The Queen's Resistance

by Rebecca Ross

“And I thank you for that, Lord Burke,” Isolde was swift to say. “Your women and men have been a tremendous support and aid to us since we have returned.”

  There was a soft, hesitant rap on the council chamber door.

  Isolde nodded to her father, who removed the markers of Lannon safe houses from the map before answering the door.

  Sean Allenach stood awkwardly with a fold of paper in his hands.

  “Ah, Sean. Please join us.”

  “Forgive me for interrupting,” he said, walking into the room, “but I think I have something that may be of use to you, Lady.” He extended the paper to her, and Isolde took it.

  “Where did you come across this, Lord Sean?” She read the contents, then slowly set down what appeared to be a very brief letter with slanted penmanship.

  “I am sorry to say it was in my manservant’s possession. The letter is addressed to him. There is no indication as to who wrote it.”

  “What is this letter?” Jourdain asked, and by the terseness in his tone, I could tell he did not trust Sean Allenach any more than I did.

  Isolde passed it around the table. One by one, we read it. I was the last one, and my interest didn’t catch until the final sentence: Depending on the weather today, we may have to postpone the meeting.

  The D was filled in with ink. It looked like a half-moon mark.

  “Does your manservant know that you have his letter?” Isolde inquired.

  “No, Lady.”

  “Where is your manservant . . . Daley Allenach was his name, wasn’t it? Where is Daley presently?”

  “He’s in the castle kitchens, eating with the servants,” Sean replied.

  I exchanged a look with Jourdain. Another Lannon rat in the castle, moving about freely.

  Luc took a sheet from the stack of paper at his elbow to copy the letter, word for word, and then handed the original back to Sean.

  “I know that most of you do not trust me because of my father,” Sean said. “But when I say that I wholeheartedly desire to help, I mean it. On my honor and my name, which means little more than dirt these days. Whatever I can do to assist you in recovering the Lannons, I will do it.”

  Braden Kavanagh looked like he was about to say something snide, but Isolde spoke before her father could.

  “Lord Sean, you would be of great assistance to us if you would return this letter to your manservant’s possessions, before he realizes it is missing. If any more correspondence occurs, inform us at once. In the meantime, I would ask you to take detailed notes as to where Daley Allenach goes, even under your orders.”

  Sean nodded, set his hand over his heart, and departed, leaving the six of us to decode what the strange letter meant.

  “Lannon’s minions are corresponding,” Luc said.

  “And one of them is Lord Allenach’s manservant,” Braden added. “What does that say to us about trust?”

  “Sean Allenach has proven himself to me,” the queen stated. “He defied his father the day of our rising, to fight for me. He took a sword in his side to protect his sister. I would readily ask him to join this circle if I knew most of you wouldn’t vehemently oppose it.”

  We were quiet.

  “As I thought,” the queen said dryly. “Now, if the half-moons are writing to one another, they may lead us directly to Declan’s location. I do not want to spook Daley Allenach yet, but we may have to trail him if we do not uncover Declan at one of the safe houses today.”

  I reached for the copy of the letter again, and skimmed it, beginning to read beyond the words. “They’re employing a rather simple code. ‘The ale has run dry’ is apparently a warning against the hostel and possibly the tavern, since we made ourselves known in one of them last night. ‘Can you bring some to me in the morning with the mutton?’ is clearly asking if Declan can be kept at a new safe house. As far as the weather . . . I do not know what that implies. It could be anything from our observation to the curfew to the time of day Declan intends to move.”

  “Which means Declan is not hiding in one place,” Lord Burke said. “And he’s going to have to move at night, due to the curfew.”

  “Which means he should be holed up this moment,” Luc added urgently. “We need to strike. Now.”

  Isolde hesitated, and I knew she was missing Brienna’s input.

  “I do not want any deviations from the plan,” she said, staring at each of us. “Lord MacQuinn, you will take five warriors to the tailor. Lord Burke, you will take your five to the blacksmith. Lord Lucas, you will take your five warriors to the cooper. And Lord Aodhan, you will take your five to the butcher. You ask for entry, you search the building, and you walk away if Declan is absent. If he is there, you have your appointed archer shoot the poisoned arrow to take him down. Ewan’s and Keela’s safety is paramount, so take extreme care with any call that you make. You do not want to be the one to return and tell me that the children were harmed beneath your call, even by a scratch.”

  I waited a moment, to let her instructions settle, before I lifted my voice. “Lady? I would ask if one of my five warriors could be a Lannon.”

  Everyone looked to me, incredulous. All save for Isolde, who stared at me with interest.

  “Which Lannon do you speak of, Aodhan?”

  “I would like to raise Thane Tomas Hayden from the dungeons, to aid me in this mission.”

  “Have you lost your mind, Morgane?” Lord Burke cried. “How could you ever trust him?”

  I leaned on the table. “You see, that mind-set right there is going to break this country in two. And yes, I am not going to lie: I hate the Lannons. I hate them so much sometimes it feels as if my bones will turn to ash over it. But I have found that we cannot label every Lannon as a Gilroy or an Oona or a Declan. There are good people beneath this House, who have suffered greatly. And we need to alliance with them, to flush out the corrupt ones.”

  The room filled with uncomfortable silence.

  “If I raise Tomas Hayden from the dungeons,” Isolde began, “what assurance can you give me, Aodhan, that he will follow you, that he won’t turn on you?”

  “He cares greatly for Ewan Lannon,” I replied. “He is the reason why Ewan escaped the day of our rising. I think Tomas would have no hesitation whatsoever if it came down to betraying Declan to save Ewan and Keela.”

  “You must have no doubt, lad,” Jourdain said. “You cannot think that he will. You must know it.”

  I glanced to him, trying to subdue my annoyance. “Tomas Hayden is my mother’s uncle. He is a blood relation of mine.” That quieted Jourdain. When I looked to Isolde, I steadied myself and said, “Bring him up from the dungeons, and let me speak with him again. If I deem him too unpredictable, I will send him back to his cell.”

  Isolde nodded, and the other men rose, one by one, their chairs scraping over the stone floors. They departed until it was just the queen and me, waiting for the guards to bring up Tomas Hayden.

  And the longer I sat there, the more I wondered if I was wrong, if I was about to commit an irrevocable mistake.

  Tomas was brought into the chamber, grimy and squinting against the light. But he recognized me and Isolde and stood very quietly, his eyes upon her.

  “Are you marked?” I asked him.

  “You’ll have to unchain me to see,” he said.

  I stood to request the keys from the guard and unlocked his shackles myself, my dirk ready at my belt should the thane try to overpower me. But when the chains fell away from him, he merely stood, waiting for my order.

  “Show us your wrists.”

  He obeyed, pulling up tattered sleeves, turning his wrists over. He was clean. No sign of a half-moon, or even of the attempt of removing one from his skin.

  “I know you must have heard the commotion in the dungeons yesterday,” I said to him, and he set his milky blue eyes back upon me. “That Declan and Keela escaped. Declan is loose in Lyonesse, and he is all but holding his own children hostage. I am going to lead a group of five warriors to search an
d recover him, Ewan, and Keela. And I want to know if you will join me, if you will pledge yourself to help me find them.”

  “And what will you do with Keela and Ewan upon recovering them?” Tomas asked. “Chop off their heads, right after their father’s?”

  “Thane Tomas,” Isolde said patiently. “I understand that you care deeply for the children. I promise to do all within my power to shelter and protect them, to find a way to pardon them.”

  “Why would you do that?” he questioned. “They are your enemy’s offspring.”

  “They are innocent children,” Isolde corrected. “And it fills me with great sadness that Maevana as a whole indicted Keela.”

  Tomas seemed to hesitate, caught within his thoughts.

  “Yes, Gilroy, Oona, and Declan Lannon destroyed my House as well as the queen’s,” I said. “But I know that he also destroyed yours, Tomas. That it will take many years for the Lannon people to recover from this.”

  He met my gaze, and I saw the anger, the remorse in his eyes.

  “Join me in hunting Declan,” I invited. “Lend us whatever wisdom and insight you can. Help me find Ewan and Keela.”

  “What do you require in return?” he rasped, looking to Isolde.

  “Swear your fealty to me, as your queen,” Isolde replied. “And I shall let you go from the dungeons and assist Aodhan.”

  I thought he would need a moment to weigh his options. So I was surprised when he knelt immediately, laid his hand over his heart, and looked at Isolde.

  “I swear my fealty to you, Isolde of Kavanagh. I shall bow to no other save for you as my queen.”

  It was a rather crude vow, but it sounded genuine. Isolde took his hands, guiding him to stand. Her voice was sharp when she said to Tomas, “If you betray us, I will not kill you but keep you locked in the dungeon for the remainder of your days. Do you understand, Tomas Hayden?”

  Tomas met her gaze. “I understand, Lady. But you do not need to fear betrayal from me.”

  Isolde nodded. “Very well. The two of you may go and prepare for the mission.”

  I was eager. Too eager. All I could think about was capturing the man who had caused me so much turmoil. My pulse was throbbing when Isolde held up her hand, stopping us.

  “One final word.” The queen’s eyes locked with mine, over the shadows and the candlelight. “I want Declan Lannon brought to me. Alive.”

  It took everything within me to lay my hand over my heart, in complete submission to her order. Because as I left the council chamber, Tomas at my side, I let my confession swell in my mind.

  I wanted nothing more than to be the one to bring Declan Lannon to his bloody end.

  My four men- and women-at-arms were waiting for me in my chambers. Their armor was in place, their swords and blades belted at their waists, their hair plaited back from their eyes. They were surprised when they saw Tomas Hayden with me, but obeyed when I told them to fetch him armor and a broadsword. I quickly donned my leather breastplate and vambraces, my fingers trembling as I knotted the leathers.

  I appointed my archer and gathered my five into a circle, to explain the plan.

  Within minutes, we were striding from the castle, into the deserted streets.

  The afternoon sun was just sinking behind the roofs, casting bars of gold onto the cobblestones. A cold wind chased clouds across the sky, carrying the brine from the sea and the smoke of the forges. The breeze nipped at my face, stinging my eyes as I approached the designated butcher shop.

  I stood before the storefront, assessing. Tomas stood slightly behind me, and I turned to him to ask, “Does this look familiar to you?”

  He shook his head.

  I set my eyes back to the building. It was closed, heeding the queen’s order. Flies swirled around dried pools of blood on the ground, and the hanging hooks used to display shanks of meat tangled like chimes.

  I stepped forward and rapped my knuckles upon the lintel, waiting.

  The butcher cracked the door. In the sliver of shadows, he was a tall man with limp gray hair. His nose was crooked as were his eyes, which blinked at me like a rodent in the light.

  “We’re closed.” He made to shut the door, but I set my foot down, catching the wood.

  “May we come in? Surely you have heard that all good citizens of Lyonesse are willing to have their homes and shops searched today.”

  “Of course, but my wife is unwell. . . .” the butcher stammered, but I had forced my way in, my five warriors following.

  The main room was dark; all the windows were shuttered and it smelled like blood and foul meat. I stepped on something that crunched, and I fought the urge to heave.

  “Light this room,” I ordered, listening as the butcher fumbled about for his shutters.

  “Sire . . . I really do not wish to be bothered today. My wife is ill, as are my children, and you will only distress them with this needless search.” He opened the shutters just a fraction, to spill some light into the shop.

  There was a long table, blackened from butchering, and more hooks dangling from the rafters. A bowl of tepid water, a block studded with knives, buckets brimming with entrails, bones scattered along the floor.

  I resisted the urge to cover my nose, forcing myself to breathe through my mouth. According to the ledgers, Gilroy Lannon had not drawn taxes from this place. And I did not understand why. It was as any butcher shop, nothing unique about it. In fact, it bordered on disgusting. I had been in much cleaner, more organized shops.

  “As you can see, sire, I am only a humble butcher,” the man rambled on, his hands fluttering nervously through the air. “Perhaps I might send some meat back to the castle, for the future queen? Would she like some mutton?”

  Mutton.

  My attention snagged on that word, the word that had been used in the letter Sean had delivered.

  My heart quickened as I walked deeper into the room, to the back of the chamber. My warriors followed, their boots hardly making noise on the warped wooden floors, their breaths measured, prepared for anything. And then I saw something odd.

  At first, I thought my eyes were fooling me, because something was gradually creeping across the ceiling. Vines with wilted leaves were slowly unfurling, as if they had a mind of their own, as if they were desperate to catch my attention, spreading over the brick and mortar.

  “What is that?” one of my men whispered, perplexed.

  They saw it too. I was not merely imagining it.

  “Sire? What about a rack of ribs to go along with the mutton?” The butcher was rambling, desperate. “Look, here! You can have the pick of the lot!”

  But I hardly heard his voice, because I was watching those vines, which grew toward an inner doorway I would have never noticed, whose passage was covered by a filthy blanket.

  “It’s an enchantment,” I murmured, and I was momentarily hung between awe and fear of it, this tendril of magic that had come to life. Where had it come from? Who was directing it?

  In that split moment, I decided to go with my gut, to trust it.

  “Sire! Sire, look! I can also give you a ham as well!”

  I yanked the blanket aside from the door, exposing a corridor that fed into a curling stairwell. There was a scuffle overhead, and those magical vines continued to unfurl, a path of umber and green for me to follow.

  “Arrow ready,” I rasped to my archer.

  I could hear her quietly select the poisoned arrow from her quiver, the bowstring softly groaning in her hands.

  I drew my sword first, my warriors in unison with me. We took the stairs; it was a storm of pounding boots, pounding hearts, and a frantically shouting butcher. The vines vanished, melting into the shadows. It filled me with unease to see them disappear.

  The second floor was nothing but a narrow corridor with six different doors, all closed.

  I took the first one, splintering it with one kick, archer ready at my back.

  It was a poorly lit room, windowless. But there was a host of candles, an
d a girl quivering on a bed, dressed in rags. I was so surprised that I did not realize she was chained to the bedpost until she whimpered.

  “Don’t hurt me. Please . . .”

  Stunned, I moved to the next room. Kick, splinter, open. Another girl, also chained. And then another. My mind was racing, my heart smoldering with a fury I had never felt before. This was not just a butcher shop. It was an underground brothel.

  In the fourth room, the girl was crouching on her bed, ready to meet me. She did not whimper or cower; the relief was evident in her face when she met my eyes, as if she had been waiting for me to come and break down the door, to find her.

  And then I noticed the vines again. They wove around her bedposts, streamed across her floor as serpents, glimmering with golden scales. I stopped short before I stepped on one, and realized the vine was one moment away from wrapping itself around my ankle.

  The magic, the enchantment, was coming from her.

  She was a Kavanagh. And I could not breathe as I looked at her, tears in my eyes, as she looked at me.

  “Aodhan Morgane?” she whispered.

  I stood frozen on her threshold, taking in her dilapidated room. And despite the darkness here, I felt the first spark of light.

  “You know me?” I asked.

  “The lad said you would come.” With a trembling hand, she held out a piece of paper. Again, her vines melted into the shadows, granting me entrance.

  I meekly approached her, and reached across the space to take the parchment from her fingers. It unfolded in my hand, half of the princess illustration, now tattered and speckled with blood. The girl’s blood. Her wrist was nothing but a gaping wound around the shackle, like she had been struggling for years to free herself.

  “Prince Declan was here with the lass and the lad,” she murmured. “He left this morning. At dawn. I do not know where he went. He would not tell me.”

  I felt like collapsing; my legs were trembling as I crumpled the princess illustration in my hand.

  “My lord,” the archer called from the corridor. “The butcher is running. Do you want us to pursue him?”

  “Please,” the girl whispered, drawing my attention back to her. “Please help us.”