Blood and Ashes

by N M Zoltack

  Olympia hesitated still. A part of her wished to save the man now. She had not seen her brother since they had been born. Surely a few more minutes could not hurt, but then she would have to help Bjorn escape the castle entirely, and she might not be able to sneak back into the castle to finally be reunited with her twin.

  With no choice at all, Olympia rushed to join the vicar and hoped she had chosen the right course.

  10

  Alchemist Apprentice Sabine Grantham

  Sabine Grantham was a woman not opposed to ambition. At first, she had allowed her mother’s aspiration to dictate most of her actions, but Sabine had moved so far beyond her mother’s wishes that Sabine had willingly abdicated the crown.

  Granted, she had every intention of regaining the throne and becoming queen again once she finally mastered her potion, Frozen Kiss, and became an alchemist.

  The battle had ended, thankfully. Sabine knew that Queen Rosalynne had won. Otherwise, the Vincanans would have opened every door within the castle and have located her long before now.

  The fighting was actually a boon. As terrible as it sounded, she hoped they had regained prisoners so that she could test her potion on one.

  Her fingers ran along her mother’s notes. It was only recently that she had learned that her mother had also dabbled in alchemy, although Greta had not attempted to become an alchemist, as far as Sabine could tell.

  Why not? That was interesting. Her mother had also pushed for Sabine to be the one to marry Jankin instead of marrying him herself, although Sabine suspected that had been because her mother did not wish to perform her marital duties with the man, but as much as Sabine had sought to fulfill her every role as queen and wife to the king, Jankin had not been interested. She assumed that meant he had not slept with his second wife, Aldith, either, which made her becoming pregnant that much more of a scandal. Jankin had sought to have her killed for her adultery, but the Fate of Death had claimed her, and then the babe had died as well.

  Despite Greta not marrying the king, Sabine had uncovered plots by her mother against both Sabine and Rosalynne. Greta had sought the crown regardless, but now, Greta was dead.

  In a way, Sabine wished her mother lived yet, if only so that she could be the willing or unwilling volunteer for Sabine’s potion. Until Frozen Kiss produced the exact result Sabine aimed for, she would not yet be an alchemist.

  The potion had changed colors so many times during her various iterations, and right now, it was an icy blue color, like a frozen-over pond.

  At least the fighting had caused her guard, Thorley Everett, to depart, but she hoped he would return soon. Knowledge about the situation with the prisoners would be a boon.

  Not five minutes later, a knock sounded at her door, and she called, “Come in,” with the assumption it was the guard.

  Instead, Aldus Perez strolled in.

  Sabine suppressed the urge to sweep to her feet. He held no authority over her, and yet she could not deny that he was a man who demanded and received results.

  “Aldus,” she said coolly.

  “Sabine,” he returned, his gaze shifting from her to her potion.

  “What news do you bring?”

  "I just spoke with a man that you would find… most enlightening."

  “Who might that be?” Sabine asked dryly. She was starting to find the man a bit tedious. He thought himself self-importance, and he had a habit of trying to act as if he and he alone had all of the information. While he did tend to learn a great deal, he did not know all.

  For instance, Aldus had brought her a man before, but Sabine hadn’t the heart to use her potion on him. The man had died just the same. He had been a knight wounded in battle, a married man, a soul who had fought defending the castle against the dragons. His soul had been far too kind and good, and hearing that his wife looked like her had Sabine scrambling to make a healing potion for him, only she had taken too long. In all likelihood, the potion would have done the knight no good in any case.

  “Bjorn Ivano,” the advisor uttered. “Do you recall the man?”

  “I do,” she whispered, her mind racing.

  “He is a prisoner,” Aldus added. “I thought perhaps you might need another man to test your potion on?”

  Sabine appraised the advisor. As much as she did not care for his phrasing, as if he were giving her permission to do that which needed to be done, she also could not deny that she sought to leap at the chance to use her potion on the man.

  “I do,” she murmured. “Do you mean to say that Bjorn is a prisoner from the battle?”

  “You presume correctly.”

  “Excellent. Yes, indeed, I do wish to give him my potion. Might you bring him here?”

  Aldus, however, shook his head. "I fear that would not be wise. Such a high-profile, well-known prisoner being escorted to your room… Knowledge of this would surely make its way to the queen, and I doubt very much you seek for that."

  Sabine wrinkled her nose. She had been in the dungeon previously, while using a potion she had concocted to force those who drank it to tell the truth. The potion succeeded on that account. Unfortunately, those who consumed it then died after telling the truth. That unfortunate side effect was why she remained yet to be an alchemist apprentice.

  As much as she did not wish to do as the advisor bid of her, not wishing for him to have any power over her, she could not argue. His reasoning was sound.

  “Very well,” she said, finally sweeping to her feet. “Bring me to him.”

  The advisor's smile was both chilling and dark, and she suppressed a shudder. He ran a hand through his slicked-back hair before offering her his arm. "Shall we?"

  She first placed the potion in a hand that she then concealed within the folds of her skirts and linked their arms. “We shall,” she said firmly.

  While the knight from before, the one who died without consuming her potion, had been a family man, Sabine knew Bjorn was not only not a family man, but that he was as arrogant as they came. His arrogance had brought him back to the castle, a fact that he would soon rue for the short amount of time that he had left on Dragoona.

  11

  Ulric Cooper, Personal Guard to Queen Rosalynne

  For the longest time, Ulric Cooper had longed to be one of Rosalynne's guards, and now, he was. No longer a servant. No longer a prisoner. Sometimes, he could hardly believe the twists and turns his life had taken.

  After the fruitless and pointless questioning of Bjorn Ivano, Rosalynne had left the dungeons. She was pacing in her bedchambers.

  “You should either eat or rest,” Ulric suggested.

  She shook her head and, if anything, increased her pace. “I cannot.”

  “Why not?”

  “I must think.”

  “About Bjorn,” he assumed.

  He grimaced. Did he sound jealous? He certainly hoped not, but he had not forgotten that the man from Maloyan had sought her hand at one time. As the champion of a tournament, he had a measure of fame, and his hometown was a large and important city.

  “I never thought I would see him again,” Rosalynne said, finally coming to a halt near the foot of her bed.

  Ulric had been standing by her doors, but now, he dared to approach her. “What will you do with him?”

  Rosalynne shook her head, her gaze dropping to the ground. Most women would appear vulnerable in such a position, but not the queen. There was a quiet dignity to her even during her confusion. She was not a hasty queen, not ruled by her emotions but instead quiet contemplation. While her father had been one to execute those who opposed him, Rosalynne did not often choose that course of action.

  She had with Greta Grantham, the murderer of Prince Noll. For a time, Ulric had been in a cell, locked away because of the advisor Aldus Perez, on suspicion of being the killer, but Ulric had befriended the prince. Once he learned of the murder, Ulric had whisked Vivian away so that none could come after her. The two of them were now friends, but Ulric and Rosalynne… He had
feelings for her that he should not, and perhaps it was not the wisest of choices for him to be her personal guard, but he would defend her until his dying breath.

  “I cannot stop thinking about my last conversation with Bjorn,” Rosalynne finally murmured. “He claimed that all he had ever done had been for me, always for me. He killed a man for stealing food, a man who sought to feed his starving family. I had not realized that so many of my people were suffering, and they still are!”

  “In part because of the dragons,” Ulric pointed out.

  “Yes, but that only makes helping them that much harder, and I am not doing enough. This war… It must end.”

  “That is easier said than done,” he said flatly. “The Vincanans only just attacked us.”

  “I am not so concerned about them,” she murmured.

  He narrowed his eyes. Did she know something he did not? Most likely.

  “It is the dragons that worry me far more,” she added.

  “I understand that well.”

  She rubbed her arm and then hugged herself. “He claimed to have loved me from the first time he laid eyes on me.”

  Ulric winced. Surely Bjorn was not the only one who could make that claim. With long, light brown hair that fell in waves about her shoulders, delicate features, a kind smile, mesmerizing dark eyes… Rosalynne was a vision of loveliness, and yes, Ulric himself could make that same claim.

  “But it was his last words that haunt me the most,” Rosalynne muttered. “‘Do not forget that you are not the true queen. Not yet. And if you are not careful, you never will be.”

  “That sounds like a threat,” Ulric stated angrily. His fingers curled into a tight fist.

  Rosalynne shook her head and reached toward one of his hands before dropping her arm by her side.

  “He was wrong,” Ulric continued. “You are the one true and the only queen.”

  “Am I?” Rosalynne murmured. “The Vincanans have risen against me. The dragons are laying waste to Tenoch. My people are hurting, dying, and I cannot stop the bleeding. I do not know what to do.”

  “You will find a way to rise above this,” Ulric said.

  “You and your faith.” Rosalynne shook her head emphatically. “How can you believe in me so very much? It is almost as if…”

  “As if what?” he prompted.

  But she did not finish her thinking, looking away from him.

  It was almost as if he looked up to her as if she were a fifth Fate, the Fate of Love, but then there would have to be a sixth Fate, the Fate of Hate. Who could that be? Bjorn? Prince Marcellus? The King of Vincana? One of the dragons?

  “You will lead Tenoch through this, and one day, there will be peace because of you,” Ulric said. “The people will rejoice whenever they see you, and you will be exalted above all.”

  “No, Ulric.” She shook her head. “I very much fear that will not be the case at all.”

  She did not see her own strength, did not know her own power, but she would. He would see to it.

  Ulric opened his mouth and strove to work up the nerve to tell her how he felt for her, but he could not. It would be selfish for him to distract her from the people, from her duties. There would be time for matters of the heart later. He would make certain of it. Peace first and then love.

  Or so he hoped.

  12

  Princess Vivian Rivera

  The day was dawning by the time Vivian and Marcellus left behind the Vincanans.

  Once they tended to their dead—the Vincanans alone, as even though Vivian volunteered to help, Marcellus thought it might be for the best if she merely observed their efforts—all of them together marched to the camp where Vivian had been held prisoner.

  Before they took even one step, though, Vivian seized the prince’s arm.

  “Before I tell you about my adventures—”

  “With that Ulric fellow?” he asked perhaps a bit surly.

  “Yes.” She smiled fondly, thinking of the captor-turned-friend. Then, she shook her head to clear it. “Do not think me heartless,” she began.

  “Why would I?”

  “Because I have waited so long before asking about my sister, but I know Rosalynne lives. Somehow, I knew she is all right. I do not have to hear it from your lips. I already know in my heart.”

  “You have the right of it. Your sister does live, but you do not have to worry. I do not think you heartless.”

  “No? What do you think of me as?”

  Why had she asked that? His opinion did not matter, and yet she was curious.

  Curious about his thoughts on her.

  Curious about their future.

  The future of Dragoona.

  And it wasn’t as if she and Marcellus had a future. He would be with her sister.

  Or maybe not. Maybe Antonius’s death made a union between Tenoch and Vincana unnecessary. Rosalynne would be willing to allow Vincana to break apart, wouldn’t she, if it meant peace? The two sides could unite against the dragon…

  Vivian’s stomach twisted.

  “I think you are thinking about something very important,” Marcellus said.

  “We should continue on. You and I.”

  “We will. First, though, to the camp.”

  As they marched, Vivian and Marcellus leading the legionaries. Thankfully, almost all of those injured were able to march along with them, and only two had to be carried. During the trek, Vivian poured out her story about Ulric sweeping her out of the castle, her traveling toward Olacic Mountains with him, abandoning him with no horse, venturing all the way to Olac… She even mentioned Garsea and the Keepers of the Dragons, slipping onto the ship, ending up in Vincana, training…

  “You did not just pretend to train,” he remarked.

  “Of course not, but I am nowhere near as accomplished as some of your children who have only seen ten summers.”

  “With time, dedication, and practice—”

  “Oh, I’ve been dedicating the time and practice,” she said with a wry grin. “A woman does not have to be standing on the sands of the southern continent for her to train with weaponry.”

  “I did not mean to imply otherwise.”

  “Oh, I know that. Perhaps one day soon, there might be peace lasting long enough for us to spar.”

  “We have fought against each other.”

  “Yes,” she murmured, “but you held back.”

  “Correct me if I am wrong, but you held back as well.”

  “I did not try to kill you, no,” she agreed.

  His lips parted as if he meant to laugh, but he caught himself. Perhaps he felt a measure of guilt over killing his father, but from what she had witnessed, his father had certainly tried to claim his son's life in return.

  “You cannot merely admit that I am right,” he said.

  “Indeed, you were not incorrect,” she teased.

  Marcellus beamed, his dark eyes dancing.

  Minutes later, they arrived at the camp. When the three guards she had mildly poisoned and then healed spotted her with Marcellus, they sputtered, uncertain how they would be treated, especially since the princess was walking about freely.

  “What did you do to escape?” Marcellus murmured to her.

  “I am sure they will delight in regaling that particular story with you,” she said sweetly.

  His eyes widened, and once again, he almost laughed.

  “Do your people know about the king?” she whispered.

  He gave her a look, and once he bid his people to rest up, eat, and take turns keeping watch, he explained to them all that he would be back shortly. A man about a decade older than the prince watched them with wary eyes as they departed on horseback.

  “Flavius Clavus,” the prince explained when he noticed her glancing backward at their observer.

  “The commander of your army, isn’t he?” she asked.

  “The Vincanan army, yes,” he clarified.

  She neglected to mention that the Vincanan army was his army and ins
tead noted, “He does not seem to care for us to leave together.”

  “He is a little… He’s not quite himself at the moment.”

  “Oh? How so?”

  “It is not my place to say,” he murmured.

  “So if it were your place, you would tell me?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? We are to… If the wedding goes forward, you and I—”

  “If?” she interrupted. “The one who greatly opposed to the union is now dead. Do you believe your people will not accept your rule—”

  Marcellus rubbed his chin. “Maybe I should have told them already about the king being dead.”

  “You just went up against a dragon and killed him,” Vivian said. “They lost… They did lose the battle at the castle?”

  Marcellus rubbed a hand down his face. “You told me all about your journey around Dragoona, and I never even thought to tell you about the battle.”

  “I know Rosalynne is still the queen. I assume the castle still stands?”

  “Yes.”

  “Of course, because the Vincanans still wish for you to sit on the throne,” she remarked quietly. “Or do they wish for the throne and castle alike in Tenoch to be dismantled? Such that the seat of Vincana Proper could, quite properly of course, be in Vincana?”

  “We are heading to talk to your sister, are we not?”

  “Yes,” she grumbled.

  “I do not know what the future will hold,” he said.

  “What do you want for the future? For Vincana?”

  “I do not know that either.”

  She could not help laughing. “What do you know?”

  “That I appreciate your not asking me for details about my father.”

  “Oh, if you wish to speak about your father, I will listen, of course, but then you might ask about mine, and, well, the two of us both did not have exemplary fathers.”

  “You are right about that.”

  “But if it were not for your father, would we have met?” she asked.

  “Possibly. It’s conceivable that Rufus and I would have come to Atlan for a tournament at some time if the war had never happened."