by M. A. Roth
“Okay.” I drop his gaze.
His hands brushes mine briefly as he passes. I look up at him but he’s walking away. Maybe he didn’t mean to.
Legis and Kiar follow after him. I regretted not saying anything the minute he was gone. What if I never see him again?
“Come on, Sarajane,” Alana says, making me sit beside her. The gentleness of her words lets me know she understands. We sit in silence for a while. “Did I ever tell you the story of King Arimus and his daughter? I used to think it was a myth, but now I know that the story is true.”
“No. I hadn’t heard this story. Tell me.” I sit up straight, welcoming the distraction.
Alana smiles. “Good. I like this story. King Arimus was a great king. He only ever had one daughter… she was known as two-face.” Alana smiles. “Well, only to my tribe. You would never say that to the princess’ face,” she says, grinning wider. “The princess was always in some kind of trouble and spent her days away from the kingdom. Nobody knew where she was going. Her father believed whatever stories she told him, such as she was helping sick children, or helping out in the kitchen.” Alana rolls her eyes, making me grin, it was always so nice to see this lighter side of her. “So one day, a stable boy came rushing through the palace and said the princess had turned into a beast right before his eyes. The young man was terrified. But the King laughed at this, saying he was being silly. But when the young man became insistent, the King left to see with his own eyes what the stable boy was talking about. To the King’s horror, a beast stood in the stable, transforming from his beautiful daughter into a creature that only belonged in the underworld.” Alana pauses.
“What did he do?” I ask, eager to know.
“He killed her with his own sword. But when she died, she returned to her own body. He sobbed over his daughter’s body for days. Her body always remained warm, so he encased her in a glass box, where she remains the same to this day.”
I look at Alana. “That was such a stupid story. I don’t understand the point of it.”
Alana shuffles closer to me and away from Morrick and Mirium’s ears, but I don’t think they are listening. “The point was, her body never died. They say the beast lived and still does, holding both the princess’ soul and its own. And it waits deep underground for her father’s soul, as she is known as the Soul Keeper.”
I swallow.
“The princess’ name was Suraga and she is trapped until her body completely dies. They say if anyone ever sets eyes on her and lives to tell the tale, they get branded with her mark.”
I look at Alana, horrified. Then realize I am fine. Maybe she had no idea I met Suraga, the rational part of my brain was saying that this was all too coincidental.
“Oh, that’s interesting.” I look away and hope the panic doesn’t show on my face.
I can feel Alana’s heavy stare on me. “Sarajane, I noticed something this morning.”
I face Alana and raise a brow.
“Your hands.”
I open out my scarred hands and study them, but the more I look, the more I notice that they are not scars, but swirls, just like the swirls on Suraga’s face. I quickly close my hands and look at Alana.
“So this made me wonder… what other secrets do you hide?”
Guilt wells up inside me but I don’t get to reply. Heavy footsteps pound toward us. Morrick and Alana jump up in unison, while Mirium pulls me behind them. They drew their weapons, as ten heavily guarded soldiers come into view. They are not dressed like Saskian soldiers; instead, their uniforms are gray with different colors on the shoulders. The first man who steps forward has several gold stars along the front of his jacket.
“Drop your weapons and no one will be hurt,” he speaks clearly as his gaze skims across us all.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SARAJANE
Alana and Morrick stay in their battle stances.
“I am King Morrick of Saskia and I demand to know what this is about!” Morrick’s voice booms with authority.
The man with all the stars doesn’t look surprised by this fact. “I know who you are. Drop your weapons,” he repeats.
No one moves.
“Very well,” the man with the gold stars steps aside to let another man take his place. This one had neither gold stars nor colors on his gray outfit. Instead, there is just a white star on the chest of his shirt. Before I can take in any more details, he blows gold-dust toward us. It drifts around us. What the hell? That has only entered my head when my limbs grow heavy, and like the rest of our group I collapse to the ground.
When we awaken, we are all sitting on a stone floor in what looks like a tunnel that goes on forever. I wriggle my hands. They have been tied tightly behind my back. Tristan, Legis and Kiar sat across from me, while Morrick, Mirium and Alana are to my left. Everyone is awake and they are looking pretty pissed.
The soldiers are still here, and the one with all the stars is talking to another man a bit away from us. Their conversation seems intense, but the man he is talking to leaves and makes his way down the tunnel. Morrick continues to ask questions, but they completely ignore us.
We sit there for another twenty minutes. I keep catching Tristan’s eye. HIs gaze roams across me as if he is searching for a wound. I give him a quick smile. Footsteps have him looking away from me. They sound like a woman in high heels. My judgment is right. Well, nearly right. A woman moves toward us, but her hair is cut just like a boy’s, tight to her head. Her breasts, in a shirt that she had tucked into a pair of trousers, gives her away, along with the feminine features of her face. Her eyes are small and blue, her nose is very pointy, hawk-like and her lips are rosy pink. I look down at her boots and a small heel is what’s making the noise.
She acknowledges the man with all the stars with a nod.
“Marcella, it is great to see you,” Mirium says.
“Mirium, it is great to see you too, darling. So nice of you to drop by.” A liking toward Mirium shines in her eyes.
“Is this necessary, Marcella, or is there something you need me to clear up?” Mirium asks with the same warmth toward Marcella.
“Yes, darling. I am sorry, but it is necessary.” She’s brief as she turns to her soldiers. “Take them to the meeting room.”
I’m help off the ground like everyone else.
“I really hope you can clear all this up,” she speaks to Mirium before taking the lead down the long tunnel. She has a sing-song tone to her voice, making her sound as if she had one arm already in a straightjacket.
Before she proceeds any further, she tells four soldiers to stay with Tristan at all times. “He has a reputation of disarming several men at one time, and we don’t want that.” She pouts like a child.
Tristan smiles, but it is more like a snarl. “My hands are tied, but thank you for the vote of confidence.”
Marcella’s face grows tight. She tilts her head slightly to the side as she assesses Tristan, who seems to understand that she isn’t the full shilling, so he had the good sense to lose the snarl on his face.
We make our way down the tunnel. The flooring is done in a cream tile and kept clean, suggesting to me that it must be used regularly. When we leave, we come to a flight of stairs that leads to higher ground. Climbing them with my hands tied behind my back is no fun, but the soldiers helps us. We pass through an alleyway between two big buildings. Their finish is smooth with white ash. I glance up to see the buildings are stories high; then sky looms overhead with the net that covers Humus, so we are inside the city.
Before I know it, we pass through a door and we are taken into a corridor. We were inside one of the concrete buildings. The hallway is bare, with no pictures or ornaments in sight, brown tiles decorate the floors, and the walls are smooth, all painted white.
Up ahead, two soldiers in their gray uniforms stand at two double wooden doors. The black handles are decorated in what reminds me of Celtic symbols. Just as we get close to the soldiers, they open the doors back for us withou
t saying a word. We are taken to a large room that holds a round table and only one man occupies it. He stands as we entered.
“Marcella.” He kisses her on both cheeks.
Marcella returns the kisses, making kissing noises. “Draco.”
Draco’s eyes fall on Mirium. “Mirium, it is great to see you again.”
Mirium does not look too amused. “I wish it were under different circumstances, Draco.”
Draco bows his head slightly and turns to the soldier with all the stars on his jacket. “Cimon, have your men untie them and bring us some tea please.”
Cimon does as he is commanded and our hands are loosened in seconds.
“Please… please. Sit… sit,” Marcella says, as if entertaining guests.
“This is a breach of our contracts, to kidnap a king.” Morrick words are measured and filled with annoyance.
Marcella smiles, seemingly uneffected. “You crossed into our lands, King Morrick, don’t forget that.”
“With Avitus’ permission, Marcella, as you are fully aware.” Mirium bows his head slightly.
Marcella doesn’t look too happy, either. “Yes, Mirium, but I remember that you had only requested three other people on your visit here, and King Morrick was most certainly not one of them. Now please sit, sit.”
I follow everyone’s lead and sit down, rubbing my wrists. Three girls come in and place tea on the table. They pour a cup full for each of us. I take a sip of mine. It’s a nice one that I have never tasted before. Alana gives me a look of horror, and I put the cup down, her face relaxes. She must have thought the tea was poisoned, but they would hardly go through all this trouble to poison us with tea.
Draco hands Mirium a scroll. “I was hoping you could explain this to us.”
Mirium takes the scroll and rolls it out so Morrick can see it, too. They take their time studying it. The more they read, the more creases appear on Morrick’s forehead.
Mirium finally looks up at Marcella and Draco. “When did you receive this?” he asks.
“Three days ago: when we were attacked by Saskians. Are you really telling me, Mirium, you were not aware of this?” Marcella’s face is so animated it looks like she is acting in a bad movie. But Mirium doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he is just used to her eccentric ways.
She reminds me of the Queen in Alice of Wonderland. Crazy, but one wrong word and she would be screaming “Off with your head!” I really hope my analysis of her is wrong, but by the madness in her eyes, I know I won’t be so lucky.
Mirium is still studying the scroll so he doesn’t answer straight away; he just continues to shake his head in bewilderment. “No, Marcella, I had no idea.” He is telling the truth; I can see it in his eyes.
“I don’t understand why Bellona would do this,” Morrick says, looking genuinely shocked. I am feeling sick of being left in the dark.
“What is it?” I ask, causing all eyes to turn to me.
“Who are you, child?” Marcella questions with a glint of annoyance in her eyes at being disrupted by what she must see as a servant.
Mirium answers for me, but gives me a warning look first. “She is King Morrick’s daughter.”
“Interesting. I wasn’t aware that you had two daughters, Morrick.” Marcella says with a glint of surprise in her eyes.
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, praying that he doesn’t go into detail.
“Yes, I have two, Marcella.” Morrick answers before his attention returned to me. He pauses for a brief moment, maybe gauging my reaction of being announced as his daughter. When he seems satisfied, he starts to read from the scroll, for all of us to hear:
“This is a warrant for the death of the following Traitors:
Tristan, head guardian of King Morrick
Kiar, guardian of King Morrick
Legis, guardian of King Morrick
Mirium, oracle of Saskia
Alana, servant of King Morrick
Also, the capture of the following will be rewarded greatly:
Morrick, (who has been stripped of his title)
Sarajane
When Morrick is finished, I feel as if I can’t breathe; it looks like nobody can.
“But look who it was signed by, darling,” Marcella says to Mirium, even though Morrick is the one with the scroll.
Morrick bends over to look at the scroll. His intake of breathe makes me look up; into his outraged face.
“Luna, my daughter? But I don’t understand.” Morrick looks from Marcella to Draco. They shared a similar look, one of disbelief. “The Queen is dead, Morrick, and we are the ones that supposedly killed her.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
SARAJANE
Morrick appears eerily calm as he stares at Marcella; a look of grief passes his face, then it’s gone just as quickly as it had arrived. When he glares down at all the information, there is an accusation in his voice. “And did you kill her?”
Marcella tuts and looks irritated at this question. “Of course not. We have no business with Saskia. You know that, Mirium,” she says diverting her gaze to Mirium.
Mirium’s forehead is creased in concentration. But he finally looks up at Marcella. “Marcella, of course I know you would never.” Mirium reaches across and pats her hand gently, like he is reassuring a spoilt child. At least this explained all the Saskians outside.
Draco speaks for the first time. “They attacked us at night when our guards were at their lowest, and we had no need to think we would be attacked, so they broke through the first wall.” He looks like Marcella… not in the crazy way, but his features and structure are similar to hers. I wondered if they are siblings. She must have been the one that was dropped on her head at birth.
“But I was very curious, Morrick, as to why your daughter wants you captured and your men dead?”
Morrick looks as lost as I feel, but Draco does not wait for an answer. “The way I see it is, if they want you dead, then you could help us fight this war.”
Morrick rises, knocking his chair out from behind him; “You expect me to fight my own people?”
Marcella gives a hysterical laugh. “They want you dead, Morrick, so help us and we will help you in return.”
Before Morrick can answer, Marcella waves her hands in the air, still smirking. “Think about it, darling.You don’t have to answer straight away.”
Marcella looks around for the three girls; she gestures wildly with her hands. “Take them to their rooms.” Then she turns back to Morrick. “I hope you can make yourself at home as you think about my proposal.”
We all get up to leave, but Marcella stops us just as we reached the door. “Oh, just one more question…. Why would Luna want Sarajane alive?” Marcella walks over to me looking genuinely confused, her head tilts to the side as she pouts her lips, waiting on my answer.
“I have no idea, but I am sure we will find out.” I give a little bow after my speech.
“Hmmm, very smart, aren’t you?” Marcella says, looking very unimpressed and not quite believing me.
I can feel Morrick’s eyes upon my back. “I apologize, Marcella. She is not reared here. She has lived all her life in the mortal world.”
Marcella’s eyes light up and she gives a little clap.“Really, the mortal world… well then, all is forgiven. You and I shall sit down soon and have a little chat. Stories of the mortal world intrigue me.”
I bow again. “Of course, my lady.”
“I take it you hold no grief for Bellona?” she asks with a smile, enjoying watching me squirm.
Morrick steps in front of me like a protective father. This makes me want to punch him. “Sarajane has been through a lot, Marcella. But you have guessed correctly. Bellona is not her mother.” Morrick turns away, taking me by the arm and leading me to the door. I don’t get to see Marcella’s face, but I can only imagine how animated it is, with the knowledge that Morrick isn’t a very good King.
I pull my arm out of Morrick’s grasp the moment we leave the room. He doesn’t
speak as we are shown to our rooms.
“Are you one of the servants?” One of the young girls asks Alana.
“I am.” Alana responds and I glare at her.
“Then you shall stay in the servant’s quarters.”
I look at Morrick, appalled, not wanting to speak out of turn again.
“Alana, you will stay with me.” He looks at the horrified servant. God only knows what is going through her head, but Morrick gives her one of his kind smiles. “An old man like me needs his servant there all the time. She can sleep on the floor.”
The girl relaxs at this explanation and smiles back at Morrick. “Of course, sir.” She bows before leaving.
Alana obediently follows Morrick back to his room. I follow behind Mirium. Once we enter our room the door is closed, I start to panic. “What do we do now, Mirium? Marcella seems crazy,” I say feeling pretty alarmed.
Mirium looks out the brown shutters “Now we wait for Avitus.”
I plonk down on the bed.
“Sarajane, be careful of Marcella. She might seem crazy to you, but she is powerful in more ways than one.”
I nod, not quite understanding what he means, but my own conclusion still stands that she is stark crazy.
“Why was there a warrant out for us? Would this be over Clive?” I ask Mirium.
He turns around away from the window. “Sarajane, I do not know what has happened. Bellona is dead and we are all in serious trouble.”
The door opens and Morrick comes in and pulls the shutters closed. “Sarajane…” Morrick doesn’t finish his sentence, which would more than likely end up being a lecture.
I get off the bed and am ready to find a quiet spot but the room is tiny.
“Sarajane, this is not some joke. Can you take this seriously please? And don’t ever get smart with Marcella or any leader, for that matter. I will not be able to always protect you.” Morrick’s voice is filled with frustration, as if he is speaking to a five-year-old.
