by K. A. Linde
“I could speak to the Queen and request it to be lessened,” he whispered into the evening air.
It was the first time he had ever admitted to discussing her with the Queen. Hearing him say it aloud made her voice come out strangled. “No!”
Cyrene missed her footing on the pebbled path and stumbled forward a pace. Edric steadied her. He turned his body to face her in the middle of the garden, and her breath caught at the sight of him in the setting sun.
“You do not wish for me to speak with the Queen?”
“I spoke out of turn. Please forgive me.”
“I cannot forgive that which I do not understand. Has the Queen somehow offended you?”
Cyrene shook her head. “I fear that the Queen does not…like me.”
Edric laughed softly, taking one of her hands in his own. “Oh, Cyrene, I believe that the Queen likes no one but herself.”
Cyrene found that she, too, could laugh at his comment.
“Now, tell me what the Queen has done to make you believe that she dislikes you.”
“It’s nothing, My King.” She turned her face away from his. She couldn’t possibly tell him the real reason.
“It’s enough to infuriate you, which is enough for me.”
When she looked back up into his blue-gray eyes, she felt that same magnetic pull between them. Somehow, she had not realized how close they were standing to one another. His hand felt warm against her bare skin. His body was only a few inches away from hers. His breath was hot on her face.
Her heart contracted in her chest, but she forced herself to respond, “She speaks of…of your interference…as if…as if you…”
Time stretched between them, and for a split second, she thought he might move even closer to her. She was rooted in place, captivated by his gaze.
“Yes?”
His other hand drifted to her waist, and she was suddenly on fire.
Their breaths mingled together as she murmured, “As if you favor me.”
“And do you think that?”
“I…”
“Yes?” he asked, stepping closer.
She couldn’t breathe. He was so close. His fingers tugged her body toward him. She felt the hard contours of his chest through her thin dress. His head tilted downward, and she rose up ever so slightly on to the tips of her toes, arching up to him. Her gaze landed on his lips, and she knew any second that something was going to happen that she could never reverse.
“Cyrene,” he whispered, their lips nearly touching, “do you think that I favor you?”
Her eyes fluttered closed, but she couldn’t keep the words from spilling from her lips. “I think you have Your Queen.”
The spell was broken. King Edric took a step back, and Cyrene quickly found the roses incredibly interesting.
She couldn’t believe what had just happened. Had the King been about to…kiss me? Had I been about to let him? It seemed unfathomable.
“I shall refrain from commenting about you to Her Majesty again,” he said coolly. “If you believe that will make your life easier.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said. Her heart was still beating out of her chest. She was sure he could hear it. “I believe it will.”
King Edric let the silence lapse between them as he directed her back along the rose-lined path.
As they ascended the spiral staircase to return to the party, he stopped her. “Affiliate Cyrene.”
She looked up at his beautiful unlined face, strong jawline with a five o’clock shadow, dark hair cut short, and shining blue-gray eyes. This feeling blooming between them was dangerous, but she didn’t know how to stop it.
“Yes, My King?”
“I’d prefer for you to call me Edric.”
Cyrene’s cheeks heated. She couldn’t believe the King wanted her to use his given name.
“Of course…Edric.”
He smiled down at her once more before escorting her into the ballroom.
Cyrene walked to where Maelia still stood beside the fireplace in a haze. Maelia had a million questions about her foray into the courtyard with the King. The court was buzzing with rumors and speculations about what had happened, some as good as idle conversation and others as bad as copulation.
“Copulation?” Cyrene asked, shaking her head. “Honestly.”
“Well, what happened?” Maelia asked.
“We walked around the rose garden and talked about how I enjoy gardening. Positively boring.”
Cyrene knew that she was glowing from the encounter, but she was too happy to care at the moment.
“Right,” Maelia said, unconvinced.
When they reached their rooms in the Vines, Maelia finally stopped badgering Cyrene for answers.
After entering her room and undressing to her shift, Cyrene fell into an easy slumber. She dreamed peacefully of dancing with Edric in an empty ballroom as he told her to use his given name, brandishing it like a caress.
Cyrene awoke in a daze. When she opened her eyes, her head pounded, and her vision blurred. She lifted herself out of bed and then plopped back down. A wave of nausea crashed over her.
What is wrong with me? She certainly hadn’t had enough to drink last night to feel like this.
Tingles traveled up her arms, starting at her fingers, as if they had been asleep and were now waking up. The tingles turned into pinpricks, and then the stabbing pain moved from her arms to her chest, down her stomach, and to her legs, like a wave washing over her skin. She gasped when it finally passed, and she breathed in the wet stale air.
Her eyes flew open.
Wet stale air?
Her rooms were in the interior division of the castle, and there was nothing wet about being encased in a mountain. She eased into a sitting position, the dizziness slowly subsiding. Cyrene couldn’t see anything in the pitch-black room. She just felt the small bed beneath her. Swinging her feet over the edge, she landed on soft compact earth.
What in the Creator’s name?
Is this another test? Edric had been clear that he didn’t want any more pranks. Her nerves prickled. Am I not supposed to have said anything? Are the masks punishing me for getting them in trouble about the ceremony?
She hardly cared about what might have happened to the people who had done that to her. They deserved their punishment, but she didn’t want retaliation—or worse—for speaking up.
Plus, Zorian’s death was only a couple of weeks behind her. At the thought of this being another attack, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
She noticed a slit of light across the room. She rushed to the wall and felt along the stone until she found a door handle.
She took a deep breath, turned the knob, and pulled. Expecting some kind of resistance, she yanked on the handle harder than necessary and shuffled backward a few steps when it opened with ease. The way ahead of her revealed nothing but a dirt path covered on either side with high hedges illuminated by the moon and stars above.
Placing one foot in front of the other, she left the small room behind and walked the length of the path, which ended at a wrought iron gate with climbing vines snaking around the intricate design. She unlatched the gate and pushed it open to reveal a large circular pavilion.
Well-manicured bushes enveloped the perimeter, leaving only one exit directly opposite her. The pavilion was set up in a series of concentric circles from the bushes to the pathway and up to the marble slab patio before landing on a flat-topped dais. Thick wax candles had been set up in a semicircle, lighting the patio and casting a silhouette on four individuals.
Cyrene swallowed hard. Not another ceremony.
She couldn’t believe they were about to put her through something else after her warrior ceremony and everything she’d had to deal with regarding Zorian’s death.
With a sigh, she stepped across the circular garden until she reached the patio. She couldn’t keep the shock off her face as the four individuals came into focus—King Edric, Queen Kaliana, Conso
rt Daufina, and Prince Kael. They were all clad in ceremonial Dremylon green and gold.
Her gaze found Edric’s.
He had been so kind and charming in the gardens earlier this evening. Is there some ulterior motive with him as much as his brother? The whole situation was too confusing.
“Affiliate Cyrene,” King Edric finally broke the silence. “Welcome to the Ring of Gardens, a place of peace, loyalty, duty, and acceptance.”
Queen Kaliana spoke next, “When King Viktor Dremylon first came to rule Byern, where he rightfully belonged, the Ring of Gardens was a constant place of solace. He believed, to truly nurture and grow the most valuable aspects of his subjects, he needed to set the example.”
“The time before the Class system is not well known among our citizens,” Consort Daufina said. “The Doma are our history, our example, yet much of what transpired has lapsed into folklore. This has been our own doing. We have purposefully let it be forgotten by the every day person.”
Cyrene stared forward, her eyes growing wider. They had let history become folklore on purpose?
“King Viktor Dremylon chose to stamp out the memory of the Doma and everything they had done to torment our people and our lands,” Daufina continued. “He left a glimmer of a reminder with his heir and his most trusted High Order and Affiliates of what could happen if we allowed his Class system to fall or fracture. He didn’t want the leaders of our world to forget what was possible under that kind of rule.”
“So, King Viktor left it to his best and brightest,” Prince Kael said, his characteristic smirk gone, his eyes like stone. “He didn’t want those who had the most influence over the structure of the new regimen to forget. The scholars, ambassadors, and inventors were the backbone, his Affiliates and High Order.”
“Back to the first group of Affiliates and High Order, the King tested those who wished to remain in his service,” King Edric said.
Cyrene’s blood ran cold. Is this why he forbid the warrior ceremony? Because I would have to undergo another such test?
“And he tested the very qualities that the Ring of Gardens represents—loyalty, duty, and acceptance,” King Edric spoke severely, as if the Doma’s subjugation still pained him to this day. “Affiliate Cyrene, do you wish to continue in my service as an Affiliate of Byern?”
Is that even a legitimate question? The thought of relenting her position, even after all that had happened, was heartrending.
“Of course, My King.”
“Then, we must put you forward to the test of the Ring of Gardens. Loyalty to the throne, duty-bound to your lands, and acceptance of the structure of the system were the three qualities King Viktor believed to be required of a true subject.”
“Should you choose to continue,” Queen Kaliana said, “know that the trials might be difficult. The outcome, should you fail, might be as simple as removal from the Affiliate program or as severe as death. Once you start, there is no going back.”
Cyrene held her chin high. She wouldn’t have the Queen scare her off. Surely, it couldn’t be as difficult as the warrior ceremony.
She glanced once into Prince Kael’s eyes. He held the same stony expression, but something about him seemed to be pleading with her. What is he thinking?
She didn’t know, and she couldn’t hesitate.
“I accept.”
King Edric walked two paces into the center of the pavilion and produced a small glass vial. He placed it on the center of a small table and gestured for Cyrene to walk forward.
Cyrene blankly stared down at the liquid. She couldn’t show any signs of weakness. To her core, she knew that she would need to remain strong or else she would surely fail.
“There will be three tests. The first is your agreement to begin and to drink this,” King Edric said, gesturing to the liquid.
“Do you agree?”
“Yes,” she said strongly.
He pushed the vial a fraction closer to her.
“What will it do to me?”
“It has a different reaction to every person who drinks it. If it doesn’t kill you, you’ll enter into another world of what could have been…and maybe even what could be. It is your risk to take,” the King stated simply before taking two steps back to stand between his Queen, Consort, and the Prince.
Cyrene steeled herself, took the small vial in her hand, and weighed it.
Loyalty. Duty. Acceptance.
She just had to drink it and trust that it wouldn’t kill her. She just had to step off the ledge and hope she had a soft landing on the other side. This was what they wanted from her. This was what she had to give them.
She unstopped the vial and set the cork down before pressing the glass to her lips and tilting her head back. The liquid ran down her throat and settled in her stomach. Cyrene placed the glass next to the stopper and looked at the four people standing in front of her, waiting.
Is something supposed to happen?
Then, it hit her like a fire scorching and burning away her skin. Worse, it was like poison turning her blood to sludge and pressing against her veins. She felt near to bursting. It was like jagged glass was dragging against her entire body.
She sank to her knees as tears sprang to her eyes. All she wanted to do was scream, but her lungs wouldn’t cooperate, and she could only open her mouth. She was a picture of agony and strangled desperation. She closed her eyes and rocked back and forth, wondering if it would ever end, if she would die.
Think!
There had to be an explanation.
The push of the poison coating her insides made thinking almost impossible. She tried to settle herself and ignore the pain, but it was a constant battle.
What am I even doing here? Where am I?
She couldn’t open her eyes to tell. All she felt was the all-consuming agony that would surely equal death.
Loyalty.
The word appeared in her mind out of nowhere, and she held on to it like a drowning person reaching for a raft.
She was loyal. She’d drunk the vial. She was forfeiting her life for the good of the country.
At her Presenting ceremony, she had told Edric that she was his most loyal subject. The thought made her smile despite the pain.
Then, it was replaced by numbness.
And then, there was nothing.
Cyrene stood in the side room she had been escorted to immediately after her Presenting.
King Edric sat behind his desk, impatiently drumming his fingers against the stack of papers in front of him. Consort Daufina leaned against a bookshelf, impassively staring at the shelf. Queen Kaliana’s lips were set in a severe straight line, and she looked as tightly coiled as the bun on her head.
How did I get here?
A perfectly snug pale blue dress embroidered in cream fit her to perfection. Pins dug into her hair where they held it back off her face. Even her feet were in her favorite pair of dark blue slippers, not the black she typically wore.
“Affiliate, are you even listening?” King Edric snapped.
“Yes, of course, My King.”
Cyrene dipped a curtsy to cover her shock at his tone rather than to show deference. The potion must have done something, made her forget everything that had happened before this moment.
“We’re concerned about your performance with your work as an Affiliate thus far,” King Edric said. “The Queen said you’ve disobeyed orders, refused to listen to her, pushed against her commands, and even requested to be assigned to the Consort for no reason whatsoever. Is this all true, Kaliana?”
“It has been dreadful to work with her. I would hate to have to put her off on Daufina. I don’t know what we were thinking when we accepted her into my service,” the Queen said, her voice controlled.
“If she is this much trouble, then I don’t see how I could work with her either,” Daufina said harshly. “Even her own friend said she hides behind others’ brilliance.”
Cyrene stared at her in disbelief. Her stomach plummeted. She ha
d been stubborn and opinionated, but it was certainly nothing to make her endure this kind of treatment.
When she had spoken with King Edric about Queen Kaliana’s interference, he had seemed to understand what was going on. Had that all been a ruse?
“That settles it then.” King Edric signed a document on his desk.
“That settles what?” Cyrene asked.
She froze under his heated gaze. His blue-gray eyes were normally alight with affection and hidden mischief. She was sure she had misconstrued those looks now that he was staring at her so solemnly…as if she were incompetent.
“We’re moving you to the Third Class.”
Cyrene gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth, and her knees weakened. She nearly fell, but she grasped on to the desk in time to stay upright.
“Your sparse knowledge of agriculture should assist you with the farming out on the banks of the Taken Mountains, past Levin, where we are reassigning you,” he continued.
He didn’t seem to notice or care about her discomfort.
“Reassigning me?” she asked softly.
“Yes, we feel that perhaps this was not the best fit for you.” The King looked up at Queen Kaliana and nodded.
“Edric,” Cyrene whispered, pleading.
Everything happened at once. Queen Kaliana hissed through her teeth and stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the stone floor. Consort Daufina strode across the room, her eyes hard, her expression nearly as cross as the Queen’s. But the King…he blankly stared forward, his mouth set in a line. His fingers had ceased their drumming, and he clenched them into a fist.
“You will not call the King by his given name!” Consort Daufina scolded.
“My apologies,” Cyrene stated quickly, straightening and trying to look demure.
“Third Class,” King Edric said. “Straight away. You spoke the Oath of Acceptance, and you’ll follow the orders set forth in our Class system. You are no better than anyone in the Third Class, as they are no better than anyone in the First. Do I make myself clear?”
Cyrene nodded. The Oath of Acceptance. Yes, she had agreed to abide by the King’s requests.
