A Court of Muses

by Sarina Dorie

  Before his court and guests, King Viridios gave a speech about mercy and forgiveness. Errol looked around, but prince Elric-Atherius wasn’t present. It was unfortunate. He’d gotten what he wanted, but he wasn’t there to enjoy it.

  Princess Perrusia bowed before the king and queen. “Please forgive me for my past crimes. I apologize for my actions. In order to show you the truth of my words and my new allegiance to you, I shall renounce my former sovereign and will instead serve you, Your Majesties.”

  “I cannot forgive this trollop.” Queen Anwynn turned her nose up at her enemy. “Nor do I think she’s truly sorry for anything other than herself and the circumstances she’s earned for herself.”

  “You don’t have to forgive her. You are not king. I have more than enough forgiveness in my heart.” King Viridios eyed each of his children as if in silent reproach.

  He gestured at Princess Perrusia. “Captain Errol, escort the princess to her quarters.”

  Errol had been prepped with his orders in advance. Princess Perrusia was to be taken to guest quarters in the castle. It was a luxurious room as grand and decadent as any belonging to the royal family. The princess eyed it all as though it were a trap.

  The king had instructed Errol that he was the one guard not allowed to use glamour. The other ten guards in the room and many of those outside were allowed to do so. It was an awkward position to be put in.

  Errol followed his orders and remained in the room as handmaidens came in to give the princess a bath. Though she had supposedly been drained of much of her magic, she glanced around the room, either suspecting there were glamoured guards ogling her or she sensing them. Already Errol could see the king’s attempt at mercy and dignity was flawed.

  Princess Perrusia whimpered getting into the steaming copper tub and gasped as the maids scrubbed the dried blood from her skin, working around the shackles and trying not to touch the cold iron themselves.

  The entire time, Errol remained against a wall, scanning the room for enchantments, remaining vigilant, but giving the Fae princess as much privacy as one could in a room full of male guards glamoured invisible.

  When her bath was done, the maids dried the princess and dressed her in a frilly robe of white lace. Even through the pale fabric, the angry lines of scars and healing wounds were visible. She sat on a chair and waited. Her gaze flickered to Errol. She adjusted her shackles.

  King Viridios entered the room. Errol bowed. The princess rose and curtsied on shaky legs.

  The king strode to one of the chairs and made himself comfortable. “Sit on the floor beside me like a good pet, and we shall chat.”

  Princess Perrusia did so.

  King Viridios’ voice was firm. “You will be my slave now. You serve me, not your old master. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  He offered a hint of a smile. “You will obey my orders, and you will be treated well.”

  She bowed her head.

  King Viridios looked to him. “Captain Errol, have you the keys to unlock these shackles?”

  Errol did. The king had insisted upon it.

  Errol wore gloves, which meant his skin didn’t need to touch the cold iron as he unlocked the manacles. Even so, he could feel the poisons seeping through the fabric into him. The areas of skin where the manacles had been on the princess had burned and blistered. Red welts covered her throat in a line where the collar had been.

  King Viridios brought a box out of his pocket and presented it to her. “Another gift for you.”

  “Your kindness is too much.” She bowed her head.

  Errol thought the diamond-studded jewelry might have been a bracelet, but King Viridios fastened it around her throat, the thick band of silver and gems obscuring the blisters from view. The diamonds looked out of place on the bruised and scarred throat.

  “Your conduct will determine your treatment and whether you stay in my good favor and protection. I can give you pleasure, or I can give you pain.” King Viridios inclined his head to the necklace.

  The collar around her throat tightened. She grabbed at the metal. Her face turned red, and it was obvious she couldn’t breathe.

  Errol shifted uncomfortably.

  King Viridios lifted a hand, and the enchantment ended. She gasped for breath.

  “I have decided to give you the honor of being my mistress. What say you to this?”

  She wheezed. “I will do whatever Your Majesty wishes.”

  Errol did his best to keep his expression neutral. This was not the “mercy” he had hoped for from the king. He had imagined a life of drudgery as a servant or even death. Not further indignity.

  “You do not sound very . . . inspired. Shall we see if I can assist you with that?” King Viridios smirked.

  A wave of muse magic rolled off him, the air rippling like water. The room suddenly smelled like spring and lust. Sweat prickled the back of Errol’s neck. He wanted a woman more than he ever had before.

  No, he didn’t. These weren’t his feelings. Errol pushed the muse magic away and protected himself in the ways Steorra had taught him. He shielded his body from the energy.

  Princess Perrusia’s face was full of longing as she gazed up at the king. “You are my savior.”

  “Indeed.” King Viridios held out a hand, and she placed hers in his. She had no fingernails on that hand. The other one lacked fingers.

  The king helped her to her feet and escorted her to the bed in the other room. Errol cringed. He would have to be in the adjoining room as the king had his way with his new mistress.

  “Captain Errol,” King Viridios said.

  Errol jumped, thinking the king had read his mind.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Errol stepped forward again.

  “Follow me.”

  Errol realized the king expected him to be in the same room. He attempted to keep his face neutral.

  King Viridios unbuckled his belt and handed Errol the sword still in its scabbard. “I have no need of this at the moment. Hold this for me until I request for you to return it.”

  Errol stepped back against the wall. He closed his eyes and scanned for enchantments to occupy himself, seeing the energies in the room without distraction. When the grunting and moaning started up, he used a sound-dampening spell so he wouldn’t have to listen. He patrolled the room and repositioned the glamoured men who were in danger of being affected by the lust of the muse magic.

  He did his best to remain vigilant. Mostly he stared at the ceiling.

  Someone nudged him.

  Errol glanced at the king and saw him gesture for him to come closer. Reluctantly Errol stepped forward and released the sound-dampening spell. Errol didn’t want to look—he tried not to—but he couldn’t gaze at the king’s face without seeing what was around him.

  The princess was turned away, her face buried in snow-white pillows. She moaned and writhed in ecstasy. King Viridios gathered up her hair in his fist and swept it away from her neck. The collar went tight around her throat. What Errol could see of her face flushed pink.

  King Viridios gestured for Errol to come closer still. He obeyed.

  In one swift movement, the king yanked his sword from the scabbard in Errol’s hands and sliced off Princess Perrusia’s head.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The Changeling Prince’s Request for Mercy

  Errol stared in horror at what the king had done. A chilly numbness crept over him.

  Crimson leaked from the stump onto the white pillow. There should have been more blood, but her diamond choker was cinched so tight, it must have cut off her circulation.

  King Viridios tossed the bloody sword onto the white sheets. “There now. Princess Perrusia has had one night of pleasure before her death. I am a merciful king.”

  He transferred the head to Errol’s hand. Errol held the sword’s sheath in one hand, the fistful of hair with a head attached to it in the other. Blood dripped
onto the floor. A splatter marred his uniform.

  King Viridios’ voice came as if from a distance. “The housekeeper has orders regarding the body. Don’t permit anyone to remove her collar. Queen Anwynn wants blood pudding. You can take the head to the steward so he can send it to the Raven Queen.”

  Errol stared at the expression on Princess Perrusia’s face, her lids half-closed. She looked content, satisfied even. It was more disturbing than if her face had been locked in an expression of terror.

  * * *

  Errol hadn’t realized he’d fallen back against a wall and seated himself in a bloody puddle until sometime later. Someone had cleaned the king’s sword and had taken the scabbard from him. The steward came in with a carved wooden box decorated with swirling designs of birds in trees. It looked like it had been specially made for something the size of a head. Or it had been made for this head.

  Which meant the king had planned this.

  Overcome with grief and sickness, Errol vomited into the box.

  * * *

  After days of long duties and frequently interrupted slumber on an uncomfortable cot in a hallway outside the dungeon, Errol fell into an exhausted sleep in his own bed. Nightmares of Princess Perrusia’s death invaded his mind. Instead of seeing the face of the Raven Queen’s granddaughter, he saw his sister. The vision shifted to Princess Steorra.

  “Don’t permit anyone to remove her collar,” King Viridios said again. “Queen Anwynn wants blood pudding.”

  That meant they were going to feast on their prisoner, a Fae.

  His own ruler sickened him.

  * * *

  The moment Errol woke, he knew what he had to do. It was still early enough in the morning that he might be able to warn his sister. She would be the one preparing blood pudding. It was one of her specialties.

  He dressed and went to the kitchen. When he arrived, he could see from her puffy eyes and pink nose he’d come too late. A smear of blood covered her apron. The atmosphere of the kitchen was dismal, unsmiling maids peeling carrots and turnips.

  Her face was gaunt, and dark circles shadowed her eyes. It was the first time he’d seen her in months. He wouldn’t have known this was his own sister from the scowl and stiff posture.

  Alma’s eyes narrowed when she saw him. “I should never have listened to you and taken this job.”

  “Sometimes I think the same thing,” Errol said.

  He’d exposed her to the cruelty of aristocrats and the whims of muses who might drive her mad. He’d risked her safety—and for what purpose—so that she would be able to live closer and he wouldn’t be inconvenienced by walking across town? If only he’d known what the position would entail.

  “I listened to you when you said Semmy was a good man. I married him because of you.” Alma turned away and strode to a large metal pan that looked large enough to hold a whole boar. Maids scampered out of her path. “I loved him, and you let them kill him.”

  “No. Who told you that?” Errol protested. “That’s not the way it happened. I asked the king to save the men on the field—and he did. But I didn’t know what the queen would do.”

  Her entire face turned red. “That queen can go—”

  Errol held up a hand and stopped her with an enchantment before she got any further. There were witnesses. The last thing Alma needed was for someone to gossip and repeat that she had said something treasonous about her monarch.

  Errol didn’t want her head on the chopping block too.

  Her mouth kept moving for a moment before she realized there was no sound. She placed a hand on her throat, her brows drawing together in momentary confusion.

  “Calm down and have a care about what you say,” Errol said.

  Alma threw down the carrot in her hand. Her face grew pinker as she shouted soundless words at him.

  “Everyone, out of the kitchen,” he said.

  The kitchen maids looked to Alma.

  “But what about the feast?” one young woman asked. “There’s so much to do: the blood pudding, and the roast, and the liver and kidney pie, and—”

  “Out!” Errol said with authority.

  The maids peeling vegetables at the table rose and left. The scullery maid scrubbing and the one stirring a cauldron over the gridiron filed out. Even one of the lasses who had been in the larder rushed out after them.

  “Do you want them to try you for treason? Do not speak out about the sovereign and his family in his castle.” Errol released the hold on her voice.

  “If you ever do that blasted trick on me again, I’ll tar and feather you myself—with your blasted wings.”

  The wings glamoured on his back momentarily wavered as his attention was brought to them. The air around him glowed with their light before fading away again.

  Errol held up his hands in a placating gesture of peace. “I don’t doubt it.”

  “Do you understand what that vile highbrow has ordered me to do?” She gestured to the enormous pan.

  “I was on duty last night. I have a good guess. It isn’t right what they did. And it isn’t right what they’ve asked of you. I’m sorry they put you in such a position.” Errol placed a hand on her shoulder.

  She shrugged him off and strode to the pan.

  “No, you put me in this position. You said I was to work in this house.” She lifted the lid to reveal dinner. Bright orange carrots and purple beets were situated around the bruised and scarred carcass of the beheaded princess. Onions and herbs were sprinkled throughout.

  Errol suspected she had stuffed the cavity with apples, pears, onions, walnuts, and garlic, like she did when she made roast goose. Errol’s stomach churned. He didn’t think he’d ever eat poultry again.

  “The housekeeper came to me this morning and said the head cook had become unexpectedly ill, so I was to be in charge today. I was to bleed the corpse for pudding, clean and dress her—which entails removing the organs in case you didn’t know, and to fix a number of dishes to celebrate this supposedly treasonous harpy’s death—most of which include her vital organs.” She swallowed, looking like she would vomit. “You told me this was a job in a respectable house. You didn’t tell me the royal family would butcher people and treat us like less than animals.”

  “I didn’t know.” Errol suspected she meant her husband more than the foreign princess. “You could see if Mistress Cadwynn has any positions open.”

  She snorted. “I’ll make my own way without you telling me where to go.”

  “That isn’t fair. I’m not telling you. I was just offering a suggestion.” Errol’s lips pressed into a line.

  She closed the lid of the pot with a clanking thud. “You know what isn’t fair? I married a man who was executed while you were given a medal. And wings.”

  She glanced behind him, though he doubted she could see through the glamour.

  “I didn’t ask for that medal.” He’d tried to tell her as much before.

  “Get out of my kitchen.” She put her hands on her hips. “I mean it this time. Don’t come back.”

  Thus began Errol’s estrangement from his sister.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Much Ado about Everything

  As Errol used his magic to look for intruders and disturbances while on duty, he overheard maids whispering that the king and queen had shunned Prince Elric-Atherius for his behavior at court and banished him to their country estate as punishment.

  “No, that’s not the way I heard it,” another maid said. “He asked permission to take an extended holiday in the countryside. He has too many sad memories here about those he’s lost.”

  Later, Errol heard soldiers in his unit conversing about the same topic.

  In general Errol didn’t tolerate his men whispering about his sovereign or his family, though he didn’t interrupt when he eavesdropped on their conversations about the prince, learning juicy tidbits about his departure. It was difficult to fathom what was fact and what was
true.

  Prince Elric-Atherius’ departure from court was a bittersweet victory.

  Errol concluded his honesty and earnestness with the king in the dungeon were what had given his sovereign the idea to free his youngest son from the confines of the castle and court life. He wanted to believe that he, too, might someday be free of serving the king in his court.

  The idea of deserting again came to Errol. Then he thought of Alma. It was one thing for her to disown him and not want anything to do with him. It was another to tarnish their family’s name and bring her dishonor for his actions. He still had hope they might reconcile, even if it would take her time. If he left, it would be more difficult to do that.

  The idea of deserting her troubled him more than the idea of deserting a royal family who misused their power and treated their subjects, soldiers, and their Morty guests so poorly. If Errol found work elsewhere, he wouldn’t miss the vile lot of them.

  He would only miss Alma. Yet he needed to change his circumstances. He couldn’t work for a family he despised.

  Errol had already tried asking his superiors if he might resign. He saw no reason their answer would differ if he asked again. Instead, he wrote a letter to King Viridios.

  It has been an honor to serve Your Majesty, but I am not suited for being in the royal guard. I do not feel I can do my duties to my fullest abilities as I once was able to. I would prefer to defend my king and kingdom in the air navy or another branch of the military where I once worked. With your permission, I would like to transfer. If I am not able to transfer, I would like permission to resign.

  Faithfully yours,

  Captain Errol of the Silver Guard

  After reading his letter, Errol used magic to erase “Faithfully yours.” He no longer felt that he could say such a thing in honesty. He changed it to “Sincerely yours.”