The Edict (The She Trilogy Book 1)

by P. J. Keyworth

Trevisian nodded with an effort. Johan was his friend, perhaps his only one, the closest thing he had to a brother or family. There were those who thought Trevisian truly his father’s son, but he would not be dictated to by the memory of a cruel ruler. It was time he shaped his own actions, his own future, however short it ended up being.

  “I release you,” he said again when Johan didn’t move.

  “So I am free?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I follow you, Trevisian. I no longer follow you as a King but as a friend. As such you cannot command me otherwise.”

  “Johan,” his voice became tense. “I am probably going to my death.”

  “I have a good feel for the men who loyally serve your crown, I know some to call on for support.”

  “Why?” Trevisian felt a hard lump in his throat.

  “I knew this day would come.” Johan’s face broke into a smile, one lit by the anticipation of fighting in the future. “When you would wish to lead - and I have waited to follow you. When this deed is done, I will return to my homeland, but not before.

  Trevisian watched him a moment, the open strength in his friend’s face inspiring awe. Then he grasped his forearm warmly. “Thank you, my friend.”

  “If you feel the tide turning against you, keep them talking for as long as you can. I will rally those who still support you over Garesh. We will have to be ready to leave. If Garesh chooses to use your heritage against you, we will have to flee before he can capture you.”

  Trevisian nodded, trusting the friend who had helped him escape the palace numerous times before.

  “You look the King you were born to be.” The Radichi smiled, stepping back and taking in the official silk robes of the royal wardrobe. Trevisian had never needed to wear them, but today he needed all the authority he could muster. “May the blessings of the spirits be with you.” Johan set off at a dead run.

  Trevisian was thoughtful. He didn’t want to remember the two council meetings he had attended recently but still they came to mind. The second had been to sign the Edict suppressing the Laowyn according to Garesh’s wishes. The first had been the brief visit he’d made with Kiara on her first day here. He put her from his mind again.

  Garesh had provided him with reports and given him documents to sign, but he hadn’t been involved in the workings of government directly for a long time. Drawing his shoulders back, he took a deep breath, pushed the doors open and strode through.

  There was a small amount of murmuring amongst the crowd who were gathered in an oval between the pillars. One man was speaking above the rest. Garesh.

  “They have made a stronghold of their ancient capital and are amassing. I propose adding our own troops to the local collectives to put down the rebellion. We did not anticipate such behaviour from the Laowyn when the Edict was first issued.”

  “You are not asking permission, High Councillor, I have already seen the troops you have deployed from the city.” Trevisian’s voice cut through the murmur, the sound causing every head to turn in his direction. He watched each man’s eyes fall upon him and widen. He watched mouths open in disbelief. They came back to themselves as he came closer, each bowing as he came past.

  They parted like a river before him until he reached the centre of the oval. The rich red of his tunic was broken by the line of a black fur-trimmed cloak. On his head sat the twisted gold that marked him as their sovereign. At his waist was the sword that every ruler of the Reluwyn since their nomadic days had carried. His hand rested lightly on its ruby hilt. He turned in a large swoop, allowing each of the councillors to gain a good view of him. If this situation had not been so dire, he would have laughed at what Kiara would have thought of this drama. Instead his mouth remained in a firm line, his dark eyes looking down on those around him, his head held high. A true ruler. He came to stand opposite Garesh.

  The High Councillor was glaring across at him, his eyes like white fire, cutting the air between them. Trevisian allowed a lilting smile onto his lips - Garesh had not expected this. Why would he? Had Trevisian ever disobeyed him in such a manner before? No. But now he knew her, he loved her, and she would die if he did nothing.

  “In fact, the reports of rebellion are from your lips alone, are they not Garesh?” Trevisian’s heart was beating hard in his chest. He never spoke publically like this. He wasn’t used to it. But thoughts of Kiara that refused to go away came back and with them a renewed sense of urgency. “The Laowyn are merely amassing in fear of their impending slaughter, a slaughter unjustly called for. How do we expect to unite a Kingdom if you are bent on dividing it with suffering?”

  Each eye was transfixed by the King.

  “I? Have I not prevented any such disunity in my thirty years of service? I have been loyal to the Kingdom of Emrilion since its inception.” Garesh was turning and speaking to the crowd, not to Trevisian. He knew what to do, he had thirty years of practice and it showed.

  Trevisian couldn’t just attack the High Councillor, he had no trust here, not like Garesh. “All I ask is for a detailed reconnaissance of the Laowyn - to be sure of their actions before any Edict is fulfilled. Until this is done, I command that the Edict for the Suppression of the Laowyn be suspended.”

  If he could buy time, maybe he could dismantle the law before it was put into practice. Trevisian saw the High Councillor attempt to hide a smile. What had he figured out? The uncertainty which arrested the features of Trevisian’s face seemed like the confirmation Garesh was waiting for.

  “My Lord Prince,” Trevisian could see Garesh was determined not to acknowledge his King. “Surely you know that once passage is given to Reluwyn law, the law cannot be revoked or suspended. I know you were aware of this when you signed the Edict.” The syrup dripped from Garesh’s words. He carried on and Trevisian could see the room was with him. “I understand your sudden sympathy for the Laowyn rebels, but we cannot be seen to be weak -and nor can we disobey the laws our ancestors made. Edicts signed by the ruler of the Reluwyn are irrevocable.”

  There was a call of agreement from one of the crowd, then another, and another.

  “We must protect our people!” Garesh’s voice rose with the emotion in the room. “We are Reluwyn! Surely, my Lord Prince, as the son of a Reluwyn King and Queen, you understand the need for this action. My gathering of troops is just a sign of my loyalty to the cause, to our people.”

  The mention of his mother was a warning shot. Garesh wasn’t afraid to expose to the Reluwyn people their Shapeshifting King. Suddenly the High Councillor’s fascination with power was so clear. Trevisian had let this happen with his lack of interest. He had not taken responsibility so Garesh had, and with it he’d taken all the power he’d wanted.

  He looked about and saw the feeling in the room rise. Councillors were beginning to cry out Reluwyn chants. Garesh was doing this on purpose. Trevisian saw a gleam as the Councillor caught eyes with him. He was waiting until the crowd was wild for blood. Then he would sacrifice their Prince upon the altar of their racial loyalty.

  A man came up and whispered something into Garesh’s ear. The dark smile on the High Councillor’s face turned impossibly darker.

  He raised his hands to quiet the crowd. “My Lord Prince, I have heard disturbing reports that you are gathering troops in the palace through your dog-blooded Radichi warrior. What are we to think?” He raised his hands, beckoning the shouting to rise again and then again dropping his hands so that he might be heard. He was drinking in the power, his intoxication evident. “Are you planning to break our ways, our ancestor’s laws, by force?”

  A cry like a pack of dogs came out of the crowd who looked to their Prince for his answer. He was losing them.

  “Your massacre of the Laowyn includes the murder of my wife.” He could not let Kiara meet with the same fate as his mother.

  The statement caused a break in the shouts. Many faces changed to a look of fear.

  “I ask for the suspension of the Edict as the full King of Emrilion.”
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  His second call might have fallen on fertile ground. But now he was threatened, Garesh let loose the missile.

  “A rebel Laowyn woman who would be our Queen?” His voice was despising. “And reports circulate of you, King,” he omitted the correct address of Lord King, an outrageous sign of disrespect. “That you have the same blood as your mother. I have held my tongue thus far under duress from our sovereign, but I can no longer protect one unprotected by the laws of King Emril, Conqueror, King of the Emrilion Empire.” Garesh’s hands rose with the voices and he pointed a menacing finger, all eyes following the line it made. “I must confirm what I know to be true,” his eyes took on an inhuman fury as he hissed. “Shapeshifter!”

  Chaos erupted in the hall. Trevisian knew he would be taken in minutes - and he’d be lucky to reach the prison in one piece. It was then that Johan arrived.

  A barrage of Imperial Guards threw open the doors to the Hall of Banners, the sound of wood on stone cracking throughout the hall. Horses clattered into a place they should not be, and soldiers dropped lances in councillors’ faces.

  “To the King! Protect the King!” Johan bellowed, his heavy horse barging several more zealous councillors out of the way before swinging its quarters and cantering towards Trevisian.

  Imperial Guards pierced the crowd surrounding their sovereign, Dainus was brought forward and Trevisian mounted quickly into the saddle. He took the reins in a firm grip and looked around him; the councillors were scattered but Garesh remained on the dais spitting curses.

  “Silence!” Trevisian’s voice rang out across the din. “Yes, I carry the mark of the Shapeshifters as your High Councillor says, yes I am of Alakvalto blood - but I am also your sovereign. My mother’s execution was unlawful and so King Emril made it lawful - our ancestors never condemned Shifters, so consider that among your accusations. And consider this, your future Queen is in danger, she lies with the rest of the Laowyn in Ishtalia at the mercy of those who would obey an Edict which should never have been signed. Rally with me, save your Queen, save the unity of the Kingdom. Or else stay with this dog whose lust for power would see us forsake our ancestors’ ways, forsake peace, even to death.”

  With that Trevisian turned Dainus towards the great double doors and pushed him forward into a clattering gallop. The loyal troops that Johan had gathered followed soon after, turning in unison and departing. They left the councillors to their own decisions.

  A call was raised by the loyal troops to gather those still allied to the King throughout the city as they left. News spread fast and families were torn between the old Regent and this new King.

  Those who were loyal could not stay any longer.

  Before long, the cavalcade left the last dwellings of the city behind. It would take time for Garesh to gather his forces, and by then they would be halfway across the Great Forest. Behind lay a fractured Kingdom, ahead the unknown - and somewhere was his wife.

  Her blond curls were pushed over one shoulder, exposing her neck to the sun’s warmth. She watched sunlight dance and jump on the water threading between her toes and over the arches of her feet. They were numb but she kept them in the water anyway, feeling the cold water slicing at her ankles. A breeze that tumbled over the surface of the stream swept up, pushing the hair from her face in a caress that drew on the wells of her memory. The shadowy figure in her mind drew in and out of focus pushing for recognition. She battled against the intruder but her attempts faltered. Dark eyes watched her through her memories - they had since the night she had left him a week ago.

  She had not spoken much. No one had asked questions. They daren’t. Laowyn modesty made them fear to ask and she knew it by the way they looked at her. Zephenesh had been watching her on their journey as he was now during their break by the stream.

  Calev and Jaik were off snaring rabbits for dinner, bickering as they always did, and Zeb was grinding herbs, crouching by the horses they had bartered their trading cargo for on the outskirts of Emril City. Djeck tried to talk with Zephenesh, but the Elder remained stonily silent.

  Fidel was on the bank of the stream a few paces away. He hadn’t really spoken to her, and perhaps he was wondering as the others did, if she had become a Reluwyn whore. She picked a foot out of the water and smashed it through the liquid surface. Diamond drops showered the long tunic she wore.

  She bit back a curse as the water seeped through to her legs. If she had been wearing her Reluwyn clothing, she would have been able to let it dry on her bare skin. She stood up in the water, the loose cloth falling into the depths of the stream. The riverbed was hard and rocky under her feet and she felt the water on her clothes pulling at her. She stood there, feeling the rhythmic movement, then suddenly bent down and yanked the bottom of her dress from the stream, the water pouring from the fabric in great rivulets. She turned, one bare foot reaching the dusty bank and then the other. Dirt stuck to her skin and the trail of her tunic turned brown before she reached the horses. She ignored the others who stared at her as she wrestled with the saddle bags.

  The leather strap was tough, and by the time it gave way there were unwanted tears rimming her eyes. She yanked at it, throwing back the canvas lid and automatically moved out of the way of the beast’s side as it fidgeted at the disturbance.

  “Kiara, what is it you want? I’m sure Djeck can find it for you.”

  She ignored her uncle but when he said her name again she looked at him, her eyes cold and unreadable.

  “What is it you want?”

  He didn’t know what he was asking. She didn’t know what she would say if she answered truthfully.

  She took the dress and cloak she had escaped the palace in, and walked away from the travellers to find some kind of shielding. It didn’t take her long to change, and when she had, she felt free. She wrapped the cloak about her shoulders. At least it would provide a little modesty for them, but in truth, she was past caring. When she came back she threw the tunic back in the saddlebag and closed the lid, her hands steadier, her breathing calmer.

  “Kiara, what’s wrong with your tunic?” Zephenesh was by her side again. She felt her lungs constrict. She couldn’t breathe while he was around. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t.

  She ignored him again but this time his hand took hold of her arm stopping her escape.

  “Kiara, why must you wear that? It’s inappropriate.”

  Her eyes were ice. “According to you.”

  “According to our people, Kiara.”

  “I must hide myself for the men’s sake? I must wear clothes that will not let me move, or fight, or defend myself? Are we not going into battle uncle? I may wear armour, but underneath it I will wear this. You can’t stop me.”

  “Kiara,” the first ray of bright anger broke through his passive front. “You are like a daughter to me.” His voice became gentle. “Please redress.”

  Kiara looked around her. Fidel was watching from the river bank, although he tried to hide it; Zeb was staring openly at them; Djeck peered from behind a horse. They were all looking at her.

  She freed her arm from her uncle’s grasp. “I’m not your child any longer uncle. You would not protect me when I needed it,” her voice cracked.

  Zephenesh coloured deeply, his face crumbling at her words. He tried to come closer but she only stepped back in reply. The twins, who were approaching them, stopped. Their usually quick tongues held captive at this moment.

  “You can’t tell me what to do any more.” She turned to hide the tears welling up again.

  Chapter 23

  “For what it’s worth, I like the dress.” Zeb’s face was deadpan while he crunched on his apple.

  Kiara couldn’t help giving him a sideways look as they rode through the eastern end of the Great Forest. They’d fallen behind the rest of the group some time ago. Kiara finally able to relax a little.

  He shrugged, acknowledging her look but not meeting her eyes. “The Laowyn grasp of the Great Spirit and Spirit Realm is exceptional, but
their cultural rules encourage ignorance of other races.” He huffed a little. “For a peaceful race they spend very little time trying to create relationships with others. It would go far in unifying this land.”

  “Are you saying dressing like this promotes peace?” She fell into talking to him without thinking about it. It was easy with Zeb - there was no judgment.

  “Well that’s a rather crude translation, perhaps.”

  She pulled the cloak she was wearing further around her legs and tucked it in. The air had become cooler over the past few hours.

  Zeb drew a piece of jewellery from a pocket and held it out to her wordlessly.

  “My necklace!” she exclaimed, reaching a hand out towards the dangling gold.

  “It dropped when the Prince took you in the woods.”

  She nodded, her thoughts clouding with memories. The man who had taken her was a King now. “You know I thought you might be dead.”

  “Death wouldn’t suit me.”

  The frown on her brow was broken for a moment before reforming.

  “What happened in the forest?”

  “I was knocked unconscious.”

  She nodded and they carried on in silence for a time before she spoke again.

  “You haven’t asked me what happened in the forest.”

  “No.” Zeb turned his eyes upon her. The lines on his face were deeper than she remembered. His long hair was loosely tied at the nape of his neck and his clothes looked dirty and travel-worn. “I haven’t.”

  Kiara sighed. “What happened after I left?” She avoided the question he still didn’t ask.

  He turned his eyes back to the wide forest road. “Your uncle arrived. We decided to set off for Emril city to see what persuasion you could use upon the Prince.”

  “Persuasion?”

  “Ikara didn’t want us to go,” Zeb ignored the defensive tone in her voice. “But Fidel insisted. Your uncle wanted to come – to save you.” He would have carried on but she interrupted him by snorting. “I’m only answering your question.” The reprimand was softly spoken and gently meant.