“I fear not. A small number remain under guard.”
“Drayk betrayed my trust once again. It was a senseless slaughter.” Annatrice was bitter and her rage was written across her face.
“It is not of Drayk or Deo Canthi that I wish to speak with you about, it is of something a little more...delicate.” Annatrice's wounds were still fresh and they offered enough ammunition to fire a number of useful volleys of interrogative mind-play. Annatrice squinted, her pupils grew and Charleroux knew the tell tale signs of her invasive techniques.
“Yes...search my thoughts; they will reveal a secret that you know so well.” Charleroux was smug and it took only moments for Annatrice to know why.
“Well, well. How devious you have become, like a scurrying rat upon the kitchen floor. You have found your piece of cheese and now you seek to take more than the small bite that you have a right to?”
Annatrice sneered at the overpowering look of satisfaction upon Charleroux's face.
“You see, I am wed to the rightful Queen of Araman, it was a delightful surprise when I discovered it but now I am at a loss what to do with this great nugget of knowledge. What say you?”
Annatrice could feel the confidence flowing through his body, the feeling of arrogant presumption.
“You believe that a piece of paper somehow gives you the right to assume power of a nation?”
Charleroux laughed.
“A mere piece of paper it is not. T'is written in law.”
Annatrice prepared her most cutting of words.
“It is not of paper that King's are made, it is of wisdom, valour and mercy. You are no more a King than the next greed obsessed noble who believes he has a great unfulfilled destiny.”
Charleroux turned away and paced around the hallway, running his fingers down an ornately painted shield mounted upon the stone wall.
“It is not perhaps within my grasp to rule, I grant thee that much, but how favourable will your new King be knowing that you are wandering across his lands with the right to usurp him at any given time? You see, it matters not how loyal a servant, when your place in history is threatened by the truth...there will be little credence given to mercy!”
Annatrice clenched her fist, if Charleroux were a little closer, she could lash out and smash his smug face with all her might.
“Do as you want. You generally do.” Annatrice tried to play her hand with a certain nonchalance but Charleroux knew he had her exactly where he wanted her. Annatrice walked away back into Marianne's chambers and her husband was left pondering the possibilities and the financially beneficial outcomes.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Annatrice stood on the castle ramparts looking out across the familiar view, Karick clearly visible on this most clear of days. She watched as yet more soldiers arrived, all Suleyman. The castle gates were open and closed more frequently than Charleroux's mouth that early evening. Nobles from all corners of Araman were riding forth to bargain with the new King for their piece of the pie. Those who had already made their arrangements sought to clarify their gains, those who had initially opposed Deo Canthi were either recently deceased or had heard the news and travelled with all haste to offer their servitude. All in all, it was a coup which was almost over before it had begun and it was all thanks to a tiny dark haired girl who had seen to it that her own kingdom was placed into the hands of a capable other.
The King had yet to leave the bustling court and as night began to fall, Annatrice became more eager to be reassured that Marianne and her ladies would find the very best care and opportunity to either leave if they wished, or to stay under no obligations to marry the next noble who clicked his fingers at them. As for her own future, that was still very much undecided. There was a certain pull towards serving the King in his new role, she was not so naïve to realise that her powers would be of great aid to him however, it was solitude that she sought at this time. Space to be free of expectation for a while, to be away from the endless politics of nobility and the savageness of war. The less savoury characters at the King's side were probably enough on their own to want away. Drayk's spider-like fingers were everywhere and his influence inescapable.
As no one had taken the time to direct her, Annatrice returned to her old place in the ladies dormitory and despite being used to rather more opulent conditions now, her old bed felt good so much more enhanced by the warmth and love of the people she shared her chamber with.
Annatrice slept soundly that evening, secure in the knowledge that she had achieved all that she had initially tasked herself to do. It was only now down to negotiation with Deo Canthi to get the best possible outcome for her friends. When she was stirred late the next morning, it was by a Kings aide who nervously prodded at the young girl.
“My Lady, the King requests your conference.” The young man looked anxious; it was not often he was asked to wake up a sorceress who crippled an entire garrison of soldiers.
Annatrice clothed herself and her waking was noticed by the other girls who were all up and about but had chosen to let her sleep after her toils. Marianne addressed her on the way out.
“Off to see the King?” She inquired a comforting smile upon her face.
“Yes. I shall negotiate a beautiful estate for your very own.” Annatrice said her cheeks with some colour in them once more.
“He owes you far more than that! Take care my love.” Marianne called out as Annatrice made her way out and along the hallway.
Sauntering her way down to the court, she passed many of the castle staff that had once served her. They tipped their hats or curtsied as she passed, she offered delighted waves in return. She was pleased that they were offered the chance to continue service to the new King.
When Annatrice was allowed access to the court, the chamber where she had once defied a King and met her husband Charleroux, she was surprised to see it almost empty. The negotiations had been suspended and now the imposing hulk of Deo Canthi sat prominently upon the gilded throne at the centre of the room. Beside him stood the strutting peacock Charleroux and on the other side, the tall lean figure of Petrus, Deo Canthi's most aloof eldest son. Annatrice instantly felt the situation to be unusual, but she was sleepy and she was not able to make the most of her powers.
“Come in brave Annatrice, I am delighted to see you, please...” The King beckoned her over to stand before him. Charleroux sloped off and sat in the corner, crossing his legs in anticipation. Petrus stood upright and rigid, his anxiety was evident.
“I am full of gladness that your efforts were rewarded with such promise. The Kingdom is at peace and is coming to terms with news of the forthcoming unification. It is solely squared upon your shoulders; the magnificence of your achievements shall be written in lore and revered throughout the ages.”
The King was in fine form, Annatrice almost felt important.
“Now we must talk more about the future and what we can do to aid your search for contentment.”
Annatrice nodded and was grateful for the acknowledgement.
“I seek only the liberty of my sisters and my most cherished nanny who sustained me through dark days. I hope that the King will keep them in the lifestyle that they were born into and offer them the freedom to choose their own paths in life.”
The King laughed.
“Of course, let it be so. It is the very least I can do. They shall be offered every comfort.”
“Thank you Sire, t'is a great weight off my mind.”
The court room echoed and Deo Canthi was so high up on his perch that voices were raised in order to communicate.
“But what of you, heh? We must ensure that you are offered the brightest of futures, one wish satisfies your standing in our nation's hearts and of course your noble blood.”
Annatrice knew that the King was getting at something and Charleroux's presence was the tell tale sign that loose lips had been at work.
“Such is my esteem for you, shared with my peoples overwhelming gratitude that I offer
you something so...magnificent, it could only be worthy of a soul such as yours, so heroic so...regal.”
Annatrice held her breath awaiting the King's wishes, she felt privileged by his noted esteem but ever so fearful that once again, she was going to be a tool to be used for the means of gaining or retaining power. Power was the only currency that King's used and understood. Tragian had been the same and she wondered what really set them apart at the end of the day. The answer was about to be made clear.
“Annatrice, I know you have met Petrus, my eldest son and heir to the Kingdoms of Suleyman and now Araman. I believe that it was not in the best of circumstances. That is unfortunate for he is a wise young man, full of kingly virtue. He is also without wife and frankly...none who have been offered are worthy of such a title...”
Annatrice's mouth fell open.
“You wish me to marry your son? But I am wed, t'is written in law!”
Annatrice looked over to Charleroux who shook his head smugly.
“Written in whose law? Mine! No, a piece of paper makes not a marriage. I shall tear it in two with my own hands. Charleroux has agreed the annulment and so it shall be done.”
“But Sire...” Annatrice stuttered and felt foolish.
“It was clear that your marriage was a sham, an arrangement for mutual benefit. That benefit has now been seen. Charleroux has increased wealth and stature in my court; you have fulfilled your vengeance and found great pride within the hearts of my people. There is only one more thing to do in order to establish your regal rights, you must marry Petrus. You will together rule the new unified lands of Suleyman and Araman and with your virtuotic powers, no doubt expand our influence across the Protathaian Isles. Can you not see that it is the most natural course of action?”
Annatrice was stunned. If it was power she craved, it was an offer of great magnitude which could not be denied, however Annatrice sought no power to rule, she sought the freedom to choose and Deo Canthi was bargaining to take that away from her.
“And what of Petrus? Does he wish to pursue this course?”
Annatrice looked at Petrus who shifted his weight around on his feet.
“My father's wisdom is beyond question.” His voice broke a little as he spoke, it was clear that his mind was not his own.
Annatrice held her hands to her face and delayed her answer.
“Annatrice...we need you at our helm. It is your destiny.” The King added. The pressure was mounting.
“No! It cannot be!” Annatrice spluttered as her inner strength once again welled and gave her the courage to be her own master.
“You promised me freedom and despite your best intentions, I shall find no freedom in this arrangement.”
The King looked to Petrus who looked sheepish. Charleroux's look of arrogance was replaced with frustration.
“This disappointing news aggrieves me...” The King said as he looked down to his lap.
“I shall not ask again nor will I beg of you, state your mind. Yay or nay?”
Annatrice swallowed hard.
“Nay, Sire.”
“Then leave us.” The King looked shattered by Annatrice's refusal as if his most treasured plans crumbled into the dust. Annatrice offered one last defiant glance at her husband before turning away and striding past the guards who stood at the entrance to the hallway beyond.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Annatrice returned to Marianne's chambers that morning and dwelt their till the evening. Comforted by Marianne who was confounded at her child's refusal to take the opportunity for wealth and power, she sat at the window staring out to the Cayborne hills as the sun disappeared behind their peaks.
In the castle, celebrations were in full swing, years of subservience to the tyrant had led the staff to break free from their most restrained shackles and crack open a cask or two. Music could be heard from the courtyard and people danced barefoot in the mud. The irony of the moment was not lost on Annatrice. Everyone had found their little piece of freedom apart from her. She knew she would never escape the bondage of her most profound abilities. The only one who did not cherish their qualities was Annatrice herself who had grown to despise them. The drone which had diminished in the remoteness of the country and had been limited by the recent pain was returning once more and Annatrice knew that it was only going to get worse as more people poured into the castle estate, their active minds emanating the all consuming cacophony that could not be escaped.
“Fetch me some wine?” Annatrice asked Marianne who was quite taken aback by the request. Marianne was delighted that Annatrice had seemingly thrown off the clouds of depression and sought to make merry. Dutifully, she returned with a flagon of dark, ruby red grape juice which Annatrice quickly guzzled. It was comforting that the wine had a similarly dulling effect, much like the Nerwarna of Suleyman. Annatrice found a little peace in the warming fermentation and a reassuring smile was enough for Marianne to know that everything was alright again.
Annatrice took to her bed that night with a numbness of the lips and a drowsy head. She fell asleep rapidly; she had not even managed to pull the clothes from her body. All the other girls had long since retired; they looked forward to the morning when they were promised an escorted ride to Karick with full purses, supplied by the new and gracious ruler.
Annatrice's slumber did not last the duration of the night. After a couple of hours she tossed and turned herself into waking and yearning a drink of water, she rose and walked to the day room. Taking a sip of cold refreshment, she once again opened the shutters of the window and looked out over the plains towards her childhood home. It was then that she realised that she had been too long in waiting for her freedom to come to her. If no one was to grant her the liberty she demanded, she would just take it.
Creeping back into the dormitory where the ladies slept soundly, she slipped on some sturdier shoes and collected her sheepskins which had barely dried out from her previous outing. Standing at the entrance of the dormitory, she blew a kiss to her cherished friends and offered a blessing for Marianne who snored loudly in an adjacent chamber. She skipped down the long and winding stairs, being sure to not attract any attention. The party earlier had long since ended and although the staff may have been addled by the liquor; the vigilant King's guard would not be sleeping at their posts tonight.
Heading out into the frosty air of the compound, she walked casually over to the stables and chose a small but well groomed pony. She strapped a saddle across its back with haste and led it out by its reins into the courtyard. She looked up to the ramparts and the twin towers that the gatekeepers kept. She thought to herself there and then that it would be a miracle if her plan to leave worked. Her mind still affected by the drink, she was not sure if she could coax a satisfactory reaction from the guards who now watched with interest as she trotted the grey horse to the outer perimeter.
“Where are you going?” A voice called down from on high. Annatrice cursed as she scraped along her skin with her well used dagger. There seemed little effect, the guards minds closed off and unreachable.
“Err...out for a ride.” She called back, unconvincing at best.
“T'is the King's orders that the gates remain sealed till sunrise.” The voice came again and Annatrice's pulse raced.
“I cannot sleep, I will return within the hour, long before sunrise.” Annatrice shook her head, there was a lengthy pause and she knew that the game was up. Suddenly, there was a creaking of wood and a clank of grinding metal. The gates were opening! Annatrice could not believe her amazing good fortune as she waved a thankful parting gesture and kicked her horse into a canter. The horse, glad to be free of its stable revelled in its midnight jaunt and Annatrice whooped an audible note of joy as the dark winds rushed through her hair and she took to the night, disappearing from the castles view in a matter of seconds.
The small hours of the night passed and eventually Annatrice slowed her mare to a halt as she realised she was hopelessly lost. A fine mist had risen ove
r the course of the night and the most familiar horizon had of course changed, not aiding Annatrice's navigation one bit. She decided in her wisdom to wait for morning before continuing her journey. She was not yet sure where she was going and with what purpose but she loved precisely that fact. Finding a small but sturdy tree by a small stream, she tied her pony up and sat back against a smooth boulder, her bottom soaking up the sodden moisture of the spring grass.
Annatrice awoke before she even realised that she had fallen asleep. Her back so stiff and her clothes wet through, she pulled herself to her feet and arched her back, holding her hands high in the air.
“Morning Annatrice.”
Annatrice spun around to see four horses and atop of them, heavily armoured and masked soldiers bearing Deo Canthi's standard.
The mist still hung low against the turf and the air was cold and wet. Annatrice felt that this scene was familiar, it reminded her of her father's death and thus she was instantly fearful. Her head was still throbbing, addled by the wine to the point of dizziness; she had risen too quickly.
“I'm not going back!” She called out bravely. The situation was ominous, why would Deo Canthi send a search party so heavily armed for a diminutive young woman. How did they find her with such speed, it was barely light.
“I’m afraid in this case, you are absolutely right.” One of the knights lifted his visor and the terrible and most recognisable eyes of Drayk peered out at her.
“Oh, Gods, no!” Annatrice cried out knowing that her own King of whom she had once saved from death had ordered her assassination to protect his reign. Three of the four knights edged forward the other hung back as Annatrice looked around her desperately for some kind of escape. Her horse had gone, either untied by Drayk and his minions or she had just poorly secured it. Annatrice plucked the dagger from her jacket and as they approached and pricked her thigh with it as Drayk laughed moronically.
“Did you think that would work? Oh, I'm afraid we have thought of every eventuality. You did have rather a lot to drink last night did you not?” Drayk unsheathed his bastard sword and held it aloft.
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