by Ann Cory
Tatian sauntered to the window and peered out. Already a large crowd formed around the stage. Miles of townspeople littered his view. He'd give them a show of the likes they'd never seen before. They would never again question the power he held. Without it, he was nothing. Tatian wanted to be known as the greatest ruler of the thirteenth century and would kill anyone who stood in his way. He'd show all those who ever doubted his skill with a sword. His father would turn over in his grave if he knew the things Tatian had done and how he ran the kingdom, but Tatian didn't much care. No one told him what to do. They didn't dare.
A heavy knock at the door drew his thoughts back.
"Enter,” he bellowed.
One of his loyal guards stepped in and bowed. “My Lord, the people await your presence."
He raised his chin. “Then I shall give them what they want."
And in return, they would hand over every last penny or risk death, he thought to himself. They'd learn to fear him and do whatever he said.
Tatian grabbed his sword. “Let the games begin."
* * * *
Hartley took her time walking to the town square with the copper pot well hidden beneath the folds of her cloak. Excitement crackled in the air as the people gathered and wagered who would best the king. She could only imagine how many times he'd spied from the window, in awe of the sheer number of people who had come to watch.
With all that had taken place, she found it difficult to remember what she'd ever seen in him. At this point, she didn't care. From here on out, he'd never forget her again.
She made her way through the large crowd to the front and waited. A great stage had been constructed where the duels would take place so all could see. For a brief moment, she faltered, but Raithe's words of encouragement echoed in her mind. It was on this day a year ago that her world changed. Today, she vowed justice.
Raithe paced the foyer. He didn't question Hartley's strength. She was stronger than any woman he knew. She had to be after what she'd experienced. His concern extended to Tatian and his rumoured temper. The man had started more wars and spilled more blood than any reigning king.
In his gut, Raithe felt the same tremors of uncertainty that pulsed in her veins. It tore up his nerves and made his hands shake. In his mind, he heard the verbal battle she had going on with herself. He trusted her completely, but he didn't trust Tatian.
Frustrated, he searched all the rooms of the house until he found Faramir who stood in front of a mirror talking to his reflection.
He cleared his throat to keep from laughing. “Uh, am I interrupting?"
Faramir turned abruptly. “What? No, no of course not. How long were you standing there?"
"Long enough to have your egotistical image forever ingrained in my head. Thanks for that."
"What are friends for? I suppose you want to know what I was doing?"
Raithe put his hand up. “Not at all."
"You sure?"
"Definitely.” He paused to gather his thoughts. “I'm here to ask a favour of my oldest and dearest friend."
Faramir smirked. “You're three months older than I am, don't forget. That makes you my oldest and dearest friend."
Raithe closed his eyes and sighed. Why did he even bother? “Some days, I'd swear the difference is years not months."
"Ouch. Okay, spill. What do you need?"
"I think we should be there today."
"Where?"
He groaned. “Don't be an ass. Where Hartley is. In the square."
"She said she wanted to go alone."
"I know."
"She said she'd be fine."
"I know."
"If she saw us, she'd never forgive us."
Raithe could only stand so many times when Faramir was right. “I agree, so we'll need to make ourselves unrecognisable. It's for her protection. She has her mind set on what she wants to do. The plan she has seen in her mind for a year. Dreamt about each night. It doesn't mean it will happen. This could all blow up in her face."
Faramir paced several times before he spoke. “But we can't assist. At least, you can't. Your oath, remember?"
"I'm not suggesting we do this for her. I wouldn't dare ruin her big moment. We'll merely watch from a distance and be sure she doesn't get hurt. I don't trust Tatian. He's rife with evil, and I don't want to see all her efforts spoiled. He'll be armed, where she won't be."
Faramir rubbed his chin. “I hadn't thought of it that way. Okay, I'm in. She's our queen, and we must keep her safe."
Raithe breathed a sigh of relief. “How should we go? As human or animal?"
"Animal. Less likely to be seen. Besides, I'm far too handsome to not be recognised."
"Give me a break."
Faramir grinned. “It's true."
"Whatever. How should we disguise ourselves? Fox? Bird? Preference?"
"Birds. Easier to escape that way."
"I agree. Can't do ravens, or we'll give ourselves away."
"I say pigeons. Less likely to draw attention."
Raithe grimaced. “Not my first choice, but it'll do. I'll grab the spell book. You sure you can stay away from the ladies long enough to do this?"
"While all women entice me, none is as important to me as Hartley."
He slapped his friend on the arm. “Good man. I'll get things started."
Raithe grabbed his book of spells and thumbed through the pages until he found one to shape-shift them into pigeons. He'd promised to keep Hartley safe, and he wouldn't let her down.
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Chapter Four
Trumpets sounded, and the crowd went silent. Hartley watched Tatian emerge from behind a velvet curtain. Dressed in causal attire, he paraded around more like a court jester than one born of noble blood. While she assumed his ridiculous manner was meant to entertain, she found it a sign of weakness. This knowledge empowered her to continue on.
"Welcome one and all, my good people. You're in for a royal treat today,” he announced with a voice full of authority.
Cheers and whistles rang out among the people while children waved colourful flags. Tatian held up his arm to silence them and motioned for the warriors to approach.
"Ten men willingly accepted my challenge, yet I see only nine dared to show their face. Will anyone among you take the coward's place?"
Hartley raised her hand and stepped forward, the hem of her robe billowing in the slight breeze. “I will, your majesty.” She kept her hood forward to conceal her eyes.
Tatian passed a quick glance over her then roared with laughter. “A woman? That would hardly be a fair fight."
"I can understand if the thought frightens you, sir,” she replied with a bow.
Again he laughed though half-heartedly. “This challenge is not for theatrics, dear woman. Blood will be shed. If, and only if you are serious, then be warned. I'll not be lenient."
With all the courage she could muster, Hartley answered, “Nor will I."
The crowd erupted into applause, which in turn only deepened Tatian's scowl.
"Very well,” he retorted. “I shall accept your offer on one condition. You will battle me only after I've beaten the other nine warriors. I want you to witness the extent of my brutality, as it will no doubt cause you to turn and flee."
She knew all too well of his brutality, however nothing would make her run. Not this day. “As you wish, your majesty."
Tatian returned a smug look then ushered the first of the nine men forward to begin battle.
The lightning clash of swords and the resounding cries of defeat echoed around her ears. Hartley pretended to watch from beneath the hood of her robe, but she hadn't come to witness bloodshed. She knew what the king feared most, and soon the people would too.
* * * *
When Tatian watched the woman approach from the crowd, an odd sensation racked his body. A slow burn that lit his insides on fire. He didn't know whether to be sick or not. It reminded him of the black cloud feeling from ear
lier, and it still didn't make sense. Her voice had a familiar ring to it, but again, he thought it his imagination. There was no reason to think it could be that whore, Hartley. He'd done away with her. Had personally buried her far away from the grounds so as to not be spooked by her spirit.
It hadn't been his first choice to kill her. He missed her voluptuous body, the wildness of her. The sensuous way she moved and writhed beneath him. While her beauty put other women to shame, he wanted a harem not a wife. He wanted women who would put out for him willingly, at any given notice, without the promise of marriage, as she had wanted. In his opinion, fidelity sounded like as much fun as being tortured. The women he purchased and brought in from other countries were more than satisfactory, and it wasn't long before he'd forgotten about Hartley. They pleasured him when needed. Sucked his cock when ordered. The kingdom didn't need a queen. And he didn't need someone who would try to take his power from him. He wouldn't share his reign with anyone. They would only deflect from him.
Aside from that, she'd gotten too comfortable in his palace. He hadn't liked to see his men staring after her or watching the way she sashayed her hips up the staircase. And she'd meddled in his affairs one time too many. Questioned his tactics in dealing with the townspeople and their so-called troubles.
Now, he had another woman to contend with, though he didn't expect her to stick around for long. He didn't relish the thought of slaying her, either. Tatian worried how it would look to the people. Would they sympathise with her and turn on him?
His sword clanged heavy against his competitors. Their blood soaked his blade and flooded the stage. They dared to call themselves warriors? What a joke. Not a single challenger among them.
As he fought, Tatian stole brief glances towards the mysterious woman. Why wouldn't she leave?
* * * *
It was near twilight when Tatian turned his attention back to her, sweat heavy on his brow and spatters of blood dotted his clothing. The ninth warrior lay crumpled at his feet with a sword protruding from his back.
Hartley gripped the copper pot tight beneath her cloak to remind her she held the key to his undoing.
Tatian scowled and pointed a finger in her direction. “You've seen what I'm capable of, yet you remain. Am I to gather you still wish to fight me?"
She stared into his cold dark eyes. Anger coursed through her veins. Finally, she would once again be face to face with him.
Voice strong and steady, she replied, “Yes, I am, your majesty."
For a moment, she swore his confidence faltered. “Then please, make your way up onto the stage."
Her heart pounded as two armour-clad guards led her up the steps. She walked towards him and watched the same guards remove the dead warrior.
"What weapon will you use?” Tatian scoffed. “A sword perhaps?"
Hartley shook her head. “No, your majesty. I don't require a weapon."
Bemusement crossed his face.
"Am I to believe you would fight me with your bare hands?"
She held one up and turned it side to side. “No, your majesty. They are small and meek."
Throughout the square, people stirred and murmured to one another.
A sneer crossed Tatian's lips, and his thick brows drew into black slants.
"Than what, if anything, do you plan to best me with?"
Hartley pulled out the small potted tree from beneath her robe and held it out. “With this."
* * * *
Raithe perched on a long branch of a nearby tree with Faramir beside him. His breath hitched as he looked on. Even in pigeon form he could sense the rush of adrenaline through her body. She'd made it this far. There would be no stopping her now.
"Look at her,” he quipped, pride coursing through his veins. “She doesn't shake or shrink away. I've never felt her this strong before. She's in her element."
"You see, I told you she'd be fine,” Faramir gloated. “One day, you'll listen to me and save yourself a lot of grief."
Raithe wasn't convinced that day would ever come. Concern for Hartley came second nature to him. “It's not over yet, friend. We need to be ready should he raise his sword."
"Do you think he would in front of his own people?"
He hated not being certain. “Tatian's capable of anything. Don't forget, he's high on adrenaline, too. Do you really believe that, after killing nine infamous warriors, he'd balk at killing a woman? Right now he doesn't even know who she is."
"Does she plan to reveal herself?"
Raithe searched her thoughts but couldn't read into them. “I don't know. This is her moment in the spotlight. Just be ready."
* * * *
After several moments of silence, Tatian clutched his chest as if in fear, only to erupt into laughter. “A small tree? How could you think that a tree would fair well against any of my weapons?"
Hartley grew tired of his theatrics. He was on his way to finding out just how deadly this weapon truly was. “This is no ordinary tree,” she countered. “It's a blood tree."
Tatian harnessed his sword and crossed his arms. An arrogant smile smeared his face. “I've never heard of a blood tree."
Hartley waited for the astonished gasps of the crowd to fade before she continued.
"I assure you it's a rare but special tree. By morning, the bud will open into a beautiful red flower. The very flower that Lady Hartley loved most."
Tatian's smile faded, and his face turned ashen.
Satisfied by his reaction, she went on. “The fragrance is unique but very sweet and will remind you daily of her. In fact, you'll not be able to think of anything else except her."
Anger marred Tatian's face, and he waved his hand. “Take this out of my view. I want nothing to do with it. You mock my challenge, and I won't have it."
"Hear me out, your majesty,” she insisted, “I don't believe your people know the full story of Lady Hartley. Or how she died by your hands."
Cries of the crowd reverberated all around.
Tatian's lips trembled. “I've no knowledge about this woman you speak of. Leave now from my sight, or I'll have my guards remove you."
Her pulse thundered, but she persisted. “Ah, but your majesty, you do know of this woman. Why else would your eyes show fear at the mention of her name?"
"Nonsense,” he spat and looked out to the people. “This woman has come to make a joke out of my challenge. She feeds you lies."
Hartley took a step forward. “No, your majesty. It's your lies from which this seed was born. You were to marry her until she found out you were stealing from your people and questioned it."
"Enough,” he shouted, his face flushed and slick with sweat. He gestured to his guards. “Take this wretched tree from the woman and have it burned at once."
To her delight the guards remained still, their eyes transfixed on the object that disturbed their king so greatly.
Hartley shook her head. “It makes no matter if this tree is burned. I've planted seeds all along the perimeter of the castle while you slept. The seeds sprout fast, and the roots bind tight to the earth. The trees will grow until they surround the entire castle. Everywhere you look you will see the red blooms and smell their sweet scent. It will be as if Lady Hartley is present herself. Ruling beside you as was intended before you took her life."
"Impossible,” he whispered.
Again she held out the tree. “I assure you, it's not."
Tatian fell to his knees. “Please, I beg you. Remove the seeds from around the castle at once."
She raised her chin. “I cannot. The only men strong enough to remove the roots have died by your hands on this very day."
His gaze shifted briefly to the slain challengers then returned to her. “Why,” he cried. “Why are you doing this?"
"In honour of Lady Hartley. She loved you despite the cruelty you showed her. Each bloom represents the lies you told and the drops of innocent blood spilled by your hands."
Tatian's lips quivered. “If I claim you
the winner of this challenge, will that appease you?"
She chuckled. It didn't surprise her to hear such a selfish request from his lips. “No, it wouldn't."
To the surprise of all, he reached out and grasped her hand. “Please, I beg you. There must be something I can do."
She withdrew her hand and spoke loud enough for the people to hear. “Yes, there is. Admit you killed Lady Hartley with your bare hands. Tell them you're nothing more than a coward. Then relinquish your crown."
Fear swept through him and took his breath hostage. Tatian weighed his options. He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. One clean strike and he'd be done with this wretched woman who dared to threaten him in front of his people.
He fought to regain control. “I'll do no such thing. Who are you? Who are you to accuse me of murder?"
The woman raised her hood long enough for him to see her eyes. His chest tightened. He recognised those eyes. They were the same beautiful brown eyes he'd stared into while she moaned in ecstasy. The same eyes that glazed over with her mouth around his cock. Tatian shook his head. This was madness, pure madness. It couldn't be Hartley. He'd killed her and buried her with his own two hands. Watched the dirt coat her pale face and body.
"You aren't her. I demand you tell me. Who are you?"
Her lips spread into a wicked grin. “You know who I am."
"You can't be. You're nothing more than some illusion whipped up by witchcraft. Did someone put you up to this?"
"I promise that I'm the same woman you believed you murdered in your bedchamber and buried alive. The same woman who loved you with all her heart. The only difference now is that I loathe you with every ounce of my being."
Tatian stared at her. His mind couldn't grasp it. He felt himself losing his edge. He'd go crazy if she were to haunt him every night. How could he sleep? How would he eat?
Hearing the murmurs of the crowd, he turned to address them. If they believed him, it wouldn't matter what she said or did. They would prove their loyalty to him.
"This woman before you is a ghost. She isn't real. This is all a game."
To his dismay, the crowd broke out into laughter. Again he turned to his guards. “Do as I say and throw this woman into the dungeon."
