea and tossed him aside. His head hit the stone floor with a sickening thud and blood began to ooze out of his mouth and ears.
“Keelan!” Silvia screamed. Her green eyes shifted into green flames. The unseen ropes that bound her seemed to disintegrate. She rose to her feet, wrath in her eyes and death on her lips. “Witch!” she hissed.
Eulonda turned her bloody face to see the young woman now walking towards her. The dark look in Silvia’s eyes sparked fear into the very core of her heart. Scared, she tried something different, blinding Silvia with a spell.
Silvia cried out and fell forward, mumbling words for a counter spell. Her nemesis stood up and withdrew a wicked blade from the insides of her cloak. She walked over to Silvia and smiled.
“My father will make me queen of this city now, you filthy little country rat. Soon he will rule this whole country from one end to the other and send it to devastation in memory of you.” She wrapped her fingers in Silvia’s hair and jerked the girl’s head back sharply. “Know that you die by the hand of your enemy. Sweet dreams, child.” She placed the knife on Silvia’s throat as a little mouse darted in between them and stood on its hind legs, staring at her. Eulonda’s eyebrows drew down. “What in the—“
The mouse changed swiftly, and the only thing she saw was a swirling white cloak before she was rammed backwards. Her knife was easily wrested from her fist by the figure and plunged deeply into her heart.
Quentin twisted the knife to give her last moments of life more pain. “Know this!” he growled at her. “You die by the hand of your enemy!”
And it was done.
Silvia crawled over to Keelan after regaining her sight and sobbed uncontrollably. Quentin ran to her and put his arms around her, rocking her body gently. When she calmed down she said the words to unlock the iron doors for the others. They gathered about Keelan silently. His head was bleeding, though not as badly as it had seemed a moment ago. But his breaths were shallow and rapid, and he would not open his eyes. “How can we help him?” she cried to Zander. “I cannot lose him yet. Our lives have only just begun.”
The old man looked at her with pained eyes. “The only way I can think of is if we all lay our hands on him and send our love into his body, just as we did with Quentin when Gregorich sent for him.”
No one really understood how that could possibly help Keelan, but they placed their hands upon his body anyway. Silvia, Quentin, Sir Grant, Prince Dalton, Frero, and Zander laid their hands on Keelan’s tiny red body and closed their eyes. Tears fell from every eye to wet his fur. Strange and sad words were muttered with intense feeling, and some of each went into him. After what seemed an eternity, Keelan opened his eyes, one at
a time, blinking several times before changing into his human form.
“It worked!” Zander exclaimed with relief.
Silvia buried her face into the palm of Keelan’s hand, sobbing hard. Grant and Zander began to examine the wound on his head—a long cut on the side of his scalp.
“It’s not very deep. Just a flesh wound,” Grant said solemnly.
“I…” Keelan whispered. He swallowed and tried again. “I saw into your thoughts.”
“That’s impossible,” Zander said, shaking his head. “I’ve only heard of a few people through the histories that have been able to read the thoughts of others and every one of them was born with the talent.”
Keelan waved the remark away feebly. “Do not be so quick to disprove me. You are worried about Lord Rohedon coming tomorrow and what our strategy will be against him.”
Zander’s jaw dropped.
Keelan grabbed Grant’s hand. “You are worried about how many more traitors there are in our midst and if we will catch them before more harm is done to anyone else.”
Grant nodded. “It is heavy on my mind. You should have personal Guards day and night until we are sure.”
The King then turned to Dalton, but said nothing. The prince’s cheeks reddened slightly, though his eyes remained on Keelan. Silvia wondered what had been seen in the prince’s mind, but thought it best not to ask.
Grant was looking at Eulonda’s body. Her eyes stared lifeless towards the ceiling. “I never would’ve thought she was an enemy,” he muttered. “She seemed so…normal.”
Silvia’s eyes shed silent tears as she nodded in agreement. “I feel the same. It scares me that I considered her an acquaintance.” She shivered, and Keelan sat up to hold her in his arms.
“My beautiful, beautiful Queen,” he whispered into her ear, “I am so thankful that my brother saved your precious life when I could not.”
“Was that what you saw in my thoughts?” Quentin asked him softly.
Keelan turned to his brother. “I saw a true act of loyalty in your mind, and with no hesitations to prelude it. What you have done was meant to atone for past atrocities, and from pure devotion to my wife for forgiving you.”
“Anything for my Queen,” said Quentin. He bowed his head to the floor in reverence. “I will never betray her. My life is hers to give.”
“Quentin,” Silvia said, “I release you from my services with much love and thanks. You may now do as you wish. You no longer have penance to pay.” She meant every word that she said, though it pulled at her heart to think of him not being near her. She had grown quite used to having an invisible protector.
Quentin lifted up his head. “I wish to remain in your household as your personal guardian, milady. That is what I wish…and to never leave my brother so long again.”
“You will be treated as we are—as royalty,” Silvia said sternly. “No longer will you be a servant. On those conditions will your terms be accepted.”
Quentin smiled and hugged them both.
Chapter Nineteen—The Winds of War
The feast that night was the largest that anyone in the palace had ever seen, or remembered hearing of. Dukes and duchesses, barons, and baronesses were among the higher classed countrymen showing support of their new King and Queen. Eagles, pigeons, and hawks of all sorts were being sent out all over the city to tell foreigners of the drastic changes. Other kings and queens were to get their notices of the events on tiny pieces of gold-inscribed parchment carried by special eagles that were cleaned and adorned with royal décor.
As three more long tables were added to the banquet hall for all the guests, the newly called ‘Lystians’ came to lay flowers and such outside the palace walls. Inside, rich candies, flower arrangements that had been meticulously bunched together, jewelry, pearl-handled knives, and many other things were presented to King Keelan and Queen Silvia with honor, praises, and (of course) much brown-nosing.
After dessert was served, the Queen stood and rapped a silver spoon on her glass goblet. “I have one or two things to say to everyone, so I need your attention please. First of all, Lystia’s colors must be changed as well as its coat of arms. The new colors shall be dark purple and light blue. New uniforms for the Royal Guard are already being sewn all over the city, but I abhor the idea of a raven as our symbol of freedom. I wish you to help us decide on our coat of arms. I represent your city as well as rule it, but your opinions will always matter to me.”
“I say a purple dragon against the sky to honor the savior of the city,” Prince Dalton suggested loudly, smiling at her with his dark, slanting eyes. His goblet had been refilled quite a few times already, though his speech did not slur.
“A sensible idea!” several people shouted.
“I agree with it completely,” the King said, patting his wife’s hand.
Silvia nodded, warmly surprised at it all but content. “Very well. That will be our new coat of arms. But now for the more serious matter: Lord Rohedon is said to be arriving tomorrow to visit his son Gregorich Hapshamin. We know not what the time of day will be when he comes and his son is now dead. He will attempt to punish me and this city for what Gregorich brought upon himself…I will take full responsibility for everything and then I will drive him from this city and kill him.” Half of the dinner guests were openly gaping at her, although many just stared without expressions, knowing this to be her duty. “Chances are, my new friends, that I may die trying to accomplish this but that will not hinder me from what I mean to do. Fear of death will not stop me from protecting this great city.” She stopped to take a sip of dark wine from her goblet.
Before she could resume speaking a large man near the middle of the next table stood up. He glanced around at his fellow diners, then puffed out his chest and spoke loudly. “My Queen, we will fight with you to the death. We will not let Rohedon start another war here—he has done enough harm to this world!” As he drew his sword and placed it flat upon the barrel that was his chest and bowed, Silvia recognized him as Horace. Hanovi’s uncle straightened and lowered his sword to his side.
Silvia acknowledged him with a nod as many cheered his words. “Then Lystia will conquer,” she said to everyone. “But therein lies another problem. In another part of this vast world is a land locked in desperate turmoil, as Horace has pointed out. In order for Lystia to be a peaceful city, the surrounding lands must also be in peace, and we are the ones to make it so. I will soon be sending an army from here and going to war to fight Rohedon’s people; I have already given my word on this. However we cannot stop there, or the enemy will only retreat to come back with more force.”
“So what are we to do?” a woman asked, teetering as she stood up.
Silvia looked around the room slowly. “We must strike at the very core of our enemies and utterly destroy them.” Moans and astonished whispers went amuck. “Yes,” she interrupted firmly. “I will lead the army into the Realm of Rohedon and make peace through the blood on my sword.”
Raucous roars deafened the tender ears of the room instantly. Swords clashed as the men brought them together to seek union with each other. For many this was a sort of celebration, as their city had not been to war in many, many years, and so it would be a time to show their strengths and power.
Silvia’s heart beat quickly. They were ready to go to war! She almost could not believe they were willing to fight for her already. “So shall we bring order and harmony to this realm again! Let it begin! Let the city of Lystia conquer all enemies who stand in the way of peace!” she cried, drawing her sword as well.
King Keelan and Quentin were on their feet as well, clanging swords in union with Prince Dalton and Sir Grant, and yelling with the rest of the men.
Indeed, it truly had begun.
Keelan and Silvia slept in the same room they had been staying in while their new bedroom was being refurbished and decorated. After the dinner guests had drunk themselves silly in celebration and departed, the King and Queen walked hand in hand to the bed
room and locked the door. Hot water had already been emptied into their tub and they took a long, luxurious bath. They washed each other’s bodies lovingly, and then exited the tub. Long thick robes had been laid out for them, which they donned after drying off. They opened the doors to the balcony and sat outside talking until Silvia’s hair was nearly dry. Finally, Keelan turned to her and said, “My love, are you ready to go to bed?”
Nervous butterflies exploded into flight inside her stomach; she quelled them with silent desire and nodded. He took her hand and led her back inside to the bed, leaving the glass doors to the balcony open to the gentle warm breeze of summer. The torch on the wall was lit; the bed was covered in a soft, delicate glow.
“My Queen,” he said with affection, “let me love you as a man should love a woman. Let me learn with your body. Be my teacher, my lover…” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her tenderly.
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