Seize the Crown

by Gemma Perfect

  I stand closer to him. Look at his face. This man may be a cruel and slightly mad King, but he is a man, a person. I have no right to end his life, I have no claim to his life. I can help Everleigh in any way possible but I cannot go down this road. It will only end badly for me.

  I touch his skin. What happened to his soul to rot it? How is he so evil at such a young age? I close my eyes, my hand on his cheek and I tell myself, silently but firmly, this man was just like me once, innocent of wrong doing but considering it. He stepped over that line.

  I will not.

  I concentrate on my skin touching his and will some of my goodness (just about) to leech through and heal him.

  I will never know why this young prince turned out to be a crazed King with murder on his mind. I will not know his thoughts or secrets. And I do not need to.

  I need only serve.

  Him.

  Everleigh.

  Whoever holds the crown must hold my loyalty, if only to stop me doing something terrible that I would never recover from.

  I let my hand wander to his heart. I feel the beat of his life and I focus on him feeling well and being good. Is it too late to save him, whoever rules? If he was repentant, Everleigh could lock him up, let him live.

  When did his heart change? He would have been a beautiful baby, an innocent boy, with all the privileges and riches any child could desire.

  He is a handsome man. With his eyes closed and the hate they glow with covered up, he looks even better. He is handsome and I know some of the revulsion I felt for him has dissipated, despite what he’s done to Lanorie. After all, I just thought myself about crossing that line. Whatever stopped me didn’t stop him. That’s the only difference

  We have both had dark thoughts. I was strong enough to deflect them.

  Or too cowardly to follow them through. I shake my head at that thought.

  The bleeding has stopped but I need to tend to his wound. I need to wake him too. I go to a shelf of potions and find one that will slowly revive him.

  I lift his head, awkwardly and let a few drops wet his lips. He stirs and I drip a few more into his now open mouth.

  He opens his eyes and closes them again.

  Wolf pokes his head through the door. “He awake yet?”

  I shake my head. “Help me get the clothes off his top half. I need to be able to get at his wound.”

  Wolf lifts Millard under one arm into a sitting position and I step around him, pulling at his clothes, ripping one bit of his shirt, struggling to get it up and over his head, without much assistance from Wolf, who seems to enjoy my discomfort.

  Pig.

  Wolf-Pig.

  I shake my head to clear it again, I need to focus.

  Millard opens his eyes and this time they stay open. He winces when I touch the skin around his cut, trying to figure out how bad it is. Wolf ripped the arrow out before he got here, so the skin is ragged and sorer than it would have been had the arrow been removed carefully.

  I gather all the things I need to clean and sew the wound closed.

  Wolf looks a little queasy and leaves me alone with the King again.

  “Sorry my King, but it will hurt.”

  “I can take it.” He says the words with a strong and clear voice, but the way his eyes fill with tears as I clean the cut show me how much it hurts.

  I pull a stool over so that I can sit close to him, stitching him up, mending him and I wish I could mend his heart, his soul, his lust for murder and violence, his manic desire for power.

  His body is fit, and I can smell the manly smell of him. I have never sat this close to an undressed man before and it unnerves me. What a different feeling this would be if I wasn’t the wise woman of the castle and he wasn’t the lunatic King.

  But I am the wise woman and so I bend my head, avoid his gaze and stitch him, slowly, carefully and neatly back together. I am pleased with my work and when I straighten up to look at his arm, it looks good.

  “Thank you,” he says, taking my hand, the needle dropping to the floor, spots of his blood dripping onto my hand, my skirt, the ground.

  I freeze as he leans over and puts his face close to mine. I freeze when he kisses my cheek. And I am still frozen when he puts his lips against mine.

  25

  WOLF COMING IN TO THE room breaks apart their kiss and he scowls at them before turning on his heel and walking straight back out.

  Ginata is silent, her fingers touching her mouth where the King’s lips had been only seconds before. In that instant, she had forgotten he was mad and evil and awful and murderous and traitorous and horrendous and only felt warm lips on her own, only felt a tingle of sweetness she had never felt before, only felt time stop and the world disappear.

  “Forgive me,” Millard’s voice is smooth and deep. “It’s been a difficult day.”

  He slips off the table and strides out of the room without looking back.

  Ginata’s arms drop to her sides and she cries. What is wrong with her? She takes another sip of ale from the flagon, washing away the taste of her first kiss.

  She hears footsteps and then Will is holding onto her and crying against her shoulder and she is crying too and holding him but for different reasons.

  “I can’t believe she’s dead.”

  “I know.”

  They cry together for who knows how long.

  “I have to see Everleigh.”

  “We’ll sneak out tonight. We’ll go after supper.”

  Will nods too upset to speak.

  EVERLEIGH STANDS UP, breaking the inertia that has set over the whole group. “Where is she? I need to see her.”

  Della is shaking her head. “No, Everleigh, that’s not a good idea.”

  “I have to.”

  “Everleigh-”

  “I can’t leave her alone. I can’t. The animals will eat her.”

  The silence says that she is right.

  “I’ll take you,” Ceryn says. “Weaver you stay. Just in case.”

  Weaver nods and Everleigh holds out a hand to Ceryn. “Now.”

  Ceryn nods and takes her hand. “It won’t be very nice.”

  “I know, but I can’t leave her. She’s looked after me for so long. She died for me.”

  The truth of the words hit her anew and the tears sting afresh.

  “Let’s go.”

  “What will you do with her?” Finn asks.

  Everleigh stops; they usually wrap people up and let them go off the island. Or they’re burnt at the Ashes. Neither of these will work because of where she is.

  “We could make our own fire for her...” Ceryn’s voice trails off as she remembers how much she disliked Lanorie and feels ashamed of herself for being so mean spirited earlier.

  “Fire is good,” Della says, nodding at Everleigh who looks unsure. “It’s not in the Ashes with any old body. It’s nicer than that.”

  Everleigh nods. What else could they do?

  “We’ll take the horses.”

  Everleigh gives Addyson a hard hug before following Ceryn out of the cottage. They untie the horses and Ceryn helps Everleigh onto Weaver’s horse. “What’s her name?”

  “Sweet Mabel.”

  “Nice. What’s yours called?”

  “Pitch.”

  “Pitch. It suits her. It suits you.”

  Ceryn smiles and takes the reins. “Just squeeze your thighs and she’ll canter along.”

  “I can ride.” She’s used to riding horses and finds Sweet Mabel easy to manage. She wipes tears away. “She was my best friend. Apart from Will. Have you met Will?”

  “Yes. We saw him at the castle. He seems nice.”

  “Ah, he’s more than nice. He’s the most wonderful person in the world. He was in love with Lanorie.”

  “Yes, he said.”

  “He mooned after her all the time. She wasn’t interested.”

  “Why not? If he’s so great?”

  “He’s the fool’s son. A fool in waiting...”


  “And?”

  “Most people can’t see past the title. But he’s no fool. Not really.” She’s crying again.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Not at all. How am I going to do this? Stand this?”

  “You just will. We surprise ourselves with what we can do, what we can stand. When we have to.”

  “Your mark?”

  “Yes. It’s hard for me to talk about it.”

  “I bet. We don’t have to.”

  “Thank you. Until this week only my parents, the man who looked after me after they threw me out and Archer and Weaver had seen my mark. I still can’t believe I showed you all.”

  “I’m glad you did. It’s helped Addyson no end.”

  “I’m glad something good’s come out of it. I hate it, it’s why I’m so defensive, I guess.”

  “Defensive? No!”

  They both laugh and then fall silent. “How far?”

  “Not very. Everleigh. Let me take the reins, close your eyes. Just till we get there.”

  Everleigh shakes her head. “No. she died for me. I owe her this. I should look. I should see. I have to.”

  Ceryn nods. She understands. “Through this last lot of trees, but stop a sec, let me check it’s clear.” Ceryn is sure that the King won’t give a second thought to this girl he killed with no regard at all, without a second of hesitation, but she wants to be sure. She will not lead Everleigh in to danger.

  As quickly as she had earlier, even though it’s a different tree, Ceryn climbs to the top in seconds. The way forward is clear. She cannot hear anyone or see anyone. Except Lanorie. In two parts.

  Satisfied, but sad again, she shimmies down and jumps back onto Pitch, stroking her behind her ears. “It’s clear.”

  “But she’s still there?”

  Ceryn nods. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “I have to.”

  They ride along, horses close together. “Thank you.” Everleigh’s voice is quivering. “I can see why Archer was friends with you. Both of you.”

  “Thank you. That means everything.”

  Everleigh stops the horse when she sees Lanorie ahead of them and takes a deep breath. She jumps off Sweet Mabel’s back and takes a second to steady herself, face against the horse’s mane, breathing in the scent of her.

  Ceryn follows suit, leaving Pitch and Sweet Mabel to stand together and graze. She takes Everleigh’s hand.

  Together they walk towards Lanorie. The two parts of her so cruelly separated. Everleigh stops and looks between Lanorie’s head and the rest of her, sobs wracking her whole body. Ceryn lets her drop to the floor, and then moves over to Lanorie.

  The girl she took an instant dislike to, for no good reason really.

  She closes her eyes and then, checking that Everleigh’s not looking, carefully picks up Lanorie’s head, touching her soft hair, almost forgetting that it’s separate from her body and that she’s dead. She takes it over and lays it on the floor, right atop of her body, so that with a quick glance, she might still be alive, just sleeping.

  She drapes some of Lanorie’s hair in front of her, disguising the break between the two body parts; she’s not even sure why. Trying to make amends for being such a witch to her when she was alive maybe.

  “Everleigh,” Ceryn calls her again and this time when she looks up relief clouds her face, seeing what Ceryn has done.

  “Thank you,” she whispers the words and Ceryn smiles. Everleigh gets up and walks over to her friend. Her dead friend. Her face crumples and she kneels beside her, tears spilling freely.

  Ceryn

  I LEAVE HER KNEELING by Lanorie’s side and tramp through the grass looking for flowers, thinking that might make her look less dead. Not something I normally do, pick flowers, but then life has changed these last few days.

  And flowers will make burning her a bit less grisly I guess.

  I sit on the grass, feeling my backside get damp and start making a pile of flowers. I don’t know the difference between a flower or a weed really, so I just pick all of them.

  I watch Everleigh crying over her friend and I think about Archer.

  I was so in love with him. He was everything.

  I miss him.

  I am glad we came looking for him. I like this new group of people. Finn is quiet, but easy on the eye. Like all good men should be. I laugh at myself then – like I know anything about men.

  Men have been worse than women about my mark. Those three men that beat me and left me for dead didn’t make allowances for my gender. Not that I’m very feminine. But the fact that they were three big men attacking a young girl never crossed their minds, I bet.

  I hate girly things. They make me feel weak. Boyish things feel like a shell around me, an armour. I wear my mask and I wear boy’s clothes like another disguise. I have a pretty boyish shape, I go straight up and down and I’m often mistaken for a boy. I never correct anyone.

  So, then what would a boy or a man ever see in me?

  I shake my head. I don’t want to think about love and how I probably won’t ever find it. I think about Finn’s older sister instead. Della. She makes me feel happy. She’s a hostess. She’s a mother. Even though she’s not. She wants everyone to be happy.

  And she loves fussing over us all. It’s strange for me to let myself be fussed, but she does that to me.

  Addyson. I feel proud to have made a connection with her. Another thing I don’t do. Weaver calls me prickly. Archer used to call me a little cow. I don’t like a lot of people. I don’t even feel bad for that. What have people ever done for me? Most people? Abandoned me, hurt me, attacked me, judged me.

  But then what do I do now? Attack people, judge people. I guess I have become what I hate in other people. Strange.

  I sneak another glance at Everleigh and Lanorie. Everleigh is sitting up, holding Lanorie’s dead hand. I wipe away a tear. I think about Everleigh. I wanted to hate her so much. She had taken Archer from us. Actually, more than hate her, I wanted to hurt her. Pull her hair, scratch her face, gouge at her skin.

  But there’s something about her. She instils something in me. I want to help her, love her, serve her. Be great for her. I want to get her on her throne, help her seize the crown from her mad brother.

  I picture him murdering Lanorie again. The way he shouted, his temper obviously rising. The way he whipped out his sword. The way he killed her so casually, like she didn’t matter.

  But then she didn’t matter to him.

  If you’re in charge you can do as you please. And he obviously does.

  And yet I know Everleigh will be a good Queen, a kind Queen.

  She will have the whole Realm vying to please her through love not fear. Her brother is already ruling through fear and not love. I’m glad I hit him. I’m a bloody good shot. And that’s me a bit rusty.

  I will pledge my allegiance to this Queen and tell her that if she cannot kill her brother herself, I will happily do it for her.

  I gather my pile of flowers. Weeds.

  I head back over to Everleigh, making plenty of noise to snap her out of her reverie.

  She smiles up at me and I know I’m right. I will fight for this Queen. Help her win her throne. I don’t even know why, really. It’s nothing I can put my finger on.

  “Oh.” Suddenly she’s crying again. “I didn’t bring anything to light a fire.”

  I sit beside her, keeping my gaze away from Lanorie. “Your magic.”

  “I’ve never made fire.”

  “I bet you can.”

  I lay the flowers all around Lanorie and then sit back, giving Everleigh the time and space to do what she needs to. She closes her eyes, and she’s still crying, tears slowly trailing along her cheek.

  When she opens them she stares at the flower in Lanorie’s hand. She stares and stares, muttering under her breath.

  I watch, fascinated.

  After a minute or two, not long really, I see a hiss of smoke rise from a flower, just a wis
p at first, then a little more, then a spark and then a tiny flame.

  She watches the flames and they grow. She mutters and nods, turning her head this way and that and the flames spread. Once several flowers in a row are ablaze she kisses Lanorie’s forehead and whispers goodbye.

  26

  THE MOOD IN THE COTTAGES is worse than sombre. Everleigh is sitting, holding hands with Addyson, and they are both crying. Weaver has gone out for a walk and taken Finn with him. They are patrolling really, making sure there’s no sign of any more trouble. They are all confident that Lanorie kept Everleigh’s location a secret but they don’t want to relax and become complacent.

  Della and Ceryn are sitting in the two chairs, silently watching the two sisters grieve. There’s not anything that anyone can say to help, so they don’t even try.

  Now they are all quietly waiting for what happens next.

  GINATA IS PACING THE length of her rooms, repeating Millard’s evil crimes to herself. “He sat by while his brother killed their father, while his brother tried to kill his sister. He killed his brother. He killed Halfreda. He killed Archer. He killed Lanorie.”

  It’s not that she needs convincing so much as reminding. Millard’s kiss came completely out of the blue; it wasn’t something she was expecting or hoping for.

  She knows he is handsome but she also knows he’s a murderer. There has never been a second where she contemplated anything happening with him and she isn’t about to start now. It was disconcerting, though, feeling warm, soft lips on hers and having to remind herself whose lips they were; an evil, murdering madman.

  She leaves her rooms in a rush. She’ll find Will, make a plan for tonight. They need to see Everleigh. They need to tell her what’s happened to Lanorie. They need to all be together, taking strength from each other; reminding each other why they are even fighting this battle.

  She wonders briefly whether, despite the prophecy, it’s all worth it.

  Making Everleigh Queen, living through all this upset and drama.