by LJ Swallow
Three humans dead.
Two witches missing.
Those who died or disappeared were Alaric’s staunch supporters, who'd argued a return to the old ways the new Regent proposes.
The finger points squarely at one person. Mattias.
We're called into a meeting room to watch Alaric address his kingdom. Fear ices my heart as his broadcast on screens around the sector announces a lock down until he manages to bring the perpetrators to justice. Already, he's sent law enforcement into the sector to search for Mattias and his conspirators. The remaining Senate members around me are joined by an uneasy silence and suspicion between them.
Mattias is missing, and Alaric points to his absence as guilt. A picture is painted of Mattias, the man who would ruin the sector by turning Senate members against each other. The man who would kill to take his brother's place. Alaric plays the wounded act, pleading with his brother to return and unite the sector, that he'll share the power and bring stability again.
I turn away from the screen and leave the room. Now I understand why Mattias needed to leave. If the Senate believe he's responsible, he could walk into a death sentence of his own. A sick fear he's responsible passes in waves, but a deeper part can't believe he would be. Mattias's anger last night that I blamed him for allowing his brother power is stronger than any emotion I've seen from him before. His leaving me hurts my heart.
Alaric appears. I hear his voice in the hallway and tense, convinced he'll walk in to see me, or accuse me of crimes. His voice passes by and the remaining Senate members lock themselves in a meeting with Alaric, no doubt fearing for their own lives the way I fear for mine. Does anybody know I was here last night? Somebody no doubt heard my screams inside and saw me outside before Mattias cloaked me. I'm a witness to something sinister that goes beyond a Regent silencing dissent.
The rest of the day passes in a silent trepidation amongst those working here. Nobody speaks about last night’s events, as if one wrong word could implicate them. Not one person doubts Alaric’s threat to publicly execute anybody he discovers is involved, as a warning to others considering dissent.
Brandon finished up early, and I don’t blame him. Unease in the Senate morphed into fear and few remain in the building as the day turns to shadow. Will everybody leave tonight? I’m not hanging around, that’s for sure.
The cut on my hand twinges, the redness from Mattias's bizarre decision to cut me spreads the way a paper cut does into something bigger than it is. The wound hurts still but not as badly as in the minutes after he did this. At the wound's centre, a black scab has formed that hurts to touch, but the worst side-effect is the possibility he’s poisoned me.
If my hand falls off, I'll strangle him.
Well, probably not.
Shaking my head at my own black humour, I prepare to pack my things and leave work. There is no way I'll be last out of here, and I bet I'm not the only one thinking this.
The door opens and my blood cools as I look up. Alaric stands in the door watching me, face impassive, and I shrug away the sensation of insects crawling down my back.
“Good evening, Cora.” He stands, hands in his smart suit trouser pockets as he smiles broadly. The man hiding behind the polite facade sickens my stomach.
“Hello, Alaric.” I give a tight smile.
“I need to talk to you.” He steps to one side and gestures to the doorway. “Privately.”
When I hesitate, Alaric turns on his heel and strides away. I wait for him to shout my name, and his certainty I'll do as he says grates. I follow, before he draws attention to us. We reach his office and he pushes the heavy door open, then folds his arms and tips his head.
“In there.”
He's close to the doorway, and if Alaric thinks I'll shrink away from him, he can forget that. Walking tall, I pause and look into the Regent's eyes. He doesn’t respond to my defiant stance and remains inscrutable. My arm brushes his chest as I pass and the contact reminds me of the other evening, the man who can switch from friendly to threatening in seconds. Which Alaric am I meeting today?
Shelves line his office wall, but instead of books, they contain artefacts locked behind glass casing; strange metal items I don't recognise contrasting with what look uncomfortably like carved bone. The Hyland runes are painted in gold on every item of furniture, and the door, the dark eye at the centre seemingly following me around the room.
“Sit.”
Alaric gestures at the seat opposite his large one, where he sits too. I haven't been alone with the man since the nightmare day at the Hyland house. I pull my sleeve over the cut on my hand and hope I'm not about to go missing. Photos are laid on the table between us but they're grainy and I can't make out what they are.
Alaric turns one towards me. “You were here last night.”
Hairs on my arms raise as I study the picture. Me, in the Senate building hallway, looking down at a man's body. Alaric pushes a second in front of me. Another image, me leaning over and touching the body. I take the pictures printed from security camera footage, a whole pile featuring my presence here last night. I leaf through, panic increasing over Alaric's next move.
More incriminating images.
Mattias. He's alone, inside the building. In one picture he's talking to the man I recognise as the now-deceased guy who threatened to shoot me. He's dressed the same as when I last saw him, and the time stamp on the bottom implicates him further. Again, a series of photos with Mattias in the building.
“This part is the most interesting.” Alaric leans back in his seat and opens a laptop. “I thought you could explain a few things to me.”
He twists the silver laptop around and hits a key. In security footage from the darkened car park, Mattias appears from the back of the building he hid me behind. My chest tightens aware what will follow: me. A few minutes later, I walk out, my head down, moving in the opposite direction.
Alaric hits pause and closes the lid with a gentle click.
“Three people died last night. Three Senate members and my staunchest supporters. Others are missing. You were in the building.” He rests his arms on the desk and leans towards me. “And so was my brother.”
“I wasn't with him,” I say, voice almost a whisper.
“Um.” He gestures at the laptop. “Yes, you were.”
“Afterwards.”
“After what?”
I grip my hands together beneath the desk. “I was working late. I didn't know what was happening. I...” I clench my teeth against panicky tears. “This was nothing to do with me.”
Alaric's eyes burn into me, and I can't hold his gaze, cursing myself for looking away and implying guilt. He remains silent, each second pushing more terrified thoughts into my head.
What happens now?
“I require your help, Cora. I need you to tell me who Mattias works with. You know more than you're telling me.”
“Mattias said it wasn't him!” I blurt.
“Did he? Really? And who else would kill those supporting me against him?”
“Other Senate members?”
“Yes, I don't doubt other Senate members were involved. I will find who and deal with them. However, they're unlikely to work alone and succeed. Why attempt to overthrow me unless Mattias wants the role?”
Politics. Witches. Death. How did I become involved in this? All because I met Mattias one night and our confusing attraction led us to be seen together, and something wound us tight enough that we couldn't break apart. I stare at the items on the shelves behind Alaric's head, grasping at answers. I have none. I have no idea what's happening.
“Alaric. I promise you. I know nothing about this. I'm just a Scion looking for a husband and wanting to disappear into my life. I have no desire to be involved in anything that would destabilise the sector.”
Alaric runs his fingers along the desk, lips pursed. “That's what you want people to think. You hide behind your decoy witch boy, but you have plans. What are they? You can't do anything
alone. You’re just a human girl. I doubt you'd truly leave your easy life in the Enclave for the harsher existence in the sector. Which leaves you one option: side with people here against me.”
Is there any point arguing with this man? He constructs his own views and moulds to those around to justify or prove his theories. Somehow, this includes me. “No. I just have issues finding a husband because I'm—”
“In love with a Hyland?”
“No! I've never wanted to marry a witch.”
“And now you're contradicting yourself, Cora.”
“No, I'm looking for a husband because it's my role. That doesn't mean I want to marry.”
Alaric stands and picks up the laptop. “Bored now. Maybe I need to take this to the authorities.”
“Why?”
He takes the photos from the table too. “Evidence.”
“That I'm involved? Alaric, don't. I'm not!”
Alaric slams his the laptop down. “Then tell me what he's doing.”
“I don't know! How many times do we need this conversation?”
“Even if I did believe you, I can't hide this evidence from people. They want answers and somebody held accountable.” His voice is soft and apologetic, but his control over me harsh.
“I’ll die,” I whisper. “A trial for murder. You told the sector that you’d execute people.”
“Well, that would be a shame.”
I stand too. “Alaric. Don't do this. Tell me what I can do to make you believe me.”
“I'm growing very tried of you and my brother. Why did he leave you? Didn't you want to go?”
I tuck my shaking hands beneath my arms. “I don't want anything to do with him anymore.”
Alaric mock pouts. “I hope he doesn't hurt you. After killing witches, I'm sure one girl's death doesn't matter. Maybe his brain took over from his dick, and he realised what a liability you are.”
I want to bite back that I'm sick of his undertones and veiled threats, but I've learned a few lessons recently. One of them is Alaric feeds and satisfies himself on fear, and brutally comes down on those who oppose or upset him. If what Mattias says is true, Alaric has created devious ways to eradicate others. He’ll kill his own supporters if it suits his needs.
“I was stupid,” I whisper. “I fell in love with a man who doesn't care about me, and now he's made me a scapegoat by ensuring I'd be at his crime scene.”
He sighs with mock exaggeration. “My biggest dilemma here is my relationship with your father. He’s very loyal, even if his daughter is not. I need men like him. Actually, I was chatting to him about you yesterday.”
The Alaric I hate the most is the one across from me now. The man who pretends he has the good of his people at heart, and that he'll fake benevolence over. The smiling, good-looking Regent who knows he has the other powerful people as paranoid as him, fearing for their lives.
“About me?”
Alaric leafs through the images on the table again. “I need someone to fulfill a role for me, and I think you're the perfect candidate.”
My stomach twists at the word “candidate,” how the word rolls off his tongue, from a mouth twisted into a wicked smile.
“Candidate for what?”
He pauses, carefully allowing the tension to increase, enjoying the panic I can’t hide. “Cora. I’ve decided I’ll marry you.”
I sink back onto the chair. He did not just say that. “Pardon?”
“Marry. Wife. Regent Queen or whatever you want to call yourself.”
Fuck. The drink now looks inviting and I pick up the glass. The liquid burns my throat as I swallow the contents in one go. No, he’s not serious.
“A marriage of convenience, should we say? A reward for your father’s unwavering loyalty. You were facing a loveless marriage anyway, and I'd rather have a wife who leaves me alone as much as possible. Women can be demanding, and I know you won't demand anything of me. Plus, after the surprise move you pulled last night, I could keep a close eye on you.”
I laugh. “Okay. Very funny.”
“I'm not joking, Cora.” He sits on the edge of the desk close to me. “You will of course need to produce an heir, so you will have my attention some of the time.” He reaches out a hand and cups my chin. “Which I look forward to.”
My hand shakes where I hold the glass, heart pounding in my ears, and my stomach turns at the memory of his maid's fear and injuries. I grasp at the ledge in my mind, the one my fingers slip from. “But... if you want an heir choose a stronger family line than the Karran,” I manage to stammer.
“Oh.” He places a hand over his mouth in mock surprise. “You might die, damn, I forgot about that part.” The glee on Alaric's face at my pale-faced reaction sickens me further. “I just hope it's not slow and painful.”
His echoing of the words he used the evening he threatened me before tell everything I need to know. “Don't do this,” I whisper.
“Would you rather my brother chose you? Is that the issue?”
“I mean nothing to Mattias. If I did, why would he leave me?”
“Good point. Still, maybe he’ll come back and challenge me for your affections.” He snorts and drains his glass.
“Alaric, please. No. Choose another girl.”
“You think you can say no to me?” he asks in a low voice. “Because you'll soon learn you can't. If you attempt to resist this, I will walk out there and tell them you helped murder people. And then?” He shrugs.
If I could, I'd fill the silent room with a scream; demand he change his mind. What have I done to make this man want to manipulate and hurt me? Why would he place somebody he suspects is behind a plot to kill him into his house?
And bed.
Alaric sips his drink, goading me for a reaction. Mattias was right. This man with his paranoia can't stand anybody's refusal to accept his power. I may not challenge him politically, but I represent a side of the world who does.
The liquid burns as I drink, attempting to wash down the rising bile.
I need to leave. I can’t show him how he’s succeeded in weakening me.
“Now?” I ask hoarsely.
“You'll need to pack a few things. I think it’s safer for you if you move into the Hyland Estate as soon as possible.”
Alaric rests back in his chair and laces his hands behind his head. When I don't move, he tips his head to indicate the door.
Resisting the urge to run from the room, I smile and say goodbye.
“Poor Scion,” says Alaric. “Let's see what Mattias's next move is, shall we? Because I just took his queen.” He bites his lip. “Metaphorically speaking.”
Alaric is handing me a death sentence, but a slower and more horrific one than I'd face on trial and executed.
If I marry this man, I will die within a year.
If I leave, death will follow me.
There is nothing I can do.
I am a Scion and my life belongs to the Othala.
My life belongs to Alaric.
15
Alaric did not capture the queen, and I refuse to be anybody's pawn. Doesn’t he know a chess game ends with the king unable to escape? I think he needs to watch his metaphors.
Is he counting on me leaving and taking him straight to Mattias? Bad luck, Mattias doesn't think enough of me to take me with him, and now this has happened I hate him more. The thought choking when I woke up this morning wasn't a memory about people dying or dead in front of me, but Mattias walking away leaving my insides torn out.
After work, as I packed, I repeatedly checked for anything unusual in the street outside. Cars, people... What's the point? Alaric would be more covert than that.
I always told Mattias I didn't want his help. If I can't find him, then I make my own life. Breaking a connection with both Hylands is the most sensible course of action here. I'd rather live in a slum in the sector than be tangled up in this anymore. If Mattias is planning anything against Alaric, and is successful, the sector could change for the better
. If Mattias does nothing, then I stick in the part I planned to join years ago.
My plans and dreams are crushed by a black car with Hyland number plates arrival minutes before my planned get the hell out of the Enclave.
The announcement stuns the Enclave almost as much as me. An official party to celebrate the Regent's upcoming marriage is arranged for three days’ time. My new position as Alaric's betrothed naturally calls for extra security, based on recent events.
Of course it bloody does, and I knew immediately where I would end up “protected” from assassination attempts.
Hyland House.
Escaping my mother's gushing excitement and my father's peacock like reaction to those around is one benefit. I grit my teeth at the idea of my father trampling people on his sudden climb up the society ladder.
Once I'm behind the Hyland House doors, there's a finality to the situation. The inevitability of my situation follows me around like a gathering storm cloud. Alaric won't achieve this without a fight, but without anybody on my side, what do I do? One small mercy—Alaric doesn't lock me in my room as if I'm a prisoner. His control goes further than that. I'm in his house and I can't leave without a swathe of security guards hauling my ass back in. Or can I?
The bastard knows if he allows me to leave the house alone that I'll disappear, but he's also aware my options are limited. Alaric claims he's not keeping me here against my will, but if I attempt to leave, I don't doubt I'll be back here in minutes. Apparently this is for my protection. Yeah, right.
The vast suite filled with luxurious furnishings serves as my gilded cage. My childhood home was filled with luxury, as all Enclave homes compete for the best, but this room makes our house look like a hovel. When I first arrived, I wandered between the bedroom and a small sitting room, then looked out across the grounds from my third storey window. No chance I can jump and run, then. I dragged the heavy curtains across to close out the world abandoning me and resisted the temptation to throw things in anger. Stupid, expensive porcelain vases on brightly polished tables. My feet sink into the thick cream-coloured carpets as I cross to sit on the edge of the bed.
