The Kingmaker Complete Trilogy (The Kingmaker Trilogy #1-3)

by Gemma Perfect

  We walk deep into the woods; we don’t want witnesses to our sacrifice. Though no one would question Halfreda. I am guessing that many imagine she puts worse things than the heart of a dead animal in her potions and spells.

  Hunkering down at the edge of a copse of trees, Halfreda groans. “I am too old for this,” she mutters, but I don’t offer to take her place. I pass her my dead chicken, and slip behind a tree to watch, or not. I may close my eyes and wish myself someplace else.

  We are dead silent and dead still, waiting.

  It takes a while, but we are both patient. A fox slinks over, Halfreda is hidden by foliage, but the chicken is on display. The fox sneaks closer again, sniffing, and licking his lips, rotten teeth dripping with saliva.

  The fox catches hold of the chicken, and Halfreda catches hold of the fox. The circle of life? She snaps the neck with a scarily practised move and sets about cutting out the heart.

  I cannot watch. I am not a weak woman and I know the potency of some ingredients in the work I do. I cannot afford to be squeamish and truly, with my life on the line if I do not fill this order, I certainly cannot afford to be judgemental. But I cannot look. I hear the squelch and slosh of blood and guts and that is enough.

  Halfreda moans as she stands up, the heart wrapped in cloth, fingers bloody, gore dripping on to the floor. She wipes her hands on another cloth and I look away.

  Love potions are so much sweeter than this nonsense.

  We go back to the castle in silence. “You are unhappy,” Halfreda says. I nod, it’s almost like I’m blaming her and of course it’s not her fault.

  “Sorry Halfreda, but until this man came to my door, I was just minding my own business.”

  “Such is life, Ginny. Sadly, very few of us have the freedom to only do as we please.” It’s an admonishment and I am silent.

  “Ginata. This is how a death draught makes you feel. From the moment you first think on it, from the second you open the spell book and put your finger on the filthy stinking words, to where we are now. It makes you feel like your soul is slowly dying, being poisoned or strangled. Forgive me though, we have to make it.”

  I think on her words as we make our way to her potion room. And I know she is right. I came to her for help and I am having a tantrum. I’m not being fair to her.

  I reach for her basket and pull out the bloody heart, the cloth all soaked through. The smell is nauseating, but I am trying to show Halfreda that I will help, that I’m sorry for being a grouch.

  She sets a fire and pulls a copper pot on top of it. She pours in several liquids, not referring to the spell book again and not telling me what she’s doing. I watch, fascinated. She is quick and deft at making a spell, despite her age and the aches and pains I know she feels.

  She chants and mutters as she works, and the flames under the copper pot lick bright green. The air around us is shimmering as sparks shoot and fizz out of the pot. The room has an energy and a sound other than just Halfreda and me.

  The spell is alive.

  When she throws in the dead heart the flames and the sparks turn black and the smell is like a hog roast. It makes me feel hungry and sick at the same time.

  The sound of the spell has changed. I step closer to the pot, considering the swirling liquid. I hear it whispering, taunting me and I step away.

  Halfreda collects a tiny black vial from a drawer and ladles the death draught in. She mutters as she does and there is a scream from inside the vial; an unholy non-human sound. I have goosebumps all over and a headache. She screws the vial shut and places it to one side.

  She lifts the copper pot, oblivious to the heat of it or conditioned not to feel it. “Open the door.” Her voice sounds harsh and deep, not like her at all. I do as she says and follow her. She takes the pot over to the side of a wall and pours the contents on the floor. Instantly the grass fizzes and turns black, dead.

  She returns to her room but comes straight back out with a large jug of liquid which she pours over the dead grass. “There is no antidote to a death draught that I know of, but hopefully that will neutralise it for any passing animals.”

  I follow her back inside. She is sweating and looks awful. This spell has taken it out of her. “Thank you.” I mean it and I take her hands, giving her some of my strength.

  She holds out the vial and I slip it into my pocket and feel its evil potency throbbing against my leg like a physical thing, like a heartbeat from hell.

  I shudder but ignore it. If I am being watched by anyone, innocent or otherwise, I don’t want them judging me poorly. If my cloaked man sees me on the way back to my little cottage, I do not want him to know that I fear this power.

  I hug Halfreda and she holds me tight. “All you do is go along with it. No questions, no concerns. No fault.”

  I nod and hug Halfreda again before I leave her.

  I walk back to my little cottage with this thing about my person that feels like it has a life of its own, power and magic and ideas of its own.

  I shudder as I walk but I keep a smile on my face.

  9

  LANORIE HELPS EVERLEIGH to dress in a beautiful gown, ruffles of gold and silver shimmering to the floor and her hair full of feathers.

  There is a play tonight, the actors are not castle regulars, but a travelling troupe from the Realm, they have a good reputation and everyone’s excited.

  The ball room has been transformed in to a theatre, with rows of seats, and a stage. The royal seats, including a throne for the King, take up the front row.

  Everleigh sits with Addyson, holding her hand, stroking her hair. She tries to convey through her words and smiles that all will be well. Living means being able to look after Addyson. She has had such fears for her sister being left behind. She wishes she could tell her but then it’s such a short time that she must wait.

  She still hasn’t seen Halfreda but feels safe with Archer around. He’s sitting away from her, but she can feel his eyes on her every now and again. Feel warmth on the back of her neck that she knows is his gaze.

  Addyson bursts out laughing; the play is funny, about three fools and an exaggerated villain, and Everleigh grins. Life is good again. All her fear, all her trepidation has disappeared.

  After the play, the actors, in their wonderful costumes – garish and vivid – mingle with the audience and Everleigh sidles over to Archer.

  “Did you enjoy?”

  Archer nods. “It’s so strange that these people are only here because you’re dying.” He lowers his voice. “Or they think you are.”

  Everleigh likes sharing a secret with him. “The whole tradition of the Kingmaker is beyond my comprehension. I never allowed myself to dwell on it, but the fates deal Kingmakers a horrible card. Born to die with no choice in the matter. Born to kill one of her brothers or more – my father was one of three. It’s a horrible burden, really.”

  “I don’t know you all that well. Not yet. But I am very happy that you will live.”

  They stand in companionable silence and watch the crowd.

  “How do you think your brothers will take it?” The two princes are laughing and joking with some of the King’s men. “They look close.”

  “They are. We all are.” Everleigh considers his question; she has thought about it and wants to convince herself that they will be happy for her. But the part of her that has surrendered to her role as Kingmaker, knows that they too will have thought about their future and planned what they would do if fate picked them to live.

  “I think they both want to be King,” she says, watching them with affection. “I know they have sat in on the King’s business. They know about running the Realm. Probably have ideas of their own. I hope the fact that they love me means that they will be happy to see me live. It’s a big change for all of us, but I know they’d want me to live. My father steps down when I die anyway, so he wouldn’t be ruling any more. And I think they would rather they both got to live than their other option; death. I think.”


  Surely, they will want to live. Both of them. Maybe even help her in her new role.

  “Halfreda wants to see us. When we can both slip away.”

  “I’ll tell my father that I’m tired. They’ve taken Addyson to bed already and the boys won’t miss me.”

  HALFREDA AND HER TEACHER are sitting in front of the fire and when Everleigh enters the room they both stand. Halfreda’s room is one of Everleigh’s favourite places in the castle. The fire is always lit and the lights are always low. It’s a cosy room, a snug room. She always feels drowsy in there. The walls are decorated with the most intricate tapestries; more so than in the rest of the castle. They depict the stars and the planets, the sun and the moon, nature and animals, but they are more special than the others she has seen. Made by someone with a very talented hand; they seem magical to Everleigh.

  Halfreda curtsies and her teacher bows down low. Everleigh can’t hide her surprise. Halfreda’s teacher is a dwarf. She has never seen one before. He looks older than Halfreda and yet appears more sprightly because of his diminutive size. Age has withered and stooped Halfreda but while this man is short he is lithe and upright. His eyes are dark and his hair, moustache and beard are white. He looks wise and kind though.

  Everleigh feels at ease with him; there is something calm and reassuring about him, despite his unusual appearance. She wants to spend time with him, listen to his stories. She knows he would have a lot to say.

  Archer stands close to Everleigh and Halfreda introduces them all. It seems like this man has no other name than teacher.

  “I am delighted to meet you. And overawed that it has happened in my lifetime,” he says to Everleigh, gesturing for her and Archer to sit.

  They do. Everleigh looks into his kind eyes. “Tell me what to do.”

  “Magic and prophecies hold more weight than tradition, Everleigh. People look for answers beyond their understanding. Spiritual and mystical things have merit in this world. Our Realm is run on it. Your father is a holy man, more than a mere mortal. You are the same, Queen. I hope that I am being wise and not being too naive, but I believe the Realm will accept this change. You are not an outsider trying to overthrow the King. You are his beloved daughter. Your brothers should be glad to live. Besides I have the prophecy and they can see the power of it.”

  Halfreda stands and puts her hands on Everleigh’s shoulders, the pride on her face unmistakable. The teacher reaches for something in his case.

  “We have seen some disturbing things in the fire, but at a time of such extreme change, that is to be expected. Your father would never harm you and I know Archer will protect you,” Halfreda says.

  Everleigh nods. It’s what she wants to believe.

  “We think it’s wise, however, to keep this change in your circumstance to ourselves until your death day. We can announce the change and pronounce you Queen at the same time. It means that should anyone wish to do you harm, they won’t get the chance.”

  It sounds like a sensible idea, though she wishes she could tell everyone. It is such wonderful news. She will live.

  The teacher brings over a scroll for her to see. Archer leans over her shoulder to look at it, his breath on her neck is unsettling but makes her tingle at the same time. She tries to concentrate.

  It is an old piece of paper; she can tell that much. It also looks fragile. The words written on it are glowing and pulsing, golden. Everleigh has never seen anything like it. It certainly looks magical.

  She reads it in her head, but Archer reads it aloud.

  “The magic of the Kingmaker is strong and certain and the only true way to find a King. It reaches further than the blood of the first-born girl and ensures that the right man becomes King. The true King.

  “The Kingmaker also has a magic and a fate of her own. Kingmakers die and sacrifice their magic-infused blood to aid the Realm by putting the crown on the true King’s head.

  “One Kingmaker will have more magic than most.

  “She is unique.

  “She is special.

  “She will live.

  “She will rule.

  “This Kingmaker will change history and rule the Realm as the finest ruler we have ever had.

  “She will be found by the simplest of all tests.

  “Only a King can command nature.

  “The Kingmaker who lives will be able to do the same.

  “Then we will all bow down our heads, lay down our weapons, and kneel before the Queen of the Realm.

  “May the gods bless her and keep her.”

  There is silence when he finishes. Everleigh has goosebumps. Halfreda is wiping at the tears on her cheeks. The teacher drops to the floor. “Queen.”

  Halfreda and Archer follow suit.

  “As you were,” Everleigh says, shaking her head, and they stand up. “So, keep it a secret until Saturday?”

  Halfreda nods and then speaks to Archer. “Take Everleigh to her room and then come back. We need to talk.”

  “What was that about?” Everleigh asks him as they walk through the courtyard.

  Archer shrugs. “No idea,” he says, and escorts her to her door. As they walk, the silence between them grows heavy and thick. Everleigh wants to stay with him. She loves his company and feels safe with him. She considers asking him to come to her mother’s grave with her on her night time visit, but knows that’s silly. She enjoys the time alone with her mother’s spirit, it’s time that’s just for her.

  Archer bows low. “Goodnight princess.”

  “Goodnight Archer.”

  She slips into her room and shuts the door behind her. A huge grin covers her face. She is going to live. And suddenly she has so much to live for.

  The little maids come with Lanorie to make up her bath but she waves them away, how many baths does one princess need?

  “Where d’you get to?” Lanorie asks her as she brushes out her hair, readying her for her bed.

  “Just seeing Halfreda.”

  “Did she say anything?”

  Everleigh is silent while the little maids scurry back and forth fetching the hot bricks for her bed and a jug of ale in case she’s thirsty in the night. When the last one leaves, she talks. “Her teacher was with her. Some old wise man, a dwarf. They think we should wait until Saturday and announce it to the Realm. I think it’s a good idea.”

  Lanorie’s face is a picture. “A dwarf? This week gets stranger and stranger. Don’t you just wish everyone knew?”

  “Yes. But I understand the need to wait.” She isn’t convinced there is a real threat against her life but what are a few more days of silence?

  “Here, watch this.”

  Everleigh moves to the window and opens it up a touch. “Birds, birds, come to me.” She wants to show off a little bit and convince Lanorie that what she’s said is true.

  Lanorie watches in wonder, as hundreds of birds fly over to the window. Some are brave and step on to the sill, despite the two girls being so close. One perches on top of Everleigh’s hand. The rest hover just outside the window.

  “Fly away,” Everleigh whispers and with little tweets that sound like they are trying to say goodbye, they all fly away. Lanorie is open mouthed.

  “What just happened?” Her voice is a whisper.

  “That’s me being a Queen. I’ve seen the prophecy, Lanorie, it’s written on an old scroll and the writing glows – it’s got to be magic. It says that only a King and the Kingmaker who will live can command nature. That’s me.” The power is still humming through her when Lanorie takes her hand and kisses it. “Queen.” Her voice is a whisper.

  ARCHER RETURNS TO HALFREDA who looks worried.

  “Quickly, come in.”

  Her teacher isn’t there.

  “What’s wrong?” Archer knows there’s something wrong. The energy coming from Halfreda is poisonous.

  “We have a problem.”

  “What?”

  “I had a visit from the white witch who works in the village. She comes here often
; I expect she’ll take over from me, when my time is up.”

  Archer doesn’t like hearing that and shakes his head, dismissing her words.

  “Someone has been to see her for a death draught and I cannot believe that my eyes have been so blind. It was one of Everleigh’s brothers. I am sure. He has cloaked his true self.”

  Archer had heard of a death draught. “So? You don’t think it’s for Everleigh, do you?”

  “No. But I have given it to Ginata. To give to him.”

  “Why?”

  “I think he wants it for the ceremony. I am assuming it’s a trick – to put the death draught in his brother’s cup so that he can pretend to drink his cup of blood, his brother will drink the draught and whichever was meant to be King won’t matter. The one would be dead and everyone would assume that it was because of the magic. No one would suspect. I couldn’t risk him hurting Ginata if she refused him.”

  “But there’s not going to be a ceremony, so it won’t matter?”

  “My concern is that he has an absolute thirst for power, so much so that he would kill his own brother. He would be willing to do anything to get that crown.”

  “Everleigh’s crown.”

  “Exactly. I need you to stick by her. Even more. This brother may not accept this new fate. We need to be ready.”

  “I am ready. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

  “You know she visits her mother’s grave at night?”

  He nods. Neither one of them will ever let anything happen to their Queen.

  Never.

  Lanorie

  WELL IF SHE ISN’T QUEEN I can see that she’s something. Maybe a witch, I don’t know. I am a bit shell-shocked, to be fair. A bit lost for words. I know that never happens to me. But it did tonight.