“Of course, my Queen,” said Albert with a bow. “I was wrong to make such an untimely suggestion.”
“You will get your vengeance,” said the Queen, turning to the painting of the Wolf Baron. “Now, what was it the magic wielder told you?”
“He said one could just reach in and grab him,” said Albert, raking his fingers through the air.
“Do it,” commanded the Queen.
“My—my lady, I would do it, I—I would, it’s only that—”
“Oh alright, I shall do it myself, you spineless coward!” snapped the Queen. She moved to the painting. Lifting up her arms, she slowly extended her hands forward, moving them toward the canvass.
“Be careful your Highness!” cried Albert.
As the Queen’s fingers touched the painting, they moved into the picture itself, slipping into the flattened realm of the second dimension, and becoming a part of the painted composition. Further and further she moved her arms until they were painted around the leaping wolf. The Queen grabbed the werewolf’s shaggy fur and yanked her arms back out in a single movement, taking the beast from the portrait. The black wolf pounced from the picture frame and landed in the study with a crash. The Queen staggered back, trying to maintain her balance.
“Where is that wretched girl?” snarled the Wolf Baron, looking around. His shoulders bristled with thick, dirty fur.
“Contain yourself, Baron, you are no longer in the arena!” said the Queen, displeased with his lack of gratitude for being brought out of the painting.
“That much I can tell,” rumbled the wolf.
“You have been trapped in the painting for many days,” she explained, indicating to the canvas hanging on the wall behind him. “I took it upon myself to rescue you from that enchanted prison!”
“Where is the girl?” demanded the werewolf, unable to cope with having been defeated in the arena.
“The one-armed lady warrior is my daughter,” said the Queen unevenly. “You should have killed her when I left her for you in the forest seventeen years ago as a mere baby, or taken her life in the tournament, but you have botched these opportunities leaving us with a terrible mess on our hands!”
“Let me make it right, I shall not fail you again!” growled the Wolf Barron.
“Lucky for you, Albert has helped me devise a plan. Much has happened while you have been trapped in the portrait. My daughter’s coronation has been set for the morning, and tomorrow night, during the celebration feast I shall take what is rightfully mine!”
“We must kill the magic wielder now, so as to keep him out of our way, since we know what he is capable of!” spat the Wolf Baron.
“The girl will never go through with the coronation without him,” argued the Queen.
“Then we should dispose of her as well! It is no good to go through with the ceremony and in so doing bestow upon Amelliea the right to overthrow you!” growled the Wolf Baron.
“But don’t you see? It is the perfect cover!” said Albert. “All eyes will be on Amelliea’s pretty face! The citizens are already quite taken with the silly girl and when she dies, the tragedy will break every heart in the city, leaving the people angry and gullible.”
Changing into the form of a man in a rush of dark smoke, and finding himself once more in the tattered garb and armor he wore in the arena, the Wolf Barron closed his hands into fists, overcome with immense irritation. Suddenly, he sniffed the air. Behind his back, a dim light glowed for a brief instant from beneath the writing desk and then quickly went out without the detection of the Queen and her conspirers. For no apparent reason, the Wolf Baron wrinkled his nose as though smelling something foul, and then permanently lost interest in the scents wafting through the study. “Why involve strangers and risk losing everything? I prefer to do it all myself!” he grumbled.
“I cannot risk you failing me again! Besides, Albert is right,” said the Queen. “The presence of the Girl and the magic wielder is advantageous to us for the moment.
“I say we end them both tonight,” insisted the Wolf Barron. “You cannot let that girl be named Princess! Mark my words, she will take the throne from you, casting you aside at the first opportunity!”
“No!” said the Queen, hitting her palm on the writing desk right over Bloom’s head.
“You care for this child?” guessed the Wolf Barron.
The Queen took a moment to formulate an answer. “My daughter came to me herself, having regrown her arm. No longer an embarrassment to me, I could not see why I should cast her out. I learned from my spies that a wish granter in the city gave her the arm, wasting his last remaining wish until his birthday in the spring of next year.”
“We must be sure to collect his future whishes before he can waste them as well,” interrupted Albert with a greedy sneer.
“That has already been arranged for, and the man has been seized and placed in my prison,” said the Queen sternly, before continuing. “Understand that when I saw Amelliea whole and lovely as I was in my own youth, I thought that she and I could rein together, but I was wrong. The magic wielder who raised her has ruined her character, instilling sympathy and other unfavorable traits!”
“If she cannot join us, then she is against us,” said Albert.
“I’m afraid you are right,” said the Queen.
“Then it is decided,” growled the Wolf Barron. “I shall kill her for you alongside the magic wielder and counsel members that oppose you, and then you shall be free at last, with nothing holding you back from ruling as you please!”
“Yes,” breathed the Queen, “and I shall rule without limits!”
“Have you the list, my Queen?” reminded Albert.
The Queen pulled a folded piece of parchment from her corset and handed it to the Wolf Barron. “I want each person on this list assigned no less than three assassins.”
“Understood,” said the Wolf Baron. “Not one of them shall escape my soldiers.”
“Once this is done,” said the Queen walking over to the portrait of the King. “You will have your reward.” She pulled on the edge of the gold-painted frame, and the painting swung forward, as if there were several invisible hinges attaching it to the wall. There was a sizable treasure-laden chamber behind the portrait, and the Queen reached in and pulled out a silver goblet. The Wolf Baron looked at the goblet with greed in his eyes. “Now go, and rally your soldiers!” commanded the Queen. The Wolf Baron hurried from the room.
“Why does he want that goblet so?” asked Albert.
“It helps transform people into werewolves,” explained the Queen. “They need but drink from it once, and they are forever cursed.”
“Can’t he just turn his new recruits the traditional way?”
“Few men survive the bite,” explained the Queen, growing exasperated with the old man’s questions. She put the goblet away and closed the secret chamber before leaving the room, all the while cursing at Albert for acting like a fool during their conference with the Wolf Baron.
“Good evening, my lady!” said the guard’s voice as the Queen walked past him, making her scream in surprise.
Bloom and Amelliea crept from their hiding places and came to stand before the portrait of the King. Pulling the painting open they found the bottle of silver potion resting in the deep chamber alongside the goblet and countless other treasures.
“We can’t just take it,” whispered Amelliea. “She will surely notice that it’s missing!”
“I will use a duplication spell,” said Bloom.
“Good idea,” said Amelliea. “Well, what are you waiting for?” she asked when her father made no move to cast the enchantment.
“It is a general spell, it does not work on a select item, but rather, on an entire area, and there are about a dozen artifacts piled around the bottle,” said Bloom. “We shall have to take it all out, duplicate the potion, and replace everything exactly as it was before.”
“No way—that’s going to take all night! Besides, do you really want t
he Wolf Baron to have that goblet?” asked Amelliea.
“Good point,” said Bloom.
“The only person who could safely handle such a dangerous object is you!”
“Alright, you’ve convinced me, now step aside,” said Bloom. He muttered something about the Gator region under his breath.
“What was that?” asked Amelliea.
“Oh nothing,” sighed Bloom, his palms lighting up. “I just worry that this sort of thing doesn’t bother you any more.” He handed Amelliea the enchanted coin purse and instructed her to hold it open.
“I’m not the one who stole an entire library of magic books,” said Amelliea defensively.
Bloom cleared his throat. “Those were about to be burned.”
“Well this here goblet is about to turn thousands of innocent people into werewolves!”
We’ll talk about this later,” he said, moving his hands in a half-circle. “Andante-odda-linent!” he whispered. An entire section of the treasure in the secret chamber lifted up into the air and floated toward Amelliea, leaving an identical replica of each item behind, positioned exactly as it was before. The duplicate treasure was rather dull in appearance, and nowhere near as pretty as the original sparkling valuables.
“In the past, this spell was only used by thieves,” explained Bloom, as the pieces of treasure drifted passed him one by one. “None of the duplicates left behind shall have so much as a trace of the magical properties that belonged to the original items, and even the duplicated gold will be of no value whatsoever, tarnishing like brass over time.”
“We have a problem!” fretted Amelliea, as the treasure came at her. She took a step back. The objects followed her, suspended in the air in a bobbing swarm. It was obvious that the bottle of potion and several of the other sizable artifacts were not going to fit into the purse.
“Hold on,” said Bloom before uttering the incantation for a shrinking spell. The bottle of potion quickly reduced to a tenth of its size and easily fit inside the enchanted coin purse followed by the now tiny silver goblet, and other minuscule artifacts.
“Now that potion is really concentrated,” joked Bloom.
“You’re using too much magic!” said Amelliea.
“I’m a wizard!” cried Bloom in a hushed voice, as he pushed the painting closed over the secret chamber.
“A cursed wizard!” retorted Amelliea, snapping the purse shut.
“Can we please get out of here now?” she asked nervously.
“There’s one last thing I need to do,” said Bloom, looking up at the canvas that once held the Wolf Baron. Bloom touched the vacant painting, turning the colors dull, and dropped all of his new crolackrolite stones into his pocket.
“What did you do?” asked Amelliea.
“The Queen would surely use that painting as a prison if I just left it here as it was,” he explained. “So I turned it into an ordinary painting.” He stood back from the canvas. “Not a very pretty composition though,” he sighed, tilting his head to one side. With the recent disappearance of the Wolf Baron, the painting now depicted an empty space that was mostly brown and murky green in color.
“Come on,” said Amelliea, grabbing his arm and pulling him out the door.
“No, your Royal Highness!” the guard yelled at them as they passed. He pointed helplessly to his throat. “Very good, my Queen!” he cried, unable to use other words. He looked as if he might burst into tears.
“Not to worry, my friend. It will wear off in three days time,” Bloom consoled him.
Bloom and Amelliea snuck back toward their chambers.
“What’s our plan tomorrow?” asked Amelliea.
“It’s simple, you distract your mother and the Wolf Baron, while I get the potion into the drinks,” replied Bloom.
“Do you think we can really manage this?” she asked nervously.
“We must manage it,” he answered.
Amelliea paused at her bedroom door. “You won’t let them kill me, will you?” she whispered.
“Not in a million years,” said Bloom, kissing her on the forehead.
“Good,” she replied. “I won’t let them kill you either.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” replied Bloom, before retreating to his own chamber.
Once in her room, Amelliea sighed and went about packing her belongings, for she knew that she would be leaving for good in just a few hours.
Chapter 51
The Coronation
Not more than an hour had passed before Amelliea was roused from her bed by a knock at the door. The next moment, a slue of maids barged into her chamber to prepare her for the ceremony. Amelliea refused breakfast, unable to even think of food, and the maids attacked her from all sides. They brushed Amelliea’s hair and pinned it up, decorating her locks with sparkling gemstones and purls. After Amelliea was laced up in a tight corset, she was helped into a heavily starched silver gown with a long train, and sewn up sleeves that trailed along the floor. Her feet were set into shimmering heels that made Amelliea appear several inches taller. Her lips were painted red, and colored powders were applied to her cheeks and eyelids.
At sunrise, Amelliea was escorted down to the chapel, where a vast audience had already gathered. To the sweet music of harps and violins, the girl slowly walked down the path to the alter, her skirt and sleeves trailing behind her. Her mother waited at the far end of the chapel alongside the cardinal priest. Amelliea knelt before the priest as she had been instructed, and the ceremony commenced. The cardinal spoke of loyalty to the people of the city, and the responsibility of holding the wellbeing of thousands in her hands. Amelliea was guided through her vows, and a silver crown was placed upon her head similar to that of the Queen. The priest kissed both of Amelliea’s cheeks, concluding the ceremony, and standing beside her smiling mother, Amelliea received countless blessings from the people who had witnessed the coronation.
Afterwards, Amelliea was taken to the art room, and made to stand for many hours while her portrait was painted for the royal gallery. Having not slept the night before, and not eaten breakfast, Amelliea struggled to keep upright for the painter. Every now and again the painter would remind Amelliea to stand up tall, and look over her right shoulder, and the girl would jar out of her stupor, nearly falling over in surprise. At last, when the portrait was complete Amelliea was released to dinner in the great hall.
As Princess of the Citrulene region, Amelliea was seated directly beside her mother, who sat at the head of a very long table. The hall was heavily decorated on account of the celebration, and musicians played simple tunes in the background as the last of the guests came into the hall to find their seats. The Queen took Amelliea’s hand and for a brief moment held it so tenderly, that Amelliea knew for certain her mother was silently saying farewell. Amelliea felt detached from the gesture, knowing that it was the Queen herself who had planned to murder her on that very night. Never generous with her affection, the Queen let go and stood to make an announcement. Waiters moved this way and that about the hall, their movements rough and erratic, as Amelliea’s had been before she was cured of the werewolf’s bite. Dishes crashed somewhere in the background, and Bloom walked casually out of the kitchens, playfully arguing with the chef about the proper consistency of raspberry pudding.
“Dear council members, guests, and relatives, tonight we celebrate the birthday and coronation of the young Princess Amelliea,” said the Queen, standing before her guests. “When the time comes for her to take my place, may she rule with boldness and an unwavering conviction to honor the vows she took on this day!” The audience passionately clapped in approval of those words, and Bloom stepped in to take the empty seat next to Amelliea. The Queen nodded her gratitude for the praise of her guests and then continued. “Though many of you do not agree with the laws I have passed, and the method of my governing, I do hope that my daughter will learn from me how to have a firm hand in the coming years. May Amelliea follow in my footsteps and strictly enforce order and
compliance above all else in the Citrulene region. On this memorable night, I urge you to leave behind your reservations, for tonight we welcome my successor and protégé!” Again there was a round of clapping, only this time it was a little less enthusiastic. Before sitting down, the Queen nodded discreetly to the Wolf Barron, who sat to her immediate right, directly across from Amelliea. The Wolf Barron whispered something into the ear of a passing waiter.
“Ehem—” Bloom cleared his throat and stood up facing the Queen before turning to the guests. The Queen instantly sat down, pressing her lips together.
“A toast! To the Princess!” Bloom yelled across the dining hall. The Queen and the Wolf Baron stared death at him, but the wizard persisted. “Raise your glasses for the brave lady warrior and young Princess whose courage is an inspiration to us all!” Everyone raised their glasses high. The drink fizzed and bubbled in their sparkling crystalline vessels. “I warned the chef of my coming toast, telling him to provide extra goblets, for even the common folk deserve to share in this historic moment! We wait for all of you to join us in this toast to honor our beloved Amelliea on this meaningful day…” he went on, babbling until he was certain that even the waiters and maids held glasses in their hands. “For the Princess!” finished Bloom. He was the first to drink. Everyone followed suit, including the hesitant Queen and the Wolf Baron. Cheers erupted as glasses were emptied. Bloom remained standing, easily enduring the Wolf Barron’s hostile stare. By the twisted line of the werewolf’s lips, it was clear that the Wolf Baron had guessed something was happening. There was a crash as a guest collapsed across the dining table, falling face-first into his food and immediately beginning to snore. The unconscious man had claws for fingernails and two large fangs protruding from beneath his upper lip. As he lay strewn across the table, his fingernails and teeth gradually began to retract, becoming human once more. It wasn’t long before another guest followed suit, leaning so far back in his chair that it tripped over. The man fell asleep in mid air, not even waking from the impact of falling on the stone floor. Patches of fur that had only moments before appeared on the man’s face gradually withdrew back into his skin, disappearing without a trace. The hall was filled with yawning guests. There were gasps of shock, as people began to suddenly fall asleep in rapid succession, dropping right where they sat or stood. Many of the falling people showed signs of a partial transformation into werewolves. Waiters fainted, their platters crashing to the ground, and guests toppled over, their cheeks landing hard in the mashed potatoes and gravy on their plates. A few dozen people remained fully conscious and they looked about in horror at the disturbing events rapidly unfolding around them.
The Curse (The Windore Series Book 2) Page 33
