| |
“Oh, don’t look so down in the mouth, it’s going to be alright. Nikos isn’t that bad. Just think of him as a cranky old grandpa who’s likes to pretend he’s still young and has bad teeth. He’s harmless,” Sandora giggled again. Consolingly patting my shoulder hand with one hand before moving off, she started leading my way through the darkened halls with the expert knowledge of one that had worked long hours in this castle. “By the way, my name isn’t Sandora. It’s actually Melisandra, but you can call me Sandra. Sandora is just something that the prince calls me because he can’t remember my name. Actually, he can’t or doesn’t want to remember most of the servant’s names, so we just get called whatever he thinks of at the time. Usually it is pretty close to our names but sometimes he just calls us “Hey, You!” or “You there!” It can be pretty funny at times, but more often than not it’s just an annoyance.”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded, not entirely convinced that she was actually waiting for my acknowledgement because she was still rattling off at high speed.
“So what happened to you that made Travain bring you before the king?” She asked but doesn’t even stop long enough to hear my reply. “I bet you had something to do with Lentiqua being set ablaze, am I right? I mean, obviously you’re not the one responsible for the massive state of destruction or you’d be dead with what rebels I heard they caught. It’s just so sad that so many people lost their homes and jobs in the fire. I couldn’t believe that they said werewolves actually snuck inside the walls and set the fires. The guards stationed at the walls must not have been paying attention if they just let a pack of werewolves waltz right in the gates. Have you ever seen an actual werewolf?”
“Yes, I have. Rather up close and personal.” I cut in, my fingers rubbing over the aching clawmarks embedded in my shoulder.
Her hazels eyes were as big as coins when she glanced back over her shoulder to see my face –she probably thought I was joking.”Ooo, really? Then you know what I’m talking about. Big, huge hulking beasts with jagged fangs and claws. There’s no way that even the most inexperienced rookie could have missed that trying to come in. I bet they had some inside help or somebody to let them inside.”
Oh, but if she only knew.
“Anyway, I just felt so sorry for the poor innocent people that got caught up in all this. Did your family get injured in the blaze? I was pretty lucky because it’s just me and my grandma who’s still living and she works at one of the magistrate’s houses. All of my other family died years ago, so it’s just me and granny who work as maids for the royal family and the magistrates. Not that I’m complaining mind you, I like being a maid. I don’t know what I would do if I had to go work as a merchant or even at the worst as a farmer. The conditions those poor folks work in are just inhumane. My granny always says that if she had a dog, she wouldn’t send it out there to work in that kind of life. She’s so cool and just full of all kinds of wisdom like that. Oh, and her sarcasm is just the best. She could cut steel with her tongue if she tried.”
Hmn. That’s sounds familiar. Age that cafe au lait complexion by about 50 years, add a stoop to her shoulders, and pull those curls up into a bun. Melisandra would be a doppelganger for the sarcastic old lady who worked at the Ghro’s estate. Now that I think about it, she did say she had a granddaughter who worked at the palace. I bet they’re related.
We rambled through the maze of dark hallways like phantoms in the night, sometimes passing by a group of the gas lanterns that briefly revealed dimly painted black walls and crusty pine floors in a wash of amber light before merging back to the inky gloom, others were just spent wandering in the dark. Melisandra chattered the whole way, never pausing for breath or even to check her way. I’ve long since stopped paying attention, only murmuring an occasional acknowledgement that prompts her to start again at full speed – I think she is babbling something about the laying habits of chickens, I don’t know? I know it’s only been a few minutes since we departed from the entrance, but it feels like hours of traveling through the gloom, more so than even in the darkest parts of the forest beyond the walls. It’s so lonely as well. We haven’t even encountered another living being except for the distance patter of the castle’s other staff in the floors above.
Suddenly, she stopped and I stumbled straight into her back.
“Ooo, careful there.” She steadied my shoulders with her hands as I rocked back a step. “You probably can’t see anything but this is the door to the royal garden. King Nikos stays out here a lot. I think he likes all the fresh air.” There’s a click, snap, and squeal and then there is an exit out of the darkness. A ceiling of bluish-black night specked with the pointed white starbursts of light awaited atop a wall of greenery pocketmarked with white flowers blooming under the full moon light. A true wall, it stretches from end to end unblemished only by an archway located directly in the center heart of the wall.
“Have fun with King Nikos!” Melisandra planted her hand between my shoulders and pushed me forward, the door slamming behind with a thud of finality. It sounded like the ring of a guillotine, a death sentence that afforded no difference between the innocent – of which I most certainly am – and the guilty. Nikos isn’t known for his mercy. Not before the death of his wife and certainly not after, the horror stories of his temperament are rarer than his stepson’s but increasingly powerful as well.
Nevertheless, the garden was as lush and beautiful as a fairy tale. A cobblestone path wound through an endless series of archways wound thick with a lush viny plant that looked so familiar but I couldn’t place it at the moment. The leaves were large and arrow shaped, a dark greenish-grey in color with a foul scent like stale air and a light covering of velvety fuzz. Bristly green bulbs surrounded by a protective shell of needle like green thorns hang like cherries from the arms of thick vines. Not to be overshadowed, the trumpet shaped white blooms were beautiful in the pale moonlight, an angelic beauty with a ethereally sweet scent that had attracted small brown creatures with a long black proboscis – I think they were Hawkmoths. They resembled a painting I had seen once. The tiny creatures fluttered about in small masses so thick that some of them actually collided in mid-air and fall to the safety cradle of the blooms, too drunk on the flowers scent to right themselves.
There’s something not quite right about the blooms. Although extremely lovely to look at, it feels like there is something darker lurking in the depths. An evil aura that is shimmering just beneath the surface, lurking, waiting for the unwary. The closer I watched the blooms bob with the movements of the moths, the odder they appeared. Sometimes it’s even the shadows of the vines themselves that appeared to be moving, serpents made of shadows sliding along unnoticed in the thick foliage.
A shiver strong and cold sent a wave of chilled goosebumps spreading across my skin despite the warm air of the early summer evening. I don’t like this. Something just feels wrong. Wrapping my arms around myself, I keep walking with my head lowered down to gaze at my feet. The quicker I can get out of this tunnel, the better.
The tunnel narrowed as I walked closer to what I am assuming is the end. The hanging leaves so close that they barely missed brushing against my skin by inches. My skin still crawls from the near contact and the sweet scent is making my head throb with a pounding pain like a hammer is tapping against my skull. Something in the air seems to have changed as well. It’s like the world is getting fuzzy around the edges, or maybe it’s just me where I’m tired. I would give anything to be able to just stop right here, curl up on the floor, and just sleep beneath the stars. Forever.
The end loomed ahead first as a narrow circle of light that gradually opened into an exit from the dark cocoon of the tunnel, the fresh air is like a blast of cold water to my face, washing away the intoxicating sweet scent that’s flooded my senses. Curious, I turned around and faced towards the tunnel of vines again and that disorientating feeling quickly returned. The loose tendrils beckoned me back with thin green fingers, the silent sweet song of death singing gently from the petals swaying in the breeze. “Come back! Don’t leave us!” the silent whispers called in the night, needing their prey to return.
I gave the vines one last glance before I turned back towards the new open space. The area was clear and circular, surrounding by the backside of that same overgrown hedge I saw after I exited the castle. The only entrance and exit of this area appears to be that same tunnel I just traveled through – much to my grief. In the center of the courtyard is a bulbous red structure, a mushroom-like substance but it can’t be real. The skin looks way too thin and there is a dark hole in the side like an entrance of some sort. Not too far from the hole is a small fire pit surrounding by uneven grey stones, a wisp of smoke still curling from the charred and flickering ashes.
Peeping into the darkened entrance to the tent – I guess that’s what it is – two bright red eyes peer back out of the darkness. I screamed in terror and leaped back while a filthy lump came crawling out of the shelter on its bony hands and knees to stands up. A tiny man—barely five feet if he was that tall – with a long white beard that reached his knees and round wire spectacles perched on his nose cackled uproariously, the dry laughter reminiscent of the squawked scolding of a grizzled old crow.
The little man reached out an age-speckled hand, the nails grown long and caked with black dirt underneath. I refuse to take it, but the old man keeps staring at me with those tiny red raisin eyes sunk deep into his skull, the twinkling light of madness just barely visible in those shrunken organs. His tattered and filthy plum purple robe hung off his body like a too-large jacket, puddling around his feet and hanging from his skinny arms like giant wings.
“Hello there, dearie!” He screeched in a high pitched voice more suitable to a young girl than an ancient mummified man and smiled widely, revealing a mouthful of crooked and chipped yellow teeth. “Are you my new playmate?”
“Uh... No?” Playmate? What level of crazy is this old fart? “Can you tell me where King Nikos is? I’m supposed to be meeting him here in the garden?”
The old man hid his face in his hands and snickered. “Heeheehee, that’s me! The ruler of all that you can see. Not him. Not her. But me!” Nikos jiggled around in a strange jogging dance, hopping on one leg while flicking the other one out as high as his head while also flapping his arms like a chicken.
Somebody please save me from the crazy people.
“Um... Excuse me, your highness.” I reached out one finger to lightly tap him on the shoulder. Nikos stopped almost immediately with my touch, the robe sliding down to cover every exposed limb from the neck down – I am assuming there is a neck underneath that beard. He cocked his head to the side like a puppy, staring at me like I’m the most interesting thing he’s seen all day. I had already opened my mouth to speak when a sudden thought popped in my head, if Nikos’s candle isn’t exactly lit all the way, maybe I shouldn’t tell him that Travain has accused me of being a traitor. Maybe I could even convince him to let me join the Huntsmen. The king’s word is law, you know. “Do you think you could help me? My home and family was destroyed in the fire and I have no place to go.”
“Fire? There was a fire? Why didn’t somebody tell me?” The king demanded. His clenched fists wave in the air towards the direction of the mansion, his face twisted into a furious scowl. “I am the king, not some helpless twit! I was leading this kingdom before most of you were ever born! How dare you keep such information away from me! I! AM! NOT! INSANE!”
The angered king broke off with a final shout of rage. He picked up a large rock from around the remains of his campfire and flung it hard against the ground, little shards of the stone breaking off from the main body as it bounces away like a ball. His fury spent on the action, he leans over to pick at the remaining stones surrounding his feet. “I’m not insane. I’m not! The shadows are hunting me. Turning everyone against me. They won’t stop till I’m alone and dead. Dead!” He mumbled under his breath.
My eye twitched in curiosity – or maybe it’s stress?. Is this why Travain was so eager for me to keep my silence? That the long held suspicions of the people have finally proven to be truth in that the king is no longer mentally sane? If that be the case, then there would be a civil war in Althea. Each of the cunning, corrupt magistrates would vie for the crown, regardless of Travain’s claim, with an army of their own loyal followers at their heels. The commoners caught in the cross-fire would be slaughtered, staining the streets with rivers of red. With the commoners conscripted to war, no one would be able to farm or mine. Ensuring even more deaths of starvation and exposure that not even the royals would be able to escape.
If the king was exposed as insane, the kingdom would splinter apart at the seams. That was a goal that not even a spoiled prince like Travain would be able to ignore.
I knelt down beside the muttering king, sweeping the singed hem of my dress against my legs as I did, and laid a gentle hand on Nikos’s shoulder. He tried to back away, scuttling closer to the entrance of his tent in a crab-like fashion. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.” The mad king moaned pitifully.
“You’re not alone. I’ll be your friend if you would like.” I forced my face into some sort of expression like my best reassuring smile.
“Really? Yippee!” He leaped straight up into the air, the long beard twining around his feet as he did, the length of hair sending him painfully crashing to the ground on his back on his downward swing. The crack of impact for his old bones against the stones was painfully loud enough that I winched in sympathy, but Nikos rolls right back up, resuming his shouts of joy while skipping about. In many ways, he is like an excited little boy. All short limbs and boundless energy. Just with the difference being that he had the mind of a tyrant.
He tripped over his beard again and again before finally falling flat on his stomach. I straightened up and started to walk over and see if he killed himself or was just merely unconscious when I heard the sharp striding of commanding footsteps filter through the tunnel.
“Must you always be so indecent?” Travain said with a mocking sneer as he strolled out of the tunnel of vines, looking every inch the regal prince in his shining white tunic, tan pants, and knee-length brown boots. The tunic’s embroidered design of swirls made from golden thread glowed in the moonlight, enhancing the royal effect air that clung to Travian’s form no matter where he was. The lush foliage of the vines curled in on itself as he passed, drawing back from Travain’s mere presence like he had an aura of pure poison, or maybe the vines know they can’t trap him. “Stand up and act like the king you are supposed to be. You have a subject to punish.”
Well, that feeble hope I had of maybe making it out of this place alive just went up in smoke.
“Travain. What do you want?” Nikos raised up to eye his stepson with all the affection one would show a serpent. He climbed to his feet, puffing his bony chest out to appear taller than he was, but he still barely came eye-level with Travain’s chest. The prince just stared down mockingly at his shorter relative, the disgust in his gaze so plain that even a two year old could see it.
“Hello, father.” The sarcasm dripped off the final word like rancid oil. “I was just coming to see what punishment you were dolling out to our newest traitor, but I see you are too busy playing to perform your proper duties as would befit a king.”
“What traitor? The only person here is my new friend... Uh, what did you name was again?” Nikos’s sunken eyes slid over to me in question.
“Kyri Dekote, your highness.” I lifted the edges of my skirt wide as I knelt into a deep curtsy. Travain scoffed at my gesture while the king himself looked on in glimmering approval – also noting how the bodice of my dress gaped over the top of my cleavage with the movement.
“Dekote. Would you by any chance happen to be related to Mikoff Dekote? He was one of my closest friends. He saved my life more than once, a truly excellent swordsmen and archer to boot.” Nikos tapped a finger thoughtfully against his chin, the other hand stroking the long expanse of white beard. Disturbed by the pressing motion, three black-shelled beetles and a muddy brown caterpillar crawled their way to the bristly surface before dropping to the ground for safety, wriggling off to new homes in the ground below. Nikos never noticed, continuing to stroke the long length of matted white mass while journeying deep in his memories, his eyes nearly hooded and misty with the effort.
I know I am going to regret this later, but I cleared my throat to gain their attention. Two sets of eyes swivel around, one older and watery but glimmering with the red rimmed hint of madness, the other younger but blazing with blue fury so strong that it burns to hold his gaze. “Your highness, my father was indeed the man you spoke of. He served your reign until his death.”
Nikos’s face lightened in comprehension while Travain’s scowl deepened further. “Of course, He was practically one of the family and was treated as such till the time he died.”
So, when a member of the royal family dies, they are shoved in a plain pine box and stowed in the ground so fast that their family barely has a chance to say goodbye?
“And you say that you are his daughter? Well, now. I can certainly see the resemblance. Most certainly in those eyes. The way they cut straight to the heart like a keen-edged knife with just one glance. Why, I bet you are every bit as brave and loyal as your father was.” Nikos’s voice has acquired a more kingly tone as he speaks. The little boy mannerisms that he displayed have also faded away like dust, leaving the more dignified aged adult in his place.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Father.” Travain added, carelessly examining his neatly manicured nails with a casual glance. “The daughter of your loyal huntsman is a nothing more than a spy and a traitor. In fact, the whole family was most likely spying on you as well, a crime worthy of death itself. Not even to mention the crime of setting Lentiqua marketplace ablaze with her comrades.”
“You lie! The Dekotes were nothing if not loyal to the crown! Where is your proof?” Nikos snapped, bony fists clenched tight in anger at his sides. Although I don’t know if his rage is directed towards his stepson’s accusation against my family or if it is because Travain claims he knows something that Nikos doesn’t.
Travain merely smiled at his father, one elegantly slender hand reaching into the pocket of his tunic for a sheaf of creamy white papers covered in black tracks of ink that he shoves at his stepfather’s chest. I don’t have to see them to know exactly what they are. Documents of my family’s history, names, birth dates, death dates, building records, along with bills paid and not yet due. Documents from the business, tax records, bills of sale, pickup slips and delivery charges. Every kind of record imaginable. They are all there. I should know, I addressed most of them to send in to the castle during the tax season.
“Kyri Dekote. Born, the 8th day of summer in the year of 1500 of our Royal Highness King Nikos. Parents Mikoff Dekote and Leona Dekote. Excellent student but fosters no relationship with the other children. Always sits off to herself. After finishing school, she becomes an apprentice at her mother’s shop where she performs subpar work, continuing to isolate herself further from the loyal subjects and refusing relationships unlike a normal young woman. Within the last three weeks, Ms. Dekote was positively identified in taking part of a raid by the traitorous gang, The Raven’s Guild, in a venture both to and from beyond the safety of the wall. Suspected of smuggling contraband magical items, the subject was assisted by an unknown young man that had no records on file as being identified in the kingdom of Althea. Said unidentified man was then observed sneaking out of the Dekote family’s business establishment at night and meeting with various other unknown subjects suspected as rebels and a potential threat to the crown. As to this date, the Dekote family continues to house the unknown subject and the entire depths of their relationship with The Raven’s Guild is unknown.” Nikos trailed off by reading the final date of the report, just completed yesterday. My life condensed into a one-page form, one that is also very convincing of false guilt despite the fact that I am innocent. Now that I heard about Alec’s extracurricular activities, I wonder how much of his actions were real? Saving me from the Bloodwrath, vaguely helping us at night in the shop, and even today with the other wolf, was any of it real or was it just the act of a predator protecting his innocent lure?
“Now, this same girl has also colluded with the rogues and burned Lentiqua almost to the ground. Thousands of people injured. Even more dead. Homes and livelihoods destroyed with no hope of regaining what they once had.” Travain passionately declared with one hand laid over his heart, his expression as mournful as an actor’s in a play of tragedy. “Why, I was simply moved to tears with the pitiful plight of the people.”
That’s funny, considering his nose was thrust so high in the clouds that he cut a trail clean through the smoke tinged air that I was surprised he could even see to direct his horse. Also, I didn’t know that stone had feelings.
Nikos looked at me, confusion twisting his features between the old king and the little boy. “I thought you were my friend... You were nice to me... But Travain. Travain said that you were bad. A bad woman who tries to destroy things. Why? Your father was loyal to me, why aren’t you?”
My tongue darted out to wet my lips that had long since dried into crackly skin. This is it. No second chances. Of all the awful things that have happened already, one false step here and I will be dead for sure. “Your hi-highness. I have ne-never tried to destroy the ki-kingdom. My only cr-crime is that I w-was trying to help my m-mother earn a living. Yes, I did commit a c-crime by smuggling in the threads of a Vitare, a s-substance which has no m-magical use other that it’s strength and extraordinary beauty to use in our dressmaking. We h-have always b-been loyal to the crown and if I had known of the a-activty of the one who p-pretended to assist me in the forest, I would have most c-certainly turned him in.”
Travain’s loud bark of laughter effectively cut off anything else I had wanted to say. “Oh, so the little stuttering mouse would have turned in the big, bad wolf if only she hadn’t been so stupid to realize that she was being misled? That is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. I knew the commoners were stupid, but really? Letting not just one, but an entire squad of twenty werewolves infiltrate the kingdom because the poor, little commoners needed a magical this, or a magical that to make their horrible little lives easier?”
Twenty werewolves... how could that even be possible? The figure still sounded to unreal to be believed.
“You all really are too stupid to live!” Travain sneered. “Father, I demand that this girl be executed and put out of her miserable existence!”
My hands clenched into a fist so tight that the skin turned white as it strains across my knuckles, lit inwards by the faintest glow of golden magic that casts an illusion of the pathway of my bones across my skin. I would just love to slam my fist into the prince’s jaw, to break that self-riotous expression right through the center with an orb of snapping sparkling light so strong that it fried his very hair to stand on end – not that it would be a long journey. What would be even better was if I had the power to transform into a werewolf and throw him right through these creepy hedges. Ha! Wouldn’t that just wipe the smirk off his face! After all, I did get scratched and clawed by a werewolf. So, it might work. I remember reading a few books from the library – before it was closed – that did touch briefly on the subject of special abilities like lycanthropy being transferred through an open or inflicted wound—albeit they were fairy tales. Regardless, strange things like magic and werewolves belong in fairy tales as well, but they are here. So, who is to say that the methods themselves wouldn’t work too?
“True, Travain. We cannot let her infraction go unpunished.” Here Nikos paused and regarded me with a cool glance. It seemed the mindset of the king had won out overall in the fight with the mad boy. “I cannot, in sound mind, sign the death warrant for a child of my oldest friend. One who shares the same hallmark of her father and that I can most assuredly announce is telling the truth.”
“Oh, don’t give me that line of horse shit!” The words bursted from Travain with the power of a cannon’s fire, his pale face flushes a deep, angry red and the veins of his neck stand out in sharp contrast to the cords of muscle as he screams at his stepfather. “There is no way you know that she is or isn’t lying! Half the time you can’t even remember your own name!”
“SILENCE!” Nikos roared with a thunderous fury. The sheer volume of his command overshadowing his meager height. For the first time that I’ve seen, he appears as the tyrannical king that was capable of overcoming anything—including sectioning off the entire kingdom from the world—instead of the broken old man I’d seen so far. “You will not address me in such an account of dismissal again, or I will make sure that you serve the rest of your days in the deepest and darkest dungeon that I can find!”
Travain said nothing, but his glare speaks louder than words, pure liquid venom radiating on visual barbed arrows plow straight into the king but Nikos doesn’t back down. If possible, Nikos’s demeanor hardened even more. The stare-down lingers on for five seconds before Travain ripped his gaze away and stalked through the tunnel, his pounding steps loudly echoing against the stone pathway. Even the vines recoiled from the prince’s anger, drawing themselves up so tight into a knot that I could see the base of the iron trellis beneath the plants that supported the weight and provided the basic shape of the archway.
“Well now, my dear.” Nikos turned toward me and smiled, but it’s not a friendly smile. The sight was a terrorizing grimace of jagged yellowed teeth straight out of a nightmare. “Are you ready to learn your fate?” He broke off into a series of shoulder heaving cackles that quickly rose in volume to a high cackling pitch. The hysterical laughter of a madman.
And I was at his mercy.
“For your disloyal to the crown...“
My entire body tensed to fight or run, my hands trembling with fear and the renewed source of exhausted magic that had rose once again, my mind churning up thoughts of the most terrifying consequences imaginable. Being made to scrub every cell of the dungeon for the rest of my life, cleaning the blades of the executioner after every death, or maybe even cleaning out the horse stalls.
“You will serve as a maid here in the royal house!”
Huh? My jaw dropped so low I’m sure it’s scraped the ground. Nikos wants me to be a maid? A low moan of incomprehension stumbled from my throat. For a commoner, working in the royal mansion is considered the highest job one can achieve, certainly not considered a punishment. Standing in front of me with the biggest mischievous boy smirk, Nikos slyly winked at me and toddled off back towards the fire pit in front of his mushroom tent, once again muttering about the shadows coming to get him. “Your highness... thank you!” I blurted out, dipping down into my deepest curtsy again.
Nikos simply waved a hand in response, concentrating on striking two stones together till they produced a spray of orange sparks that flickered against the dry wood and ignited into a steady rolling blaze. “Light keeps the shadows away.” He mumbled, completely ignoring me in favor of his new occupation.
A maid. I’m going to be a maid. In the royal castle. I stood there in the garden, stunned speechless. It just didn’t seem real. Yes, I can cook and clean, not perfectly mind you, but fairly decent. I can sew, even though I hate it. It wouldn’t be that much of a change from being a seamstress, but I would get to live here in the palace instead of a rat-ridden apartment. Although it would mean taking care of the every whim of the king, any magistrate that stops by, and Prince Travain himself.
My return trip through the archway was atop legs so shaky that the sinister flora repelled itself like I was poison. How can I do this? Travain is going to make my life a living hell. Not to mention that all of the other elites know exactly who I am and what my history is. I sighed, kicking a pebble with the toe of my shoe. It’s not like I have a better alternative, and I guess I should be grateful that I’m not being sentenced to death, but just the thought of living and working in the same house as that smug jerk makes me want to beg the king to reconsider.
When I exited the garden, Melisandra was waiting by the entrance to the house, her hands twisting into the fabric of her apron till she caught sight of me and began to squeal. “Oh, Kyri! Isn’t this great! We’ll be working together and roommates and everything! She cheered while bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, clapping so enthusiastically that her bones were in danger of breaking from the forceful slaps together. She didn’t even give me time to answer before she grabbed my hand and dragged me inside, racing through the dark halls at a breakneck speed like a rat trapped in a maze and searching for the exit while I tried to keep up without falling flat on my face.
Oddly enough, that’s almost exactly like my life right now.