by Talis Jones
“You want to what?” Mikael asked astonished.
“I want to form a new rule,” Cassandra repeated calmly as she sipped her tea. “The common folk are ruled by town mayors whom report to region ambassadors who then obey the decrees of their Rajah and I want the Crown to be the final word above them all.” She tilted her cup for another sip then paused. “And I want that Crown to be me,” she clarified.
Mikael sat back in his chair, his fingers tapping along his blades as if subconsciously checking their attendance. He fixed a wary eye upon her. “And then will you be at last satisfied?”
She shrugged. “One certainly hopes so.”
“But you just established the system of Rajahs and ambassadors!” he cried aghast.
“And improvements remain to be made,” she nodded. “That's the thing with progress,” she laughed. “It never stops progressing.”
Mikael did not relax at her words.
“Come on, Mikael,” she grinned teasingly. “Stop frowning. We need not begin today. Take some time to rest first.” She returned to her tea. “We can begin campaigning tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” he repeated. “You are relentless, aren't you?”
“I planted the idea subtly when establishing the role of Rajah. Time to ensure it grows before they get too comfortable with being in charge.”
“Well I for one think it's a brilliant idea,” Eli piped up. “It's ambitious, but practical. Surely you can see that, Mikael.” Elijah turned towards Cassandra, brushing her arm as he reached for a butter cookie. “Absolutely brilliant.”
Mikael glared at the boy in annoyance. “You would think that,” he grumbled under his breath.
Cassandra looked at them both with a proud grin. “You see? This is why I chose you both. Mikael is not only handy with a sword, but has the annoying realistic viewpoint to make for a good advisor. Elijah is a visionary like myself and therefore the perfect heir.”
Mikael rolled his eyes while Eli preened. He'd idolized Cassandra ever since that first meeting and as he grew older it had only gotten worse, much to Mikael's irritation. The boy was idiotic if he thought Cassandra had a heart. Mikael saw through her just enough to know that if she did have one, it was very very small. Even so, they had become friends of some sort. A strange happenstance he still did not quite understand.
“Fine,” he sighed at last relenting. “A Crown to rule the Rajahs of Oneiroi. At least give me three days to put together a proper security plan together for your campaign.”
“Two,” she compromised.
“Two then.”
“And Ailill is still off the table?” Eli asked curiously. Somehow their disloyalty offended him more than it did Cassandra.
“Yes,” she answered firmly. “Even with the Whispers isolated on the opposite side of the Island from them, I do not need a nation of magic-blessed people rising up against me no matter how little magic actually lurks in their veins.” She picked up a gingersnap and if looks could kill it would've shattered. “If they do not wish for a Rajah, then fine. Leave them to squalor in their own ignorance and filth. It matters not to me.”
Of course, she knew better than either man that Ailill did not suffer nor was it filthy or ignorant. They were, however, quite happy with their isolation. A trait they bore even before she established the borders. So long as they didn't try and collude with the Whispers to attack from both sides, she'd ignore them. If she ever got her magic back to full strength though, then they'd best practice sword fighting instead of juggling.
“So, security...” Mikael prompted, bluntly steering them away from the sore subject.
“Oh don't fuss,” Eli sighed. “It isn't like she can be killed,” he grinned at Cassandra cockily as if he had anything to do with it.
“But you'd rest easy if she were wounded? Writhing in agony because we believed her wholly invincible?” Mikael challenged, one eyebrow raised patronizingly. “Arrogance can kill quick as a blade, boy.”
Eli bristled at the word boy. “I never want to see you in pain,” he reassured Cassandra with true horror in his eyes.
Cassandra glanced between them slowly. Perhaps a little vulnerability would be useful. “A Whisper actually can be killed,” she confessed softly. Spinning the lie smooth as a deep fear being shared in the night she continued, “Difficult, rare, but not impossible. Not if you want it with your whole heart and I fear there may be those who do.” Fear pooled in her eyes and both Mikael and Elijah leaned forwards instinctively called to protect.
“They will never even get the chance,” Mikael swore. “I'll make sure of it.”
Cassandra squeezed his hand gratefully.
Elijah tilted his head, his fingers absentmindedly caressing Cassandra's other hand. “That day, when you stabbed Abel...” Cassandra said nothing and he continued with his musings. “That Abel lives means you didn't truly wish his death,” he surmised, confident in the goodness within the heart so many mistook for harsh or hollow.
She smiled. “Not yet,” she murmured jokingly. Or so it sounded to his ears, muffled by infatuation.
Mikael and Elijah began discussing plans for her next campaign. Turning towards the large window she tuned them out. Yes, allowing the belief that a Whisper could be killed was a useful tool. It was a vulnerability that would draw her followers even closer, expose her enemies with temptation, but more importantly it was a requirement of the prophecy. A prophecy she fully intended on seeing through to the very end until the last twin stands. She couldn't help the fire in her veins at the thought. Then she would be at peace. She would be satisfied. She was sure of it.
Chapter 34
Sunlight warmed the high windows yet the light that filled the room remained cold and stark. Within its pool sat Cassandra, idly tapping her fingers upon her throne while lost in thought. A sharp knock preceded the dull groan of the ancient oak doors parting and in stepped a man wearing the colors of Quidel.
“Gerard Thompson has arrived, mi suverenya,” he announced careful not to look her in the eye.
Her fingers stilled and her spine straightened eagerly. “Send him in.”
Moments later a man perhaps in this thirties strode into the throne room with a dauntless smile and they held each other's gaze until the doors shut with a declarative boom. Bestowing a smooth bow he greeted, “Mi suverenya.”
Cassandra eyed the man another moment. He was a charmer and her instincts counseled not to trust him. Yet he was one of Oneiroi's most successful traders from before the establishment of kingdoms and had even managed to prosper further despite the erection of borders. She knew perfectly well it was due to his cunning charms but he could never fool her because his tricks lined her pockets as well. A fact he seemed well aware of, but not afraid of.
“Have you an idea of why I've summoned you, Gerard Thompson?” she asked, at last breaking the silence.
Curiosity burned openly in his gaze. “Nyet, mi suverenya.”
She tilted her head. “No charm and flattery to be spread upon me? Perhaps my messengers were wrong about you.”
His lips quirked. “Such things would be wasted on you. You know precisely what you are and what you are not and no charmer could ever bend you to their will. To try would be an insult.”
She grinned. “And so he lives another day,” she teased darkly.
He returned her grin, but she could see the slight fidget of his fingers before he smoothly clasped his hands behind his back to keep them out of sight. His nerves revealed at last. Good.
“Gerard, I have a new campaign to begin and I am in need of an ambassador to aid me in my endeavors. I am told you have successful trade routes throughout all of Oneiroi and remain on personal, friendly terms with leaders both local and lofty. Is this true?”
“It is, mi suverenya,” he confirmed simply. “I've always had a head for business and a knack for getting things to go my way. I admit I have done quite well.”
“And might you ever consider a foray into politics?” she probed.
/> Gerard regarded her carefully, sifting through the words both spoken and unspoken, and gleaned very little besides the promise of opportunity his senses were so keen to root out. “On its own, no,” he confessed. “However if it could prove as worthwhile as my efforts in trade then perhaps I could be convinced.”
Cassandra stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “The establishment of a Crown to govern the three Rajahs of Oneiroi would have me at its head and you in a seat at my table – elevated from wealthy trader to a blue blood just short of royalty. Just as you, I have a way of getting things to go my way, however I'd rather work smarter, not harder. Inviting you to join my circle, my royal council, would be precisely that.”
Silence held in the pause, yet the thoughts clearly crashing through Gerard's mind were loud enough to satisfy Cassandra's instincts.
“What exactly,” he began carefully, “would be required of me?”
“You know these lands and their people well,” she shrugged. “As do I since my last campaign yet not as well as you. You would go to the Rajahs of Llyr and Aztlan protected by your position as my ambassador and subtly present my case, secretly weave in my proposition, gently sway them in my direction so that when I arrive the vote will already lie in my favor and I need only tip them over the edge.” Her eyes were sharp, missing nothing not even the delicate bead of sweat that trickled down his neck nor the ambitious gleam in his azure stare. “Your business shall be the Crown, your trade shall be influence, your profit shall be power, coin, and the breaths in your lungs. You've built a kingdom of shops, why not an empire of nations?”
Gerard swallowed slowly. “You place a lot of weight upon my shoulders with this charge.”
“High risk, high reward,” she returned pointedly.
“Indeed,” he murmured to himself.
“You can turn down the position,” she allowed. “Gain nothing, lose nothing.” Tilting her head she scrutinized him to the bone. “But could you return to your little kingdom knowing what had once lain within your grasp? Never truly knowing what all could have been for the self-made peasant boy everyone once scoffed at in a village where no one took chance or dared dream? Could you rest in your grave knowing that in the end you were just like them all along?”
With every word she uttered his blood pumped hotter and in anger he quietly growled, “No.”
“Where is this meeting to take place?” Mikael asked as he jotted down notes for the upcoming match. Just another in Cassandra's long list of ambitions, but this one may be her most impossible yet. His pen paused as he mulled over that thought. No, not her most impossible. Returning to the Island was impossible. After defeating that challenge this must seem like hopping a mere hurdle in the race. Sure they would buck and huff so she would feign the effort, but she would have her Crown before the sun dared depart for the moon.
“A decision for a central overarching Crown ought to be made on central ground. Neutral ground. We meet in the heart of the Island where the ruins of the forgotten reign still stand.” She fixed him with a smirk. “Only fools believe it truly haunted or cursed. They will come if only to defy the name coward.”
Mikael shook his head with a snort. “Very well. And–”
Just then the door to the council room burst open and in stormed Eli, looking older and more unstable with every month that passed. Mikael set down his papers and settled back to watch his latest outburst. It seemed to be a game Cassandra allowed and he had yet to decipher why. From Mikael's point of view she toyed with him like a cat with a mouse while Eli slowly lost all grip to an obsession she carefully tended with the smallest, conniving gestures. He'd brought it up once but she'd simply laughed the thought away.
Anger and confusion swirled about the young man, but before he could expel an ounce of it Cassandra cut in with, “Elijah!” She beamed warmly. Suddenly her face dropped and guilt wracked her features. “Oh no. Oh I'm so sorry, Elijah. We were supposed to go riding together weren't we?”
“I waited in the stables for two hours, Cassandra,” he accused. “You promised me.”
“I know,” she apologized. “It's this damn campaign. All of my time seems to be stolen by it and I hate how it's hurt you.” Reaching for his hand she squeezed it tenderly. “Please forgive me.”
Anger still clouded his eyes but he held her hand all the same. “You seem to have enough time in your busy days to laugh and eat with him though,” he accused petulantly.
Ever since Gerard Thompson had taken up residence in the palace, Eli had taken an immediate dislike to the man. Mikael thought it a passing judgment and yet it not only persisted but grew with every moment Cassandra passed Eli over to spend instead with the charming newcomer. It was amusing because it was absurd and Mikael felt quite confident Eli didn't have it in him to kill the competition. Admiration filled Eli's face when they'd first met, yet so subtly that Mikael had not noticed until it too late, Cassandra had cultivated it into a careful imbalance of power. In other words, she owned him and he did not even understand the leash she'd slipped around his throat. He had a use for her, Mikael just wished he knew what.
Cassandra's laugh cut into his thoughts jarring him back to the present. “You're right, he thinks himself far more charming than he really is,” she agreed. “But we need him. I want this Crown,” she stated firmly, watching him to be sure he heard every word, “and if I get it then one day it could be yours. I do this for all of us and I need you to understand that. Forgive me for all the time I devote to him because in the end he is the key to our success.”
Eli ground his jaw and nodded. “I'm sorry I'm so pathetically jealous. I hate that you have to lower yourself to that idiot. Must be torture pandering to his requests, forcing laughter at his asinine jokes...”
“Truly,” Cassandra wrinkled her nose. “It will be worth it in the end though, I promise.” Lowering her voice she looked up through her golden lashes and gently tugged his hand so that he stood but an inch closer. “Don't be sorry, Elijah. I'm flattered.” After a beat she replaced the warm smile that made men think her made of sunshine and tsked teasingly. “Now go on. Mikael and I have some final arrangements to sort out and then we'll be down for dinner.”
Eli stumbled slightly before returning her smile with a smirk. “I'll arrive early and be sure everything is as it should be.”
Mikael sighed, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling. There would be salt in Gerard's wine again tonight. Eli had yet to be accused by the man, likely because he was the heir of Quidel and soon the Crown, but perhaps the more likely reason stood that Gerard's charm got him in quite a bit of trouble below stairs. Never flirt with the staff that prepares your meals.
Cassandra let the man strut about the palace as if second to one and Mikael wondered when at last the game would end. He knew her well enough to see the trap she laid and the poor fool would never see it coming when at last his use ran dry and the jaws snapped shut. Gerard was a nice enough person, entertaining company, but Mikael had begun developing a tinge of Cassandra's cautious paranoia and therefore did not trust him and would not pity his departure. He eyed the woman seated across from him and saw with a start that she'd been watching him in the silence of Eli's absence.
Clearing his throat hastily he prompted, “Shall we continue? I don't want to miss the serving of wine at dinner.”
Cassandra snorted.
Chapter 35
On a cracked stone dais open to the heavens above, the three Rajahs of Oneiroi stood with their entourages of advisors and guards encompassing the wide circle. A small table had been set up at the center and upon it stood three identical treaties. An ink pot and pen waited in the corner.
Gerard had visited the palaces of Aztlan and Llyr on numerous occasions since his appointment as Quidel's ambassador and returned several friendly smiles with those in attendance including Henri Morrigan himself. Aashiq was a far more cunning man and a difficult target to sway, yet his own advisors did the job of convincing him to show this morning after Gerard had playe
d his last hand which conveniently held secrets they would not wish their Rajah to discover.
At last the morning had arrived and the rulers of Oneiroi convened in the very spot where Cassandra had been betrayed and cast out, sentenced to become nothing. Instead she'd returned and now stood moments away from becoming everything. “Welcome,” she greeted in a regal tone she'd perfected.
Henri grinned jovially despite his shifting eyes that clearly revealed his nerves at standing upon supposed cursed ground. “I hope everyone's journey was well.”
“Indeed,” Aashiq smiled thinly. He'd proved a most challenging person to crack. She'd worried over his becoming Rajah of Llyr for precisely that reason. He was not a man easily swayed. Not that she'd worried very much. As she'd told Gerard, she had a way of getting what she wanted and today would be no different.
“We had excellent weather,” she answered Henri kindly. “Thank you.”
“Enough pleasantries,” Aashiq cut in. “We know why you are here. Present your case so we might decide and leave these haunted ruins.”
A cunning, stone of a man, yet superstitious to the core. Cassandra almost laughed. Fixing each man with a look that straightened their shoulders she began. “Borders have been cut into Oneiroi based off pre-existing regions. They are to remain such. Balance and respect are key to our kingdoms living long and prosperously. Each is to remain within their borders, ruling their people as they believe best. I simply wish to add a caveat in the form of the Crown. A balance to ensure peace. The Crown will have no kingdom, but their rule will be the final decider should disagreements arise between kingdoms. They will deliver punishment should one kingdom attack or aim to hurt another in any way. The Crown is a peacemaker, a peacekeeper.”
