“You’re pathetic. Pull yourself together. You’re the one that chose to break the Tenets. At least face the consequences with some dignity.” She sheathed her sword and turned toward the door; if she wanted to learn anything it’d have to come from the girl.
The bedroom doors flew open and in marched her father, dressed in a grungy sleeping gown, his slumping form supported by Eirik.
“You bastard!” Roserine barked. “I said I’d tell him myself!”
There was a shadow of satisfaction on Eirik’s face. “I swore an oath, my lady.”
“Yes,” Valerick Shalewind said, shoving Roserine aside with one arm, “the Commander swore an oath. Apparently, he’s the only one in Anthena capable of keeping it.”
“Father, I can handle this.”
“Bah! Fine job you’ve done so far. You’ve allowed your brother to conspire with our enemy right under your nose. Why not just open up the north gate for them, offer them wine and bread as they come charging through?”
“I don’t know what Eirik has told you, but the situation is being handled. Please, Father, you’re sick. Let me—”
“Quiet, girl!” He swung a weak, wobbly hand as he spoke; if she hadn’t moved it’d have struck her. “You’ve done enough!”
“Father, let me explain.” Byron propped himself up on one hand.
“Quiet, you sniveling worm!” His body shook; he’d have fallen forward if not for Eirik’s steady grip. “You’ll speak only when instructed to!”
“Father I—”
“One more word and I’ll have Eirik finish what he started! Test me, boy!”
So many words rattled around behind Byron’s eyes: pleas for help and mercy. But it was there they stayed; his father’s threat had worked as intended.
“You’ve betrayed Anthena and her people. You’ve betrayed me, your sister, and yourself. You’ve betrayed your mother.” Byron winced at the accusation as fresh tears fell. “Aye, boy, that’s right…your mother would be ashamed. Know that, on this day, your mother has turned her eyes from you and so have I.”
Byron’s anguish was turning to anger.
“Brother, don’t,” Roserine spoke softly, fearing what would happen if he acted in defiance.
“You will not be my successor.” The old man was ramping up again, his words broken by a bout of phlegm-filled coughing.
“Father, please, go lay down. You’re too sick.”
He ignored her and continued. “And as for that Eval whore, she will be executed!”
“No! I won’t let you! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you, old man!” Disregarding his father’s warning, Byron came at him, fists clenched. Eirik shielded the King and met Byron with a stiff shoulder shelled in thick, plate armor. Byron went down like a rock.
“Bastard!” King Shalewind was squirming in Eirik’s grasp, arms flailing; he screamed and coughed and screamed some more as his face turned from deep red to purple. “You’re to be exiled! You…you’re nuh…no son of—” he coughed again and blood speckled his chin this time.
“Father!” Roserine ran to his side.
His eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp in Eirik’s arms.
“Set him down!” Roserine screamed.
Her father’s head lolled over to his right shoulder and blood tinged bubbles of saliva popped across his lips as the gurgling in his throat wound to a halt and his chest went still.
Roserine fell to her knees beside him. “Father!” She slapped his face and turned his head, but there was no response; he was dead. She sat back on her heels, hands on her thighs, chin tucked. She’d pondered her father’s death often since he’d fallen ill.
What would it feel like?
How would she react?
Now it was upon her and all she felt was a grim sort of acceptance.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Byron flying from the end of the bed and landing atop their father’s body; he began pounding furiously at his face and chest.
“Take it back! Take it back, you cruel bastard!” Byron knew as well as anyone that the King’s decrees, once spoken, could not be broken, even by death. Only the King could withdraw a decree. “You cruel bastard! Bastard! Bastard!”
Eirik ripped Byron up by the back of his collar, threw him on the bed, and drew his sword. “You dare attack the King!”
“Then do it! Kill me!” Byron held his chin up and exposed his neck. “Please, kill me!”
“Put your sword away and leave the room.” Roserine was still on her knees.
“Your father, the King—”
Roserine stood, straightened her back, and squared her shoulders. “The King is dead. As your Queen, I command you to sheath your weapon and leave this room.”
“My Queen? He named no successor. A woman has never ruled—”
“My brother is a traitor. That leaves only me; the last remaining Shalewind in Anthena. We both know that I’m the one that’s been running things since my father fell ill. If you’d like to challenge me, go ahead. In fact, let’s start now. Guards!”
The bedroom doors flew open and three guards entered.
“Men, my father is dead. I am now your Queen. I’d like you to remove the Commander from the room, immediately.”
The men looked warily at Eirik’s hulking back.
Eirik smiled and deposited his sword back into its sheath. “There will be no need for that, men. I was just leaving.” He turned on his heels and barreled his way from the room.
“My brother is not to leave that bed; don’t let him near my father’s body. I will send someone to remove it. Any questions?”
They shook their heads.
“No, my lady.”
She raised her eyebrows.
The guard caught his mistake. “I mean…no, my Queen.”
13
King Valerick Shalewind was dead. His funeral was held on a fog-drenched morning on the soft-sand beach near the lighthouse. His body was placed upon a floating pyre. The servants of Castle Volkheeri had prepared him well; no signs of the sickness or the suffering he’d endured in his final moments were present on his face. He was dressed in his finest armor; shined to a sparkle, not a ding or dent in sight. There was a wooden shield beneath his head and a sword on his chest, his hands folded across the hilt. Two soldiers held the pyre in place, the gray water churning about their knees as they awaited the order to push it out to sea. Roserine stood on the shore beside Emily. At their backs stood a thick regiment of soldiers; Eirik was among them. The citizens of Anthena had gathered to mourn their king; they stood beyond the beach, crowded together in the market and lining the docks. Visiting merchants stood aboard their ships, flags lowered, heads bowed in reverence.
A priest stepped forward. He wore a black robe and a hood pulled over his head, the hem of the garment dragged through the sand. There were five, blue stripes on each arm of the robe, denoting the Five Tenets of Anthena. He began speaking by reviewing each Tenet and its meaning.
“Will Byron not be attending?” Emily whispered.
“No. His anger still burns too bright.”
“So much so that he can’t attend his own father’s funeral?”
“The Eval he claims to love will be executed tomorrow morning; his rage trumps all else.”
“Is there nothing you can do?”
“About?”
The priest had finished with the Tenets and was discussing the founding of Anthena and the early days of King Shalewind’s rule.
“Her sentence. Perhaps she doesn’t have to die.”
“You know our laws. Her death sentence was my father’s final decree. Eirik was standing in the room when he spoke it; my hands are tied.”
“And Byron?”
“He’ll be exiled.”
“All of this chaos at once; these are dark days.” Emily closed her eyes against the breeze. “Are you okay?”
“No.” Roserine shook her head. “I haven’t been okay for some time.”
Soon, her Father’s pyre was being push
ed out to sea; arrows were being readied and set aflame, waiting for the pyre to reach a proper distance from the shore. When the arrows were finally loosed and the pyre consumed by flame, Roserine did not cry; her grief would come later, under a darker sky. It was the people’s turn to mourn. Their wails rose on the wind and followed the flaming pyre out to sea.
“Your father was loved,” Emily said without much conviction.
Roserine remained silent, watching without expression as the wind and waves toiled with the flaming platform. She remained there, until there was nothing left except for a distant pillar of smoke slicing the horizon.
***
Deep within the bowels of castle Volkheeri was the chapel. It was a small room, dusty and dim, with small pews, and a small stone altar at the front bearing wilted offerings of flowers and fruit. The lighting came from an array of candles spread scarcely about the room. Roserine hadn’t been down here in ages. Her father had stopped going shortly after their mother died and so had she. The ones that still frequented the depressing sanctuary were the old-ones that’d grown up inundated with tales of the gods and the importance of appeasing them.
“Queen Shalewind,” the voice echoed from the darkness, “these old walls have not been graced with your shadow for some time.” The priest, with his gray whiskers and tattered, brown robe, emerged from the corner of the room, the shadows hugging his back tightly.
“Priest Carmichael. I’m surprised you’re here at this hour.”
“Where else would I be?”
“Sleeping, perhaps. Don’t you ever sleep?”
“When the gods allow me rest, yes. But it looks as if they knew you needed me more.”
She shook her head. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m just here for the silence.”
“Surely there’s plenty of silence beyond these walls.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“I suppose I would. Truth be told, I don’t get up top much these days.” He took a seat in front of her, his bones creaking, holding tightly to the back of the pew.
“But you’ve heard about what’s going on, yes?”
“Other than the death of the King?”
“The business with Byron.”
“I’ve heard whispers.”
“They’re more than whispers. The Eval girl will be executed and Byron will be exiled; by my words, mind you.”
He puffed his cheeks. “That is tough. But it is your duty, yes?”
“I’m not questioning whether it is my duty. I’m questioning whether I’m doing the right thing.”
“The Tenets—”
“I know what the Tenets say. And I don’t want you to feed me some line about the will of the gods.”
He flipped his palms and shrugged his shoulders. “Then I’m not quite sure what you’re asking of me. My life is defined by those two things. You remove one and you may as well strike me down.”
“You’ve never questioned?”
“Why would I? It has gotten me this far.”
“Oh yeah, it’s done wonders for you.” Roserine glanced around the damp, dark room.
“It’s not about what you can see, my Queen. It’s about what you can’t.”
“I’m glad things are so simple for you.”
“As they can be for you. Your brother betrayed his people; men, women, and children that trusted him to lead and protect them. He betrayed them for an Eval.”
“He claims he loves her. Not that I know what that feels like, but I saw something different in his eyes when he spoke of her.”
“Perhaps. But the fact remains that she is an Eval, an enemy of Anthena.” He reached hesitantly and took her hand. “If it wasn’t your brother—if it were any other citizen—would you hesitate to carry out your duty?”
She shook her head.
“I know it hurts. But often the abundance of our future is dictated by what we sacrifice in the present. Your leadership, your sacrifice, is paving the way toward security and peace for Anthena. You just have to have faith.” He squeezed her hand and let go. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”
She didn’t have to think long. It was time to pay a visit to the dungeons and confront the Eval that had corrupted her brother.
14
Roserine sat on a stool, looking through the iron bars at the Eval girl sitting against the back wall of the cell. The swelling in her face had subsided. She was conscious. Alert. Relaxed. Her legs were folded up against her chest and her arms rested across the tops of her knees. Roserine had dismissed the guard and now sat alone with her; the other three cells were empty.
“What is your name?” Roserine asked.
“Did your brother not tell you?”
“I want to hear it from you.”
“What does it matter? You and your people will snuff it out come sunrise.” Her voice echoed from inside the small cell.
“Where did you hear that?”
“Your guards have mocked me endlessly with talk of my impending doom ever since I arrived here.”
“I apologize. I’ll speak with them.”
“Don’t bother. At least they are honest. It’s more than I can say about you. You sit there, patronizing me with niceties, feeding me honey laced with poison. I bet you can already feel the stone in your hands, just as vividly as you can picture my skull crumbling beneath its weight.”
“You assume a lot.”
She cocked her head. “Is it true?”
“It is, yes.” She felt little sympathy for the girl in the cell. The raven-haired savage was to blame for Byron’s corruption. She was a parasite. Byron would have never fallen for one of her kind of his own free will; he’d hated the Eval as much as anyone.
“So, what does it matter?” She dropped her head back against the wall. “Then again, what does it hurt? My name is Aurora,” she said without ceremony.
“Beautiful name.”
“My mother gave it to me. Named me after the lights that flicker across the surface of the water at night.”
“The moon’s reflection.”
“My people teach that those lights are the souls of our ancestors, illuminating our path to the beyond. We call them Auroras, hence my name.”
“Quite the fable. Do they also teach you to murder, rape, and steal?”
“How dare you—an Anthenian—attempt to lecture me on such things.”
Roserine crossed her legs at the knees and straightened her back, a crooked smile on her lips. “What have you got for me? A sad story about how your people were here first and we’ve no claim to this land?”
“Sad or not, it’s the truth. Your people landed on these shores and ran through my ancestors like a plague, cutting down and burning every man, woman, and child in your path.”
“Lies. We came with open arms and you attacked us. Any tragedy that has befallen you or your people has been by your own hand.”
“This was our land! You’ve no right to any of it!”
“Our people tried to work with you. We tried to establish peace with you.”
“Your people wanted control! You wanted everything we had! Our food, our homes, our trade routes! You weren’t satisfied until you were able to run us into the hills! You really believe that you and your people are somehow the victims?”
“I believe that you’re locked in a cage, facing a death sentence. I believe that you’d say anything to try to get inside my head the way you got inside of my brother’s head, anything to try to free yourself.”
A momentary silence fell between them, filled by the steady drip-drip-drip of water cracking against the stone in one of the empty cells.
“I know I’m not leaving here alive.” Aurora placed a hand against a cold, moss-covered wall as if testing its sturdiness. “But I didn’t get inside your brother’s head, he got inside mine.”
“Liar.”
“Believe what you will. I was intent on killing him when he rode across me. Your brother has a sharp tongue and a strong will. He cut through my defenses f
aster than I’d like to admit.” A smile spread across her cracked lips. “Me with an Anthenian man,” she spoke as if she still hadn’t come to terms with the reality of it. “My parents would have tossed me into the sea with a boulder strapped around my ankles if they’d found out.”
“So you confess. You’re one of them.” Roserine leaned back and opened her arms as if she were willing to embrace and absolve Aurora in light of her confession.
Aurora shook her head. “I confessed nothing.”
“You just said you were ready to kill Byron and said that your parents would have killed you if they found out you were sleeping with an Anthenian.”
“Yes. I was roaming the wilds alone. I was approached by a man on horseback with a sword on his hip; my first reaction was to defend myself. As for my parents…well, just because they left the Eval Naturae doesn’t mean they’ve embraced Anthena; they remember your sins as vividly as anyone.”
“What did Byron tell you?”
“He told me he loved me. Told me we’d be together, no matter what. I knew better, knew that isn’t how the world works. But I admit, the fool spoke with conviction, he almost had me convinced.”
Roserine clacked her teeth together impatiently and tried again. “What intelligence did Byron pass along to you regarding Anthena? Details about our army, our trade routes, anything the Eval might find useful? How much information have you brought back to them?”
“I already told you what Byron said. I’m not sure what else you’re expecting.”
“Come on,” Roserine uncrossed her legs and sat forward, “let’s not play this game. I’m tired and you don’t have much time left to waste; I’m sure you’d rather not spend the remainder of it talking to me.”
“Beats listening to your guards snore and break wind.”
“I can make tomorrow easier for you, give you a stiff drink before you face the gods, take the edge off of the pain. Maybe even let you say goodbye to Byron. But that all depends on whether you’re willing to help me.”
Blood & Stone: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 3 Page 10
