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Lady Armana walked through the hallway at a decisive pace. Her footsteps hit the cold marble floor hard and nearly left the walls around her vibrating. She walked quickly—so quickly, in fact, that her blue dressed billowed behind her as if caught in a brisk breeze. Every servant she encountered on her journey caught a glimpse of fury on her face and either stared down at their feet or took a different path.
She was furious. After her initial feeling of surprise, followed by despair in the face of the situation and given the appropriate time to consider things, anger had stepped in and taken control of every fiber of her being, blocking out any other emotion.
She knew what had happened. She knew that it was all a conspiracy. Prolur had been set up from the very beginning—a problem that the king himself needed to be dealt with. For the king knew the movements of his nephew, Quale, and his want to conquer the throne, and he also knew that in order for him to do so he would have to have the help of a seasoned general like Prolur. So, it was only natural for His Majesty to assume that Quale had made contact—which, of course, he had. Whether the king knew this for a fact was more than Armana could say. His Majesty had always seen Prolur as a traitor or a potential one since he had not chosen to join in his ranks even though he had taken the cloth years before the king ascended. The simple solution was to rid the kingdom of him, one way or another. This would, of course, be a fortunate turn of events for Lord di Sauria. Taura could only assume that the king had notified the ruler of Saurania of his concerns, and he had only been too happy to comply.
She halted in front of the large double doors leading into Lord di Sauria’s throne room. They were gilded, and above them hung the Sauranian crest—a minotaur clutching a large double-edged axe with a crown upon his head. Di Sauria had always lived in his cousin’s shadow, and Taura knew that he had never gotten over the fact that he was not awarded the Sauranian stewardship until Prolur had rejected it.
She was just about to knock on the door when it opened, and Elden emerged from behind it. He jerked when he saw her, obviously startled, but quickly regained his composure and bowed before her.
“Lady Armana,” he said. “I imagine we have come to see His Lordship for the same reason.”
“I believe so, Father,” Taura replied with restlessness in her voice, eager to step inside to confront di Sauria.
“I would advise against it, Milady. Lord di Sauria is not at all in a receiving state.”
“I will take it under advisement, but I need to speak with him.”
“I understand. Have you seen Father Prolur yet?” Elden moved sideways, away from the doors as he spoke.
“Not yet, Father. Have you?” Now her anxiousness was replaced by concern.
“I saw him when he first arrived, and he was already in a poor state. I can only imagine what the past hours of questioning have done to him.”
Taura’s blood went cold once again. She knew what Haugarian interrogation techniques involved and how its victims.
“When you have concluded your business with di Sauria, call on me, milady, and we both shall venture below to see our friend and maybe console him.” Elden bowed once again and waited for Taura to nod her reply before he turned and vanished down the corridor.
Taura paused for a moment with her hand on the intricately-carved handle. If she didn’t enter and confront di Sauria—most likely the only option she had when it came to freeing Prolur—she would have to live with the regret for the rest of her life. She put her entire weight behind it and pushed the door open.
Inside the great hall, everything was desolate, and the vastness of the room emphasized how empty it was. Yet there was a feeling inside, like looking out upon an abandoned battlefield after the fallen have been collected—sadness or the sensation of tragedy. The hall was lined by an alley of marble pillars that supported a wraparound balcony where musicians would perform during feasts and people would sit during audiences. At the moment, it was devoid of any furnishings apart from the red carpet that led to a wide podium. Atop this podium stood a throne made from bronze. Behind it hung a tapestry adorned with the new Sauranian coat of arms. The minotaur was now missing an eye and a hand. He also bore a sword instead of an axe, an amalgam of Saurania and Haugaria.
Taura stopped by the podium and turned around and called out for di Sauria. “Your Lordship?” she called. “Are you still here, sire?”
Silence and then, suddenly, the sound of glass breaking. It came from behind a pillar and was followed by quiet laughter—laughter carrying the slightest bit of pain. Taura walked towards the sound, careful as she moved closer.
“Sire?” she asked cautiously. “Is everything well with you?” She turned around the pillar and saw di Sauria leaning against it.
He seemed to be in a terrible state. Carafes once filled with wine lay before his feet. Some had been crushed so that shards lay everywhere. Di Sauria’s cape lay beside them in a pile. di Sauria himself had his hair in disarray and had managed to tear his uniform and sweat ran from his face.
“Sire?” Taura said and kept an eye on a carafe in the man’s hand.
di Sauria raised his head and stared at her. “Lady Armana?” he said in a slurring voice. “Have you come for the same reason as that damned monk?”
“Maybe,” Taura replied, now with a sweet voice instead. She could maybe lure him in if she played with his emotions.
“He pleaded for my cousin’s life. He did everything, save fall to his knees and cry for him.” di Sauria snickered at the thought. “Needless to say, he failed.”
“I have not come to beg, milord. I have come to reason with you.”
“Is that so?” di Sauria stumbled past Taura and into the center of the room. “You believe I know not what I do?”
“Not so, Milord,” Taura answered and moved towards him. “I do believe a mistake has been made and that Father Prolur has been the victim of rash decisions.”
“Please continue, Lady.” di Sauria swayed back and forth, but he seemed interested in what she had to say.
“I know His Majesty is eager to rid the kingdom of traitors and those who would sympathize with his nephew, but Father Prolur is not and never has been interested in politics.” She moved so close to him that their faces were only an inch apart. She could smell the foul stench of sour wine on his breath. “You know this. I know that you know that he is innocent. For my sake, please let him go. Let him live out his days in peace.” She put her hand on his chest and held her lips close to his.
He closed his eyes for a minute and shuddered as his lips could feel the warm wetness of her lips. Then he pulled back, and she stumbled forward, caught off guard. “I cannot,” he said. “I know what you are trying to do, but I do not have the power to let him go.”
Taura took a few steps back as the fury rushed back into her. di Sauria also walked back and fell heavily onto the throne. He put the carafe to his mouth and drank.
“There are so many things I would say to you.” Taura fought back the tears of rage. “But cannot for fear of treason and that I will end up in the dungeon as well. So, I take my leave, Your Lordship, but know this, we all pay on our final day.” She turned and walked towards the doors.
“Taura!” di Sauria had never used her given name before. She looked him straight in the eyes. “Would you ever have loved me?”
The question took her by surprise, but she needed to retreat quickly. “Not now, before, or ever, Mieden,” she said. “I know this might seal Prolur’s fate, but it is the truth.”
She turned and left the room in haste so that he wouldn’t see the tears already flowing from her eyes.
di Sauria remained on the throne and let the carafe fall and shatter.
“Very good show.” Sir Aryan of Louen emerged from behind another pillar. “You might handle this situation after all.” di Sauria looked at the king’s aide with nothing less than contempt. “I am proud to see that you possess such strength, Lord di Sauria. That woman's wiles will not save you.”
“I might release him, Sir Aryan,” di Sauria spoke defiantly and with conviction. “You know as well as I do that there is no evidence against Prolur.”
Sir Aryan moved closer to the throne and leaned on the armrest. “There is suspicion of treason,” he said in a sharp tone. “We know he has been living with bandits, and the king believes he has spoken to Quale. Who are you to disagree with His Highness?”
“The decision to set him free is mine alone. This is still my part of the kingdom.”
“I do believe that there are many men who would love to take your place on the Sauranian throne, My Lord.” Sir Aryan’s voice grew harder in tone.
“Well, before you have gathered what you need from the king to depose me, Father Prolur will have been freed and gone to where he cannot touch him.” He rose from the throne and began walking away when Aryan’s voice stopped him dead in his tracks.
“Maybe you are doing this for Lady Armana’s sake, and maybe not. You should know that her son, young master Naed Arman, is not born from the late Lord Armana. He belongs to your cousin.”
di Sauria clenched his fits in anger and closed his eyes.
“You know what must be done, Your Lordship. The only reason she will never belong to you is that he lives. Save your honor and that of the kingdom.