Diviner's Prophecy

by Nicolette Andrews

  My traitorous heart relaxed. I had spent many sleepless nights wondering if the following morning would be the one they brought Johai in to stand trial for treason, if they brought him in alive at all.

  “Layton has left court to recuperate at home; Adair insisted,” I said, trying to change the subject from my detestable thoughts.

  “I heard. I am sorry to see him go.” Sabine looked down at her hands fisted on her lap.

  “Me as well.” I looked down and wondered where they were now, how they fared, and I hoped, in time, the king would allow Layton to return to court. Though his displacement to his country home was officially in the name of health, the truth was now that Damara’s plot was out in the open, the king had temporarily banished him from court. I feared if he were not permitted back soon, they would think him complicit in her plot, though Adair assured me the king did not.

  We sat in silence for a while longer until Vian and Odell arrived, announcing everything in readiness. Sabine rose, and her skirts hung about her. I adjusted her headdress and stepped back to admire her.

  The pale blue of her gown, accompanied by the pearl-studded headpiece, gave her an ethereal glow, just as it had during Maiden Dance. Though her skin, under the powder, still appeared too stretched and her gown a tad too loose, it would have to do. The wedding and the conjoining of our two kingdoms could not be delayed. With traitors at large, it was more important than ever to finally secure our alliance with Neaux.

  “You look beautiful.”

  We embraced, and I let a single tear fall before dashing it aside. I had no time for selfish indulgence. Sabine was the one who had truly made all the sacrifices.

  The palace had been decorated for the celebration. Sprigs of lavender hung from archways and commingled with the first greens of spring. Tapestries lined in the corridor we traversed, blocking the bridal party from view. I led her ladies-in-waiting, followed by Odell and then Vian. The wind rustled the tapestries, and they revealed snatches of a brilliant blue day. I tried to keep my thoughts positive, for Sabine’s sake, but could not help but commiserate on her and my fates.

  The hand-fasting ceremony was held in the gardens. We walked through more arches decorated in a similar fashion to the palace halls, but the sky opened up before us. At the end of the open-arch tunnel, the crowd waited. Flute music carried on the wind, accompanied by the plinking of a harp. High above a gull cried out, screeching as it dove and let the wind carry it out to sea. The early blooms of spring struggled to poke through the soft ground, and the air still held the aroma of fresh earth.

  The court turned as we approached and then parted, drawing back and creating an aisle for us to approach the canopy under which the groom awaited. The parting of the crowd was symbolic of the marriage of our first king and his bride, who myth had it was plucked from the sea.

  The Magiker stood beside Adair, solemn and dressed in white robes. Adair, in pale blue to match his bride, smiled as we approached. I met his gaze, but his eyes seemed to skim over me and to Sabine. I stepped aside, and Sabine stepped forward to meet her groom. Her expression was blank. I shrugged off the slight, once more reminding myself that there were bigger things afoot than my feelings. Two people I cared for deeply were marrying one another, as a matter of politics. It was a bitter brew to swallow.

  Adair stepped forward and outstretched his hand for Sabine. She placed her hand in his, and the pair of them stood before the Magiker. Flanking to the right and left, the king and queen watched. As proof for the Neaux kingdom, Ambassador Amilton stood beside King Dallin.

  Each held a symbol of the marriage ceremony, the chalice, the stave and the rope. The Magiker recounted the ceremonial chant, a retelling of the first king and his bride, and enumerated the vows of chastity and poverty, requesting both parties to foreswear themselves to the marriage.

  Adair went first, “I so swear.” He squeezed Sabine’s hand, who gazed forward without returning his smile. Jealousy struck me, and I tried to school my emotions.

  “I so swear,” Sabine echoed without inflection.

  The queen took the Magiker’s place and offered the pair the chalice.

  “May your union bear fruit,” she said. The small tilt of her brows was the only sign of her displeasure behind her happy smile.

  They each took a sip from the chalice, Adair first and then Sabine—she winced before she handed it back to the queen, who nodded and stepped back. I wished I could step in and stop this farce. How could they make them go through with this? There had to be another way!

  Ambassador Amilton handed them the stave. “May you remain steadfast in your devotion to one another,” he said.

  He nodded his head in Sabine’s direction, and she inclined her head towards him. They each grasped it hand over fist.

  “Until the end of my days,” they recited in unison. Adair took possession of the staff afterwards and held it in his right hand.

  Finally, the king stepped forward. Their clasped hands were held out before him.

  “May your lives be evermore intertwined.” He looped the ivory rope about their hands.

  I looked away as the Magiker spoke the final prayer, binding their souls together and making the two into one. His words washed over me as I bit back my bitter tears. He paused in his invocation, and I forced myself to look. One loose end dangled between them, and the Magiker spoke the last evocation and tied a knot on the remaining length of rope. The ceremony complete, they were husband and wife.

  The air grew still with the absence of the Magiker’s chanting, and then an all-too-familiar drumming filled in the silence. Not now, I begged, let me have this one day. They leaned in to share their first kiss as husband and wife, and the beat grew more urgent, pressing upon me to act, but in what way? They turned to greet the kingdom, and the edges of my vision began to blur. I raised my head up to the sky, preparing to ask the Goddess for mercy before the vision took me.

  Alone in the darkness, a voice echoed around me, my voice.

  “On the day the moon swallows the sun, the child of two crowns shall be unleashed to the destruction of man. Enemies, wedded and intent on a common foe, will stand no chance against his might. All shall fall; all shall perish, if the daughter of the blood does not smite the moon’s child.”

  I opened my eyes on the study at Graystone, my childhood home. A fire crackled in a fireplace punctuating the silence with its snaps and crackles. Before the fireplace, Johai paced, hands folded behind his back. He glanced multiple times at his feet, where a small figure curled in on itself and stared at something in its lap.

  The figure gasped and tossed back a curtain of ebony hair.

  “What did you see? Is there any other way?” Johai kneeled and put his arm around her shoulder.

  The woman rose to her feet, with Johai’s help. Rather, my past self rose to her feet. She strode over to the couches before the fire, a hand pressed to her temple.

  “Maea, you should not exert yourself.” He brushed the hair from her face and let his hand linger along her cheek.

  She met his insistent gaze and let her hand fall into her lap. “There is only one way to prevent the prophecy, though I am not sure I am strong enough to see it through.”

  “Maea, you must! You are the only one who can. You know it’s true—”

  He grabbed her by the shoulders, but she shot to her feet before he could stop her. The action threw her off balance, and she clutched the side of the couch.

  “Sit, you know you are weak after scrying.”

  She was pale, and judging by the dark circles under her eyes, I knew she had not been sleeping. “I know, Johai, but the only way to stop him from rising is to kill the vessel—you.”

  He cradled his head in his hands. “I told you there was never another way.”

  She sat back down and touched his shoulder. Johai raised his head to regard her. “But if we were to stop the rising, prevent the prophecy from coming to fruition—”

  “Maea, he would find a way to stop it. He
grows more powerful every day, and betimes I feel my consciousness slipping away.” Johai’s gaze grew distant.

  “Do not speak that way. I know we can beat this!”

  “Maea, I’ve known for a long time now that I must die. Will you not give me the dignity of resigning myself to my own death?” He smiled wryly.

  “Then I will go to court and stop the prince from marrying the princess, and I would prevent the child of two crowns from ever being born. Without that child, the specter cannot enter this world.”

  “The prince will not be swayed by words alone. I have known him a long time. He is selfish and self-indulgent. He craves power, and he will stop at nothing to wed the princess. He would not overlook such a powerful connection, no matter the price.” His expression closed off, and he drew away from her, turning his face to the fire. I watched, waiting for that moment of betrayal when he would decide to take everything away from me to prevent his own death.

  “Then we will change the succession in Danhad. If he does not become king, then the child born to him will not be of two crowns. Don’t you see? It can be done!”

  “I will agree to this on one condition, you must forget me.”

  She jumped to her feet. “Why? I cannot do this without you.”

  “You will, and you must. It’s essential. If everything goes wrong, if we cannot prevent this union, you will have to kill me. You cannot hesitate, and knowing everything you do, it will only complicate things. I will take away everything you felt for me, and in the end, you will hate me.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks, and though I could not shed my own, I felt emotion welling up. Why remind me of these things? His betrayal just to save himself.

  She wiped tears away from her eyes. “The spell would need to be twofold, a blending of our magic. I would need to connect to you in the dream space and remove all memories connected with you. But I will only do it if there is an anchor, something that will bring me back and return what was taken.”

  He sighed, and I thought he would disagree.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks, and he brushed them away. “I love you,” he said. “I think it would be better if you had never gotten entangled with me.” He kissed her brow. “But I swear I will guard you until the end.”

  I turned away, unwilling to acknowledge the truth. He had done it all for me, the woman destined to kill him. Would I have made these decisions had we known how they would backfire? Not only did I forget him, I forgot the vision as well. They tried to guide me, but I thought they were using me for their own gains. Now I could see the mistakes I had made. I could have wept, but the vision, however, was not complete. I opened my eyes, and I was once more in the diviner’s underground dungeon.

  She stood with her back to me.

  “Why show me this now? Why must I learn of this if he is to die? Why could it not have been done in ignorance as I wished!”

  “You must be prepared for the final task. You must know what lies ahead. Come, look.” She did not turn to face me but motioned towards the basin.

  The draw was inescapable, though I tried to fight it. I kneeled before the vessel and looked unto the reflecting surface. Images rose there, shifting and as chaotic as before, but they had become much clearer, and I was able to focus and call forth the ones I needed.

  A large room revealed itself. A man sat silhouetted at a desk before an august fireplace. He worked bent over his desk, and the firelight haloed his gray-streaked chestnut hair. A knock at the door drew him from his work to announce, “Come in.”

  Adair entered his uncle’s chambers and bowed with a great flourish of his arm.

  “What are you doing here? You should be enjoying your wedding night.” The king did not look up from his parchment.

  “I came to thank you for my wedding gift,” Adair said, smiling.

  “The page picked it out, no need for thanks.” He set aside a piece of parchment, without glancing in his nephew’s direction.

  “Oh no, not that gift, Uncle, the gift you have yet to give.” Adair rocked on the balls of his feet, his hands folded behind his back.

  “What’s that?” He looked up at his nephew, thick brows pulled together in thought.

  “For the kingdom.” Adair smiled.

  “What are you talking about, you idiot boy?”

  “What went through your mind that day you left your brother-in-law to be slaughtered and your own sister to be raped? Did you sleep well at night knowing your heir was secured, at least?”

  The king stood and slammed his hands upon the desktop. “I will not stand for this insolence.”

  Adair ignored his command and danced about the room. “When you sent Sarelle to those same people who committed these atrocities, were you pleased?”

  The king strode after him, and the look on his face went from shock to anger. “Boy, you forget your place.”

  “No, Uncle, I think it is you who have forgotten your place. I was patient, I believed everything you had done was for the greater good, for my good, but now after you have taken it all, you wish to take more. Did you think I would not know your plans for the succession? That I did not suspect that a Neaux queen upon the throne set ill with you.” Adair stopped and squared his feet, and I wondered what he planned to do.

  “I want you out of my sight. This is not the time nor the place to speak of this.” He swept his arm in a sharp motion towards the door, with the air of someone who was used to being obeyed.

  “Oh, do not worry. I’ll only be but a moment more.”

  He strolled around his uncle, his hands folded behind his back. The king pivoted to remain facing him, his scowl giving way to a shifting look about the room and towards a short sword that now lay behind his nephew on a chair beside his desk.

  “Ah, Uncle, years of warring have made you paranoid, I fear.”

  “Remove yourself before I teach you what it means to defy me,” he said through a clenched jaw.

  Adair chuckled, and it was hollow and disturbing, and then continued in a mocking tone. “Despite that, you never considered that the perfect king you crafted, the child you thought you would one day hand the kingdom to, would also be your death, did you?”

  The king opened his mouth to retort, and that is when Adair struck. He removed a dagger from behind his back and plunged it into the king’s abdomen.

  I watched horrorstruck as he leaned in close, and I could hear every word he spoke as if it were spoken in my own ear.

  “Your brother sends his love.”

  The king slumped to his knees, his face astonished as he collapsed and gasped for air. Adair stood above him, his hands on his hips. A stain upon the floor grew rapidly. He would not survive the wound, of that I was certain. My shock transcended reason or coherent thought. How could Adair do such a thing? This had to be some sort of trick.

  Adair extracted the dagger. The rivulets of blood dripped down the blade and pattered on the parquet floor. The rhythmic sound turned into the dripping of the water into the basin.

  I fell backwards, wanting to remove myself from the scene. I trembled as I stared at the basin.

  “This cannot be. Adair would never—”

  “But he has. This is not the future, but the present. The time of the prophecy has been set in motion, daughter of my blood. Your greatest challenge awaits you.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  I awoke in my bed covered in a cold sweat. I cast about the dimly lit room. Someone had carried me to my chambers after I collapsed. I sat up, and my head swam. Adair had killed his uncle. I had to warn someone, but who? I realized, too late, all my allies were out of reach. There was no one left to turn to, except for the queen. I jumped out of bed, not even taking the time to change. I merely threw a coat over my dressing gown.

  I burst out of my chamber room. Night had fallen, and long shadows crowded the halls. Lanterns flickered in their holders, burned low on the wick. The hour must be well past midnight. I padded down the corridor, my bare feet slapping upon the stones. My he
art hammered in my chest as I wended my way, drawing ever closer to the inner courtyard of the royal family. I peered about for a guard, a servant, anyone I could ask for help. I found no one and made my way towards the center of the palace.

  Down the hall, I spotted a pair of guards standing sentry before the entry leading towards Adair’s and, I hoped, Queen Idella’s quarters. I hurried towards them, and they blocked my path by jutting out their decorative spears.

  “Halt,” one of them said.

  Heedless of the sharp object pointed at my breast, I drew in as close to them as it would allow and said, “I need to speak with the queen.”

  “At this hour? Are you mad?” He looked me up and down from my bare feet to my housecoat and dressing gown. I am certain I looked mad.

  “It’s very urgent. She will want to speak with me. Tell her Lady Diranel wishes an audience with her.”

  It was a dangerous gambit, but I dared not reveal the full extent of my knowledge lest the guards betray me. I was uncertain who was an ally and who a foe.

  They both eyed me suspiciously. The first one to speak signaled to the second, and they drew away and conferred in heated whispers. I paced the hall as they did so, my mind concocting a secondary plan if they refused me an audience. I considered contacting Duke Magdale, but he did not maintain quarters in the palace. I would have to leave the palace to get to him. It was an unlikely choice.

  They finished their debate, and the first guard said, “Wait here,” before striding down the hall towards the royal chambers.

  I continued to pace, wringing my hands as I did so. I considered confiding in the guard remaining. I should sound the alarm. Perhaps if I went to him now, the king’s life would yet be spared. I stopped pacing to face the guard.

  “How much longer? It is very important that I speak with the queen immediately.”

  The guard eyed me up and down. He had no reason to trust me, just as I had no reason to trust him.

  “Shouldn’t be too much longer,” he said and folded his arms over his chest and squared his feet. His message was clear: he would not let me pass.