Singer's Sword

by Cassandra Boyson

  He nodded, eyes bright with incredulity.

  “But-but I don’t see how…” With the stomping of her foot, she gasped, “That cavern… the rubies. Or the Entity. Something about something there… or the combination—perhaps the gems themselves. They awoke it.” Her hands went to her throat as if she wished she might rip her vocal cords out.

  Fredrick stepped forward to take possession of her shoulders, lightly shaking her. “It is a gift, Hazel.” He released her then, taking a sober step back. She watched him suddenly relate to how she felt. He, of anyone, should know how such a peculiarity made one feel. But then he looked up. “You have a truly spectacular voice. Even without the gift, it would be an anomaly.”

  “But I can never sing again—not now!” She fell to the bench before the fireplace. “And I do love to sing.”

  He sat beside her. “You didn’t seem to…”

  “I like to sing alone… when I’m bored, gloomy, content. If I were trapped in a dungeon with naught else to do, I would be satisfied so long as I could sing.”

  She looked up at him as he watched her with that look, only this time he was over the moon she had opened up, even if completely by accident.

  She stood. “I-I’ll retire to my chamber for a while, if you don’t mind.”

  “Very well,” he answered with almost exasperating understanding. “I will see you for evening meal?”

  She shrugged, then curtsied and exited the room.

  * * *

  Hazel awoke in The Mirror. She sprang to her feet, unable to remember how she might have arrived there. She did not in the least recall journeying home. The memory loss was meant to occur once one left the room—not while within.

  The door opened behind her and she turned to find a beautiful woman enter as if she owned the place, or would like to. After her, came Armond, who looked about the corner one last time before entering himself.

  “We’re fortunate I haven’t appointed a new keeper of the room,” he said quietly, as if afraid someone might hear.

  “Armond?” Hazel said dubiously.

  The two walked past her, up to the far wall.

  “As king, you must command it to open,” the woman said.

  “Command what to open?” he asked. “There is no door.”

  “Armond?” Hazel spoke loudly. But when she attempted to take hold of his shoulder, she found her own hand went through him, as if he were a ghost… or she was. Was she dead?

  The beautiful woman who stood nearly half a head taller than the rather tall Armond said with a grin that worked to conceal her irritation, “If you do as I say, you will understand.”

  Armond raised his brows and then obeyed.

  The center section of the stone wall lifted to reveal a secondary room. Within it, stood a hearthstone with the most curious flame Hazel had ever seen. At its center, she was almost certain, glittered the diamond she had choked up those nights past.

  “How did you know this was here?” Armond asked the woman. “I was not aware it was in the architect’s plans.”

  “It wasn’t. It never is. It constructs itself.”

  He quirked a brow at her. “How can that be, my lady?”

  “Of that, I have never been certain,” she said with the shake of her head. “Now, did you bring it?”

  As a look of discomfort crossed his face, he withdrew a black amulet from his pocket. “I don’t see why you required something from Hazel’s chambers for this.”

  “It wasn’t hers to begin with,” the woman said almost angrily. “She stole it. We’re merely replacing it.”

  Hazel gasped as she took a closer look at the amulet. It was the one she’d pulled from the debris after the castle’s destruction. It had been found beneath the pile of broken gemstone. She’d gathered both the stone pieces and this amulet into her pocket and then stored it safely in a satchel which she now kept in her night table. Now, it seemed, Armond had taken it from her quarters. She raised a brow at him.

  “But what do we do with it?” he asked.

  “You must drop it directly into the center of the flames. It will take over from there.”

  Hazel observed this woman with new eyes. Who was she and why was she ordering Armond about, getting him to meddle with things he did not understand? What was their intention?

  Armond stepped up to the hearth, his head held back as the heat overwhelmed him. Then, he centered the amulet above the fire… and released it.

  Immediately, the flames transformed. Where they had been white, purple and red, they were now blacker than black. It was like a dark void.

  Hazel looked to Armond. “What have you done?” Though she could not rightly understand what had just occurred, it could not bode well.

  The stranger smiled. “And there you have it. Guaranteed protection of Kierelia for all time.”

  As Hazel gazed between them, she watched Armond transition from himself to his uncle, King Zephuel, and back again. She blinked. What could all this mean? How was that dark amulet going to protect Kierelia? And why had she seen King Zeph…

  She froze. King Zephuel had cursed his nation by consorting with a sorceress… She peered into the woman’s enchanting face. Could this be the infamous Sorceress Maera, who was said to have lived nearly as long as the prophet?

  Had Armond just repeated history?

  She awoke with a gasp, sweat dripping from her face. It was a moment before she realized she was in a Bashtiian bed in the middle of the afternoon. Had it all been a dream then? Only a nightmare? She stole several relieved breaths. Armond had not just cursed Kierelia again. They were safe.

  …But were they? It had felt so real. Something in her did not sit right. She stood from the bed to pace the floor, considering what she’d just witnessed. It had been a dream. She had to let it go, ignore it. But she could not.

  She had to go home.

  ***

  Hazel had not intended to appear for supper. An early bedtime was necessary if she was to catch the first voyage the following morning. But the thought of leaving without speaking just once more with Fredrick was out of the question. Somehow, somewhere along the way, he had worked his way into her meager collection of friends. Though it often unnerved her, he cared very much about the things she said, about learning who she was. She thought that a rather rare quality in a world where most cared for naught but themselves—especially nobles.

  After the meal, many retired to the entertaining room where they chatted until the performance began. It was much like an old evening in Kierelia, though they’d given up the tradition since the calamity. Hazel found she did not miss it.

  “Enjoying yourself?” Fredrick asked as he sat down beside her.

  She nodded. “And you?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve heard better.”

  “Oh, I think he’s talented.”

  He tilted his head to eye her. “Falls a little short of what I heard this morning, but it will do.”

  She played with her hands. “I asked your staff to inform you of my departure on the morrow.”

  “I was made aware,” he said with a huff. “I had planned to show you a few more of the sights, but if you are so homesick for king and country…”

  “Well… perhaps one day I’ll see them.”

  His brows rose. “The sights? You plan to return?”

  “I’m not inviting myself, but you never know.”

  Silence commenced between them and she began to wonder if she’d offended him. It had been discourteous to decide to return home without first speaking with her host, who happened to be an allied king.

  “I am sorry I was so hasty in booking my departure,” she said. “But I must see that all is well at home.”

  He nodded. “I would like to write to you if you don’t mind.”

  She smirked. The notion satisfied her. After all, one did not share such secrets as these two did with just anyone. “I would not mind that at all.”

  21

  "Oh. You’re back,” Armond murmured,
scarcely looking up from his book.

  Hazel blinked. “Yes, I just thought you’d like to know things went smoothly.”

  He offered her a quick smile. “Great.”

  Silently, she huffed, her mind racing back to when last she’d seen him. Hadn’t there almost seemed to be… something between them? Maybe even something like feelings that might have inspired a king to propose to a nobody?

  “Well,” she said, not concealing her vexation, “I’ve got the agreement ready for you to sign whenever you have time to go over it.”

  He nodded.

  “It may take some time, so be certain to block out an afternoon and let my maid know.”

  He looked up and nodded before returning to his book.

  Widening her eyes, she turned on her heel and had nearly stepped out when she heard, “Good to see you finally back where you belong. I’m sorry you had to be bothered to return at all.”

  Silently, she took a few steps toward him. “Are you… offended I stayed so long?”

  He shook his head. “Your time is your own. It’s not as if you’re a servant.”

  She huffed. “You realize it wasn’t actually that long for an alliance negotiation?”

  He didn’t give her the satisfaction of looking up, but she did note the doubt in his eyes. “We’ve been hearing the rumors.”

  “Rumors?”

  “That you are to be engaged to King Fredrick.”

  “What?”

  He raised a brow.

  “I have no idea where that came from,” she said with irritation, “but I assure you nothing of that nature was at any time considered… nor even hinted.”

  His face softened, but her heart did not. She’d been looking forward to seeing him all the while she’d been away. She’d missed him, had even sent letters, to which she’d received no response. “At any rate, let me know when you’re ready to sign.”

  Then, she did leave the room.

  A hand took possession of her wrist. “Hazel, wait,” he urged.

  She stole it back. “What?”

  “I’m… delighted to see you.”

  “I don’t blame you. Now, you’ve got someone to pawn your work off on.”

  His face fell. “You really think that’s what I do—how I think?”

  She released a long sigh. “No, I just… I was looking forward to seeing you again and you’re being so… asinine.”

  “Asinine?” He raised an almost mirthful brow.

  “Irritating.”

  “Are we in for a round of Affrontery now?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll see you later.”

  He took hold of her arm again. “I really, really missed you, Hazel.”

  She gazed back, speechless—both angry and flattered. And completely swept up in his bright eyes despite herself. But then she recalled why she’d returned. Biting her lip, she looked up into his face. “Have you visited The Mirror of late?”

  His eyes rose, briefly betraying him before he could say, “Does anyone visit that place anymore? It doesn’t even require a keeper.”

  “Which would make sneaking in with a renowned sorceress nearly effortless.”

  Her heart hammered as he gazed down at her in astonishment.

  “How can you know that?”

  How could she know it? It was a good question. Even so, her heart sank. “Armond,” she said fiercely. “Tell me you did not consort with Sorceress Maera.”

  He drew her back into his study and soundly closed the door. “It isn’t what it seems. She’s not what she seems. She’s—”

  “Very beautiful.”

  “No! That is, she is, but… she came to me, offering protection from any and every danger we might face, Hazel. Dragons, the Deep South, even Bashtii, if it came to it.”

  “Bashtii?! Armond, can I not leave you alone for one moment before you…” She stopped herself. No matter how angry she was, he was her king. “First of all, I assure you Bashtii is the opposite of a threat. Secondly, what you have done has not vouchsafed the kingdom. It has sentenced it! Your uncle’s involvement with Maera was what lost us the Great Entity’s favor in the first place. I firmly believe it was why the dragons were able to wreak such havoc on us.”

  “You firmly believe? But you don’t really know anything. And what do you mean my uncle was involved with Maera?”

  “What you have done is merely a recurrence of what he did. It was… it was why my parents tried to have him, er… dethroned.”

  He raised a brow. “Are you considering the same?”

  Her brows shot up. “How dare you ask me that?”

  “It’s not as if you’d have to kill me. The throne is yours if you want it and you know it.”

  Stealing a breath, she took a moment to settle herself before drawing him beside her on the settee. “What can I say to assure you I will never do as you fear?”

  “I don’t fear it, I…”

  “It doesn’t matter. We must fix what has been done to the heart of the castle.”

  “The heart of the castle?”

  She shook her head. “You don’t remember what you did in The Mirror?”

  “Well, I know we were meant to deliver some amulet, but I recall nothing that happened once within.”

  She stood and held out her hand. “It is time you understood the innermost workings of your fortress, Armond.”

  * * *

  That night, they crept into The Mirror. Hazel wasn’t certain why she felt the need for secrecy or whether it was at all necessary. But even Armond had seemed to agree that their dealings ought not to be known. Then again, he would be the one to wish it concealed.

  “Hazel, I have no memory of where I may have put that amulet,” he said, lifting the center carpet to peer beneath.

  “In my dream, you asked this wall to lift and there was a room behind it.”

  “I’m sorry—your dream?”

  “Oh,” she said sheepishly. “I didn’t mention that was how I knew what you’d done?”

  He planted hands on his hips and shook his head. “How can you have dreamed about my actual whereabouts, Lady Hazel?”

  She shook her head. “I cannot say. I feel… that is, I wonder if it might not have been the doing of the Great Entity.”

  “Are you trying to tell me an old god is tattling on me to you?”

  She nearly slapped him. “He is not merely an old god, you fool. He is the God, the creator of all existence. And he is absolutely beautiful.”

  His brows met his hairline. “Are you trying to tell me you’ve actually seen this Entity?”

  She calmed, not having meant to reveal her experience in Bashtii. “Just tell it to open, will you?” She pointed to the wall.

  He patted the stones warily. “All right, here goes… Wall, open.”

  Instantly, the wall began to rise into the ceiling, revealing the hearth in the small room beyond.

  Armond’s hand went to his head. “Curiouser and curiouser,” he murmured.

  The black fire that billowed like a void was not welcoming.

  Hazel handed Armond the tongs. “Fetch it, oh, king.”

  “I see nothing but blackness. How am I to find it?”

  She shrugged. “Feel around.”

  He lifted the tongs.

  “But carefully,” she quickly added. “That is where I believe the heart dwells.”

  He looked to her as if she were mad, then slowly reached in. In a moment, his brows lifted and he withdrew the amulet. Instantly, the two were thrown back and smoke filled the chamber. Gasping and coughing, the two drew to their feet as it diminished.

  Hazel raced to the hearth room to find the fire was now white, purple and red again. The glittering diamond burned eagerly at its center.

  Armond dropped the tongs to peer into it as best he could. “There really is something in there.”

  Hazel picked up the amulet from the floor. “Now, we must determine what is to be done with this nasty beasty.”

  * * *

&nbs
p; The last thing Hazel wished to do was journey from her newly built home once again. But journey she must, this time with both Armond and Dorian at her side. She had experienced yet another dream concerning the amulet. In order to display their total renunciation, Armond must return it to its maker: Sorceress Maera. It had long been rumored that she housed within the southern region. Indeed, many of the tribes rather esteemed her, while still others either fear or loathed her. Blythe saw to it that his tribe was included in the latter. This made it all the more convenient for them to stay with his clan. There would be merely complete understanding, or so they hoped.

  Hazel’s eyes watered when they came to where the mossy forest should have been, where instead there were mostly charred trees and stumps. The beautiful mosses had all but vanished. She and Dorian exchanged dejected glances. Its beauty was quite gone. Even so, she already spotted saplings of fresh vegetation. One day, the forest would gleam in glorious beauty again.

  It wasn’t until they reached a largely tented area that they realized they’d arrived. Before it stood a cluster of people whose greeting greatly differed from her last visit. This time, an assembly met them at the carriage, where its door was flung open by Blythe.

  “Welcome, King Armond!” he said heartily. To Hazel, he spoke in a satisfied whisper, “And welcome Lady Fortune, singer of enchanted song.”

  Her eyes flashed. Could he tell, somehow, that her gift had re-awoken? When he raised a brow at her expression, she knew she’d just given herself away. But the crowd was eager to welcome them, so from the carriage, they were escorted. Soon, they were carried upon the hands of the people and into the large green tent.

  When they were at last set upon their own feet and could view the spectacle, it was clear this was where the whole of the local people slept. It was so very, very different from her prior visit that it at first saddened her. But then she gazed upon the faces of the cheering people, busily smiling and shouting over one another. They were happy.

  “Come,” Blythe said. “I must see you to your tents.”

  Hazel’s relief was two-fold. She was more than ready to escape the noise and clamor of the crowd and she was satisfied that they were offered private tents. She couldn’t really imagine Armond sleeping within a crowded one.