by CK Dawn
Davi was laughing hysterically.
“I don’t hate women.” Trystan crossed his arms over his chest.
“Oh right.” Rissa winked. “He likes them in his bed.”
“Just not fighting alongside him,” Alixa finished.
Davi was still grinning. “Welcome to this little band of misfits.”
“Can you call a group that includes the prince and princess misfits?” Rissa asked.
“Okay.” Davi gave Rissa a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m the only misfit. And maybe Briggs.”
“I probably qualify.” Alixa raised her hand, glad for the lightness of the morning. Ella still weighed heavily on her mind and she wanted to think of anything else. “Edric too, since he’s now basically an exile.” She looked at him apologetically.
He shrugged sadly.
“So,” Davi began, thinking way too hard. “If the majority of us are misfits, then does that mean the misfits are the normal ones and the prince and princess are truly the misfits?”
“My brain hurts.” Rissa rubbed her head.
Even Trystan cracked a smile before grumbling something about going to get the horses ready and they all laughed at his retreating back. They were on the road an hour later. By the time the sun hung high in the sky, the road angled up, leading them into the mountains of Isenore.
Nineteen
Dread wracked Lorelai’s body as images flashed before her mind.
When seers spoke of the sight, they called it a gift.
Lorelai only knew it as a curse. Since she was young, her uncle had been forcing her to twist her prophecies to suit his needs. He’d wanted her to only tell him of his continued success and to others, she was supposed to say what her uncle wanted them to believe.
She couldn’t deny him. He’d practically raised her as his own child and given her everything she’d asked for, including a mission.
All she saw was darkness as if she’d gone blind. An eternal night rose in her mind.
“A noble man will rise,” she murmured, jerking her head from side to side. “A noble man.”
A figure appeared in the darkness of her mind. He was cloaked in shadow, but his presence set off warning bells in her head.
“A noble man.” Her body shook.
When she’d given the very same prophecy to King Marcus all those years ago, she was naught but a child and she’d thought she understood it. She’d thought she was twisting it just as her uncle wanted. With the devotion of a woman of sixteen, she’d been sure her uncle was the noblest man. It was about him.
An orange glow began to brighten the image. Something was burning. It was as if she hung above the ground, looking down on the destruction. The fog began to clear and she realized it was a village that was engulfed in the flames.
The man she’d seen before was gone now and her mind started to flash between images. The Dreach-Dhoun castle appeared and it too was burning. Another village – one she recognized as the village near the palace of Dreach-Sciene – had fighting in the streets.
A blackness overcame her mind again and her eyes snapped open as sweat and tears mingled on her face.
She realized now that the prophecy she’d given about the noble man had hidden it’s deeper meaning from her. The King took it as a prophecy of hope. He thought they would all be saved, that someone would lead them to regain their magic.
But the cost would be everything else and now she saw it for what it truly was.
A prophecy of darkness.
A prophecy of death.
Rolling over, she crawled out from under the King’s arm, surprised she hadn’t woken him in the midst of her vision. The man slept like a rock. He was as stubborn as one too.
Looking down into his face, she tried to smile, but the weight of her visions was too much. She released a sigh and crawled from the bed to get dressed.
The palace was quiet in the middle of the night. As she walked along the cold halls, she took in the cracked stone and meager decorations. It was a reminder of the scarce times in Dreach-Sciene. How long would the realm survive in a war?
Her uncle’s army would be well-fed and well-equipped.
Two guards that looked like nothing more than farm lads stood near the door that led out into the courtyard. She looked into their youthful faces as they nodded to her and wondered if they would survive this war.
All she saw for their future was desperation.
She chewed on her lip and she walked towards the stables. Most of the stable lads were fast asleep in their beds. Only one leaned up against the far wall, dozing.
Finding her favorite beauty, Lorelai finally smiled as she stepped up to the stall.
“There you are,” she cooed.
The horse neighed and kicked her foot.
“Don’t get too excited. I just came to talk.” She scratched it between the eyes and ran her fingers down the soft nose. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”
The horse snorted.
“You’re right. It’s ridiculous. I came here for a reason.”
A warm nose nudged her arm and she raised it to tangle her fingers in the silky mane.
“I wasn’t supposed to care.” She looked into the horse’s unblinking stare. “He’s a good man, and I …”
“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with the King,” a voice sneered behind her.
Lorelai spun to face Thom. She’d been so entranced by the horse that she hadn’t heard him come in despite the loud steps of his horse. Yet, he’d heard her. Every word.
He glared at her from the door to the stables and then walked forward, pulling his horse in behind him. He put the beast in the empty stall beside her and began to remove the saddle.
“I hate arriving at night because I’ve got to take care of this damn thing myself.” Thom grunted as he lifted the saddle and carried it to a hook on the stall.
Not for the first time, Lorelai marveled at her uncle’s ability to place his people within the palace of Dreach-Sciene. Thom was one of the most trusted messengers of King Marcus. He had free reign of the palace and could come and go as he pleased.
“Think the King is still awake at this hour?” Thom asked, finally looking at her again.
“He’s not.”
“Right.” His lips curled up as his eyes roamed over her lecherously. “I guess you would know.” He laughed and it just confirmed what she already knew.
To her uncle’s other agents, she was a joke. She was a whore for the good of Dreach-Dhoun. It wasn’t the first time her uncle had sent her to someone’s bed to gather intel.
Clenching her jaw so tightly it hurt, she squared her shoulders. A small growl sounded behind her and she turned to find the horse baring her teeth to Thom. That caused a harsh laugh to push past Lorelai’s lips.
“The horse has good taste,” she said.
Thom scowled as he pulled a scroll from his pocket and held it out to her. “One of the King’s messengers met me with this.”
He didn’t mean King Marcus.
“Did you read it?” she asked, taking it from him.
“Of course.”
She untied the ribbon holding it together with trembling hands and unrolled the parchment. One phrase was scrawled in thick black ink.
Tá sé in am
“It’s time,” Lorelai whispered. “Do you know what this means?”
“I have a guess.” He leaned against her stall and pushed dark hair out of his tired eyes.
She knew exactly what it meant and for the first time, she couldn’t bring herself to hate Thom. She had one more task to complete and he was the only person in the palace on her side.
She patted the horse’s neck once more and left the stables behind. Her vision from before was on her mind. Was she the catalyst? Was this the point that sent Dreach-Sciene descending further into darkness?
She shouldn’t care. It wasn’t her realm.
But she did.
She didn’t go back to the King’s room that night. Ins
tead, she went to her own. She lay in her large bed with the canopy overhead feeling a hollowness in her chest.
The crushing loneliness from her childhood returned, and she was still crying when she finally fell asleep.
Morning came too soon. She hadn’t slept well as memories from her vision haunted her dream. She sat at her dressing table, twisting her pale hair into a long braid. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the shine of jewels and reached forward to grab the hilt of the knife King Marcus had given her.
He’d been right. She’d never felt unsafe in his palace.
She twisted the beautiful jeweled hilt in her hand and touched her index finger to the point of the blade. A bead of blood appeared. It was a sharp blade. She’d barely felt a thing. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, Lorelai imagined she was anyone else. She opened them to stare at the crystal blue eyes in the looking glass. She didn’t know when she stopped recognizing herself.
Maybe it was the first time she’d taken a mission for her uncle. She’d been sixteen and tasked with helping her uncle infiltrate Dreach-Sciene. Too young to be a spy. Too young to know any different.
Maybe it was the first time she used her body to deceive a man.
Maybe it was when the first drop of blood had spilled on her hands.
She flinched and the blade clattered loudly to the dressing table as she wiped her hands furiously against her skirts.
The feeling of blood never goes away.
“You’re going crazy, Lorelai,” she mumbled to herself. “Get ahold of yourself.”
Tá sé in am.
No, not yet. It couldn’t be time.
Tá sé in am.
Her heart beat rapidly and she stood on shaking legs before collapsing back onto her bed.
At one point in the day, someone knocked at her door. She ignored it and curled further in on herself.
The light receded across her floor until it was no longer streaming through her windows and night descended. A calm came over her as she thought about the next few days. Her mission was almost complete and then she could return home and stop pretending.
* * *
Home. She longed for the familiar. Her uncle may have raised her, but her mother would be there as well. In her lucid moments, she was even kind.
There was no use waiting for the inevitable.
Lorelai stood in front of the looking glass and fixed her appearance. When she was satisfied, she tucked the King’s knife at her belt and went in search of Thom.
“Tonight,” she said when she found him.
“Tonight,” he repeated, a look of relief crossing his face. “I will have the horses ready.”
“Plural?”
He looked around to make sure no one was listening. “I’ve been ordered to bring you back to Dreach-Dhoun. King Calis has put others in place here for when we leave.”
“Who?”
“He didn’t tell me.”
Her uncle was always so secretive.
“Just do your job,” Thom said. “I will have everything else ready just as we’ve planned.”
She shot him one final look and left him in the courtyard. Her eyes didn’t take in any of her surroundings on the way to the King’s rooms because her mind was too full of her one purpose.
The guards let her pass and she knocked lightly on the door. A surprised king opened it.
Despite his obvious shock, a smile spread from one side of his mouth to the other. “Lorelai. I was not expecting you since you’ve been absent all day.”
She forced her lips into a smile. “Are you going to let me in?”
He chuckled and held the door wide.
She ducked under his arm and spun when he shut the door. He stalked towards her like a cat and gripped her about the waist.
“I’ve missed you.” His words cut off when he pressed his lips to hers. They stopped moving abruptly when his hand brushed the hilt of the dagger at her waist.
She stilled, holding her breath.
“What’s this?” he removed the knife from its sheath and stared at her for a long moment before a laugh rumbled low in his chest. “Careful, Seer. You don’t want to accidentally stab your king.”
She released a tense breath as he threw the knife on the table beside the bed.
Her heart was racing frantically and not because of his closeness. When he kissed her again, it began to calm. He walked her back towards the bed and she let him undo the laces of her dress. She shimmied out of it and pulled it down over her hips to pool at her feet. She hadn’t worn anything beneath it and his gaze trailed heat across her skin.
He laid her down and his gentleness caused tears to come to her eyes.
King Marcus Renauld was a good man. That was all she knew in that moment. All thoughts of going home fled from her mind as he made her feel more than any mission ever had.
A few minutes later, she laid her head on his chest and curled her fingers into the hairs there. He kissed the top of her head.
“I received word today that my son and daughter have reached the Isenore border. They might just save us all.” He smiled against her head.
The pride in his voice gutted her. To everyone else, Trystan and Rissa were the Toha and the Princess. To the King, they were his children. He loved them in a way she only wished her mother loved her.
He mumbled a few other things about his children and even Davion before drifting off.
Finally, she thought, tears streaming down her face.
His chest rose and fell steadily and she imagined his dreams were peaceful. It was the only way she could go through with this. His arm held her protectively. She picked it up off her stomach and set it on the bed. The blanket tangled in her legs and she almost fell to the ground face first, but she caught herself and stood up. The moonlight streamed through the window, casting a glow on her pale skin as she walked to the other side of the bed.
The knife sat there, inviting her to grip its jeweled, golden hilt.
Her hand shook as she lifted it. It was an archaic way to kill, a knife. In Dreach-Dhoun, their magic could be used for dealing death blows.
Dreach-Sciene had to resort to cruel, painful, bloody methods.
Her fingers curled around the hilt tightly.
She could go home.
She climbed onto the bed.
In Dreach-Dhoun, she’d have more magic than just the sight.
She climbed over King Marcus and straddled him, telling herself to remember the big picture. This was for her realm.
Her eyes found the spot on his chest that would be quickest for him. Only moments ago, her fingers had played with the hair that would soon be stained red.
Tears dripped from her face and her eyes followed them until they dampened the King’s skin.
She sucked in a breath as her chest heaved traitorously. Would her uncle ever truly understand what she’d done for him?
She raised the knife. It was time to choose her allegiance.
Before she could bring it down, the King murmured her name and slowly opened his eyes. It took him a second to realize the situation. His gaze darted from the knife in her hands, to her legs straddling him, to her tear stained face.
His eyes widened, but he didn’t push her off.
“Why?” he croaked.
“I have to.” She wiped at the tears on her face with one hand while the other still angled the knife above his chest.
“Lorelai.” His eyes hardened. “How long have you been betraying me?”
“I can’t betray you if I was never yours,” she snapped. “Dreach-Sciene is not my realm.”
Understanding lit in his cold eyes and he finally threw her off him with one movement. She landed beside him on the bed but didn’t release the knife. He jumped from the bed and faced her.
“My own knife?” he asked, a deep hurt in his words. “My own fucking knife.”
He circled the bed to face her.
She suddenly didn’t feel so confident. Her mission was lost the moment he w
oke, the moment she was forced to look into his eyes.
Her fingers released the knife and it hit the stone ground with a loud clang. A sob broke free of her and her legs gave out. She dropped to her knees and folded over them, her blonde braid falling over one shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking up at him. “I …”
He knelt in front of her and shocked her when he pulled her into his strong arms. His bare skin was warm against her icy flesh and she sagged into him.
“I didn’t have a choice,” she cried. “I came here with a mission. I didn’t expect to …”
“I didn’t expect it, either.” His fingers traced the ridges of her spine, sending a shiver through her body. “I don’t know what to do now. You’re a traitor to the crown.”
She cried harder.
“I’m going to give you a few minutes to collect yourself and get dressed before I call in my guards to question you.” He took the knife from her feet. “And I’m taking this.” He looked like he was going to stand and back away from her, but thought better of it. He pulled her to him once again as if he never wanted to let go.
He placed a kiss in the crook of her neck and then jerked against her, his eyes going wide.
A groan gurgled out of him and he sagged against her. Lorelai looked up in alarm to find Thom standing over them and a knife sticking out from between the King’s shoulder blades.
It happened so quickly. The King’s eyes glazed over and blood leaked from his mouth, staining Lorelai’s skin, as he fell sideways.
“We need to go,” Thom said coolly. “Get dressed.”
She dressed in a daze as cracks formed in her heart. Marcus was dead, but not by her hand. The kind king would never again look at her as if she was beautiful, worthy.
She hadn’t thought to wipe the blood from her skin and it now made her dress stick to her. Outside the door, they stepped over two unconscious guards and tried to walk as calmly as they could to the stables. Thom said they must not arouse suspicion because they needed to be long gone before anyone found the King.
Their horses were saddled and ready to go with saddlebags full of supplies. They left through a less used side gate and galloped away from the palace. She didn’t once glance back because inside she knew.
