The Golden Key Legacy

by AJ Nuest

  “Come.” The queen tipped her head and disappeared from the doorway, and Faedrah sheathed her swords before awaiting Vaighn to trail after her.

  A grim apprehension sparked along her nerve endings as she climbed the stairs at her adoptive brother’s side, yet it wasn’t the impromptu summons to the king’s chambers which tautened her nerves. For as long as she could remember, her family had taken their meals together. A rule her mother insisted upon whenever she and the king were in residence.

  The uneasy comings and goings of the guard is what made her peek askance at Vaighn, and when the glint of anxiety in his gaze mirrored her own suspicions, she quickened her pace as he lengthened his stride.

  Something was amiss in the kingdom.

  A pair of obsidian eyes streaked across her vision. She shuddered and fisted her hands at her sides. May the goddesses grant whatever had occurred was not the least bit connected to her nightmares, and the horrifying dreams were merely an offshoot of her wearisome shortcomings…or her unsatisfied libido.

  Her mother led them to the king’s receiving room and, upon entering, Vaighn strode directly toward the long wooden table centered before the hearth. Nodding a greeting to Denmar and Wizard Fandorn, he bowed to her father and assumed his appointed seat on the king’s right.

  His position of honor was not questioned by those in the room, nor was the ease with which her father clasped a welcoming hand on Vaighn’s shoulder, and Faedrah clamped down hard on the twinge of envy deepening her pulse.

  Such courtesies had not always been granted the direct descendant of Braedric Austiere, her father’s half-brother and their kingdom’s most treasonous enemy. Following the charges levied against his father for crimes against the crown, Vaighn’s mother had fled in shame back to her homeland. At the tender age of ten, Vaighn had been set adrift, homeless and alone, without guardianship in the kingdom.

  Bearing witness to his nephew’s suffering had reminded King Caedmon of his own torturous childhood. He’d survived firsthand the terrible stigma inherent in the iniquitous opinions of the court, branded impure simply because of the gypsy blood which flowed through his veins. Despite the agitation his decree sent rippling through the kingdom, he had welcomed Vaighn as an adoptive son and future leader in their kingdom…for, in this, he’d made his ruling clear.

  Under the reign of King Caedmon Austiere, the sins of the father would not be visited upon the son.

  In the seasons since, Vaighn had not once shown anything but the utmost respect and allegiance to the Austiere throne, though few but Faedrah fully gleaned the reason why. Due his desperate need to demonstrate he was unlike his father, Vaighn could offer no less. To do as much would betray the oath he’d sworn to the one man who’d offered him sanctuary, and the uncle he grew to love as father and king.

  The four men lowered their heads as their conversation resumed, and Faedrah hastened across the room to join them. Yet she was waylaid when the queen skimmed a hand down her forearm and pulled her near the high stained-glass window…and, more specifically, the roosting stand of her beloved falcon, Dart.

  “Give them a moment, Faedrah. Your father agrees the day’s affairs would best be addressed after a hearty meal. Let the men banter about the latest grievances of the council while you and I catch a breath of fresh air.”

  Uh oh…

  Never, in all the days since Faedrah’s birth, had her mother drawn her aside for a clandestine conversation. If one thing above all was abundantly clear, the king and queen did not keep secrets from one another.

  A cool spring breeze filtered in from the surrounding mountains, ruffling her mother’s white tresses and soothing the weariness from Faedrah’s brow. She kept her attention firmly fixed on the falcon, running the back of her index finger down his silky spotted breast. Yet she did not speak. Her time navigating the intricacies of the court had taught her well. Holding one’s tongue in times of doubt was always the more prudent course.

  She instinctively leaned into her mother’s hand when the queen lightly combed her fingers through the ebony stripe marring Faedrah’s otherwise light-blonde hair. Her father had often teased that, other than her dark eyes, the strange anomaly was the only trait she carried of her gypsy heritage.

  “Are you quite right, dove?”

  Ah. Of course. The strain in Faedrah’s shoulders eased a degree and she softly smiled. After a lifetime together, her mother understood better than most the king’s propensity to worry, especially when those he loved were in question. The queen would certainly validate any misgivings which had snared her attention before voicing her concerns to the king. “I’m fine, M’ma. Truly. A few restless nights, is all.”

  The queen cupped Faedrah’s face in both palms and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “You must remember, my heart. I was nearly ten years your elder before I’d earned my chance to contest in the Gantlet. Comparing your path to mine does not serve you well. And neither is it wise you should compare yourself to Vaighn.”

  Faedrah slumped. How easily her mother had honed in on her frustrations. She must be as transparent as glass. “But you achieved as much in two passings of the seasons, M’ma. Four passings now, and I’ve still not earned my chance.”

  “You fret too much.” Pressing their brows together, the queen smiled into Faedrah’s eyes. “Just like your father. I promise one day soon your time will come, and when it does you shall shine brighter than all of Helios’ diamond offerings in the sky.”

  She withdrew and tipped her head, a musing frown pleating the skin between her brows. “In the meantime, I really must insist you get some sleep. Promise me you will tread lightly on yourself or I fear your father may order you abandon your training altogether.”

  Alarm jabbed the pit of Faedrah’s stomach and tears of exhaustion flooded her eyes. “No, M’ma.” She clasped her mother’s wrists to emphasize her distress. “He mustn’t. Not when I’m so close to advancing.”

  “Your father and I just want what’s best for you, Faedrah.” The queen sighed and shook her head. “Not one amongst the court measures themselves against the lofty ideals you’ve established for yourself. Helios forbid they ever would.” She pulled Faedrah into her arms and held tight. “I will buy you some time, but that is the best I can offer. Now please promise me you will try to get some sleep.”

  The king cleared his throat. “Is everything quite right over there?”

  “Right as rain.” Her mother leaned back with a smile, applying a squeeze to Faedrah’s shoulders. “Come now and let’s eat.”

  Faedrah trailed her mother to the table and sat in her appointed position on the queen’s right, yet before she’d wet her lips with her first sip of wine, her father sat back from his plate and pinned her with an arched brow.

  He tapped his cheek.

  Faedrah rolled her eyes and stood, rounded the table and pecked the spot above the trim salt and pepper beard accenting his square jaw. “Good morning, P’pa.”

  “That’s better.” He nodded once curtly, pursing his lips against smile, though the weight of his gaze lingered on her back as she circled the table and reclaimed her seat.

  Her heart sank the same distance she lowered onto her chair, and she avoided his inspection by tipping her wine goblet to her lips. Whilst her mother spoke true and her father did worry, the circumstances surrounding his impending decision left her few choices. Either she confessed the true reason behind her fitful slumber or she remained silent. Regardless, the outcome would furrow her around to this exact same position. Her parents would become agitated…perchance even angry she’d kept them unaware, and they would insist she break from her training until the source of her nightmares had been found.

  The conversation resumed where it had apparently left off—Councilman Vlandross’ yearly petition to increase taxes, and his heated response to her father’s adamant refusal. Faedrah concentrated on rearranging the smoked fish and fruit on her plate. She had heard both sides of the argument several times. ʼTwas the same ev
ery spring. Much to Artemis Vlandross’ annoyance, her father rejected the notion of lining his coffers with the hard-earned profits borne off the sweat of his subjects’ brows. And, history had shown, he’d made the proper choice. Under his reign, their kingdom had prospered, trade had increased. The Austiere Realm had enjoyed a season of peace they’d not encountered in centuries.

  Faedrah selected a hard roll from the silver bowl on the table and tore the loaf in half, balancing each end on either side of her plate. If only she could unearth the reason behind her nightmares, then perchance she could vanquish them once and for all. She chewed the inside of her lip. Her mother had promised her a bit more time and, to succeed, she must use it wisely. But, sweet tits of the nine, where did she even begin? She held no more sway over her dreams than, evidently, she did her future.

  The king slammed his fist to the table and Faedrah snapped out of reverie. “What quality of monarch willingly filches the coins from his subjects’ pockets only to then turn around and demand allegiance from those same men?”

  “Or women,” the queen interjected.

  “Yes, quite right.” Sunlight winked off the thin gold band bisecting the king’s brow as he nodded down the table toward his queen. “To do as much undermines the very principles upon which Rowena and I have based our sovereignty. I shall not ask our kinsfolk to forfeit their comforts in exchange for that which we do not need. For then, as much as they prosper, it is my utmost belief they shall heed my call to arms should the occasion arise.”

  Denmar propped his elbow on the table and stroked the point of his wiry gray beard, one steely blue eye squinting at the king, the empty socket of the other hidden behind his black leather eye patch. “That same occasion may very well be upon us, Sire.”

  Faedrah’s pulse leapt and she jerked her focus back to her father. He held up his hand, darting a sharp glance about the room. “Leave us.”

  The servants quickly deposited their serving platters and wine vessels on the table, bowed and backed toward the exit. Two of the queen’s personal guard secured the chamber and stood stiff as boards inside the door, an armored wall of flesh sworn to protect her by an oath as strong and true as the deadly swords at their sides.

  The king leaned his forearm on the table. A subtle peek at the queen, and he refocused on the captain of the royal guard. “What news of the black infestation?”

  Faedrah collapsed against the back of her padded seat. What black infestation? Her stomach lurched and she swallowed the acidic bile crawling up the back of her throat. She locked onto Vaighn, but the surprise lifting his brows displayed no deception. Whatever secrets were about to be revealed, he’d not been given the slightest forewarning.

  At least, in this, they remained equal.

  “Reddeck and his Dregg legions have been unable to locate the source.” Wine glugged from the ewer as Fandorn refilled his goblet. A droplet of claret left the lip to stain the linen tablecloth like a bead of red blood. He lifted the golden rim to his lips and his Adam’s apple bobbed beneath the weathered skin of his neck.

  Faedrah clenched her jaw against the urge to gag. Sweat broke the surface of her skin and trickled down the nape of her neck. Since the time of her birth, a clan of large bat-like Dreggs had served the king and queen with a loyalty nigh to obsession. She must concentrate if she hoped to glean the reason behind their concerns.

  “Yet the trees continue to wither and die at an alarming rate.” The aged wizard twirled the stem of his glass between his bony fingers. “The epidemic is spreading.”

  A wave of vertigo pitched her off-center, and Faedrah seized the arms of her chair. What was happening? Not a morsel of food had passed her lips, so why was she suddenly ill?

  “They have but one conclusion, of course.” Denmar crossed his beefy arms and the stench of rotting flesh permeated her senses. “They fear for Gaelleod’s return.”

  “Helios save us,” Vaighn whispered. “The black wizard rises.”

  The floor heaved, and Faedrah stiffened in her seat. Her lungs constricted despite her desperate need for air. What were they talking about? No, no, the black wizard couldn’t be real. He was merely a figment of her imagination.

  A pair of dead, stygian eyes coalesced in the space before her. A malevolent chuckle floated past her ear. “I warned you, Faedrah. You cannot hide from me…”

  Yet he was here. In her realm.

  “Faedrah?”

  She spun toward her mother and opened her mouth, but words refused to form on her lifeless tongue. Why had they not told her? She pounded her fist on the table. Shook her head and grappled with her frozen throat. By striving to protect her they had condemned her to hell!

  “Caedmon!” Her mother leapt to her feet. “She’s not breathing! Caedmon, she’s not breathing!”

  The din of clanging silver erupted amid the shattering of china plates. Shadows flickered at the edges of her vision. Faedrah seized her mother’s outstretched arms, dug her nails into the leather sleeves. “The…key…”

  She choked; toppled forward.

  Her mother’s scream rebounded inside her skull as darkness swooped in to swallow her whole.

  Chapter 2

  “We should have confessed the truth to her long ago.”

  The profound sadness in her mother’s voice tugged Faedrah from the quiet gloaming of slumber and, with her ascent into waking, she inhaled a full, sweet breath. Based on the hint of night-blooming jasmine her mother enjoyed sewn into sachets and hidden beneath her pillows, she lay in her parents’ private chamber, tucked safely beneath the coverlet on their bed.

  She drew another blessed breath, and a prayer of gratitude floated heavenward with the ease of her exhalation. Thank the nine, whatever specter had cast its loathsome pall over her body, it had released its deathly grip. Henceforth, she would never again discount the simple task of drawing air.

  “We discussed the topic at length, my love. On several occasions.” Her father sighed, the heels of his boots tapping the continuous pace of his long-legged stride across the stone floor. “She displayed no outward signs of her laments, and must understand we merely kept silent to protect her.”

  Skepticism laced her mother’s soft chuckle. “She’s displayed the signs since childhood. Or do you not recall how often we discovered her in this very room, standing before the armoire, staring at the doors as if her spirit had been transported to the other side? Not to mention her persistent questions regarding the key. I lost track of the evenings she begged you to recount the details of our meeting.”

  Images from Faedrah’s youth floated in on the wistful strands of her memories and coalesced to a vivid picture in her mind. Whilst ʼtwas true, the mesmerizing lure of the armoire had been a perplexing distraction ever since childhood, she’d never believed her spirit transported to another realm. ʼTwas more as if she found untold comfort in the armoire’s presence. As if, in her father’s retelling of the golden key and magic mirror hidden inside, a strange vacancy had been banished from her soul.

  Only after acquiring her parent’s solemn promise that, one day, the armoire would pass to her, had she surrendered her insistence to remain within its reach. Though not for one moment had her fascination with its mysterious contents faded. Even now, as she nestled within the haven of her parents’ sleeping pallet, the appeal of the armoire called to her from across the room.

  “Those were nothing more than the fleeting fancies of a little girl.” Her father’s footsteps paused and, behind her closed eyelids, she envisioned the way he habitually raked his hair back from his brow. “She’s not shown interest in such tales since she was small enough to bounce upon my knee.”

  Tension filled the silence which followed, at odds with the gentle snap and crackle of the fire in the hearth. A log shifted.

  “She was too young then to fully comprehend the dangers we faced at the hands of that vile bastard.” Her father’s words were clipped. “Helios save me, I prayed such horrors would never be imposed upon her heart.”
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br />   “As did I.” The tender caress of her mother’s palm warmed the back of Faedrah’s hand. The queen twined their fingers together and lifted. Her soft lips bestowed a tender kiss.

  “She has not been sleeping of late.” The bed dipped near Faedrah’s right foot, a fitful anguish sharpening Vaighn’s tone. “I should have reported my suspicions the moment they occurred.”

  “Do not take the blame upon yourself.” The supple curve of her mother’s cheek brushed the inside of Faedrah’s wrist. “Despite my best efforts to share in her worries, she’s always preferred to suffer in silence. I’ve oft wondered if our vigilance to keep her safe has done more harm than good. Instead of speaking her fears, she secrets them away in hopes of lessening our concerns.”

  “Mayhap we should invite the princess’ council in the matter.” Fandorn spoke on her left and every muscle in Faedrah’s body tensed. He’d been so quiet, she’d not detected his presence in the room…and nothing ever went unnoticed by the ancient wizard’s eye. “She is awake and has been eavesdropping on our conversation for quite some time.”

  She blinked and glanced around the faces in the room, all displaying varying degrees of surprise. Except for Fandorn, occupying a chair beside the bed, his gray eyes glittering with curiosity from behind his steepled fingers.

  Vaighn’s features were the first to break into a smile. “You gave us a proper fright, Poppet.” He grabbed her ankle through the blankets and applied a gentle shake. “Do you yet feel strong enough to relay what happened?”

  To be certain. In fact, if anything, her muscles were more relaxed, her mind sharper and her body better well-rested than what seemed in a fortnight. Faedrah pushed to sitting and her mother quickly propped the pillows along the ornately carved headboard, arranging them to cushion her shoulders and back. “How long have I been asleep?”

  Her family exchanged a round of nervous glances, and her heart stuttered in response. Whatever their impending reply, they feared for her reaction.