Guardians of the Kingdom (Jewel of the Palace Book 1)

by Diana Flame

  He would not allow anyone of them to thwart his plans. He’d come too far to retrace his steps. As he entered the corridor outside the ministers’ court, a soldier ran up to him out of breath.

  “Sire, the witness has disappeared and the soldiers guarding him are dead!”

  “What do you mean, they are dead and where has he gone?”

  “I don’t know, Prime Minister,” the soldier panted. “The soldiers lay lifeless, but there are no wounds.”

  Cronus was baffled. “How are they dead without wounds? Are you sure of this?”

  The soldier nodded. “Yes, the army physician is examining them as we speak.”

  Cronus would have taken a carriage to see the papyrus expert but instead opted for a horse on which he rode a half mile to Archemus’ dwelling. The physician had finished examining the bodies when he arrived.

  “No open wounds one would expect on a soldier,” the doctor said. “This one has a bruise under the left rib and this one a similar bruise at his throat.”

  Cronus looked at what the doctor pointed at and noticed the deep red bruises, but no cuts. He could not fathom what made the bruises the size of his thumb.

  Turning to the soldier who had given the news, he instructed. “Find the old man right away and when you do, take him to the North tower cell.”

  Leaving the house of Archemus, Cronus knew that someone within the palace was working secretly for the king. He must find who the culprit was and eliminate them or his plans would be ruined. There was only one thing to do …

  “King Syreus has abandoned the people of Cronada!” the fourth minister announced.

  He was standing on the pavilion overlooking the largest courtyard area of the palace, this area served for all public meetings and royal announcements. Cronus smiled, hidden behind a wall of drapery.

  “The king has committed a serious offence against the people and his ancestors,” The minister continued, reading the words Cronus had given him. “He has disrespected the sanctity of the royal bed and the palace!”

  “What has he done?” shouts from below came out to him.

  “The king has bred with a nether and produced a dergabred child. That child now threatens the throne and we cannot have that. The king has chosen to side with that dergabred, blood of his loins, against the people of Cronada!”

  “We must do as Cronus say to save our lives,” Manson whispered to his colleagues.

  Cronus had left the hall in search of the papyrus expert. Before leaving, he’d ordered the soldiers to guard the ministers well. Manson knew their freedom and perhaps lives were now at stake, as Cronus now held command of his own army and would perhaps gain the loyalty of the kingdom’s army as well.

  What was more shocking was the fourth minister’s announcement in the pavilion. They had tried to get out or the room, but the soldiers would not allow them free passage. There was nothing they could do now that the people believed that the king had abandoned them during a war.

  “What are you saying?” another minister asked. “How can we betray our king?”

  “We are not betraying the king,” Manson replied. “If we pretend to go along with this impeachment, then we buy some time to get rid of Cronus himself.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “Certainly not behind bars or dead.”

  The men knew that it was either doing what Manson said or go against Cronus. The king had escaped the soldiers and now they were left to the mercy of the Prime Minister. At this point, Manson was uncertain of which persons were still loyal to Syreus.

  Cronus returned to the Minister’s hall alone. Manson was not surprised that the minister did not bring the papyrus expert. He was doubtful that Cronus didn’t have that letter written by someone in order to frame the king.

  Making such a big deal of a thing like a nether lover was utterly ridiculous. He’d expected that if the king was dethroned, it would have been some dastardly deed like betraying his own people. Bedding a nether was not so serious a crime. As soon as Cronus was inside the room, a Lieutenant Commander burst in as well.

  “The king has abdicated! We must seize command of the palace at once!”

  Cronus hypocritically turned to the soldier. “What are you talking about? The king would never abdicate.”

  “Then where is the king?” the commander asked. “The fourth minister has announced it.”

  Cronus turned to the group of ministers who were standing gawping at the saga unfolding. Manson knew Cronus was behind this new drama. That minister would never have made such an announcement without a higher authority.

  “Manson, go fetch the king,” Cronus said. “I’m sure he is in his chambers.”

  Manson felt he had no other choice but to do as told. He beckoned the other ministers who followed him. They left the hall through the main entrance and walked the corridors. First, they checked the king’s bedchamber and he was not there. They found two dead soldiers in the secret passageway.

  After leaving there, they searched the all the ministers’ halls, the knight’s meeting rooms, all public rooms frequented by the king. The areas used to meet with the army generals was also searched and by the time darkness had descended upon Cronada, it was determined that the king was indeed missing.

  Many rumors about the king’s whereabouts floated around, including one that the Prime Minister had executed him. Some believed he abandoned the people and ran away with a nether.

  They all returned to the throne room under Cronus’ guards. While the Prime Minister communed with those who had sided with him, Manson tried to figure his way out of the mess.

  What made matters worse was that the troops from the east started withdrawing their men. They were returning home. Manson watched from the throne room, as the soldiers marched from the bailey to Kingdom City gate.

  “We are bound to lose the war with the rebels now that our allies are withdrawing,” he whispered to one of the other ministers. “What has the king done to us?”

  The Minister rested hand on his shoulder. “The king is fearing for his life, Manson. Didn’t you hear Cronus order his soldiers to execute the king?”

  Manson’s shoulder’s sagged as he exhaled a long breath. “You’re correct. This is all too much to handle. We must work to bring peace to our kingdom.”

  “How can we do that when we are prisoners?”

  “We must declare our support of the Prime Minister.”

  “Can we trust him?” the mister asked.

  Manson sneered. “Like a snake.”

  Cronus broke his conversation and joined Manson at the window. Cronus looked from each face and back to Manson.

  “What are you cooking up here?” Cronus asked. “Planning your escape?”

  “In fact, we were thinking that now that the king has abdicated, we must pledge our allegiance to you in order to save our kingdom. We apologize for not believing you before.”

  Cronus’ face brightened. “You did the right thing, Manson. Are they all with you?” he waved his hand, indicating the others.

  “Yes, we are with you,” they chorused.

  * * *

  King Syreus, halted. They had travelled a long way in the underground tunnel. Not only was the pain in his chest getting worse, he could not just abandon his people. They were in the middle of a war.

  Rulf seemed to know the way well as he quickly found a torch that he lit to guide the way. Now he also paused and shone the light on the king.

  “What’s the matter, my king?” Rulf asked.

  “We must return to the palace, by now they must realize I am not there.”

  “It is dangerous,” Rulf told him. “We must get you to a safe place then I will return and see what has happened.”

  “It is not safe for you either,” Syreus said. “No, you must not return.”

  “My king, this is what I am trained for. Allow me to do my duty as the king’s knight.”

  The king nodded. “As you wish.”

  “There is an emergency pa
ckage and water somewhere, I will find it.”

  “You knew about this tunnel?” Syreus queried.

  “Yes, sire. A knight is always prepared for this day, should it occur.”

  “Where does this thing end up anyway?”

  “The base of the mountains near the township of Mary’s Gate.”

  The tolling of bells broke the silence of the pre-dawn. Mist covered the land like a sheet, while a blanket of white puffy clouds moved across the sky. It was looking to be a dreary day. The rooster crowed as weary souls rose from sleep awaked by the break in silence.

  It was earlier than most would have risen since the sun would not be up for another couple of hours. The chill of the morning an unwelcomed guest, as windows opened to listen to the bells and await the town crier’s announcement. Many already knew what the announcement would be.

  The town crier cloaked himself in his long black robe, his head and ears covered from the cold. This was looking to be a dreary day. He downed a cup of warm water to clear the frog from his throat. Wrapping a cloth of wool around his neck, he left the warmth of his abode to give the chilling news.

  “Zenevia, Queen of Petaria is dead. Mourn for her now!”

  He would repeat this every few feet, stopping in front of every dwelling. The news passed quickly and there was no need for him to keep repeating it, but that was his duty.

  The news of Zenevia’s death also passed quickly through the townships as messengers from the palace were sent to each community to inform the people. Soon, the mourners surrounded the palace, weeping for the beautiful queen they respected and loved.

  While the news of the queen’s death spread through the kingdom of Petaria, the king gathered the queen’s chambermaids in a meeting. Awakened by the king’s guards, they were brought the throne room just before the bells began to toll.

  With the sound of the bells, many faces showed their dismay and grief as they knew what had taken place. Some faces expressed fear while others confusion as to why the king had gathered them in such a fashion. As he sat on the royal chair on his Dias, Christoffle remembered the Queen’s last words before her passing.

  After many weeks of not seeing her, the queen called for him. He was convinced that Guinevere had something to do with this and he was elated. His heart had thudded so loudly upon entering her room, that he was certain the servants could hear it. As he knelt by her bed, his heart cried out at her purple coloring and frail look.

  “My love, it is I, Christoffle,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

  Weakly, her hand came up to touch his cheek, her icy fingers burning into his flesh. A tear formed in the corner of her eye as she looked up at him.

  “My love,” she whispered, her breathing labored. “I love you so much.”

  “I know,” he whispered back, taking her palm and pressing his lips to it.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No my love, I am sorry I could not care for you.” His voice was thick as his eyes welled so that he had to blink away the tears.

  “I have,” she paused between her words to take a breath. “One wish. Promise … to honor it.”

  “Hmm,” he murmured. “I promise.”

  “Take … wife …,” she said.

  When he would have protested, she stopped him. She told him her wish and he hadn’t been able to think of anything since. The queen had already chosen her replacement and made him promise to honor it. The one she chose was not a bad choice, but it was too soon to think about such matters.

  His heart was shattered in a million pieces as he grieved the woman he loved most in the world. The sounds of the arrival of the servants made him aware he’d been frowning. The women bowed and waited for the king to speak. He beckoned to his senior advisor who hovered near the throne.

  “Bring her in,” he spoke softly.

  The man left the room, returning shortly with Guinevere following behind. Behind Guinevere also entered two soldiers who waited by the door. The king stood.

  “We have reason to believe the queen was poisoned.”

  As he spoke, he made it a point to look into each face, pausing on each one to read their reactions. Some showed surprise or puzzlement. He flicked to the head chambermaid, who the queen had insisted he take to bed. Her face registered her terror at the king’s words.

  Anger flushed his skin as another memory rushed through his mind. The queen had found it difficult to bear children and wanted him to take a noble lover who would bear him an heir.

  “Are you crazy?” he asked at her ridiculous suggestion.

  “Christoffle, don’t be like that,” she’d cajoled.

  “No Zenevia, I will not do such a thing. These noble women will only want me to make them queen if they bear me an heir. You know they will do everything to remove you as my queen. No.”

  He’d adamantly refused. Then she suggested him taking a second wife. That, he also refused. That morning, not unlike this one, she’d let the matter drop. Just when he thought she had given up the idea, she brought it up again. This time suggesting that she had worked out a deal with her head chambermaid who was willing to bear her a child as a surrogate. She even had the woman sign a document to that effect.

  “No, I said no,” he had told her.

  The sadness in her eyes when she began to cry was much more than he could handle and he’d eventually agreed to grant her at least that one wish as his queen. That was three months ago and today he was mourning her death because she loved him enough to want to give him a child.

  “Fortunately we have an expert on the matter of poisons and toxins in the palace,” he continued. “Please, cooperate while she examines your hands.”

  Guinevere stepped forward with a bowl of colorless liquid and a brush. The king nodded and he turned to the group of anxious faces.

  “I will administer this solution,” Guinevere said, holding up the bowl. “Then count to three. If your hand turns pink then we know you have handle the poison known as the Rose of Secyinth.”

  Gasps rang through the group. Guinevere wasted no time and began her investigation. As she reached each person, they held their hand out. First, she dipped the brush in the solution then brushed both their hands.

  Two of the maids hands returned a small spot of pink. A crease formed on Guinevere’s forehead as she determined the scenario for the result. The spots of pink were on the back of one hand.

  “Did soup or tea spill from you?” she asked one of them.

  “Yesterday night, the head maid asked me to give the queen her soup as she would not be able to attend to the lady. While feeding the queen some of the soup touched my hand.”

  Before Guinevere could question the second maid about the spot on her hand she also chimed in. “The same with her tea in the afternoon. The head chambermaid made the tea and asked me to give to Madame, the tea spilled on me.”

  The head chambermaid shrank back from amongst the group. The soldiers advanced and held her arms as Guinevere administered the solution. Both her palms, beneath her fingernails and her entire ten fingers returned bright red.

  Rose of Secyinth – a concoction made from grinding the root of the Felbiswart tree. After grinding and extracting the juice, you set a while. The juice will separate and a clear liquid will form on top. The clear liquid is poured off and used for the tincture.

  The guards arrested the head chambermaid. At first, she denied having anything to do with the queen’s death. When Guinevere explained how her solution works and why it returned a color on her hands she finally admitted her crime. Guinevere also produced the last cup from which the queen drank. A new cup was brought in the night before as she’d made a point to remove the old ones. The cup showed the same color as the stain on the maid’s hands.

  Having shown no remorse for her deeds, the king decided that he would bypass the council’s court proceedings and handed down the sentence himself. Her execution was to take place after the queen was laid to rest. After dismissing the others, the king asked that Guine
vere remained behind.

  Guinevere was obviously exhausted and needed rest and he didn’t want to add to her weariness. He knew she hadn’t slept since the beginning of her investigation. King Christoffle was indebted to her and anxious to offer anything she wanted. She’d spent the last three days and nights working on this case. Proving such a theory wasn’t easy and it took getting the right ingredients in the right portions for her method to work.

  “Your Majesty, you wish to speak with me?” Guinevere asked.

  The king rose from his chair and came to stand before her. He took her hand and bowed his head. The warmth of her hand was thrilling and he reluctantly let it go.

  “I am forever in your debt,” he said. “That promise I made you, I am ready to fulfil it.”

  A crease on the forehead showed her confusion. “Promise?”

  “Yes, I told you I will fulfil any desire of yours.”

  A smile lit her face as a tendril of blond curl brushed her cheek. “Oh yes, I will tell you my wish later. Please allow me some rest and I will be as good as new.”

  “Very well, I will be waiting to hear it.”

  Spending the night in an underground tunnel would not be considered fun by any means for most girls. Catrain was not most girls. The thrill of the pending danger and the idea of hiding in a long and winding channel excited her.

  By predawn, they’d reached the exit of the tunnel, whose mouth was hidden behind a boulder on the base of the mountain. An iron hatch from within secured the entrance. In addition to the large rock, which masked the entry from without, were shrubs and vines hanging like a curtain over the entranceway.

  The night had been long. While the men strategized on returning the king to Kingdom City safely, Catrain worked on her sword skills. She would have preferred working with the bow, but the underpass was narrow and there weren’t any targets to practice with. Now that they were about to venture out into the open, she was looking forward to using the weapon.