Chapter Twenty-Three

 

 

Aren walked into the remains of Av’s rooms and looked over the broken and burned plaster. The rug was nothing but ashes. While the furniture had survived, any fabric covering on said furniture had been destroyed. The frames were instilled with magic, but fabric was a funny sort of thing when it came to magic.

She turned to those gathered in the room, the barons, Av, and the three high lords who were at court. She pointed at the one she didn’t recognize, knowing he must be the high lord of the East.

“You are to come for a formal meeting tomorrow,” she said.

“Yes, Lady Aren.”

“You may leave.”

“Yes, Lady Aren.” The man was only too happy to flee and leave this problem to the ranks.

Her eyes roved over the barons, only to realize that Van was not in the room. She clasped her hands before her and studied the frightened faces that stared back at her.

“Is this why male queens are feared?” she asked.

“No,” Lerd said. “This is why queens are feared. Ella will be here any moment—”

“Then she will submit, or her mate will be put out,” she said sternly. “This is my land, meaning my territory. You warriors claim land, yes? You mark off your land and call it your territory like a pack of wolves might, yes? Then you will understand me when I say this is my territory.” Aren heard a scuff behind her and turned as Ella strode into the room, fury rolling off the woman. “And when a queen destroys part of my territory, unprovoked, it is up to me to pass judgement on him or her. Do you question this?”

She had said the last as she watched Ella. The woman’s fury turned slowly to fear. Ella didn’t attempt to relax, but did lower her eyes.

“Van has done as much to others,” the warrior said to the floor, unable to look up once more.

“I don’t plan on killing him, Ella, he will be returned to you. But in how many pieces will be determined by his behaviour.”

“I understand,” the other woman said.

Aren turned back to the men. “Now. What were you men talking about, that did this? And recall, I will know if you are lying and I now know that you all have a weakness and he’s right nearby.”

“You,” Av said, stepping towards Aren. “We were talking about you, Aren. They believe, and I can’t help but see something of the sort, that you don’t feel the way a person is supposed to. Especially not how a queen is supposed to.”

“I feel.”

“You didn’t know what fear was,” he said. “Your giggles send a delighted shiver through everyone. Except me, and that’s not a bad thing. We like your giggles—the others for the delight and me because you are giggling, but it lasts a fleeting moment and then is gone.”

“Why did this upset Van?” she asked.

“In order to…” Av trailed off, struggling to find the word, “… make… a queen like you, you have to drive them halfway to breaking.”

“You can’t break a queen.”

“Breaking the spirit of a queen, just as one can do to anyone else,” Av said. “This will either leave you with a submissive subject whose magic is at your disposal, sometimes linked directly to you as if it were your own, or… with something a great deal worse than Em.”

“Like how a tortured man will say anything to make the pain stop?” Aren asked.

“Oh, not that again. I handled it my way. He meant to kill you and I think I made myself very clear. Though Jer did most of that, I think he needed the release. Anyhow, it’s in the past.”

“But to break a queen would be the same.”

“Yes,” Ella said. “Even at halfway, if your parents had known that you were a queen, you would have given over your magic to them in order to make them stop hurting you. For a time they might have, but then they would start again, slowly over time, to push you the rest of the way so that they could have access to everything.”

“And how do you know that?” Aren asked, turning back to the woman.

“Van’s father did it to his sister, tried to do it to Van,” Ella said. “I blooded him.”

Aren glanced at Er. “Is blooded where nothing’s left but a head?” The man nodded gravely in response. “Where is Van’s sister now?”

“Dead,” Lerd said. “I did her a mercy. Her body was there, but her spirit was long gone.”

“And were you considering doing the same to me?”

“We were simply discussing—”

“Were you considering doing the same to me?” Aren demanded, louder this time.

“It was an option early in the conversation,” Lerd said. “One that was dismissed when they mentioned the giggles.”

“And now your plan?”

“To make you feel the things you should have learned to feel growing up?” Lerd asked, sounding uncertain of himself. He glanced past Aren, to Ella.

“You don’t have to make her feel anything. Once removed from the source it comes back fairly quickly,” Ella said.

Aren wanted to rage at someone, but was afraid that it would only prove their damnable point. Hands still before her, she clenched them tighter together to remind herself to control her actions.

“Where is Van?”

“I believe he went to the sitting room down the hall,” Av said.

She left the set of rooms and searched about. Her own emotions were conflicting with her searching because she and Van were feeling something very similar. Glancing down the hallway, she spotted a servant who stared back at her with wide eyes.

“Where’s the other one?” she asked.

The servant moved to Aren, then past her with a quick motion. Aren followed down the hallway and to a closed door. The servant motioned to the door and then stared at Aren with concern and a bit of fear. She motioned the servant off and received a stiff bow before the man fled.

She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her quickly.

Inside was unlike anything she had ever seen, or felt. The furniture seemed to vibrate as if it could not decide whether it should be solid or slivers of wood and shreds of fabric. Plaster from the walls had been lifted off in little flecks and were floating in the air.

Deep down, somewhere in her body, she felt the desire to run, but she was too surprised and curious about what she saw. On some level she had known that a queen was capable of this, but she had never truly understood. Van wasn't altering the state of anything. His magic was simply ripping apart physical objects in an effort to expend the excess created by his rage.

Aren's wrist throbbed. She reached for it absently and adjusted the black manacle as Van turned to her. There was fury and madness in the man's eyes as his magic redirected.

How did she know his magic was changing direction? Because every flake of plaster, and even bits of the furniture, began drifting towards her.

She lifted a hand in defence and watched as Van crumpled to the floor. The plaster collapsed a moment later. Aren lowered her hand and Van gasped out. She wondered if whatever she had done, she could do on purpose. As she wondered that, there was a creaking.

Each piece of furniture collapsed into itself, then onto the floor in a jumbled mess of wood and fabric bits. It wasn’t an instant process, it crumbled inward slowly. Aren watched in amazement, wondering if she could do that.

“If you ever let loose your anger in such a way that places innocents into danger again...” Aren raised her left hand, the same as she had to defend herself. Van cried out in pain, leaving Aren feeling relieved as she dropped her hand. There was a pressure off of her very flesh, as if a weight had been lifted.

It felt good to do this, but which part felt good? Causing pain, or using magic?

She dropped her hand and waited as Van tried to catch his breath.

“I do not suffer you to live, Van, but so help me. If you put others of our rank in danger because of your behaviour, I will end you. Ella be damned, your title be damned, I will not allow you to tarnish the rank. I think we have enough problems as it is.”

Van gasped in a breath. “How did you know that would work?”

“What would work?” Aren asked.

“Pain—how did you know pain can end anger like that?”

Aren puzzled over the question, only able to come up with one explanation. The throne had told her things more than once, though she wished it were done in such a way that she knew why she was doing what she was doing.

“I simply do. This is two, Van. I will check with others, but I believe being brought before me three times means an end to you. Do not anger me again.”

She left the sitting room, slamming the door behind her because it made her feel good. She could slam the door and so she did.

Just outside the room stood Ella. The warrior looked nervous and was in the middle of pacing as the door slammed. Aren met her eyes and saw the terrified tremble a moment before the woman was gone and all that remained was a warrior.

“He's alive and in one piece,” she said. “Count yourself lucky I didn't take a hand for his attempt to attack me.”

“Is he still angry?” Ella asked.

“I do not believe so.”

Aren moved off down the hallway.

“Lady Aren,” Ella called, sounding half-desperate and half-demanding.

She turned to the warrior, who glanced at the sitting room door and then back at her.

“May I give him something to help him sleep?”

“...Yes?” Aren was confused as to why the question was even being asked.

“Thank you.” The relieved tone that Ella said the words in only confused her more.