by Bex Hogan
The King nods sagely, as if he has always shared such an opinion. ‘Tell me, why was that? Wouldn’t you want a powerful match for your nephew?’
‘I wish my nephew nothing but happiness, and it is my fervent hope that he wakes soon from the sleep this witch has sent him to. Because he would be the first to point the finger of blame straight at this she-devil.’
He’s not holding back with the venom.
The King frowns, his exaggerated display of surprise still captivating the crowd. ‘She-devil? They are strong words, cousin. Do you have a reason to call her such a thing?’
Lord Pyer nods. ‘Her father used to bring her with him to the Rock Island. His secret weapon, she would move through a crowd like a huntress, and when she found her prey she would swoop. Strong men would fall for her honeyed words, husbands would leave wives. But a kiss from her lips marked you for death. Adler stole much from the people, from the Sixth, from the Crown by using her to seduce – then kill.’
The King glances at me and wrinkles his nose. ‘I’m sure many of you, like me, would struggle to believe this woman capable of seducing anyone.’
There are sniggers of amusement round the room, because, yes, I look far from my best. But I stare at the King with particular loathing. He once tried to seduce me, and I wonder how much of what he’s subjecting me to now is to punish me for rejecting him.
‘Can you perhaps give an example of her wickedness?’
Lord Pyer swells up with self-importance at the King’s question. ‘I certainly can. Captain Adler hoped that with a diminished supply of crystal, the worth of his own stockpile would increase. I happen to know for a fact that she was tasked by Adler to sabotage the mines on my island. Her actions are the direct cause of the incredible hardship the East has been suffering.’
The gasps are audible, including mine. He’s just blamed me for everything, everything, the Isles have endured. How dare he? I want so desperately to defend myself, but keep my mouth shut. Anything I say here will be used against me – if I’m angry, it will be evidence of my violent nature; if I cry, it will confirm my weakness. And so for now, silence is my best weapon.
The King is shaking his head, ostensibly with disbelief, but honestly, he looks pleased with this revelation. ‘She is the cause of the very suffering she claims to want to end? Perhaps there are no bounds to her villainy.’
No one asks Pyer how he knows this as ‘fact’, or for the slightest bit of evidence to support his words, and he’s excused from the proceedings.
The King has many more witnesses like him. Men of high status who lie about corrupt deals I have offered them since I became Viper: extra crystal in exchange for their loyalty, assassinations of enemies for the promise of power. Bribes I can imagine Adler happily making with all of them, but nothing I would ever do. In fact, the more I listen, the more convinced I am that they are the ones guilty of these crimes against the crown, and the King has forced them to skewer the truth, or else be imprisoned themselves. I guess it’s reassuring that he’s had to make up attacks against me, rather than there being endless injured parties offering to come forward on their own to send me to my death.
But when the Ambassador of the Fourth Isle begins his grievance against me, I find it harder to hear. Because this time, I do feel responsible. Since Adler burned the island to punish me, nothing has grown there. What little magic lingered in the earth has entirely gone and the land has died. It’s a truth I struggle to bear, having loved one corner of it so very much, and there is nothing I wouldn’t do to restore the island to its former beauty.
The Ambassador blames me. His charge is that it was my fight with my father that brought the fire of destruction to his island, my lust to steal power from the Viper. I cursed the land, and killed hundreds.
Of course, the King has conveniently decided to overlook the fact that Adler was betraying him, so I end up being portrayed as an evil daughter, so determined to have power that I murdered the man everyone still believes was my own father.
A she-devil indeed.
At this point the King calls for a break, to allow the jury the luxury of food. I am returned to my cell where I have nothing to do but evaluate what’s happened so far.
One of the things I wanted to gain from this trial was to learn who my enemies are. It’s fair to say I’ve made some new ones today, and I can pretty much conclude that the entire jury are willing to sign my death warrant; they’re all in the King’s pocket. But I suspect most of those giving testimonies aren’t against me – just trying to save their own skins.
If Torin were to wake up and exonerate me from the crimes of which I’m accused, I believe support for my death would slide away. It’s a bold move to try to eliminate me in this fashion. And it makes me fear that the King will do anything to prevent Torin from coming round.
Oh, please let him wake up. Let him live.
By the time the gaoler returns with the guards to escort me back to the makeshift court room, I’m ready for whatever else the King has to fling at me. I can withstand the lies. After all, this day has already been brutal. How much worse can it get?
But the gaoler doesn’t come alone. Beside him, clearly pained to be in such unsavoury surroundings, is the King. In this filthy place he looks unnaturally clean, his skin glows bronze from the sun, his hair shines with oil. And yet there is no disguising the look of victory he wears and my heart tightens beneath my ribs.
‘Leave us,’ the King says to the gaoler, whose face falls with disappointment as he bows and slips away.
The King and I regard each other through the bars, our hatred equally matched.
‘You know,’ the King says, about to touch the cell bars, before thinking better of it, ‘I would have kept my word.’
I laugh humourlessly. ‘And abdicated?’
He smiles and shakes his head. ‘No, that was never going to happen. I mean, I would have married you. Do you remember all that time ago, when you came to me for help? I would have made you my queen, and all this unpleasantness could have been avoided.’
‘Then Adler would still terrorise the islands and he would be coming for your neck.’
The King shoots me a vicious glance. ‘Instead it was you who came for it. For my son’s.’
I falter, trying to search his expression for any sign of the truth. ‘What do you mean? I’ve told you: I had nothing to do with what happened to Torin.’
‘You are a liar, just like your father. The moment you had the royal alliance you needed, you tried to kill the Prince, and I have no doubt you would have come for me next, had you not been caught.’
My mind is racing. He honestly believes that I was responsible. He’s not framing me; he’s punishing me. And if that’s the case, then I’ve been wrong too. It wasn’t him who sent the assassin. Which means I have no idea who did.
I step forward, so the only thing separating me and the King is cold steel. ‘I am telling you, I didn’t do it. Whatever you think of me, however much you want to remain on the throne, you must keep Torin safe.’
For a moment I think maybe he believes me, but then his mouth curls into a cruel grin.
‘Your tricks won’t work on me,’ he says. ‘Your desperate grab for the throne has failed. And I thank you for it, truly. You’ve made it far easier for me. Let me tell you what will happen now. Tomorrow you will be executed for your treachery. Torin will remain perfectly safe, his wound is mending and the draught the healer is giving him keeps him adequately nourished, and more importantly unconscious. One day I may allow him to awaken, but not until I’m certain he cannot steal what is not his. And I will remain King long after your name is lost on the wind.’
I try to grab him, but my shackles slam into the bars so that my fingers barely brush him as he steps back, triumphant.
‘You’re the only treacherous one here,’ I shout at him as he walks away. ‘I will make you pay for this. Your blood, not mine, will be spilled!’
The gaoler approaches me with a smile and
I meet his gaze. He holds up a key, and all hope drains from me. ‘You think I didn’t know you took this?’ he says. ‘I wanted to retrieve it immediately, but the King insisted it would be more fun to let you believe you could really escape. And he was right.’
My heart starts to race as his grin widens. He unlocks the door and a dozen guards sweep in to grab hold of me. Then the gaoler hangs the key on a hook far, far out of my reach.
‘There’s only one way out of this for you and that’s at the gallows.’
And for the first time since I was imprisoned a hot flush of panic spreads across my skin before being absorbed into my very core. Without the key my cell is impossible to escape from; I’ve tested every corner of it. And I’m too heavily guarded to put up a successful fight. The guards push me out of the cell and we begin our journey back through the dark tunnels towards the spiral staircase that takes us up into the main castle. With every step despair flickers a little higher, a little brighter – I’d felt so confident that I could outwit the King, that this trial was only happening because I’d decided to let it. What a fool I’ve been. I’ve given him everything he wants, and now I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do.
The King thanks both the jury and all those gathered, welcoming their attendance with far more enthusiasm than he did during his wedding speech.
‘I think you’ve all come to know our Viper a little better during the course of this morning,’ he says, as if the revelations have hurt him. ‘But I fear the worst is still to come: tales of her true nature from those who know her best.’
He claps his hands and the double doors are pushed open.
There’s a collective intake of breath from the crowd as Bronn enters the hall and I can’t blame them. He cuts a far more impressive figure than I ever could. Every muscle, every contour reveals his strength, while the mysterious aura that surrounds him is only heightened by the dark hair falling over his face. He is beautiful. He is deadly. He mesmerises all who see him.
My heart can’t decide whether to stop or race faster as he strides towards the King and stands to face me. I have no idea what he’s doing here, but betray no hint of emotion at seeing him, though I want to run to him and disappear into his arms.
Bronn sweeps his hair back as he glances up at me, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly at my ragged state, and as I glimpse his anger I know that, despite sending him away, I’ve not lost him yet.
‘Please,’ the King says to Bronn, ‘would you tell the honourable chosen who you are?’
‘I’m Bronn, first mate aboard The Maiden’s Revenge.’
‘And do you acknowledge this girl …’ The King points at me and spits the word with contempt. ‘Do you acknowledge her as your captain?’ He says it as if this was the most ludicrous notion in the world.
Bronn looks at me, and to all in the room it would seem as if he hates me. ‘No.’
There’s a murmur of shock at his declaration and I realise I’m holding my breath. I have no idea how this is going to play out.
The King, however, is loving every moment. His audience is reacting exactly as he’d hoped.
‘No?’ The King acts surprised. ‘Why ever not?’
‘Because she has done nothing worthy of being Captain. She isn’t even a Snake, not technically. She failed her Initiation.’
The King bows his head, as if this is gravely disappointing to him. ‘Failed. Her. Initiation.’ Just in case anyone missed that little announcement. ‘The very reason her father disowned her and cast her out, is it not?’
‘Yes,’ Bronn says. ‘She couldn’t do what was required of her.’
‘So this girl, who’s not even officially in my service, murdered her father, stole his title and now masquerades as the Viper?’
‘Actually, she didn’t murder Adler.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ The King feigns shock, but there’s nothing insincere about mine.
‘Marianne didn’t kill Adler. He fell. Slipped on the rigging and died as he hit the deck.’
Well, this is an interesting strategy.
The King is trying to hide it, but his glee at having persuaded Bronn to spout such lies is obvious enough to me. ‘You mean there’s no legitimacy to her claim at all? How does she get away with this on board your ship?’
Bronn sighs. ‘Because I let her. The crew accept her merely because I tell them to, and they are loyal to me.’
‘And why do you tell them that?’
Bronn addresses the jury directly. ‘Because she paid me to.’
The King looks disgusted. ‘Paid you? When times are so hard?’
‘Yes, she promised me that when she became Queen, she’d make sure I’d have all the power and riches I could ever wish for. I took the deal.’
‘When she became Queen.’ The King really is enjoying repeating his favourite passages of this damning account. ‘So you believe she had her sights on the throne all along?’
‘Yes. She manipulated your son into marriage, even though she doesn’t love him, and planned to overthrow you once he was cold in his grave.’
‘You speculate?’ The King raises his eyebrow.
Bronn stares directly at me with such ferocity it burns my very being. ‘No, she told me.’
The roar of outrage echoes through the hall, and the King’s eyes gleam with satisfaction. Bronn has done a thorough job of discrediting me and painting me as a true enemy of the crown. I search his face for any sign of his intent, but see nothing. I just have to trust him.
When the room settles, the King turns to Bronn once more. ‘You have just confessed to accepting blood money against the crown, which I’m sure you’re aware, is a serious crime. Tell me, why shouldn’t I lock you up with this traitor?’
‘Because I regret what I did. And have returned all the money to you. I hope my testimony today goes some way to making amends.’
The King gives a first-class impression of appearing lenient. Forgiving. ‘I have to ask you. Where do your loyalties lie?’
Bronn looks him dead in the eye. ‘With you, Your Majesty. I always have and always will serve the Eastern Isles. I am sworn into the King’s service and am bound to it.’
The King nods his approval. ‘And for the sake of those who don’t know, can you confirm you did complete your Initiation?’
Bronn’s jaw clenches tight. ‘Yes, I did. Without hesitation or question.’
He’s won over every person in the hall. They love him; they admire him. And so the King finally says the words this has been leading to all along.
‘I think we can all agree that the accused is little more than an illegitimate usurper.’ The King pauses for the inevitable hum of agreement. ‘And so I motion that with immediate effect she is stripped of the title and instead bestow it upon this man, who has demonstrated unfailing fealty to his king and people.’
He strides over to shake Bronn’s hand. ‘Congratulations, you are now my Viper. You’re excused to return to your duties with immediate effect.’
‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’
And then he’s gone, without a backward glance, leaving me with nothing but the sense that I will never see him again. Never have the chance to tell him I shouldn’t have pushed him away that day. Never be able to say I’m grateful for what he just did, despite knowing how much he must have hated it.
Because Bronn is a master at hiding the truth, at making people think what he wants them to think. I’m certain that he just stood up there and apparently betrayed me to protect the lives of all those on board the Maiden. He knows as well as I do that if the King and Viper were to become enemies, then all the work we’ve done so far to restore the Isles would be undone in an instant, so he’s also protecting the people. He’s trusting me too – trusting that I have a plan beyond this trial.
And yet.
There has always been an unspoken truth between us. That Bronn was Adler’s true heir. And though he’s never once said so, I know Bronn’s always longed to captain the Maiden. To be the Vip
er.
Now he is. And my own insecurities raise their ugly heads.
There isn’t time to dwell on them right now, though, because the King announces he has one last witness to call. One final knife to bury in my back. I can’t think who else he could possibly find to hurt me worse than Bronn.
Until Sharpe is escorted in.
It’s immediately clear to me why I haven’t heard from him since the day he visited me – he’s been tortured.
His injuries are hidden, so to everyone else in the room there’s no evidence of the abuse, but I know the signs. The way he shuffles hints at broken toes, multiple bruises, possibly cracked ribs. He winces as a guard touches his back and I can only imagine the lacerations deep in his skin from where they’ve whipped him.
It takes every shred of strength I possess not to launch myself at the King and break his cowardly neck. Instead I harness my hatred, feeling it spreading through me like a poison.
How I want to make them pay for this. How will I ever make them pay for this?
‘Would you please tell the honourable gentlemen who you are?’ the King says to Sharpe as if they were the closest friends.
‘I am the former bodyguard to Prince Torin.’ His voice rasps, like he’s done nothing but scream for days.
‘You’ve known each other since you were boys, have you not?’
‘We have. Protecting him was more than just a job to me; the Prince is my family.’
‘And could you please tell us why you are no longer his bodyguard, given your devotion to his safety?’
Sharpe gingerly raises his arm to gesture at the cloth over his eyes, and the pain it clearly causes him breaks my heart. ‘I lost my sight.’
The King is getting impatient now, wanting Sharpe to hurry up with his account. ‘And how did you lose your sight? In the line of duty?’
‘No. Because of Marianne.’
I swallow hard. This isn’t going to be pretty.
The King steps closer to Sharpe and rests a hand on his shoulder. To most it will look like an act of comfort. To me, it is a clear threat that Sharpe should toe the line.
