Two Queens (Seven Heavens Book 1)

by Holden, Ryan

  “Who will bear the Ring hence? My Queen, you are the likely choice. Do you accept?”

  “No. I think Paris should bear it.”

  “Paris?”

  “Yes, Paris. He is the accuser. He may bear it which is lawful, with my permission, until judgment is passed.”

  “With your permission this is allowed. But why?”

  “Because he is Paris, of Kyriopolis. If something were to happen to the Ring then the first charge collapses and Court is adjourned. I am Queen but, should anything go wrong, I am also Aunt of the accused. I cannot take the Ring. On the other hand, if he fails in his trust, we need not fear the wrath of the King, as it will have been the fault of his own servant.”

  Paris grudgingly accepted the ring. They made their way through the palace accompanied by armed guards to carriages in front of the palace.

  “Send them away. None is large enough to bear all of us and, so by the Mane! I believe a long walk is needed to clear the stuffiness,” the Marshall said.

  And so they walked. Orion saw a part of Avallonë he had not seen before. There were beautiful houses surrounding the palace. Menservants and maidservants, in the gardens or at gates or peering out upper windows, remarked eagerly to each other as the armed party walked down the street. Orion even heard his own name.

  The houses became less grand as they walked on. When they had come so far that he could see shops in the distance and hear the ring of steel on steel they turned into one of the houses. “Welcome to the house of the tutor, now my residence. Some of you have been here before. For the rest of you, doubly welcome.”

  Evandor directed them to sit in the large sitting room immediately inside the front door. The Marshall sent several of the guards through the house, some ascending the large stair to take their posts above. A few minutes later, all were settled in their chairs, and a soldier came back to tell the Marshall that all exits were watched.

  “Very good. Now, as we search for the papers, we have free reign in the house. Do not proceed past any of the guards, I warn you. Work well for this must be settled tonight.”

  “Not to worry, not to worry. I know just where they'll be.” Evandor darted away and was presently back with several sheaves of paper in his hands. He set them on a table. “Have a look, should be somewhere here.” He took one and started flipping through it.

  The others joined him. “No, Orion, stay back. Evandor, if it is not found, do you agree to accept the Ring as it is?” the Marshall said.

  “Of course, but it'll be here.”

  Orion and Adara stayed away. Orion watched Evandor—he seemed almost happy. Then a frown crossed his face. He was looking at, no, it wasn't the papers in his hand that caused the frown. He looked up at the Queen and shook his head. She nodded hers in the direction of Paris. He shook his head again.

  Orion wondered what was going on.

  The Queen set her papers down and drew herself up to full height. She stared at Evandor.

  He cowered and coughed. “Uh, I think there may be more. These, ahem, don't seem to be what I was looking for.”

  The Queen relaxed her expression a little bit.

  “Let me see,” he rushed off. Soon he was back with more papers.

  The Queen's face hardened.

  “Ah yes, I was right, still quite a bit more, in a chest. Paris, you wouldn't mind giving me a hand as we let the scholars continue?”

  Paris looked up, surprised. Evandor stood tense, only the will of the Queen keeping him from breaking.

  The Marshall looked up, too. “Well?”

  Orion watched Paris follow Evandor. He looked back at the Queen. Her face was trained after the already-departed pair. Her fingers drummed the table.

  “My Queen, may we have your help?” the Marshall asked gently.

  “Yes, yes.” She bent to her work.

  A few minutes later Evandor came back. “I was wrong. Nothing in that chest but jewelry.”

  Orion felt Adara shudder beside him. The Queen's fingers had stopped.

  “Good, we're almost done here then,” the Judge said.

  Orion looked from Evandor to the Queen. Xanthos, the Judge, and the Marshall kept at their work.

  “This is it! A sketch, large scale, hmm, description,” the Marshall said. All heads rose from their work. “What we knew before. Satisfied, Evandor?” He stood up, fingers on the page.

  The Judge and Evandor moved to read it.

  “Where's Paris?” Xanthos asked.

  Twenty-six

  There was instant silence. The three who had been working stood up from the table and looked around them. Orion whirled his head around.

  “He was just here,” the Judge said.

  “Then he left.” The Marshall eyed Evandor. “What did you do to him?”

  “I? Nothing. We went and checked the chest but it opened for him and, what do you know, no papers there.”

  “Everyone, stay here. Guards! Do not let anyone leave.” The Marshall took hold of Evandor and left.

  Orion looked from person to person. The Judge and Xanthos sat still, blank expressions on their face. The Queen was reading over the description of the Ring. He looked at Adara. She was watching the Queen too.

  He nudged her. She looked at him and in her eye there was a strange light. He tried to ask her what with the expression on his face. She gave a half smile but shook her head.

  “I didn't find him.” The Marshall dropped Evandor off and swept outside. “Search the house. Bring anyone you find back to this room. Leave no room untouched. If it is locked, break the door.” The rest of the guards who had been standing outside trooped into the house.

  Evandor stood up. “Let me get my keys.”

  The Marshall put him back in his seat. “No. Remain here. I think you've done enough mischief.”

  “What did I do?” he said.

  The Marshall paced back and forth. Orion saw the Queen still reading but she had not moved any pages. It couldn't take that long to read a single page, even for him.

  A guard came back with a lady in tow. “We searched the house. She is the only one we found.”

  The Marshall grabbed her by the shoulders and looked closely. She went pale and opened her mouth as if to speak. “Did you see anyone?”

  “No,” she breathed.

  “Are you Paris?”

  She puckered up her face in confusion.

  “Marshall, how could you think that? She's a hand shorter and two stone lighter at least,” the Judge said.

  “It's Cora, my housekeeper,” Evandor said.

  The Marshall let her go. He spun around and wiped his brow. “Well, there is the accuser gone. But we already have his testimony, weakened though it is by this incident, if he did leave by choice.” He eyed Evandor.

  “What about the Ring?” Xanthos asked.

  The Marshall looked to the Queen. “Her Majesty—”

  “Does not have it, as you recall?” she said.

  “Then who does?” He realized it the moment he said it. His hands tore at his hair.

  “What do we do now?” the Judge asked.

  “Nothing. There is no case,” the Queen said.

  The Marshall looked at the Queen. She looked back. He stared at her for a full minute. “There is something here that I do not see. If anyone would like to inform me, I would be most obliged.” His words came out like the steps of an elephant.

  Orion felt like he'd been caught stealing and felt the urge to say something. The Queen didn't flinch.

  The Marshall spun to Evandor. “Tell me what you know.”

  “Please! Please!”

  “Speak!”

  “He's in the rooms, with the Ring.”

  “No? Then show me.”

  “I can't. It's not mine.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Evandor had a dazed look in his eye and spoke no more.

  “Speak!”

  The Queen answered instead. “Calm yourself, Marshall. The rooms are enchanted. If one be
ars something there that is not theirs, they cannot bear it out.”

  “What?”

  “Only someone with a rightful claim can find the person and release him of its bond.”

  “Interesting. If only I had similar rooms,” Xanthos stroked his chin.

  “I wonder how much of your fortune you would still have,” Evandor said.

  The Marshall paid no attention to them. “What now?”

  “We have the proof, not of Hermes' scribbles, but of the Ring itself. It will decide who may leave with it.”

  “The Ring? Or the rooms?” the Judge asked.

  “And if it denies all? What then?” the Marshall said.

  “Then Paris will be wrapped in mental torment until the Ring casts him adrift. Whether he dies in there, goes mad, or leaves in his right mind depends on him,” the Queen answered. “But do not worry. I have yet to find the item to resist me.”

  “You've done this before?”

  “Many times,” Evandor said. “Tormented us to no end. She'd have me or Astra, usually me, slip another student a coin or a brooch and show them in. Then we'd wait and watch until we grew bored and she brought them out. Once, and only once, a boy made it out alone.”

  “You really believe this?” Xanthos said. “What if this is a trick? Wool over our eyes?”

  “The Queen believes it, at least. She married that boy.”

  The others sat back, stunned. Adara laughed. The Queen looked at her then laughed, too. “I'm afraid it's all true. You may ask Master Jason if you like.”

  “I concede to your authority, my Queen. How do you wish to proceed?”

  “I will give Paris an hour. Then I'll go in and relieve him of his burden. I will leave the Ring and Orion will go inside. If he returns with the Ring he is Astra's son—rightful heir—and not culpable for his mother's vow. If he does not, I will take back the Ring and return him to your guards. Adara stands and falls with her brother. Is this agreed?”

  “How do we know it's the rooms?” Xanthos said.

  “If anyone else wishes to try, they may. But listen to what Paris has to say: I trust he'll make himself persuasive.”

  “What if it's your will that changes this?”

  “I am no witch,” the Queen stared down at Xanthos of the Lachesi. “The only magic I possess is in who I am and is for healing. If I bent it another way I would break.” Her voice raked over the man like chain mail on stone. “This enchantment is older than I.”

  “Are we satisfied, then, with the Queen's terms?” the Marshall asked. He looked around the room. One by one the men nodded.

  “What of Kyriopolis? What of the terms?” Evandor asked.

  “If the Ring approves of Orion, then Avallonë approves. Would the Kyrians reject the word of their Spear?” the Queen said.

  “I, for one, am at peace with this,” the Marshall said. “If the Ring approves of the boy, there is no need to enforce the breaking of the vow. The oath-breaker died already, and without wound or sore. Let the Unicorn do what he will through his Gifts, as he has done in the past.”

  A silence fell like a gray curtain over the company. Gloom rested on the brows of each.

  “And if Paris walks out by himself?” the Judge asked.

  “Then I'll marry him to my daughter,” the Queen said.

  Adara watched the clock tick. The company, after some minutes of silence, broke up, most wandering within the sitting-room. The Marshall and Xanthos stood in a corner speaking to each other with low voices. Evandor perused some of the paper out on the table. There was no sign of Paris or the Ring.

  Adara looked at her brother. He was tense. She gathered his arm to herself. “I believe in you, Orion. You are my brother. You are our mother's son and the rightful heir,” she whispered, then lay her head on his shoulder.

  She felt him draw a full breath then sigh. He breathed in and out. Despite her words a wisp of fear crept into her. Would the Curse reject him? Reject them?

  She threw her arms around Orion and held him tight. “Whatever happens, you are my brother, and I would rather die with you than live without getting to know you.”

  A long hour passed.

  The Queen rose. “Time to fetch the Kyrian.”

  “The Princess still has her pick of suitors, then?” the Marshall said.

  The Queen smiled and walked to the rooms. Everyone waited. In five minutes she was back, her face pale. “He's not there. I can't find him.” Her voice shook like an old woman's.

  The knot in Orion's chest grew tighter until it threatened to stop his heart.

  “Well then,” the Judge said, quietly.

  “Orion, your turn,” the Marshall said. Rivers of ice cascaded down Orion's back.

  “But no. Something is wrong. If I cannot, how could anyone else?” the Queen said.

  “We agreed,” Xanthos said.

  “No!” the Queen cried. She rushed to Orion and hugged him. “Astra! Oh Astra! That I should have lost you, and now lose your son!” She kissed him on both cheeks.

  Wiping her eyes she composed herself. “If anyone can do it, you can. Do not fear the curse. Astra was not like me. She should have been Queen, Queen of Avallonë, Queen of the Seven Heavens, whichever she chose. I do not know the reason, but I know her, and what she decided must have been right. It must. For so long I hated her for leaving me. Please forgive me. Can you—forgive me?”

  Orion leaned in and kissed her. “How can I not, my Queen?” He hugged her and they wept. He felt like he was in his mother's arms once again.

  The Marshall coughed into his hand.

  The Queen broke the embrace. “Go now, and go with my blessing.” She kissed him again.

  Orion kissed Adara and stared into her eyes for a moment. Then he turned away.

  Evandor pointed out the door he should take. He walked away from the room, away from his sister, away from the Queen. Would he walk back empty-handed? He felt all their eyes on his back. His heart beat faster and his breath shortened. This was it.

  Orion opened the door and walked in. It was a small sitting room, cozily set up, with a painting on the far wall. It was the unicorn again. He saw the next door directly in front of him but walked to the painting instead.

  “Are you my enemy, or my friend?” he asked. “Have you taken my mother?”

  The unicorn in the painting did not answer. It kept on looking past him where it had always looked. But Orion noticed a tear sliding down his face. He looked closer. A tear in the act of sliding down, but not moving. The single drop of liquid, once seen, transformed the whole painting. It was not unbending pride that came through in the pose, the look, but sorrow and pity.

  “You have known sorrow, too,” Orion said. The thought surprised him. How could one without equal, transcending adversaries, power over all, experience sorrow? He didn't know but he trusted the tear.

  He wanted to stay looking at the painting but he felt as if he had received all he would there. Any further delay would be fear. He turned and grimly left it behind.

  He walked through the next room and the next. Nothing had in it furniture large enough to hide a man. He began to grow worried. He had feared meeting something strange and horrible in hear, of the Ring trapping him along with Paris. The real dread was that he would simply pass through, unable to see.

  In the next room he feverishly looked behind everything. No longer did he look for a man but a Ring. It could be hidden anywhere, though. He turned the room upside down, searching some places thrice over, but to no avail.

  He stood up and surveyed the room. The far door called to him as the last place to look. It also mocked him. What if he had already missed it?

  With slow footfalls he came to the door and, hardly daring to breathe, opened it. His eyes were drawn to the floor which glittered like a dragon's hoard. Brooches, bracelets, necklaces, chains, and rings, hundreds of them, lay scattered about.

  “So they tricked you in here, too? Go figure. Get too close to raw power and you make everybody nervous.�
� Paris stood hunched over, half fallen against the wall. “It's quite clever,” he breathed hard between each phrase, “an enchanted torture chamber that casts your memories in twisted light before you. Enjoy.” He coughed and spit blood.

  “I was not tricked here. And you may leave when you will. Give me the Ring.”

  “What? You think that? You are even more duped than I. But while we are here, I hold the Ring. It is mine! Take your pick of the others. The sum of them is not worth the tenth part of my Treasure.”

  Orion looked over the floor. Lots of beautiful objects covered it, jewelry more valuable than any seen in Darach. They seemed to him like so many pieces of painted gravel. He looked back at Paris, saw one hand in his pocket, wrist throbbing red, the other bracing himself against his knee.

  “Give me the Ring.”

  “No.”

  “If it is yours, then there is no enchantment. If you give it to me, I will take on the enchantment and you will be free.”

  A wild light entered his eyes. “Really?”

  “I swear to you, that it is only the Ring you bear that traps you here. Leave behind what is not yours and you may leave this place.”

  “You lie.”

  “You think me smart enough?”

  Paris stood up with an effort and looked at him. “No, fool. And don't you think I know anything about enchantments? Of course they wanted me here, to lose the Ring to this place, that they might blame me and pervert the course of justice. I tried—” he stopped, looking at Orion with a question in his eyes.

  Orion saw the man he had hated with all his being, the man who had ruined his family. But when he saw him now, no command left, not even able to release the Ring, hunched over, breathing hard, like a day laborer too old for his work, his hate slowly drained. How could one hate such a despicable creature?

  “You tried and you failed. That is what most torments you. But the Ring may wish to torment me. What evil can you have done that my mother did not? She was a lady of Avallonë, granddaughter of a former Queen, and, having cast off the Prince of Kyriopolis, nay, of the Seven Heavens, she swore an oath to never marry another. You know all this, for that is why you sought us. I do not know what you sought the Ring for—if wealth, or some other power unknown to me was your goal, or if you only seek vengeance.