by Kyra Gregory
She licked her lips, taking a step towards him once again. Vanquishing the sadness in her gaze, she returned to him with nothing but strength and resolve. “Tell them that every reign is built upon the death of another,” she said. “Although I saw to the death of my own brother, they were able to forgive it. You have had less of a hand in my death—they should be able to forgive just the same.”
It was Riffin’s turn to turn away, shaking his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he drew in his emotions and kept himself from lashing out. Try as she might to make this easier, there was nothing she could say or do to diminish the grief this caused.
“You need to go,” she said. He turned around to the sound of her shaking voice, the lump of emotion she now struggled to speak around. “I don’t trust Niles not to change his mind,” she whispered.
Riffin rested his forehead against the bars, “I will not let this go unpunished,” he whispered. If he couldn’t save her, if he couldn’t reverse the damage that had been done by the choices he’d made, he’d make sure that this savagery was paid for.
His mother smiled, reaching through the bars to touch his cheek once more. “I wouldn’t expect anything else,” she whispered back. “Show them. Show them all that we’ve taught you. Show them the King I know we’ve prepared you to be.”
He pursed his lips together. Now wasn’t the time for a lack of confidence, no time to counter her words and insist that she’d made a mistake ever naming him her heir. Instead, he nodded.
“Bide your time well, however,” she whispered. “Bide your time and strike a balance between your head and your heart. Do not let this alliance sever before everything is in order.”
Her fingers entangled themselves with his one last time, squeezing tightly before drawing his fingers to her lips.
Much like when he left Lionessa, goodbye became far too difficult of a word to utter.
His mother smiled, tears in her eyes, “Goodbye, my son,” she whispered.
And just as he’d always known, his mother was a greater deal braver than himself, able to utter the most painful of words in the strongest, yet most vulnerable, of manners. Tears slipped from his cheeks and his lips trembled, “Goodbye,” he whispered.
Chapter 4
COMMOTION ERUPTED IN THE Lionessan Capital as Riffin returned with his men. The gates rose for them and, waiting for them on the end of their long and tiresome journey, each of them with minds and hearts weighed heavy with the news they brought home, were a mass of people in the middle of the square.
Malia tore through the crowd the fastest, her skirts gathered in her hands as she rushed towards him. As his feet hit the ground, having dismounted his horse, her arms flew around his neck. She dragged him down to her height with ease, too exhausted to counter her enthusiasm to have him home where he belonged.
Shattered at having left his mother behind, he clung to Malia as though she were all he had left in the world. It wasn’t far from the truth, he thought. Squeezing his eyes shut against the thought of speaking to his father, breaking away from the image of his grief, he knew even before it happened that he’d lost the man for good.
There was nothing more important to his father than his mother. He loved and cherished her above all, dutiful in his service of her out of a love and devotion that could never be replicated with anyone else. The thought that she wasn’t coming back... The thought that his wife’s fate was in the hands of his son... His son’s failure at procuring his mother’s safety... There was no forgiving that. In his father’s eyes, the failure to save his mother and the act of taking a sword against her deliberately were one and the same—they were one sin.
Malia knew better than to ask questions—the grim look on all of their faces was all the answer she needed. Paying the children a short visit, the silence lingered over them and followed through as he approached his father’s cell.
His words stunned his father into silence, the only sound between being that of his father’s laboured breathing. “I did what I could,” Riffin said, finally.
His father huffed, waving his hand dismissively before turning away. “When is the execution?” he asked.
Riffin licked his lips, opting for the honest response. “A day from now,” he said.
“Then we still have time,” his father said, turning back to him. “Let me put an army together. We will raid the castle and—”
“King Niles is counting on it,” Riffin replied, cutting him off. “He was surprised to see you weren’t there. He was sure you would go. And I’m sure you will be executed alongside her if you do.”
He threw himself at the bars, clinging to them, “Then allow it,” he said. “Just as your mother allowed you to risk your life for the one you loved, allow me to do the same.”
“She wouldn’t want that,” he said.
“No ounce of reasoning would convince you of the same,” he retorted. “Malia would not have seen you die for her but you left nonetheless! Allow it! Please!”
Forcing himself to face him, Riffin swallowed the swell of emotions in the back of his throat. He considered it, if even for a moment, only because he couldn’t stand the thought of torturing his father this way any longer. “I cannot,” he said. “She wouldn’t want it. I don’t want it. I’m about to lose my mother and this kingdom is about to lose their Queen—I can’t let us lose you too. Not when I need you for what comes next.”
“Nothing need come next if we could just—“
Riffin shook his head again, “No,” he said, speaking about as adamantly as he could muster. “She’s made her peace with it. You need to do the same.”
His father rattled the bars again, shaking them with all his might, “How can you ask that of me?” he growled.
Riffin shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, raking his fingers through his hair. “I wished to let you out this night,” he said, sighing softly, “but, once I cannot ascertain you won’t try to get yourself killed, I have no choice but to leave you here.”
“We all have our choices,” his father hissed, “it’s a matter of whether we allow ourselves to recognise them or not.”
Riffin nodded. On that, they could agree.
Chapter 5
STEELING HERSELF, QUEEN SYBELLE stood at the sound of men making their way down the long corridors towards her cell. When instructed to deal with the execution of a Queen, none of them knew what to expect. To their evident surprise, they found her smirking, done away with any fear or remorse she may have had at having to confront her own death. Her ease unnerved them, all young and inexperienced, having had no part in the deaths of Ludorum’s heirs all those years ago when King Niles and Prince Pietros had turned on their own family.
Opening her creaking cell, they had no need to lay their hands on her—though they didn’t even dare—because she walked briskly between them, never hesitating to take her next step towards the end of her life. Ascending a flight of stairs, she made her way out into the open air, basking in the smell of rain on the gentle breeze.
The sky above her was grey, thick with clouds, as the sun barely peeked through. Nonetheless, she smiled.
Chapter 6
RIFFIN SLUMPED BACK INTO his throne. With all his men dismissed, his actions weighing heavy on his mind, the silence he submitted himself to became deafening, leaving him with just the sound of his racing heart drumming into his ears. His hands began to tremble, incapable of being steadied, even as he shifted between squeezing the armrests to tapping his fingers along the lion figureheads that adorned it.
Outside, the crows cawed louder than usual, circling the grey skies, cutting through the mist. Loud as they were, they only occasionally pierced through his thoughts, consumed by them more often than not. They startled him each time when they did, a reminder that they would be admired for their graceful flight, no matter how much he wanted to deny them his attention.
His mother adored them, capable of watching them for hours. They would sit together often, marvelling at the gracefu
lness of their flight, and their statue-like appearance as they settled on palace balconies and windowsills.
Turning to look away from them, all they did now was serve as a dreadful reminder of what he was about to lose.
Chapter 7
AS QUEEN SYBELLE ASCENDED the steps of the scaffold her gaze followed the birds that perched themselves nearby, basking alongside her in what little sunshine they could find.
She paid the men there little mind and the guards came to a stop beside her when she made no fuss about moving towards her place of execution. There was little to no audience—a few Ludorum nobles, some she had recognised from Riffin and Malia’s wedding. No doubt they had either begged to bear witness to the death of the Queen—perhaps she had grieved them personally in the past—or they were the cause of all King Niles’s madness, there to see the deed was done.
The executioner donned a black hood, nothing but bright blue eyes staring back at her. Her gaze lingered on his for a moment. How could such beautiful eyes commit to such a heinous act? She gave it little thought, smirking in his direction as she showed him she would remain unfazed by his threat to her life. Sweet natured as she had appeared as a child, she had no doubt others had looked to her own savage behaviour in the midst of war and wondered the exact same.
The executioner placed a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to gather her skirts in her hands and settle on her knees. Two hands came to the front of her face, holding a blindfold of white silk. Quick as a flash of lightning, she placed her hand over his, lowering it, “I will watch,” she said, meeting his gaze, “thank you.”
The executioner shifted his weight, considering her words before tossing the blindfold aside. Reaching for the sword, propped up against the banister of the scaffold, he closed in on her, slowly at first. As he adjusted to the weight of the heavy sword in his hands, his sleeves rode up enough for her to make out the thick, deep scars protruding from his skin.
Facing forward, stealing a breath deep into her lungs, she thought he was a man who had seen battle and survived. His swing would be good, she told herself. One swing of the sword and it would all be over.
Chapter 8
THE DOORS TO THE throne room opened, causing Riffin’s heart to leap. He had the right mind to be angry, to lash out, only to find it was Thane that made his way into the room uninvited.
Pursing his lips together, stopping short, he bowed his head. “Your Majesty,” he addressed.
Riffin rolled his eyes, glassy with tears, beckoning him forward before snatching the letter in his hand.
It was done.
“Does he know?” he asked.
Just then, distant, though as blood-curdling as though he were in the room with them, a guttural scream erupted throughout the palace.
Riffin took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly, unable to help its shakiness. The scream died down, no longer echoing through the corridors, though doing a well-enough job of echoing within his soul, the hairs rising along his arms and the nape of his neck.
Thane stayed where he was, uncertain as to whether he should leave or wait for an order.
Riffin swallowed and shifted in his seat. There wasn’t time for anymore hesitation. He was King now, whether he liked it or not, and he couldn’t spend all his time dwelling on a single choice. “Leave him to his grief until morning,” he said. “I’ll be there to see him out.”
Thane nodded curtly, turning on his heel and walking away. He came to an abrupt stop short of the throne room doors and Riffin glanced at him from beneath his lashes. Thane hesitated—it was a luxury he could still afford—then turned around. “Do you require anything else, your Majesty?” he asked.
Riffin shook his head, half-shrugging his shoulders, “No, Thane, thank you,” he said.
Thane nodded, shoulders slumped as though he were disappointed with his response. The two of them were very much the same in that regard—they both despised being useless.
As he left, Malia replaced him, entering the room with caution. Riffin cocked his head back, staring down his nose at her, waiting for her to say something. Her shoulders dropped, playing with her fingers against her skirt. “I heard,” she said.
Riffin licked his lips, pursing them together as he brushed the back of fingers against his jaw. “I wondered,” he said. “I wondered...when you were gone, if it were possible to know when the other part of my heart would seize to beat any longer.” Tearing his eyes away from her tear-filled gaze, a forlorn smile tugged at his mouth, “I suppose it is,” he whispered, “for, if my father isn’t capable of feeling it, I don’t think anyone can.”
Malia brushed the tears from her cheeks and pursed her lips together, tasting the saltiness of her tears as she made her way towards him. Giving no thought to their newfound station, she lowered herself into his lap, draping her legs over the side of the throne as she laid her head on his shoulder.
True to his word, knowing he could no longer afford to behave like a coward, he stood outside his father’s cell as the guards unlocked it that evening. He moved to step into his path, only for his father to avoid the sight of him, his eyes trained on the ground.
Riffin would’ve liked to believe they were filled with anger, with hurt—with anything at all. But, instead, they were absent everything he’d expected—including a soul. Instead, his father stared at the dark stone floor, his lips forming a tight line, either unable, or refusing, to utter a single word.“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He hoped it would be enough. He hoped it would break the spell that had been cast on him and that, somehow, his soul would return to him. But it wouldn’t be that easy. Without her, he was nothing. That was what he’d always thought, and little could be said or done to change that.
His father walked past him, dragging his feet along the dusty ground before taking to the flight of stairs in a tired, sluggish fashion. It would only be worse from there. Roaming the corridors he once did with his wife, returning to the chambers he shared with her, to the bed they slept in together—there’d be no shortage of reminders of what he’d lost.
Tempted as he was to tear the man away from the palace, to help him recover, Riffin knew he didn’t want that—certainly not from him. In his effort to put space between himself and his home for his own peace of mind, he ventured out into the gardens in Thane and Jared’s company. Although there was some peace to be found in the silence, it was as uneasy as they each felt.
“Your father will recover,” Thane said eventually, breaking the silence.
Riffin glanced up at him from beneath his lashes, skimming the back of his thumb along his bottom lip, “The fact that you even think to say that proves you don’t know my father at all,” he said. His heart heavy at the thought, he dropped his gaze, “There’s no one in this world besides my mother—not to him. The fact that she’s gone... He may as well have died alongside her.”
Sat silent and pensive beside him, Jared said nothing. He was in agreement, no doubt, sharing a love for his wife that was comparable to that of the former Queen and her husband. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his wife and, of the stories he’d heard as a child, ones filled with danger and adventure, there was no line they wouldn’t cross for each other.
“Your father is a man of duty,” Thane said. “There was a reason he made it as far as he did in Evrad—even as the King’s bastard. Your mother recognised that in him and he served her well her entire life. There’s nothing to say he won’t do the same thing for you.”
Riffin scoffed, glaring in his best friend’s direction, “A cold comfort,” he said, “to be told that my father will one day speak to his son again, not out of love but out of duty.”
Thane raked his fingers through his hair, evident that he’d had no success in making matters better. “Duty will take his mind off it,” he said. “It’ll...give him the chance to change that pain into purpose. My father did the same in the past, as did your mother.”
Jared nodded slowly, humming in agreement, “He’s right,” he whispere
d. He threw his hand up ever so slightly, shaking his head, “Perhaps duty will take his mind off things,” he said.
Riffin turned his attention to each of them, back and forth, making out the looks on their faces. “You’re not talking about duty,” he said. “You’re talking about vengeance.”
Jared licked his lips and Thane shifted his weight, casting his gaze elsewhere. “You have to know that your father will not let this go unpunished,” he said. “Whether it is a day from now, or a month, your father is going to want retribution.”
“On me?” Riffin asked, recoiling.
“Not you,” Thane said. He stood taller now, as though the mere idea of having to get between the two didn’t faze him at all. “In his eyes, it wasn’t you that broke the alliance.”
“But I did,” Riffin blurted. “Standing between my mother and Niles... Making that journey to get Malia—that was enough to break the alliance.”
Jared shook his head, “It may’ve been a convenient excuse,” he said. “Ludorum...is in trouble somehow—details of which they have yet to share with your family, despite the alliance.”
“Your father will want to make them pay for this,” Thane said. “For their refusal to uphold the alliance, for making the choices that they did—the decision to kill a Queen.”
“My mother didn’t want to sever that alliance,” Riffin murmured. “If he does this, before we’re to know the full extent of the consequences, he will be going against her intentions and he’s not fool enough not to know that.”
Jared glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, then turned to him entirely. “Surely you have a desire to see justice done for this,” he said.
Riffin swallowed. He despised being in charge, despised the one being forced to make these decisions. Most of all, he despised the idea of having to say he didn’t know. “Yes, but not for the moment,” he said. Jared’s mouth fell open and his shoulders dropped, winded by his admission. “My mother always taught me to bide my time well—not with indecision but without being fuelled by emotion—and, of all the lessons she ever taught me, that was the one she reiterated for the last time.”
