Royal Blood

by Faith Soprano

  Carla watched helplessly as Elloriann was being murdered right in front of her. She wanted to do something, she had to do something, but she felt as though there was a wall inside of her that wouldn’t allow her to do anything truly violent, even to someone as horrible as Rondall. She made frantic, aborted motions toward the scene on the ground, knowing that she should hit Rondall, grab him, do something, but every time she tried, she felt her limbs going weak.

  Elloriann blinked rapidly, her eyes finally clearing, only to see Rondall’s sneering face above her. This would be the last thing she’d see, she thought. What a terrible way to go.

  Just as Elloriann was about to lose consciousness, Rondall suddenly let go of her throat and stumbled backward. After drawing a few wheezing breaths, Elloriann looked up to see Rondall on his knees with a potato sack over his head. Carla might not have been able to hurt him, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t find a way to stop him.

  His temporary confusion was enough for Elloriann to reach for her sword and hit him on the head with the handle.

  As his body went limp and collapsed to the ground, Elloriann concentrated on breathing, gulping air and rubbing at her neck and eyes.

  Carla pulled the sack off Rondall’s head so that he wouldn’t suffocate, then devoted her attention to Elloriann, rubbing her shoulders soothingly, making sure she was all right.

  They won the fight, but...the prince of Mordielle was lying unconscious on the ground in their garden. Their troubles were only just beginning.

  35

  The doctor checked over everyone involved. No one would sustain any long-lasting injuries. But, of course, as soon as Rondall regained consciousness, he tore through the castle like a ball of fury, demanding to see the king.

  As soon as he was in the throne room, he demanded that the slave that had been stolen from him, and the thief that had taken her, both be put to death.

  The king sighed as the realization dawned on him. He had considered the possibility that Mordielle’s royals might eventually find out of what had truly happened during Elloriann’s visit to their castle, but he could never have imagined that the resulting conflict would be anything like...this.

  “The thief of which you speak is my daughter, the princess of Evlirone,” King Talon said calmly. “I’m afraid I cannot satisfy your request to kill her.”

  Rondall let out something between a growl and a wail.

  “Fine! But the slave has to die. Execute her, publicly. Or you and I are going to have a real problem. You don’t want to start a war over a slave.”

  He turned around, swaying a little as his aching head spun, then walked out of the throne room.

  Talon sat down on his throne, his body sagging. He knew how unfair it would be to put an innocent person to death simply because Rondall wanted it. Besides, Elloriann had saved Carla’s life, and was attached to her. This would not go well. But he had little choice. Even with the recent alliances, Evlirone could not afford a conflict with Mordielle.

  If Talon wanted to placate Prince Rondall, Carla had to die.

  At dinnertime, several guards appeared in the servant wing. One of them read out the order calmly, then they took Carla and led her away into the cells in the castle’s basement.

  Elloriann tried to get them to stop, tried to get an explanation. One of the guards was Sal. They paused, giving Elloriann a sympathetic look.

  “Talk to your father,” they said, then joined the others on the way to the cells.

  Elloriann stormed into the throne room, not bothering to announce herself or ask whether her father was busy.

  “You can’t kill her,” she said, her voice cold and certain.

  “I have to,” King Talon replied.

  “She hasn’t done anything wrong. She wasn’t even the one who knocked him out, it was me. Shouldn’t you be executing me then?”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  “But you can kill her, right?”

  The king sighed deeply.

  “Elloriann, listen–”

  “No, you listen. He attacked her, he tried to kill her. Then he tried to kill me. Should I have let him? Should Carla have let him? Would that be the preferable outcome for our diplomatic relationship with Mordielle?”

  “Ell, you know I don’t want to do this. I know you care about her...”

  “It’s not...” Elloriann shook her head, drawing a steadying breath. “I don’t just care about her, Father. I love her.”

  The king’s mouth fell open for a moment. He had not expected that. How had he missed that? This made things so much harder. And yet, his decision had to remain the same.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “If you do this, I will never forgive you. You understand that, right?”

  “I do,” the king said quietly. “But we can’t risk a war over–”

  “Over what? Over doing the right thing? Over saving an innocent life?”

  “Over one life.”

  Elloriann approached her father, lifting her head to face him. The king gasped slightly as he saw the angry bruises forming on his daughter’s neck.

  “Would you have killed your wife for diplomacy?” she said. “Or was that life worth more than Carla’s? I thought you supported the queen's belief that hierarchies weren't meant to dictate the value of someone's life. Why am I not in a cell right now, awaiting execution?”

  “Because I knew how to save you. I don't know how to save Carla.”

  “Yes, and I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that sacrificing a servant to appease a volatile prince is acceptable, but putting a princess to death at Rondall's bidding would send the wrong political message.”

  “My goal is always to serve Evlirone's denizens best. It would be unfair to allow a personal conflict between royals to cause a war that could kill thousands and destroy our land. I'm trying to avoid that with minimal losses. I can use your status and relation to me to protect you. If I had the means to protect Carla as well without risking war, I would.”

  Elloriann took a deep breath and decided to try another tactic.

  “How can you even be sure that this will neutralize the threat? And do you think it's a good idea to give Rondall what he wants? He's not even king yet and you're already his puppet. How do you think that will serve us in the future?”

  The king paused before responding, thinking Elloriann's words over.

  Despite the storm and the damage it did, Talon considered himself quite lucky as a king. He'd never had to participate in military action, to send his people into war, knowing many would not return. Never before had he been forced to end a life. This was one of those difficult decisions all royals are told they would someday have to make. Talon had no interest in killing anyone. He had no desire to kill Carla, whatever she meant to Elloriann, whoever she was at all. And he knew Elloriann was right – there was no guarantee that giving Randall what he wanted was the right decision. All he knew was that if he didn't, the prince would hold a grudge that would fester and grow until the day he would become the leader of his land, and its army.

  “I don't know,” the king said honestly. “I don't know if this is the right choice, but it is the one I'm making. I’m sorry,” he said again. “I know how you feel–”

  “No, Father, you do not. You can tell yourself you're a hero for making a difficult decision, trading one life for many. But do not for a second presume to know how I feel.”

  She walked out of the throne room before the king could respond. She headed for her bedroom, her and Carla’s bedroom, which was currently empty.

  She walked quickly, almost running through the castle's endless corridors. She tried to calm her mind, but it was difficult.

  She acknowledged that her father did not truly wish harm on Carla, or anyone. She could even see the logic in his decision. And in truth, she didn't know how she would have acted had she been in his position. Perhaps, saving Carla at the risk of starting a war would have been more selfish than fair.

&nbs
p; The worst thing about cruel, unpredictable royals was that they could be very difficult to stop when they set their minds on something. And however this situation would play out, one day Rondall would be king, and by then, in all probability, Elloriann would be queen. And protecting Evlirone from the likes of Rondall would be her job.

  As she entered the room and closed the door behind her, she looked around, seeing everything in the room in a new light. The 2 looms, the nectarine tree, the bed she and Carla shared, the wardrobe that contained both her and Carla’s clothing. Despite the danger of eventual separation, Elloriann had started taking Carla’s presence in her life for granted. She hadn’t even realized how much of her life, of the objects around her, of the things that she did every day involved Carla. If Carla was gone, none of it would make any sense or have any value. The things that had once made her happy would now only be causing her pain.

  Elloriann would have to rebuild her life again and find new ways to be happy. Perhaps she could do that. Love was not an obligatory part of life and plenty of people did just fine without it. But people were different, and needed different things.

  In that moment, Elloriann deeply disagreed with those who said that it was better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. If she had never loved, she wouldn’t have known what she was missing. But now that she did, she wasn’t sure if she could lose this love and ever feel truly happy again.

  She suddenly felt the urge to break something. She threw a tea mug against a wall. It shattered with a loud noise. It did not make Elloriann feel any better.

  Her scarf was hanging on the back of a chair. The scarf Carla had made for her. She took it in her hands and stared at it, feeling her body go weak.

  Finally, she collapsed onto the floor and cried for a very long time.

  *****

  Carla was sitting on the hard, wooden bed in her cell, looking out through the tiny window at the top of the wall. It was getting dark.

  She was to be put to death soon, so they did not bother giving her prisoner clothing. She ran her thumb over the ring on her left hand, grateful that at least she would die still wearing Elloriann’s gift.

  She didn't want to die. There had been times in her life, times during her years in slavery, when death would not have been such an unwelcome thing. But now she had a life she wanted to keep.

  Her throat felt tight and her chest ached.

  She knew there was little that could be done. She knew Elloriann would probably still try to save her somehow, but the situation was quite dire. If she got to see Elloriann again before her execution, she would tell her to move on. To make peace with this.

  Carla did not wish to be the cause of a war with Mordielle, and knowing Prince Rondall, he could very well start one purely out of spite. If her dying meant saving the lives of everyone who would suffer in that war, then she was willing to die.

  She only hoped that Elloriann wouldn’t blame herself. And that she could eventually find happiness, even if Carla was no longer around to share it.

  36

  The execution was planned for the evening of the next day.

  Elloriann hadn’t slept. She was pacing around her room now, trying to come up with some kind of plan.

  At the very least, she needed to see Carla. It wasn’t easy, however.

  When Elloriann went down to the cell, she found that Carla was currently being guarded by one of Prince Rondall’s people. The guard looked fierce and uncompromising. Her posture was rigid, her eyes were cold, her hand was on her sword.

  Elloriann did not risk approaching her. It was unlikely that this guard would allow her to see Carla, but it was likely that Elloriann’s appearance would cause her to become even more vigilant, as well as report Elloriann’s arrival to Rondall.

  Elloriann needed a better plan. She also needed help.

  She felt bad about asking, because anyone who were to help her with this would be putting themselves in danger, and that was not a position she wanted any of her friends to occupy. However, if one of her friends was in a situation that she and Carla were currently in, she would want them to come to her and ask for help, and she hoped that her friends felt the same way.

  So, around midday, Gerome arrived in the cells.

  “King Talon has ordered me to guard the prisoner as a gesture of good will toward Prince Rondall,” Gerome said.

  Carla watched the scene silently from her cell, uncertain of what the plan here was.

  “I have not been informed of this,” the guard replied.

  “Well, you’ve been here the whole time. Of course you haven’t been informed,” Gerome said with an air of resignation. “If you want to stay, I really don’t mind,” he added. “I’m not exactly looking forward to standing around in the basement all day.”

  The guard considered this. Though she was apprehensive about leaving without a direct order, there was no point for a member of King Talon’s guard to deceive her. She considered the possibility that he might be an impostor, but he was carrying high-quality weapons and genuine Evlirone military uniforms, which would have been difficult for an outsider to procure or emulate. If the man before her was who he claimed he was, then he’d be risking his position in the royal military by lying. If he was an impostor, then he would be risking his very life. Surely, no one would put themselves in such jeopardy for a slave Rondall was so intent on killing for some reason.

  “I could use a break,” the guard admitted. She had been there all night and all morning. “But I’ll return after I’ve attended to my body’s needs.”

  “Take your time,” Gerome said with a shrug.

  After the guard was a safe enough distance away from the cell, Elloriann appeared from her hiding spot around the corner.

  “You can act,” she told Gerome with a smile.

  She used the key she’d acquired from Mari to unlock the cell, then entered and embraced Carla desperately. They simply stood there, holding each other, for several minutes.

  Gerome moved farther down the hallway, both to keep an eye out for the guard and to give Carla and Elloriann some privacy.

  “You shouldn’t have come,” Carla said, still holding on to Elloriann.

  “Probably. But did you really think I wouldn’t?”

  Carla smiled into Ell’s neck.

  They finally separated, looking at each other with sad eyes.

  The first thing Elloriann did after they stopped embracing was take fresh bandages out of her pocket. She urged Carla to sit down on the bed, so that she could change the bandage on her leg wound caused by Rondall’s throwing knife.

  Carla obliged, allowing Elloriann to take care of her, even though she thought it all but pointless. She was going to die mere hours later. There was no point in caring for a minor wound.

  After Elloriann was done and Carla readjusted her clothing, they sat side by side in silence for a few moments.

  “I’m so sorry,” Carla said.

  “You’re sorry? My father is the one who’s planning to kill you.”

  “And you’re the one who’s going to have to live with that.”

  Elloriann stared at Carla for a moment, then kissed her deeply.

  “I can’t lose you,” she said desperately, embracing Carla again. “I just can’t.”

  “I don’t think there’s any other choice.”

  “There has to be, I’ll think of something.”

  Carla sighed against Elloriann’s chest.

  “Rondall wants blood. It’s either mine or everyone else’s. You know he’s cruel enough to start a war with Evlirone just to prove himself. I can’t be the reason for that.”

  “His parents are still alive. They won’t approve of that. He can’t just...start a war.” She looked at Carla, watching a tear roll down her face. “Right?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think I want to find out.”

  “So you’re giving up?”

  “Yes.” Carla rubbed Ell’s arms gently. “I don’t think there’s any ot
her choice. And even if there is, I choose this.”

  “Don’t I get a say?”

  Carla looked at Elloriann, uncertain of how to respond.

  “What can we do?” she asked, sounding defeated rather than hopeful.

  “I don’t know. Yet.”

  Elloriann entwined their fingers and rested her forehead against Carla’s.

  “It’s strange,” Carla said thoughtfully. “You and Rondall are both royal children. And look how differently you turned out.”

  Elloriann smiled, understanding that Carla wanted to distract her, wanted them to have a conversation about something other than Carla’s death and Elloriann’s future without her.

  “Do you think his parenting situation was even worse than mine?”

  “I’ve heard he’s actually a second child,” Carla said, rubbing her thumb over Elloriann’s hand. “Mordielle’s royals had another child before him, but it died. I suppose they tried especially hard to make their second child happy, and overdid it a little.”

  “A little?”

  They smiled, but neither could truly feel joyful just then. Elloriann looked at Carla, their eyes locked, and her grief and desperation overwhelmed her once more. She started crying.

  “I’m sorry,” Carla said again, taking Elloriann into her arms.

  “Stop apologizing, none of this is your fault.”

  “I’m not apologizing, I’m expressing empathy.”

  Elloriann let out a choked-off laugh.

  “I love you,” she said, tucking her head under Carla’s chin.

  “I love you too.”

  “I can’t promise you that I’ll save you, but I can’t not try. You know that. I can’t not try.”

  “I know.”

  Gerome approached the cell.

  “The guard is coming back,” he whispered.

  Carla and Elloriann squeezed each other harder for a few more seconds, kissed briefly, then Elloriann exited the cell, closed the door, and walked away down one of the many tangled castle hallways.

  There were only a few hours left before the execution was to take place.