by JManess
“What happened? What’s going on here? Where is Sondra?” Elona demanded, turning to each of them in turn.
“Sh—she’s gone …” Sarai cried.
“What! You mean she ran away! She disappeared again? It figures, just when things are getting difficult for the kingdom …”
“No! She’s dead, Elona. A dragon came and … and …” Sarai couldn’t finish; she crumpled in her chair with her face buried in her hands as her body shook with sobs.
“A dragon ate her.” Sergen dared to answer, his own voice shaking with grief and fear at the look his eldest sister turned on him.
“Is this some kind of sick jest?” She turned on her father.
“You know we would never jest of something so serious. Never! How could you not know, word was sent to your husband!” Even the King had tears in his eyes and they rolled unchecked down his grizzled cheeks.
Everyone around Elona started crying. Elona looked at all of them weeping around her. She let the news sink in: Sondra, eaten by a dragon, dead and gone forever. She threw her head back and laughed out loud.
The family stopped crying to stare at her; shocked, dismayed, and enraged at such disrespect. Elona kept laughing, her face turning red, then purple, her eyes nearly bulging out, as the laughter changed and grew harsh, coarse and ugly.
Sarai stood up, so angry with Elona that she actually moved to slap her sister despite the gracelessness of such an act. Her mother didn’t suffer such reservations and also jumped up, delivering a resounding slap to her daughter’s cheek. Elona’s head snapped back, and her wild terrible laughter changed into deep and broken sobs that caused her entire body to shudder in pain. Fat tears cut tracks down her cheeks, washing away powder and revealing purpled skin; her sobs became cries that escalated in volume until she fell screaming to her knees to pound the upholstery of the lounge.
The king jumped up and raced for the door, jerking it open and ordering the guard outside to send for a healer. His eldest daughter’s wails tore at their ears, ripped at their hearts. She screamed and screamed, shouting over and over, “I’m so sorry, no, it can’t be!” She began rocking back and forth on the floor while her sister, mother, and brother surrounded her, unsure what to do.
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Suddenly, her screams changed and she arched her back and clutched her stomach. Beneath her dress her stomach clenched, convulsed, and then relaxed. She collapsed and then screamed out again as the contractions began in earnest. Blood and fluid ran down her legs and pooled on the wooden floor, and the queen added her own shouts to the cacophony.
“Forget the healer, call the midwife! The baby is coming!” She shrieked, and hustled Sarai toward the sitting room. “Take Sergen with you, this is no place for maidens or men.” The queen raced back to the king and had to shake him from his tortured terror as he watched his daughter writhe in pain on the floor. “Go outside and join the guards; I will take care of this until the midwife arrives. Gods willing, we will be welcoming a new family member tonight.” She pushed him toward the door and ran to her daughter. Helping her move to the bed between contractions, she stroked Elona’s hair back with one hand while she clasped her other hand, trying not wince as Elona squeezed her hand with each agonizing contraction. Fear in her eyes, Elona looked desperately at her mother, nearly drowned by tears.
“I—I can’t—urgh …” she clenched her teeth against another contraction.
“It’s too soon, what will happen to my son? I can’t bear it if I lose this baby, Mama. I love him so much already.”
“Shh, it’s going to be okay, baby. He is strong; he will survive this just fine.
You hold on, help is coming.” The queen kissed her daughter’s sweating brow, her own heart squeezing at the thought that she might lose her daughter as well as the baby.
“Mama, Sondra … Sondra is really …” Elona struggled through the contraction.
“Don’t speak of it now, baby. You just focus on bringing this new life into the world with Vivacel’s blessing.”
Elona nodded, blinking the tears from her eyes. She centered her attention on the coming labor, determined to fight through this pain and eager to meet the child she already loved more than anything else in the world; the child for whom she’d already sacrificed more than her family could know.
The royal family finally retired into a dreamless slumber after the triumphant news came from the midwife and queen that Elona and her newborn baby boy were both fine and resting. Sarai found she could not sleep and instead crept down to her sister’s chambers, scratching softly at the door. A tired voice called “Come in.”
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Just inside the door, a healer’s apprentice dozed fitfully in a hard-backed vanity chair, her stones and incense tumbling out of the bag at her feet. The midwife, the high priestess of Vivacel’s temple herself, bustled quietly around the bed and the tiny three-sided cradle that set pushed up against it. Her white robes rustled softly in the candlelit darkness. Shadows from the white candles lit to keep Morbidon’s reapers at bay danced over her as she fussed and fidgeted.
She swaddled the minuscule bundle next to the bed until a pale hand waved her impatiently away and a croaky exhausted voice called from behind the bed hangings. “Well, who is it? Don’t just stand there, show yourself.”
“It’s me, Elona.” Sarai walked to the side of the bed, where she could see her sister, lying on her side facing the cradle, her arm stretched out and one long finger clasped firmly by a tiny hand. The baby lay barely visible amidst the swaddling despite the free arm, but Sarai could just make out a small, perfect little face with tightly closed eyes and red skin slowly pinking with each shallow breath the newborn took.
Elona smiled at the tiny bundle, her expression so sublimely peaceful that Sarai nearly burst into tears. “He won’t keep his arm in the swaddling. He always wriggles it free and grabs my finger.” She glanced over at her sister, then moved her other hand and patted the bed beside her. “Come look—isn’t he the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?” Sarai sat gently next to her sister, ignoring the midwife and the healer and studying the baby boy. “I have to say he is at that,” she whispered, just as he pursed his lips with hunger.
Elona chuckled softly and carefully sat up. She held out her arms as the midwife placed the stirring newborn into them. Sarai watched as Elona efficiently fed her baby as if she had done so all her life, without the slightest hesitation, nervousness, or doubt. “He looks strong,” she said.
“Of course, I never doubted it. He is my son, after all.” Elona smiled down at the baby suckling. A look of sadness swept over her. “I remember the first time I ever saw a baby.” She looked up at her sister, tears welling in her eyes.
“It was Sondra, right after she was born. I snuck out of the nursery and into Mama’s chambers. She knew I was there but she didn’t stop me from stealing up to the crib and peeking in.” Elona choked a little as Sarai held her breath, unwilling to jeopardize this new and unexpected closeness she shared with her sister. “I loved her so much, Sarai. I took one look at her and she was so perfect and tiny, just like this.” Elona hugged her baby a little closer as her tears began
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to flow. She continued before Sarai could answer. “Do you know that I was the only one who could get her to stop crying when she was a baby? The nurse didn’t like me always hanging around but Mother insisted that I be allowed to cuddle her whenever I wanted. Anytime she cried, the nurse had to hand her to me just so she would stop. Once, she grew very sick when she was just over a rota old. I spent every night sleeping on the floor beside her crib until I knew she was better. I was so afraid she would pass away in the night and I would never get to see her again. I had to sneak past our nanny every night just to witness for myself that she slept peacefully and safely.” Sarai listened, stunned at the revelation. “What happened, why
did you treat her so badly when she grew older?”
Elona smiled sadly. “I used to be the one who got all the attention and you never seemed to mind it.” Elona saw Sarai nod in agreement; her quietly reserved sister disliked undue attention. “Even after Sondra came I still had the majority of the attention, until Sergen came along. Suddenly the heir was born and the rest of us were forgotten. You still didn’t seem to care and Sondra was just a baby, but I … I hated it. I did everything I could think of to get Father’s and Mother’s notice. That’s what I really cared about; I used to be their special perfect princess and suddenly I was a nuisance.” A tear dropped on the baby and he scrunched up his face in irritation until Elona gently wiped it away, stroking his soft cheek. Elona glanced up at her sister, nearly unable to bear the compassion on Sarai’s face. She didn’t like pity; it was for the weak. “Well, anyway, eventually I got the attention back. After all, the King of Bladen wanted a wife for his youngest son, and I was already eleven rotas, a perfect age for a betrothal contract. Suddenly I was important again.”
“Then why did you seem to despise Sondra? I don’t understand …”
“Of course you don’t! You were too young to remember, and besides, you were always practicing some new embroidery or instrument with the tutors.
A wizard’s apprentice from the Academy of Magic traveled around testing potential students for the next rota. He came to castle and tested everyone there. Only one of us possessed any magical ability.”
“No, not …” Sarai was shocked.
“Yes, Sondra tested so high that his meter couldn’t calculate it. Apparently, at only four rotas old, she already demonstrated enough talent for a novice wizard.
Suddenly, everyone talked about her going to the Academy as early as her eighth rota, fully three rotas earlier than any other Academy student. She became the 156
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special one, and she was all anyone ever talked about, especially Mother and Father. The pitiful alliance my betrothal contract would bring paled in comparison to having a real wizard in the family. The first truly powerful magic user since Ulrick himself they kept saying. Suddenly I was nobody again and worse, it was my own baby sister that I loved so much, always played with and looked out for, that took all the focus off of me. I thought I would never forgive her.”
“But you must have, because you said that you did love her.” Elona dipped her head. “There was nothing for me to forgive. I realized that many years later, well after it was already too late. I sent her into the Woods and when she came out she wouldn’t even speak of magic, much less try to learn about it. When the time came for her to go to the Academy of Magic she kicked up such a fuss that father sent a message saying she failed to demonstrate the talent they expected and would not be attending. In a way, it was true. She never did use any magic. It was all my fault, and I never apologized because I was still angry at her. I distanced myself from her so I wouldn’t have to be reminded of what I had done—that I stole her future away from her because of my own insecurity.”
Elona gently rocked her baby where he lay, sated and sleeping in her arms.
“When I married, I was so happy to get away from her and this place where I believed myself to be miserable, but I realized after a while that I was trying to get away from my guilt and I hadn’t succeeded.” The midwife came and gently took the baby and laid him in his crib. Now that they were freed of the tiny burden, Elona’s arms wrapped around herself, unable to bear the emptiness for even a moment. “I always thought that someday I would get a chance to talk to her about it and let her know that I did love her and I was sorry and that maybe we could start over again. Then, when I came home and you told me she was gone … Oh, by the gods, Sarai, I will never have that chance, I will never be free of the guilt …”
Elona started crying in earnest, the burden in her heart much heavier than the weight of an early-born infant. Sarai, sad and silent, enfolded her sister in a hug and held her until her sobs died away and she swayed with exhaustion.
The midwife came over and helped Sarai settle the nearly sleeping Elona into bed. Sarai leaned over and kissed her sister gently on her forehead before whispering softly in her ear.
“I know Sondra forgives you and loves you back,” she said, hoping in her heart that it was true.
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CHAPTER 17
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The cycle before the day of the grand party, Elona pushed away the suff ocating keepers and caretakers that insisted she remain in bed resting, and demanded a day dress, determined to seek some fresh air even if it killed her, though she had no intention of letting that happen.
Morbidon himself would wait on her if she had her say about it. She very forcefully denied the request that she take an entourage and insisted that she would keep to the inner curtain wall, that there was little danger to threaten her there. Reluctantly, she yielded to the wet nurse’s insistence that she leave her son to his peaceful slumber. She gratefully escaped her chambers and her keepers before they could report her to her father.
Out on the curtain wall, Elona sucked in large breaths of fresh air, grateful for the respite from the crammed and musty chamber and her enforced convalescence. She wasn’t in the habit of lying about all cycle. She wouldn’t admit even to herself that the chamber began to feel like a prison, much like the tower chamber she had escaped cycles ago. What would Galaden think when his lackeys reached him with news of her defection? She imagined his fat, florid face turning purple with rage as it so often did when he grew angry.
By now, he probably knew; no doubt her own father sent a missive the day she arrived at the castle. She didn’t care; she would kill him before she would ever return to him. She wasn’t the type to allow anyone to abuse her indefinitely without planning her revenge. Never again would he strike her. Never again would he lock her away and starve her. Never again would he lay his bloated hands on her body and force his corpulent form on her. And never would he get his hands on her precious son.
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Elona stood against the stone wall, her eyes blind to the sweeping mountains before her, when she heard footsteps. She turned, just as one of the captains rounded the corner of the high tower accompanied by another man, one she did not immediately recognize. They both stopped when they saw her, the captain bowing deeply, the other man sweeping his eyes over her with insulting disdain before rising to pin her, an expression of distaste marring his nearly perfect masculine features.
“Your Highness, we had heard that you returned. Welcome back,” the captain said, his face flushed and his eyes respectfully averted.
“Yes, Your Highness, your father related the news you brought. I am certain it will prove useful … in some way,” the other man said, his voice a mocking reflection of the obsequiously respectful tone of the captain.
Elona flushed in anger. She recognized him now, though she couldn’t believe the boy had changed so much—Derek, looking far more handsome than any one man deserved to look, and worse, he simply exuded arrogant confidence. How dare he speak to her in such a way? What rank did he hold that he felt he could talk down to her?
“The Warlord is correct, Your Highness, we are already investigating the information you so graciously passed on to us.” The poor captain felt the intense dislike between the princess and his own superior officer and had no idea how to defuse the situation.
So, her father made this … this … commoner a Warlord. It was exactly the type of impetuous decision he so often engaged in. Of course, now that Ariva did stand on the brink of war, Derek’s promotion was nothing short of prophetic. Unfortunately, during wartime the Warlord held as much authority as, if not more than, a princess, especially one married to a foreign prince. Even if she called him on his disrespectful behavior, her father would only claim she deserved it. Derek knew this and made it clear that he was aware of her discomfort and irritation at the rev
ersal of their roles.
“I haven’t the time to deal with you right now. I must return to my son,” Elona said, striving for an airy, careless tone and failing miserably. It was a blatant retreat, and Derek perceived her true purpose. She despised him for placing her in a position of weakness. She turned away, ignoring his eyes on her, and maintained a brisk but graceful pace until she reached the relative solitude of her room. She gently picked up her sleeping son, holding him close to her heart, his soft breaths soothing her turbulent emotions.
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Derek watched her go, the captain’s next words unheard as he pondered the princess Elona. He turned to the captain and dismissed him, desiring time to regain his composure since the unexpected encounter with the eldest princess shook him more than he’d anticipated.
He strode along the curtain wall after the captain left him, wondering why Elona still inspired such deep dislike in him. He thought he’d put that part of his past long behind him when he marched off to war in foreign lands. He remembered how she’d been as a child, only two rotas younger than himself and a thousand rotas removed from his league. He didn’t have a chance with a princess, being only a soldier’s son, but the king allowed his children informality and the opportunity to play with the children that lived in and around the castle. Derek had taken one look at the feisty and beautiful girl dashing around the training ground with a wooden sword and wearing boy’s clothes, and he’d fallen hard. The kitchen girl, Milly, had been his first lover, but Elona was his first love.
She always knew she was desirable and she used it to her advantage. Derek’s infatuation amused her, and she played on his affection, using him to assist her in her pranks, helping her escape her keepers, stealing from various workshops around the castle, and generally engaging in mischief. It went against the code Derek’s father had taught him, but when Elona fluttered her eyelashes at him and begged so prettily, he obeyed her every command. He found himself in trouble with his own father more times than he could count because of Elona, but it seemed that nothing could convince him to stay away from her or resist her charms.
