Kingdom Soul

by Brittni Chenelle

  “Who is that man? I’ve never seen him in here before.”

  She traced my gaze to the old man who just pulled the tavern door open and headed out into the night. “He said his name was Morris. He’s friendly, don’t you think?”

  I nodded. It wasn’t a familiar name, but it certainly seemed like he knew who I was. I tried shaking the encounter from my mind. I hated thinking about Besmium; it made me think about all I’d lost. Who I’d lost. Still, whenever I thought of Young, I felt a stab of sadness that never dulled. Most days I could carry it, but on the days I couldn’t, I was grateful to have Gabe be there for Morgana.

  The word Besmium wasn’t illegal, but Camelot’s King Arthur loved taking prisoners, and he or his soldiers didn’t need much of a reason to take anyone in. Because of this, I hadn’t needed to face the mention of it often, just when one of the drunk patrons at the tavern got bold and reminisced. There was usually a guard or two around to end it quickly.

  However, I couldn’t escape the dreams. Dreams don’t care about death or distance. Some mornings I’d wake up with Young’s kiss still on my lips and have to relive his loss when my mind turned to the morning once more. Each night that he returned, I’d fall for the illusion, and each morning he slipped away again.

  “You having some ale tonight?” Lynn asked, already filling a goblet and placing it in front of me. Before I could answer, the bubbles of the crisp ale tickled my throat.

  “Atta girl,” she said, and I felt the color return to my cheeks.

  “Have you heard anything?” I asked before swallowing another mouthful of ale.

  She shook her head. “Not about them. All anyone can talk about is Camelot's new alliances. They’re saying Algony agreed.”

  My eyes bulged. “That’s impossible. Algony would never agree to that. It must be a rumor.”

  Lynn shrugged. “As for them, no news is good news. If they’d been spotted near town, someone would’ve said.”

  3

  Minseo

  I stumbled through the double doors of the council hall, alarmed to see my father already seated at the head of the table beside my older brother Sumin. Why hadn’t I expected to see him here? Mr. Perfect, here to witness another breakdown. Ever since I’d caused a scene at the meeting, after my return five years ago, Sumin kept his distance. It was like grief was a virus you could catch, and I was its host. When we crossed paths, he just stared down at me with the same stern look in his eyes as our father. A look that whispered, You’re the reason Young is dead. The room echoed with the sound of my footsteps and hummed the whispered disapproval of the council members. I took my seat on father’s left side, the makkoli from earlier turning in my stomach. Even with liquid courage, I was unable to meet the king’s gaze.

  After several painful moments, my father cleared his throat. “You may begin.”

  A white-haired official who wore a silky orange sash over his hanbok bowed and turned to address the table. “The first order of business is to discuss the matter of succession. Prince Sumin and his wife have yet to produce an heir.” I couldn’t see Sumin from his position on the other side of Father, but I felt a twinge of joy to learn he wasn’t as perfect as he pretended to be.

  The official continued. “It’s time to start considering other options.”

  My father waved his hand. “He’s still quite young,” he said, “Send the doctor to visit the couple and find out if there’s a reason for the delay. What’s next?”

  It was faint, but I heard Sumin whisper “thank you” to the king.

  The official with the orange sash bowed and continued. “As you know, Camelot is a growing concern. They’ve acquired many of the adjacent territories as allies, including their newest conquest, Algony.”

  The room erupted into panicked chatter but one voice rose above the rest. A young, red-faced council member shouted, “There’s no way that Algony would ever enter into such an arrangement. Not after their disgraced son, Emmett, had a hand in the creation of Camelot.”

  A thin, sunken-cheeked official interrupted. “What are the benefits of joining these alliances? It must be very tempting for so many territories to have conceded.”

  The room fell silent and all turned to Hanbit, who wore a blue sash, indicating his position as the king’s advisor. He blanched at the sudden attention and flipped frantically through his notes. Hanbit was well-known and intelligent but lacked the nerve for public speaking. “A-A-According to our spies, Camelot offers nothing but the opportunity to trade with them and in r-return g-gains favorable trade rates and control over the allied k-kingdom’s military.”

  The red-faced man spoke, “Are they fearful of losing their throne if they don’t agree? Like Besmium?”

  I felt the gaze of several of the council members on my face; they must’ve feared I’d react to the mention of it, but I was only there because I had to be, and I planned to keep my head down until the meeting ended. Still, the word stirred up something iniquitous inside me. Something I’d been avoiding for the past four years.

  My father’s soft voice rose. “It appears that we don’t have all the information on this matter, and with the acquisition of Algony's military, it would be unwise to attack Camelot. We should focus on building up our forces in case they offer us an alliance and countermeasures need to be taken. We must never agree to enter into such an unfavorable situation.” He straightened his posture. “And you,” he said, motioning to Hanbit, “increase the number of spies in Camelot and increase the regularity of their reports.”

  Instinctively, I scoffed, garnering an uncomfortable amount of attention from the attendees. My father leaned in. “Care to share your thoughts, Minseo?”

  A dull headache began to throb behind my eyes. Don’t say anything, Minseo. Just shut up and get through the meeting. I felt the words forming on my tongue and bit down to stop them from coming out. Damnit. “I think now is the perfect time to attack. If Camelot is acquiring allies, they’re only going to get stronger. Just look at how much they’ve grown in the last five years alone.”

  The man with the orange sash spoke, a flash of defiance in his eyes as he addressed the room. “Attacking on their land will give them the upper hand. Due to our location, it would be difficult to transport troops and supplies.”

  I held his gaze and was surprised when he didn’t waiver beneath it. My absence from the meetings had negatively affected my credibility, but it wasn’t going to stop me. “Difficult doesn’t mean impossible. We need to show them that they can’t just take anything they want—that they can’t get away with what they’ve done,” I said, slamming my fist on the table. The smack of the table silenced the room, and I moved my gaze from one member of the council to the next.

  My father leaned in, the sternness of his face absent from his voice. “Revenge will only lead to more death.”

  I straightened my posture, feeling disapproval ready to spring from the lips of every council member in the room. “All the more reason to attack.”

  My father sighed, his irritation marked by a hard line across his forehead. “Enough, Minseo.” He turned to the other council members. “Is that all that’s on the agenda for today?” he asked.

  A frazzled Hanbit pulled on his blue sash and shook his head wearily. “There is one more thing…” His gaze moved to me. “But, perhaps now isn’t the best time to speak of such m-matters.”

  My father waved his hand dismissively without so much as a glance in my direction. “He’s fine, he’s fine. Go ahead.”

  But I wasn’t. I was fuming, unable to live with the fact that my brother was taken from me by a teenager who earned a throne in some ridiculous contest.

  A lump in Hanbit’s throat rose and fell before he spoke. “Apparently, there are rumors that the former queen of Besmium, Charlotte, still lives, and that the king’s men, barring one incident, have had difficulty locating her.”

  My body pulsed. She’s alive?

  The rooms buzzed with questions, but they blended togethe
r like a dizzying smoke. The thought rang in my head again and again. She’s alive?

  The red-faced man shouted,“Does that mean the child lives as well? That could solve our succession problem.”

  Another voice interjected. “We could send a small party to try and retrieve them.”

  She’s alive.

  “Out of the question,” the bold man said. “The girl made her choice long ago. Any interference on our part could be seen as a declaration of war with Camelot.”

  She’s alive and I abandoned her.

  4

  Charlotte

  I knelt beside the magnolia tree, the buds already pink but not yet open. I traced my fingers across the ridges of Young's name. I'd chosen a tree near my home to carve his name. A place I could visit him and sometimes talk. This was the place where I gave myself time to turn grief into memory. When we moved to flee capture by Lancelot and his companion Merlin, I had to choose a new tree, but it wasn't like Young was buried there. I shuddered to think his body still lay in the atrium where he fell, beneath the ruins of the what was once Cadere castle, but there were many thoughts I dared not dwell upon.

  “Papa!” Morgana said, hugging the tree. She sat down beside it and prattled a nonsensical story with no foreseeable end. I smiled, feeling the warmth inside push back the cold of the afternoon. I lay back against the tree and closed my eyes. Morgana's voice faded until the only voice left to hear was my own.

  I walked through an empty, gray world that seemed to be made up of the absence of everything. I held out my hand and pushed through the dull, colorless particles and watched them swirl around my hand. Lucid, I looked out into the vacant space.“Young,” I said, and there, through the gray mist, I saw his silhouette. Relieved, I sprinted forward through the clouds toward him. The mist swirled around my ankles and brushed against my cheeks. Breathlessly, I pushed through, the shadow of him never growing closer. My legs weakened, but I didn't slow. I wouldn't. Not when he was so close. “Young!” I screamed. A hard gust of wind pushed through, slicing the mist. An empty gray space, with no discernible horizon line, lay before me.

  “Charlotte!” Young called, his voice muffled. I stopped, unsure if the wind was knocked out of me from my run or from his voice. Behind me? I turned back and, in the distance, I saw a figure running towards me. “Charlotte!” he called.

  I tore toward the figure, unable to breathe or blink for fear I'd miss him. I ran, my hands outstretched as his face came fully into view. First his dark eyes. His high cheekbones cutting through the remaining strength in my legs. His round lips, a dash of pink in this gray world.

  Even as he yelled my name, his eyes had the calm, soulful glint in them that others get when staring out into the ocean.

  A few yards away, I could see tears on his cheeks as he reached for me.

  A gust of wind shot between us, pushing us further apart. I covered my face with my arms and felt myself slide back on the smooth gray surface. My eyes stung. “Young!” I called, my voice muffled and lost to the wind.

  “No!” I screamed, unable to open my eyes in the monstrous gusts. “I love you. I love you. I love you,” I shouted. The wind cut, and I stood alone in grayness once more. “No,” I whispered. “I love you.” But he was gone.

  I stood shaking.

  “There you are,” he said from behind me. But before I could turn, his hands were on my waist. He spun me and pulled me tightly to him, his mouth hot on mine. He buried his face in my neck, his tongue sliding up it and sending a chill through my body. I held him so hard it hurt. He pulled me off my feet and I wrapped my legs around him. He lay me on the ground and pressed his body to mine. His lips parted from mine as he whispered, “I love you too.” I ran my thumb across his cheek and stared into his eyes as the mist around us turned from gray to gold.

  My heart thundered against my chest, and I was certain he could feel it because I could feel his. His hand moved from my body to my hair.

  Hot tears stung my eyes as I erupted into sobs. He kissed my jaw and laughed. Wiping my eyes, warmth radiated from his body.

  I awoke beneath the shade of the tree, my eyes dry. The golden glow of the sun hovered as it threatened to set. Morgana was still midway through an endless story.

  He was gone, and once again, the pain of his loss was as fresh as the first time. I clutched my stomach to keep from screaming. The agony was as much a part of me as my pulse. I exhaled the worst of it, the memory of the dream evaporating into the orange glow.

  I could almost feel his kiss on my lips. Instead of crying as I used to, I smiled.

  I thought a “thank you” to him for visiting and stood, rubbing my cold arms.

  “Say goodbye to your father, Morgana,” I said. Morgana stood and took my hand. “Bye, Papa,” she said. “I'll tell you the rest later.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and we headed back to town just in time to see the sunset.

  5

  Minseo

  My heartbeat drowned out the sound of my father calling my name as I leapt from my seat and ran towards the door. I had to find her. I burst into the cool night air. Lanterns flickered along the bridge, illuminating the white petals that sprang off the nearby blossom trees and settled on the surface of the lake like freshly fallen snow.

  “Get my horse!” I called to our stable keeper. Breathless, my vision blurred. Get it together. I’d need to prepare for the journey, supplies, I’d probably need to convince Hanbit to come so I could use his leads about her whereabouts, I’d need Junho and a small team of soldiers, maybe even Jay Hyun. It would take days, several days to prepare at least, but I reeled. I needed to move, to think, to be out in the fresh air. I looked up to the silvery half moon—she was out there.

  I was jolted from my trance by the clip-clop of my horse's hooves on the rough path. My stable hand breathed heavily as he bowed and handed me the reins. I mounted my horse and felt a flicker of something warm inside, something I thought was gone. “Thank you,” I said.

  The stablehand recoiled and stepped back. “You’re welcome, Your Highness.”

  I rode towards the front gate, suddenly conscious of how I’d treated everyone for the past few years. It was a miracle I still had a friend left. Without even realizing it, I headed toward his home.

  The cold of the winter was over and the blooms of spring brought new life. I rode through the gates, through the dirt roads. Clay-tiled homes nestled behind their walls, the streets still alive with people rushing about, enjoying the fine weather, even in the lantern-lit night. “Charlotte,” I whispered into the empty air.

  Then I saw her—soft brown skin, dark secret-filled eyes, spiral curls. My cheeks burned, and she was just a girl then. Now she was a woman of twenty-one at least. I felt fire kindle in my chest, the one I’d lost all those years ago. In the four years since Besmium fell, I hadn’t requested the presence of any woman to my chambers. I hadn’t courted, and my mother knew better than to attempt another arrangement. I spent my time convincing myself Charlotte had died that winter until I believed it, and then I forced myself to forget.

  I was nothing but the shell of Prince Minseo of Vires until moments ago when Charlotte re-entered my world—sparking my light. Now the blood coursed through my veins once more.

  Vires was home, and when I had returned broken and lost, I vowed never to leave its borders again. How quickly I turned on that vow as I raced through the night.

  I pulled on the reins, slowing my horse as my mind crawled towards the somber truth. I’d made other vows. I vowed to my brother I’d protect Charlotte and vowed to Charlotte I wouldn’t leave her alone. I’d broken those as well. I stopped my horse. My mind flashed to Charlotte’s cold expression shrinking into the distance as I rode back to Vires without her. She hadn’t shed a single tear that day. It was entirely possible that she’d never forgive me. I dismounted, unable to take a step forward.

  My horse stirred, sensing my uneasiness. I exhaled all the hope I’d allowed myself to build in the last few moments. I ran my
hand through my hair and felt my eyes prickle. She’d never forgive me. I swallowed a mouthful of shame, the acidic taste still lingering on my tongue, and tilted my head back. I stared vacantly at the moon and sighed. My gaze drifted down to the ground below like blossoms on a windless morning. A gust of wind pushed at my back.

  Then a thought hit me so hard it pulled the breath from my lungs. What about the baby? If Charlotte was alive, the child might be out there too. Young’s baby. I stepped forward. My mind spun with the thought. A part of my brother was still in this world. I pulled myself back onto my horse and, before I knew it, I was riding full force toward Junho’s house.

  I looked up at the cherry blossom trees, the ones I’d miss this year. There were so many buds that hadn’t yet opened.

  6

  Charlotte

  I pushed open the tavern door and stopped, my hand immediately moving to my dagger. It wasn’t that the tavern was packed with dozens of soldiers in blue or that there was barely enough room to stand. It wasn’t the roaring laughter or general chaos. What unsettled me was the smell; Lynn hadn’t baked today. In all the time I’d known her, she’d never missed a day of baking. I couldn’t see her from the door. Just an army of soldiers at play. I should leave, I knew that. Not only was I a woman in a tavern with sixty drunken men, but if Lancelot and Morgana were among them— I shuddered. Still, Lynn was in there. I knew she could take care of herself; she was a tough person, but she hadn’t baked and that worried me.

  I put up the hood of my shawl and made my way to the bar.

  I saw an opening and moved my body into it, only to be shoved out by a large man with thick black hair on his arms. “Wait your turn.” he barked, shoving me back from the bar without even glancing in my direction. I pushed back into my place, prompting the man to turn to me with such force he nearly knocked over the soldier on the far side of him. His face was lined with a snarl until he saw me. “Oh, I’m sorry, m’lady,” he said and sheepishly retreated into the crowded room—ale in hand.