by Kyra Gregory
Ellyn, having been shouting for the young girl to stop, came to a sudden halt at the door with her chest rising and falling at a fast pace. She breathed a sigh, grateful that the girl stopped, before stumbling over towards her and placing her hands on her shoulders.
Before Sybelle could so much as open her mouth, Neyva turned her head in her direction, looking up at her with her large, sparkling eyes. “My father?” she asked, her voice low and timid, ill at ease in Sybelle’s presence as she always was.
Ellyn exhaled at Sybelle’s side, “She heard the carriages, thought he may have returned and came running,” she whispered.
Sybelle mustered her best smile, crouching down once more, “He has not returned,” she said, willing a gentle voice, “but give him time, hm?”
Neyva looked out once more at the carriages, just as the horses were being drawn away towards the stables. “He is dead,” she whispered with a certainty that sent a shiver down Sybelle’s spine.
Instead, Sybelle smiled, emitting a short laugh, “How are you so certain?”
Neyva shrugged her little shoulders. “My mother always said so when he was away too long,” she said.
“And she was wrong each time, was she not?” The young girl nodded, looking at her with a dumbfounded expression that had Sybelle shifting with some discomfort.
Sybelle slipped her coat over Neyva’s frilly little gown, picking her up, finding her to be heavier than she would’ve expected for a girl of her size. She smiled warmly, caressing her cheek. “Come, let us have you dress for our morning meal, shall we?”
Sybelle didn’t miss the final glance the young girl made towards the Capital’s gates with large, hopeful eyes, as she carried her inside until the doors slammed shut behind them and she placed her down.
They had their meal together, with Sybelle trying her best to formulate a conversation with a four year old girl when she wanted nothing more than to crawl into her bed. After, she took her into the gardens, allowing her to take her mind off her mother and father with frolicking amongst the birds and butterflies, running her fingers over the ample types of flowers that grew there.
“Forgiveness is a powerful thing, Ellyn, if one has the strength to bestow it,” Sybelle whispered, perching her chin in her hand at the table, her eyes never straying from the girl.
“I suppose so,” Ellyn agreed, seating herself opposite her as she basked in the same view.
“I don’t have such strength,” Sybelle said, throwing herself back in her seat, dismissing herself of the thought. “If I did, I likely would’ve accepted King Alessio’s proposal, or that of Evrad, for that matter, and have been done with this some time ago with not nearly the same bloodshed.”
“Do you have regrets?” Ellyn asked, glancing her in direction.
Sybelle scoffed, waving her hand in dismissal, “Goodness no,” she said, laughing. “What torture I might’ve saved myself with the strength of forgiveness, would’ve led me to require strength of patience and the ability to remain subservient to them,” she said. “No,” she said, “this is all a mess but it’s a mess in which I have power, options, decisions to make, and, for as long as I have that, there’s always hope.”
Ellyn mustered a smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before placing her hands back in her lap.
“I think you capable of forgiveness,” Sybelle remarked, casually, comfortable in her seat as she extended her legs, enjoying the light sting of the sun upon her skin. Ellyn looked to her, waiting for the continuation that was surely coming after such a statement. “I need you to be capable of forgiveness,” she clarified. She leaned forward in her seat rather abruptly, moving like a whirlwind as she slipped a pouch of coins out of her dress, opening it and sliding it across the table, showing Ellyn its contents. “If the worst happens I want you to take Neyva and a handful of our men and have them see the two of you to safety.”
“Your Majesty,” Ellyn whispered, flooded with feelings of dread and with great unease visible on her young features.
“She’s a child, Ellyn,” Sybelle said, her voice shaking as her gaze hardened, “innocent and in need of protection, just like everybody else, but if I cannot, if I fail in protecting everybody, then I want you to take Neyva and go as far away as possible, protecting yourselves.”
“Your Majesty,” Ellyn started once more, scrunching her eyes shut for a moment, “I doubt this is necessary,” she said.
“It is,” Sybelle affirmed, “in a time of war it’s important to think of every outcome.”
Ellyn hung her head, timid as she inhaled deeply and began to speak. “I don’t care for the man, certainly not even half as much as you do,” she started, “but I wish no ill upon his child.”
“I’m certain that you don’t,” Sybelle said, prompt. “But revenge makes us do many things—many terrible things that we wouldn’t normally do,” she said, her voice lowering to a whisper. She put her hands to her chest, feeling her heart thud within it, “I’ve done so much that I cannot be proud of,” she said, looking to Neyva who, for the moment, seemed to have forgotten her troubles. “I look at her, so young and innocent, and wonder how many like her I’ve killed with my tactical assault on Evrad.” She got to her feet, closing the pouch and clutching it in her hands as she contemplated her words as they left her with the most honesty that she could allow the escape of. “I’m trying my hardest to do this, to get what I want, with as little death of innocents, on both sides, as possible,” she said. With a heavy exhale, she dropped the pouch back down in front of her, “But,” she continued, with a growing toughness as the vulnerability faded away, “in doing so, I put a greater number of people in danger and I would try my best to keep safe those that are the most important to me.” She turned away, sighing as Neyva was on her way back, the child’s smile slowly inching off her face as she undoubtedly sensed the tension of the conversation she was stumbling into.
Sybelle mustered her warmest smile, greeting the girl with a light, timid embrace. Neyva forced a smile of her own in reply, reaching for Sybelle’s hand and clutching it tightly with her small fingers.
Soon, when Sybelle was seated again, Neyva inched her way closer to her. Sybelle stayed silent while Neyva ran her fingers gingerly over the lace fabric going down the bodice of her dress. Ellyn went to stand as soon as she saw this but Sybelle pursed her lips together, closing her eyes and stopping her from approaching, leaving the girl to keep exploring as she desired. “Perhaps we could get you a pretty frock too, hm?” Sybelle thought aloud, running her own fingers along the material of the girl’s tatty dress.
Neyva’s eyes seemed to brighten in excitement but her raised brows were very telling of her surprise and confusion at the proposal. Sybelle thought little of it, reaching out to draw the girl into an embrace. She sighed, perching her chin atop her head and closing her eyes. She couldn’t help herself but her mind wandered to Deros. She didn’t know what to think, or what to feel. She didn’t want to consider him dead, not until she saw a body at the very least, and until then, she couldn’t bring herself to think him dead, even if everybody else did. Perhaps it was foolish of her, she had just enough right mind to agree with that, but she couldn’t reason with herself otherwise. For the moment, it would be better to pretend that all was well, to not be swayed by her thoughts and plans to not allow emotion to cloud her better judgement. For now, all she could do was keep him as far from her mind, and her heart, as possible, and hope and pray for the best possible outcome.
Sybelle dismissed Ellyn and she lured Neyva back into the palace, leaving Sybelle to wander around the barren Capital’s square by herself. There was hardly a sound to be made, the silence leaving her thoughts loud enough to deafen her. She made her way up one of the tower’s of the East walls, skimming her hands along the stones at the top as she found a place she liked, a short distance from some guards, and made herself comfortable against the wall.
Heavy footsteps caught her attention after some time and she looked over her
shoulder to find Ewin approaching, his eyes cast upon the ground as he adjusted his crimson uniform. “You’re awake already?” she asked him, a tinge of surprise in her tone as she returned her gaze to the view.
“I find it difficult to sleep with our enemy on our doorstep,” he remarked, leaning forward onto the wall, following her gaze to the sea.
“Such behaviour did Gyles very little good,” she said, sighing, “you would be wise not to follow his example in that.”
Ewin recoiled slightly in surprise, his brows furrowing together with a touch of confusion, “I don’t recall you having any trouble with the man,” he said.
“I did not,” she said. “But allowing himself to be consumed gave him troubles.”
“We still haven’t heard from him, not for days,” Ewin recalled, somewhat changing the subject. “I hope he has not come across any trouble.”
Sybelle’s lips tugged into a smile, “I have faith in the man. I don’t think there is a situation he cannot find an ingenious way of surviving,” she said.
Ewin laughed, looking at her with wide eyes and an ever-growing smile, “Do you know something that I don’t? Why will you not tell me what it is the two of you have planned?“
“I know plenty that you don’t,” Sybelle replied, showing him the twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “But, yes, it is possible he is in a bit of a tough spot, but I have no doubt that he will come through,” she said.
“Come through with what?” he asked with slight unease.
Sybelle pulled herself off the wall and paced with languid steps, only ever dropping her gaze from the view to look at her feet, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. “You, and others, have asked me, time and time again, what it is that I have planned, or why I haven’t told anyone of what it is that I have planned,” she started. “The truth is, my earliest successes came from doing what was least expected of me, taking the path that is deemed less sensible for a woman of my...inexperience,” she said. She licked her lips, looking up at the man who listened to her intently, “I’ve decided to continue on such a path, to do what’s least expected of me, of anyone, so as to gain the upper hand over my enemies.”
Ewin shook his head, brushing the back of his thumb along his bottom lip, “Can you not do that regardless of if you tell those closest to you? After all, correct me if I’m wrong, but you haven’t even told Deros of any of those, and I deem him the closest to you as of late.”
Sybelle hung her head. The smile on her lips began to tremble as she stifled the emotions that caused her heart to thud erratically inside her chest. “I’ve been close to him,” she said, nodding, “but it doesn’t change the fact that he once stood against me.”
Ewin turned to her, his brows meeting as he looked at her with an ever-growing confusion, “You would consider him an outsider enough to protect your secrets from him, but close enough to—”
“Lay with him?” Sybelle supplied, shaking strands of hair out of her face as she looked at him, taking him by surprise. She licked her lips as she turned away. No thoughts to her response were necessary, she’d thought such things herself already, but such foresight was not enough to stifle her emotions. “Who I lay with, and the results of such, is my own cross to bear. Who I divulge secrets of my plans to, now that is a matter that concerns more than just myself.” She released a heavy exhale and kicked her shoes off her feet, leaning against the wall and staring out with a dreamy gleam in her eyes, “I know what the people say about me, Ewin,” she said. “I know they think I’m selfish in pursuing vengeance with such a passion that could alight more friends than foe, that I lack what it takes to be Queen, but don’t think that I don’t care for them, or for the lives of our men.”
Ewin bowed his head, inhaling deeply, “Your Majesty, I’ve never once doubted your love for this country, or the people,” he said. “I only hope that all that you’ve planned goes as it should so that you can prove it to others who yet lay doubt in your abilities to be Queen.”
“I admire your concern for me, Ewin,” Sybelle said, perching her chin in the palm of her hand, “really, I do, but you needn’t have it to begin with.”
“That I see that you’re safe at all times is a command that I’ve received from a man I respect very much,” Ewin said, looking in her direction. With realisation, Sybelle hung her head, dropping her eyes to below the Capital’s walls. “Gyles cares about you, very, very much,” he whispered. “He couldn’t stay here, it hurt too much to do so, but he still holds you very close to his heart.”
“I know,” she said.
Of course she knew, she thought. Not only did she know but she also exploited it, knowing that if she told the man that she needed his help he would do anything in his power to do as she requested, no matter what it was, no matter how foolish it may have seemed to him. But she never did it out of malice, only out of necessity, and that was the reason she stared out at the sea with her heart thudding with fear and hope within her chest.
CHAPTER 14
DEROS GRIMACED, SCRUNCHING his red, swollen eyes as he fought the sting of light and heat of the midday sun. He inhaled as deeply as he could manage, breaking out into a coughing fit that he thought rattled the bones within his chest. He licked his dry lips but even that action had come to be of no use at all after the second day in the scorching sun came, with not a drop of water for reprieve. The world spun around him while his legs had started to quake beneath himself, causing him to collapse suddenly, putting greater strain on his ribs until he could find it within himself to pick himself back up. The lack of goings-on around him made his days being a captive, a tortured one, boring. He revelled in the attention at first, hoping to use it as an opportunity to insult the men into giving him a quicker, however painful, death. Unfortunately for him, the Azurians proved themselves to be a tenacious sort of people, always torturing to the point at which agony was at its worst and endurance was at its lowest, leaving Deros teetering on the cusp of breaking point for hours, begging for death in silence.
But today was different; he could tell, even through the haze that had descended upon his mind, even as light shone so brightly into his dry, stinging eyes that he could hardly make out the figures of the guards as they lugged objects about the camp with tired groans and grumbles in preparation for something.
He soon realised through split second blinks and faint mumbles of conversation that a grand ship, flying the Azurian flag, had approached the bay. Though he couldn’t make out the figures on the rowing boat that ferried them from the ship to the coast, even as it drifted closer and closer, he could make a simple guess that made the reactions of all around him almost sensible. The soldiers on the beach lined up, assuming a dignified position, standing tall and straight to greet their Queen as her son extended his hand to her as she took two steps down from the boat. With a pale blue frock, adorned with gems that glistened in the sunlight like the shimmery waters of the sea, Queen Merra was hardly dressed for battle, and with not a single servant in attendance, he was left to assume that her parting would be nearly immediate.
“Really, Alessio,” Queen Merra huffed, furiously evident in her tone as she stomped through the sand, lifting her dress to ease her walk, “I don’t see how you haven’t been motivated enough by these abhorrent conditions to just end this already.”
“You’re too impatient, mother,” Alessio replied, exasperation trickling into what was otherwise a polite tone.
“And you’re not impatient enough,” she retorted, huffing as her hands fell to her hips. “When do you think you will be done with all this?”
“I expect it to be completed soon,” Alessio said. Although his words were composed, giving no assurances while seeming confident, Deros was sure he heard the man stutter over what he thought to be a lie.
Deros shifted with discomfort, stifling a moan of pain as he inhaled sharply, throwing his head back against the post that he was bound so tightly to. Through half-lidded eyes, he noticed he’d gained some unwanted attention from
Queen Merra, forcing a momentary pause in the conversation she was having with her son. “And what is he doing here?” she asked with intrigue, taking a few steps towards Deros.
Alessio chuckled, “He led the handful of men who tried to kill us, the poor attempt before our food stalls were burnt,” he replied.
“I mean, why is he still here and alive?” Merra asked, her voice rising into a scream that visibly put all Alessio’s men on edge, much to Deros’s enjoyment.
“He is simply a source of amusement, for me and the men,” Alessio replied, glaring over his mother’s shoulder at Deros, beckoning him to wipe his growing smile from his face. “He will serve his purpose for the moment and then we’ll execute him. You needn’t have any fear, mother.”
Deros stared down his nose at her as she seemed to do the same, eyeing him with great fascination as she took in every detail of his abused body with a sickening interest and delight. He couldn’t quite place her feelings though. She appeared to devour him with her gaze, taking in everything about him with that unrelenting intrigue that left her with reddened cheeks and fast-paced breathing. He smirked, coming to an understanding. He opened his eyes once more to find her enraged at his open amusement, aware that he’d just seen right through her and her open desires for a man that was undoubtedly well beneath her station as Queen of Azura. She took a prompt step forward with her mouth open agape and slapped him with all her might, scowling at him with bared teeth.
“You haven’t done well in breaking him,” Merra snarled in disgust, taking a step backwards as Deros through his head back defiantly, chewing on his bottom lip to keep his smile from growing any larger as he tempted his captors into giving him the death he’d so greatly come to desire.
“Time will be enough to put him in his place,” Alessio said, snatching a bunch of grapes from the platter of a passing servant. Suddenly, the purpose of her visit, the excuse which she used to come here in order to insult her son into action, came clearer. “With our supplies replenished Queen Sybelle will have no choice but to confront us directly,” Alessio said, popping a grape into his mouth. “She will confront us in open battle with a diminished number of men, and he will be forced to witness their defeat. That, along with the rape of the lands he so easily betrayed his country for, will be what finally breaks him.” Alessio looked to Deros with a smug, triumphant look on his face as he continued to eat, beckoning him into a reaction that would likely see him get beaten and abused further.
