Her mother and father would be in there taking care of something mundane like how to increase the production of chicken eggs. The hallway outside the meeting room was crowded with slaves, their bands reflecting under the sunlight that streamed in through the skylights. She found Ariel standing next to the door.
“What’s going on?” Zwaantie asked her.
“It’s the first of the month.”
Oh Sol, Zwaantie had forgotten. Why in the dark didn’t the Voice warn her? It was usually so good at reminding her of things she didn’t want to do. She was late, probably by a couple of hours. Raaf could’ve reminded her too. Brat. He probably wanted her to miss the meeting, thought it would be funny. And here she was thinking he’d gone stuffy. She’d pay him back for this one for sure.
Zwaantie turned to Luna. “How’s my hair?”
Luna smoothed out a few stray strands while Ariel brushed dust off Zwaantie’s dress. Phoenix smirked next to them, and Zwaantie had to resist sticking her tongue out at him.
“I’ll see you later,” Zwaantie said to Luna, but her eyes were on Phoenix.
A slave opened the door. Zwaantie pressed her lips together and entered the room with her head held high.
A group of nearly twenty people sat around the large oval table. The men stood as she walked into the room, and she racked her brain for an excuse. They would demand one.
She took her place next to her mother and avoided her eyes. Father and Raaf sat on her other side. The rest of the people at the table were lower kings, queens, and chancellors of various villages. Every month they gathered at the castle to discuss problems and solutions. Zwaantie hated these meetings because they were insanely dull. She thought she was too young to attend, but Mother insisted.
Speak, demanded the Voice.
Every eye in the room was on her. She’d hoped they would just continue like she hadn’t come in extremely late. But she had no choice. Zwaantie stood.
“Please forgive my tardiness. A group of Stellan mages entered our borders a few hours ago, and I went to investigate.”
A cough came from a few chairs over, and she knew it was Raaf trying to cover a laugh.
“And what did you find?” asked Mother. A few snickers came from around the table. No one expected anything good out of Zwaantie. She was the disobedient daughter of the high king and queen. The one who would rather run with slaves than other princes and princesses. The one, who, when she thought no one was listening, sounded like she came from the streets of Stella. But she blamed that one on Mother, who gave her Stellan playmates when she was young. What did Mother expect? Today though, Zwaantie would surprise them all.
“They have discovered how to turn off the Voice.”
A gasp escaped most of those who sat around the table.
Raaf recovered first. “That is impossible. The Voice rules over Sol. It cannot be turned off. It is what keeps us safe. If they can turn it off, then they will invade.”
“I witnessed it for myself. They created a bubble, and the minute I stepped within the bubble, the Voice went silent. Everyone noticed. The Voice can summon them here to witness if you don’t believe me. But if you do believe me, we need to decide how to fix this.”
Mother stared at her, stunned. But being the high queen, she went into action mode. “And how do you propose we do this?”
“We start by having spies at the border, and the next time a mage enters, we question him until he explains.”
A voice came from across the table, the lower king of Ghrain.
“You had the authority to arrest them. Why didn’t you?”
For a half second Zwaantie had thought that maybe she could do this. Be queen. But once again her inadequacy was thrown back in her face. She could’ve brought the mages in to be questioned by Raaf. Another reminder of why she wouldn’t be a good queen.
“I don’t know,” Zwaantie said, sinking down into her hard chair. She kept her head up because that was expected her, but she wanted to bury her face in her hands. She kept her eyes trained on the tapestry of an apple orchard hanging above the king and queen of Slonce.
The lower king sniffed. Conversations flared up around the room. Zwaantie wallowed in her own self-pity while the rest of the leaders of Sol decided how to protect her country since she obviously couldn’t. Maybe now Mother would entertain thoughts of Zwaantie giving up the throne.
After the meeting, Mother caught up with Zwaantie and Luna in the hallway.
“Tonight you will be seated next to the prince of Ghrain.”
Zwaantie groaned.
Stop that. She’s your mother. You will listen to her.
“Yes, Mother, but last time was a disaster. I don’t expect tonight to go any better.”
“Well, try harder this time, and so help me, if I hear one word about mooing, I’ll have your tail. The prince is the one who suggested we increase the guard at the barrier.”
Anyone could have suggested they increase the guard. Even the slaves would’ve thought of that. Zwaantie rolled her eyes.
Stop being disrespectful.
“Yes, Mother.”
The prince from Ghrain was older than her by about six years. He was good looking and charming. But also condescending.
That evening, Zwaantie settled into her chair before the prince arrived. Luna stood behind her, smoothing her hair as he took his seat with a flourish.
“I see your mother made you sit with me. Are you finally deciding to choose a husband?”
“My mother thinks so.” Zwaantie looked around. Where were the drinks?
“Well, you will obviously be picking me. I don’t see that you have other options.”
What an arrogant jerk.
“You are mistaken. I have plenty of options.”
“Where? Sonnenschein? I heard you ran him off awfully fast. I’m not quite as easily deterred.”
Zwaantie almost asked him to moo for her, just to prove a point, but decided against it. She needed wine and fast.
A serving slave stood before her, pale as the clouds in the sky. The tray the girl held shook. “Wine or water?”
“Wine, please.” Zwaantie reached for the wine, but before she could take the goblet, the slave collapsed onto the floor, convulsing. The cups clattered to the floor, the wine leaving a dark stain on the stone.
Zwaantie was out of her seat in seconds. She knelt by the girl’s side, the floor cold underneath her knees. It was a slave she was unfamiliar with. She’d probably seen her around the castle before, but didn’t know her name. The girl’s face was pale, and her lips had a strange blue tint. Blood trickled out of her mouth. Zwaantie touched the girl’s neck. Nothing.
Luna knelt down next to her and put her arm around Zwaantie’s shoulder. “Zwaantie? Are you okay?”
Zwaantie shook her head.
“Move, girls.” Wilma stood next to them. They scooted over but did not stand.
Wilma moved her fingers over the girl’s lips and opened her eyes. Zwaantie did not look. She was already afraid of the nightmares that would come from this experience. This poor girl had just died right in front of her. Why?
Dead,” declared Wilma to the waiting crowd. “You,” she said, pointing at a slave boy. “Go fetch a couple of diggers.”
Zwaantie still hadn’t moved. “What do you think happened to her?”
Wilma shrugged. “It’s hard to say. From the looks of it, she bled internally. It could be any number of things. Especially if she had trouble earlier and didn’t tell anyone. Death is the way of the world, and it happens, even to the young.”
A few minutes later, two men arrived in dark brown tunics and took the girl away. The dinner conversation had been hushed during the ordeal, but no one made to leave. As soon as the diggers and the girl were gone, Mother motioned for the slaves to serve them dinner. Zwaantie looked at her mother, hoping against hope to convey that she wanted to go to her room. But her mother just nodded to the prince behind Zwaantie, which she took as a sign that she was to take h
er seat at the table.
Luna pulled Zwaantie up. Zwaantie’s legs shook as Luna helped her to her seat. After she sat, she placed her hands in her lap and stared down at them. Those hands had just touched a dead body. What if she was contagious and Zwaantie would be the next to go? No one else seemed concerned about that. Another slave girl brought her a warm wet cloth, and Zwaantie used it to wash her hands.
She glanced at the prince. “Excuse me. I’m afraid I’ve lost my appetite.” She rushed from the room, Luna on her heels.
She collapsed onto her couch.
“Are you okay, Your Highness?”
Zwaantie shook her head. “A girl just died right in front of me.”
“Yes. She did.”
“Did you know her?”
“A little. We weren’t close.”
“Everybody acted like we’re just supposed to continue with dinner, like nothing was wrong.”
Luna shifted. “I suppose they thought she was a slave, and it didn’t matter.”
Zwaantie cringed. “That’s not right.”
“It is the way of life. Why don’t you take a bath, and I’ll brush out your hair? That always soothes you.”
“Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”
Luna had just finished helping Zwaantie put on her night dress when mother entered.
“You left early.”
“I did. The death was too much for me.”
Mother sank down onto the couch. “You know, when you’re queen, you will have to carry on even if you run into hard situations. That wasn’t smart running out like that. You’ll make the people believe their queen is weak.”
Zwaantie was tired of being reminded of her duties. Tired of thinking of marrying a man she’d never love, tired of being queen, and she hadn’t even become one yet.
“What if I don’t want to be queen?” There she finally said it out loud.
Take it back. This is treason.
A hand flew to her mother’s breast. “How could you say that?”
Zwaantie exhaled and twisted her hands together. “Because it’s true. I don’t want to be queen. Raaf can have the throne. Please, Mother, you must see that I will not be good at this.”
Treason. There is only one punishment for traitors. Zwaantie expected a pain in her forehead after a declaration like that, but none came.
“Raaf is already the grand chancellor. Besides, Sol demands that as the oldest heir, you be queen. If you choose not to, you will be sentenced to death. There is no abdicating.”
“What?” Zwaantie had never heard this before. No one ever talked about what would happen if she didn’t take the throne.
“I may be queen, but we answer to a higher power.” Mother pointed out the window to the sun. “You are called by Sol to become queen.”
“And if I run away?”
STOP THIS RIGHT NOW. The pain began then, just behind her eyes.
“Then that is between you and Sol, but I doubt you’d survive more than a couple of weeks. This is ridiculous.”
This would be irrelevant if Stella found a way to take over. Then she’d be a slave like Luna and Phoenix. Though that might fix her problem. Maybe Zwaantie shouldn’t have warned her mother and father about the way the Stellan mages turned off the Voice.
She shook her head. What was she thinking? Sol was her home. She should be concerned about her people, not helping the enemy.
Mother didn’t say another word as she swept from the room. Luna sat on the couch with her and held her hand.
“I never knew,” she said.
“I know. I’m sorry. I just feel so trapped in my life.”
Luna gave a snort. “I can relate.”
“I shouldn’t compare my life to yours. I’m sorry. It’s just that I want to be a midwife. Not queen.”
A knock came at the door. Luna answered it. Phoenix poked his head in, and Zwaantie couldn’t help her smile.
He sat in the seat Luna had just vacated, and he took her hand in his. “Are you okay?”
“Of course. It was strange watching that slave die, but I’m fine. How did you get away?”
“Raaf sent me to check on you. He wanted to come himself, but he was tied up. I was happy to help.”
Luna hovered over them, glaring. “You should leave. I need to help Zwaantie get ready for bed.”
Phoenix didn’t say anything. He just brushed a strand of hair out of Zwaantie’s eyes. She shivered at his touch and let out a sigh.
The door clicked shut, and Zwaantie met Luna’s eyes. Her face was hard. “You’re playing with fire.”
It sure felt like it. Zwaantie’s chest burned every time she saw him. Luna was worried about her brother, and Zwaantie supposed he could get hurt in this, but the truth was that she was the one who would likely end up in flames.
Chapter 13
The Plan: Part 1
The Voice was trying hard not to lose his temper. He stood among his glowing orbs and muttered to himself. The orbs would absorb some of his words, and right now a very confused farmer was being told he was an idiot and he had to try harder next time. But at this moment, the Voice didn’t care. He slammed his fist down on a long table that sat next to the wall. A few lists slid off the table. He picked them up and read the first one.
The following people of Haul need to have their guilt removed.
Sjabbo, farmer, confessed to the sin of moving his fence and encroaching on another’s property.
Mina, shopkeeper, confessed to the sin of purposefully keeping the change she owed her customers.
Bastiaan, student, sixteen years of age, confessed to kissing a girl.
This was his job. He was to remove the guilt whispers from their orbs so they could be free of the pain associated with it. There were a half a dozen lists sitting on his table, and he hadn’t attended to a single one. He clutched at his hair. How was he supposed to think about these mundane things when he was about to lose his power because of the princess? He had to get rid of her so he could focus on doing his job.
Shoes clattered on the floor in the hallway behind him. He was about to have another visitor.
The door opened, and in she strolled. He left the orbs behind him so none would pick up the conversation. The woman’s face twisted into a sneer, and she wasted no time getting in his face.
“That was stupid and foolish. You could’ve exposed the plan to kill her before even getting a decent shot at it. You’re lucky most of the kingdom doesn’t recognize the signs of poisoning. Not to mention the fact that an innocent victim died. You can’t let that happen again.”
“Relax, woman. It was just a slave girl. You don’t seem that concerned about Zwaantie’s life. Why are you worried about a slave?”
She took two deep breaths and then snapped her fingers. Every orb in the room blinked out.
The Voice’s stomach clenched, and his hands went ice cold. This woman just turned off the magic of Sol. “Turn it back on.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. Not until the orbs were glowing again. He fought the rising panic in his chest.
“No. Not until you hear what I have to say. If you fail, this is the result. Everything goes away. No more magic, no more Voice, and chaos in the streets. I have seen all the possible futures. The only ones in which the Voice still remains in power are the ones where Zwaantie dies. Unless you want this to be a reality, she must die, and you cannot make any more foolish attempts like today. Find a way to do it now, because the beginning of the end starts tomorrow.”
She snapped her fingers once again, and the orbs glowed, like they’d never been turned off in the first place. The Voice sank to the ground, grateful a crisis had been averted. The old woman put a gentle finger on one of the orbs nearest her, and the Voice resisted the urge to swat her hand away. He’d never even touched them.
“Do you ever wonder how it all started?” she asked.
“How what started?” He couldn’t concentrate on the conversation. His mind was still with her declaration of all the p
ossible futures. How powerful was this woman anyway?
“This room. The Voice.”
She wasn’t making sense. “I am the Voice.”
“Of course you are, but you haven’t always been.”
“I know that, but there is no beginning. The Voice originates with the creation.”
The woman cackled. “Oh, you fool. It began as a spell. A good one too. I was there.”
The Voice furrowed his brow. This couldn’t be true. He was the Voice of God. This woman was blasphemous.
“You lie.”
“I do not. Let me show you. Call to you the orb of the Bakker child. He’s an infant and won’t remember or understand our words.”
The Voice didn’t want to listen to her, but something about the way she spoke made him follow her directions.
He called Philip Bakker’s orb to him. His mother, father, and sister’s orbs flew with it, but he waved them away. The orb floated between him and the old woman. Her eyes sparkled as she examined it.
“Now before I show you, I’d like to know how much you understand. How does the Voice work?”
“The Voice exists inside the head of every Solite.”
“But are you present?”
“No, I simply give the orb instructions, and it acts of its own accord. I would go mad if I was in everyone’s head all the time.”
“Very good. Essentially, you don’t know what anyone has done until the chancellor delivers you names of those who need guilt and pain removed.”
“Right, and I can choose whether or not to remove that pain. Once an instruction has been given, only I can modify or change it. I can also choose how strict the Voice is with individuals. Slaves are dealt with most severely while the royal family is given some leniency.”
“How do you force someone to do something?”
“I have to allow my consciousness to enter their orb, essentially seeing everything they are doing. In that instance I have total control over their actions if I choose. I can do that to all of Sol at once if I wish.”
But he wouldn’t ever enter the entirety of Sol. After forcing someone to do something, he always felt exhausted and a little dirty inside. He didn’t like being in other people’s heads. He didn’t know what would happen if he tried to enter the collective conscience.
Stella and Sol Box Set Page 8
