The Empty Crown

by Georgina Makalani

  He had been so sure he could use her. That she would work with them to defeat the king the boy would someday become. She was just what the regent needed. And the lord, even though she was family, had been eager to give her up. But then she would have allowed the kingdom to take far less in the future from the clifftop islands of the north.

  Now the girl was running loose with the soldier, and he had no idea where. It was almost as though she had hidden herself from him, and yet he wasn’t sure how that could happen. She was strong, but she didn’t understand what she was or what she would become. He could only hope they had fallen from the islands or were lost in the mountains. He finally inserted the small key into the box and turned it one-quarter to the left, then three-quarters directly to the right. A small click announced it open, and he lifted the lid to reveal a green cloak folded neatly.

  He pulled it out, careful not to shake too much of the girl from it, and took a moment to lean towards it and breath in the scent of her. Her magic emanated from it. He shivered with the excitement. Beneath the cloak were several smaller items taken from her house and things she had used or touched within the castle.

  One being a broken cup from the day before he had arrived. The lord had kept it, saying it was unusual for her to be so clumsy. She thought the girl had contrived the accident to see the papers on her desk.

  He held the cloak in one hand and picked up the teacup with the other. He couldn’t feel the same power he held in the other hand. In fact, he couldn’t feel anything. He looked over the other items, then returned his focus to the cloak. He carried it through the maze of shelves, piles of books and equipment he had invented or procured over his many years as mage, towards a small fire burning at the far end of the room. Before the fire sat a large copper bowl, reflecting the firelight.

  He dropped the cape into it and then closed his eyes, moving his hand slowly over it. A small smouldering flame hummed into existence. It burned blue and then green. And as it grew, it became a brilliant red. She was much more powerful than he had imagined. He watched as the flames grew taller and then, leaning over, breathed in the smoke that swirled up in crimson curls from the material.

  Snow peaks and rocky slopes came to mind. And then the short, plump Lord of Edge Mountains. Lord Welcott would send word if she was there, if he understood just what he had. The mage doubted greatly that he understood very much of anything.

  A face appeared from behind a pile of books, and he tried not to sigh. There was so much potential in the world, yet it appeared difficult for it to be realised.

  ‘What do you see?’ he asked her.

  ‘Nothing, Master,’ she said, glancing around the room.

  He pointed to a wall covered in shelves of glass bottles. ‘What do you hear?’ he asked another girl who sat on the floor before it. She shook her head. The world quietened around him, and he wondered at the power these women had shown him. He could only hope they would be of use when he needed them most.

  Chapter 19

  Salima pressed her back into the wall and held her breath. No one would notice her—they never did—but her father made her promise to stay out of sight and out of the way. She usually did, and if he had listened to her sooner, he might not be in the state he was now.

  She peered around the stonework at the throne room and bit into her bottom lip. The regent sat on the throne, looking at the man before him and nodding occasionally. He looked bored, as though the man he listened to was not worth his time. She wondered if the man kneeling before the throne could sense the same as he pleaded for understanding and support.

  Ed would have listened to her, she thought, looking at her father standing back from the throne and waiting his turn. Although it was because of Ed that they were here. Or at least that her father was seeking audience with the regent. She was supposed to be waiting in their lodgings like a good girl.

  The regent waved his hand and the man before him stopped, bowed low and wandered away. Salima wondered why they bothered. She had watched the proceedings briefly before, and no one seemed to get what they asked for. Although she didn’t linger for long. Her father would scold her if he knew, and watching was rarely as interesting as she hoped.

  But this day was different. Her father was waved forward, and she was surprised at how openly angry he appeared to be. The regent sat taller. Before he could ask what he needed from the crown, her father took a deep breath and Salima pulled back around the corner.

  ‘I understand that the king must rest to ensure he has fully recovered from his illness, but I fear he has been inactive too long.’

  There was a long silence, and Salima risked a glance around the corner. The regent nodded slowly and then sat forward. ‘What are you talking about?’ he asked, as though her father was talking about the price of cabbages at the market.

  Her father took another deep breath and squared his shoulders. ‘The king has not been to his training sessions for some months. I understood him to be ill and taking the time to recover, but this is too long.’

  A hushed whisper moved around the people still standing in the room.

  ‘He is usually a healthy boy,’ the regent said, standing and stepping forward, and her father took the smallest of steps backwards. ‘I should check on his health myself. His other tutors have not raised such concerns. Is he simply skipping your classes?’

  ‘He is not the swordsman his father was,’ her father admitted, ‘but he works towards the skill.’

  Salima almost huffed at the words. Not that she should be watching the king at his training, but she did, and she thought he showed more skill than the average soldier in the practice halls.

  ‘I thank you for your concerns,’ the regent said, bowing his head just a little as he waved her father towards the door. As he disappeared, the regent waved a manservant hovering by the throne forward. ‘Send for the cleric.’

  Salima scanned the room as she rushed away from the throne and towards the back stairs. She might be able to appear as a maid or servant and walk close enough unnoticed to see what they had to say.

  By the time Salima had found an apron and made it up to the king’s small living space, all was quiet. There was no guard on the door, but it was closed. She had been in it often enough, both with Ed and since he had disappeared. She stood by the door for a moment, until she was confident there was no one there. Then she opened it and slipped into the room, pushing the door closed quietly behind her. She looked down at her pale-coloured dress and apron and, with a groan, dropped to the floor and rolled under the bed.

  There was a sharp knock on the door, and Salima was relieved she hadn’t taken any longer to reach the room. When it opened, she could see two sets of boots, neither of which belonged to her father. One pair stayed by the door while the other moved further into the room.

  ‘It is smaller than I remember,’ the regent said. ‘Where could he be?’ he asked. He sounded more angry than worried.

  Salima’s father had said the very same thing only the day before, when she had finally convinced him to visit the king’s room. Her father allowed Ed more freedoms than his other students, but then he was the king.

  ‘Are there any horses missing?’ the regent asked.

  ‘No, sire,’ a voice belonging to the other boots answered. Salima thought a guard must be waiting. She only hoped he wouldn’t wait around when the regent left.

  ‘Where could he be?’ the regent asked again.

  ‘He doesn’t visit much of the castle. Occasionally he goes up to the turrets to look out over the city. Otherwise he is busy with his tutors.’

  ‘The man who came to me, what is his name?’

  ‘Master Forest, the sword master.’

  ‘Sword master? When might the king need to use a sword?’

  ‘Once he is grown and in battle, perhaps,’ the man added, unsure himself. ‘It is standard training for a king, I believe.’

  ‘I suppose it is,’ the regent said with a sigh, turning slowly. ‘Has he always sta
yed here?’

  ‘I believe so. I thought he had been moved away from the royal chambers after his father…’ The man’s words petered to a stop.

  ‘It was a difficult and sad time,’ the regent said, although Salima doubted he meant it. ‘We may have all lost focus on what was close to us.’

  ‘Sire,’ the man said.

  The regent lived in the royal chambers, and Salima wondered if he had moved Ed here deliberately or had left the task to someone else. She liked Ed, and although he seemed content with the life he had, she felt something was lacking for him.

  Another pair of boots approached quickly and, when they appeared, were nearly hidden by the long tunic of a cleric. ‘I understood the king was ill?’ The statement was more of a question, and Salima could picture him looking about the room for a king who wasn’t there.

  ‘Find him,’ the regent growled, and the soldier ran off. ‘And you will tell me when he was last seen, by whom and where. You are to tell no one he is missing.’

  ‘Yes, Your Highness,’ the cleric murmured.

  ‘I rarely hear that term,’ he said.

  ‘You were always Prince Thom before you were the king’s regent.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but it feels as though it was a lifetime ago.’

  ‘I will see what I can discover.’

  Salima waited while the two men moved out of the room and pulled the door closed behind them. She counted to twenty, slowly, before she rolled out and stood beside the bed. She was covered in dust and was sure her copper hair looked just as bad as her skirt.

  When she glanced around, the whole room appeared to be thick with dust. She wondered at the maids for not doing better at cleaning and ensuring the room was fit for a king. She was disappointed on his behalf that they didn’t look after him as they should. She sat carefully on the edge of the bed. So many times she had sat back against that wall, usually with a book, while he scribbled away at his desk.

  Her father had said she wasn’t to disturb him, but Ed was always welcoming and happy to see her. They had both lost a mother, Salima’s before she could even know her. And as much as she loved her father, Ed was her friend.

  He had played ill before, but never disappeared, and part of her was angry he hadn’t taken her with him. She only hoped he had gone out on his adventure willingly and hadn’t been taken. She stood up and dusted again at her skirt. Why had it taken so long for someone to realise he was gone, and why had no one listened to her sooner? He could be in real danger.

  Chapter 20

  Ana stood in the window of her room and looked out over the foggy mountains. There was often mist and fog around her islands, yet the sky always cleared. It never really seemed to clear here. They had spent too long at the Lord’s Seat, and she had learnt nothing. Other than the king himself could actually act like a king when needed. But she wasn’t sure if or why that would bother her; it was what she wanted for him.

  Dray was a different matter. He was the soldier he had always been, and she wondered where he might be now if she hadn’t called him as she had. If she hadn’t made him throw himself across the Walk to catch her. She was thankful that he had, yet in some ways she wished he had just watched her fall.

  She pushed the window open, the sharp breeze stinging her skin and whipping her hair around. She leaned forward just a little to see the world drop away beneath her. It didn’t worry her, not like it had, perhaps because it wasn’t nearly as far to the ground below as from the bridges between the islands. She closed her eyes, her hand holding tight to the latch as she leaned a little further. The wind wrapped around her, unsure if it wanted to pull her out or push her back.

  She could remember the feeling of the air around her as she walked along the bridge railing when she was a child. Her father would laugh and claim he was worried, but she knew she wouldn’t fall. But when she had stood beside him on the Walk, it had all changed.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Dray’s concerned voice called from behind her. She opened her eyes, her feet on the narrow sill, her hand holding the edge of the window as she leaned out over the void beneath.

  She should be scared. She should be terrified. She wasn’t.

  His strong arms closed around her and pulled her back into the room. He waited a moment too long before he let her go, and she wondered if he was scared for her. Or should he be scared of her?

  ‘What were you doing?’

  ‘I wanted to feel the air,’ she murmured, unsure now why she had opened the window in the first place. ‘I’m feeling a bit trapped here.’

  ‘You are free to explore; Lord Welcott has said so.’

  ‘Explore? The castle? What could I learn? I have spent my life in a castle such as this, only I was sweeping and polishing and whatever else I was told.’

  He took a step back. His hands were raised in defence, but he wore a soft smile.

  ‘I’m sorry, Dray,’ she said, sinking to the floor. ‘I’m not really sure what I am.’

  ‘Don’t you mean who?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘I could escort you,’ he said, holding out a hand. ‘And I don’t think those dresses are designed to be on the floor.’

  She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to tame some of the tangle, then took his offered hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She brushed at the fine, cream-coloured embroidered dress and sighed. ‘I’m not really used to this,’ she murmured.

  ‘We shall get you used to it. If you are to stay with the king, you shall wear fine dresses all the time.’

  She maintained her tight hold on his hand, and he looked down at her as he took it in the other hand before moving it to his elbow. ‘I’m not sure you have noticed, but the other fine ladies don’t hold on to soldiers.’

  ‘You are my soldier, so it is a little different.’

  He smiled warmly and shook his head. ‘I am supposed to be the king’s.’

  ‘Well I am friends with him too, and I’m sure he would lend you whenever I asked.’

  He bowed his head, and they headed out into the wide corridor.

  ‘Where can we go?’ she asked.

  ‘Anywhere and everywhere,’ he said.

  She nodded and allowed him to lead her through the maze of corridors. She was still amazed at how grand the castle was, much more so than the one she had worked in, grown in. Perhaps it was the golden-coloured stone, whereas she had grown up amidst grey. It had always felt as though it was pressing in on her. As she moved along the hallways, it appeared that the world was opening up before her.

  She pulled from his reach a little to run her fingers over the golden stonework and was surprised it was cold. They continued on, and then she stopped and pointed to a strange doorway. ‘What lies beyond that?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That door,’ she said, looking at him.

  He shook his head and then looked back at her. ‘There is no door.’

  She allowed her hand to slip from his arm. She glanced around. Like so much of the castle they had walked through, there was no one around. Then she took his hand, and with the other reached out and touched the warm wood.

  ‘How do you do that?’ he asked, stepping forward to put his hand beside hers on the door.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Are you sure we can go anywhere? Because if no one else can see this, we might not be welcome.’

  ‘I wonder what he might be hiding.’

  She put her hand to the latch. With Dray’s hand tight in hers, she pushed it open.

  The door opened into darkness. An open, empty darkness that dropped away from them. Dray’s hand closed tighter around hers. The same odd calm that washed over her as she stood on the windowsill covered her body, and she stepped forward. Despite the black around them, she could feel something solid beneath her feet. Dray tugged on her hand. When she looked at the light from the doorway, it was still strange that it didn’t illuminate anything within the space.

  Then Dray’s hand was gone, and she was
alone in the dark. She thought he stood in the doorway for a moment, but then she was surrounded by nothing. She knew she should be scared, worried for what might or might not be there, but despite her concern, she wasn’t panicked.

  She continued, hoping she was walking straight, and a small candle flickered ahead of her and she was home. Standing in the small cottage she had lived in with her father, and then on her own. How had she survived all that time?

  It could have been her sitting at the table with her father. She hadn’t remembered him looking so young. She wanted to race forward and throw her arms around him, but she hesitated. When she opened her mouth, no words formed.

  ‘You must protect her,’ the woman said. Her voice sounded familiar, yet it wasn’t her own. She had Ana’s brilliant green eyes and raven black hair, and as Ana took a step closer, she saw that she held a sleeping baby in her arms.

  ‘I will protect you both,’ her father said, reaching forward and taking her hand. ‘You know I will.’

  ‘I know you will try, but she won’t allow it.’

  ‘You have the skill to stop her.’

  The woman shook her head, looking down at the child. ‘The risks are too great.’

  ‘I can’t do it without you,’ he said, his voice breaking.

  ‘You can,’ she reassured him, putting the child into his arms and running the back of her fingers down over his cheek. Ana noticed then that he was crying. ‘Allow her to do what she thinks she must, and if I can, I will find you again.’ He shook his head. ‘Don’t let her know what Ana is.’

  ‘She will guess.’

  ‘Keep her safe,’ she said, leaning in and kissing him. She barely ran a finger over the sleeping child’s cheek, and then she was gone.

  He cried as he pulled the child close, and he looked up at Ana with such loss that she thought her heart would break. Then the candle went out.

  ‘Anaise?’ a voice asked in the dark. The same voice she had heard talking to her father.

  ‘Who is there?’ Ana called out, trying to sound more confident than she felt. She didn’t mind the dark; she worried more for who might be hidden in it.