‘This is ridiculous. I know Odette doesn’t want to be queen. But you’ve been brought up to rule. And you want to rule. Did you honestly find nothing in the Decrees that would restore you to the succession?’
Aron stands and walks to the large table in the centre of the room. ‘I did find one thing. But –’ he laughs – ‘I would need your help, cousin.’
‘Of course I’ll help, if I can.’
‘You may not want to, when you understand …’ He hands me a roll of parchment. ‘I’ve marked the relevant passage.’
I study the words that Aron has underlined.
The flighted rule; the flightless are ruled. Thus will the kingdom be guarded. No flightless man or woman may ascend the throne.
So far, the Decree seems clear. But it continues.
Between them, the monarchs must defend the kingdom. The monarch must be first in flight, and last in retreat. The Elders have spoken.
‘The monarch must be first in flight …’ I glance up at my cousin. ‘I can see how Convocation were able to challenge your right to rule. But …’
Aron sighs and points to the parchment. ‘Look again. The monarchs – plural – must defend the kingdom. But the monarch – singular – must be first in flight. You see?’ He stares at me intently. ‘As long as one of the two monarchs can fly, the Decree is fulfilled.’
Realisation dawns. And dread blooms in the pit of my stomach.
‘But to defend the kingdom –’
‘You don’t have to be able to shift your shape to defend the kingdom. It’s at least as much about politics as brute strength.’ He sits in the chair next to me. ‘What you and I are doing now is defending the kingdom. Yet neither of us is transformed.’
I stare back at the paper gripped in my hands. But my vision is blurred by the tears in my eyes.
‘You understand me, I think.’ Aron’s voice is gentle, but there’s excitement there too. ‘I want to be king, Aderyn; it is my birthright. You want to save Lucien and protect Atratys. And we both want to take down Siegfried and the queen. The surest way for us to achieve our ends is for us to present the evidence to Convocation together. To give them an easy choice as to who should rule next. They won’t even need to change the date of the coronation.’
‘And if I … can’t?’
He sits back in the chair and crosses his legs. Sighs wearily. ‘I’ll give you the letters. You can go to Convocation, and they will probably believe you. Lucien will probably be saved, and Siegfried will probably be imprisoned. As to what will happen then …’ He shrugs.
He’ll give me the evidence I need. But he won’t come with me or support me. He won’t use his influence with the Dark Guards.
Lucien and I might be free to return to Atratys together, which is all I want.
We might be left in peace.
Might … Probably … I bite my lip, trying to calculate the odds.
The room is silent apart from the ticking of the clock and the crackle of the fire in the hearth.
Aron clears his throat. ‘You know what Lucien would say, if he were here.’
‘Shut up, damn you.’ I glare at my cousin. ‘I’m trying to think.’ Trying to think of a way around what he is suggesting. Of a way I can protect Atratys, and save Lucien, and still get to be with him. And I realise I’m facing almost the same choice as my mother had: do what is best for the kingdom, or what is best for me. ‘What you’re asking of me …’
‘I know. I heard you together, down in the dungeons.’
I laugh, though I don’t know why. ‘We’d started planning what we would do together. Once we get home –’ The word cuts through my throat like a knife as I try to imagine Atratys at war. Merl under siege.
Aron is getting down on one knee in front of me. ‘I will try to be an agreeable husband, Aderyn. We’re making an alliance. I would ask, for the sake of Solanum, that you honour the vows we take, as I will myself. Unlike my father, I would have a kingdom built on truth and honesty, not upon a web of deceit. But I swear I won’t …’ He colours and drops his gaze. ‘I won’t expect anything of you beyond that. I won’t attempt to force myself on you. I know you don’t love me.’ He looks up at me again; to my surprise, there’s both pain and anxiety in his eyes. ‘What do you say, cousin? Will you marry me?’
Everything around me seems to slow down. All I’m aware of are the contractions of my heart, each beat shaving away the time I have left. The time Lucien has left.
I drag some more air into my lungs and place my hand into Aron’s. ‘Yes.’ I can’t say another word.
Aron grips my fingers tightly and smiles. It’s the closest to joyful I’ve ever seen him. He kisses my hand, gets to his feet and pulls the bell rope to summon a servant.
‘I’ll send for the Venerable Mother. She knows my fears for Odette, and my suspicions of Siegfried. She’ll marry us quickly.’
A servant arrives shortly and is duly dispatched. While we wait, Aron walks about the room, tapping his fingers on the side of his leg. But I … I can’t move. There seems to be a great weight on my chest, pinning me to the chair. The Venerable Mother arrives, out of breath, with a cloak covering her nightgown and her long grey hair loosely plaited. While Aron talks to her in a low voice I stare into the fire, watching the logs burn into ash.
‘Cousin?’ Aron is waiting next to me. ‘It’s time.’ I look around and realise there is another person in the room, a young nobleman I only know by sight; the pointed tips of his ears mark him out as a member of an owl family. ‘This is Lord Tarl. We need a witness, and he owes me some favours.’ The man blushes and ducks his head to me briefly. ‘Come.’
Aron helps me to my feet, entwining his fingers with mine, and I cling on to his hand, leaning against him, numb. The Venerable Mother is in front of us holding a large leather-bound book.
She peers into my face. ‘You look distressed, my child. Are you sure this is what you wish?’
I take a deep breath and force myself to straighten up.
I’m doing this for you, Lucien, and for Atratys. I hope you understand.
‘Yes. Yes, this is what I want.’
She nods and begins reading the ancient text of the wedding service. The words wash over me, but I find I am able to respond in the right places, to answer the questions put to me without stumbling. My hand shakes a little when I sign the marriage pledge, but only someone who knows my signature would notice. Surely many brides are nervous. And soon – sooner than I would have thought possible – it is done.
The Venerable Mother joins our hands and binds them lightly together with a silver chain, each link of which is fashioned to resemble a feather. ‘You are mated for life, as our nature and our customs and our holy laws demand, pledged to each other in a bond that only death may dissolve.’ Removing the chain, she holds her hand up in front of us, five fingers spread out to represent the sun. ‘I wish you joy of each other, long life and many young. Now, seal your union with a kiss.’
Aron and I turn to face each other. I close my eyes, lift my face and feel the brief pressure of his lips against mine.
The clock chimes one.
‘Lucien –’
Aron nods. ‘We have to hurry. Tarl, take my servant and a Dark Guard and get to the tower in the fjord. There’s a flightless woman imprisoned there – you’ll need to break the door down. You’d better take a doctor too.’
Tarl’s eyes widen, but he bows. ‘Yes, Your Highness. I’ll see to it.’
The Venerable Mother is refastening the strings of her cloak. ‘I must return to the sanctuary, but I will be ready if Convocation send anyone to question me about this marriage.’ She glances at the lightening sky outside the window. ‘It’s dawn.’ The bell of the Citadel starts to toll, summoning the court to watch Lucien die. ‘You’d better go straight to the place of execution.’
Aron passes me a cloth-wrapped package. ‘All the letters between Siegfried and your father.’ He lifts his brows. ‘Neither of our fathers is going to have much of a
reputation left by the end of this.’
‘I think they’ll both be left with exactly the reputation they deserve.’ I clutch the package to my chest. ‘Let’s go.’
We run from Aron’s rooms down through the palace. But the corridors and stairways are full of people moving in the same direction, and our progress is slowed as we get nearer to the two doorways that lead to the balcony overhanging the arena. I look around, trying to identify members of Convocation, but the crowds make it impossible.
‘We’re going to be too late –’
‘I know another way.’ Aron takes my hand and drags me away from the balcony to another set of stairs. On we hurry, past the entrance hall, down into the gloomy rooms where the flightless mostly live and work.
The bell has stopped. ‘Where are we going?’ My voice is sharp with anxiety. ‘There’s no time –’
‘Out into the execution space itself. Not much further.’ He pulls me along another corridor. Round the next corner is a room full of Dark Guards. Off-duty, I guess – it’s the first time I’ve ever seen any of them with their helmets off. Aron has a hasty conversation with one man, a captain by his insignia; the man puts his helmet on and leads us forward. Together we run along one more corridor and down another flight of steps, and then there is daylight, and a doorway –
There, on the far side of the grassy space, are the two stone posts. Lucien has his arms wrapped around one of the pillars as if he’s embracing it, but then I see his wrists and ankles are shackled to metal loops sticking out of the stone. He’s naked, and there are bloody red welts criss-crossing his back, and as I watch, one guard lifts the whip above his shoulder and another picks up a fat, grey worm in a pair of pincers –
‘No!’ I snarl and hurl myself forward, aware of nothing but my desperate need to save Lucien, pulling off my robe and transforming into a swan while I run. The power pours out of me. It burns away my human shape and I leap, claiming the air, spreading my feathers wide. The guards buckle, driven to their knees, screaming and clutching their heads as the field generated by my body rips through them. Diving at the two men nearest Lucien, I strike them with my wings, knocking them through the air, away from him. They smack into the boulders at the edge of the grass. Neither gets up. I land next to the pillar, shift my shape back to human and crouch there. Breathless. Trembling.
Silence surrounds me.
‘Aderyn.’ Aron is next to me. He wraps my robe back around my shoulders and helps me up. We position ourselves in front of Lucien, shielding him.
‘The letters?’
‘I have them.’
Together, Aron and I face the court.
On the upper balcony, the queen is standing between Siegfried and Odette. Siegfried is staring at me, eyes and mouth wide open, stunned. Turik, behind him, looks as if he might be sick. But the queen’s face is twisted with rage. She clutches the railing in front of her. ‘Traitors! Murderers! Seize them!’
A guard starts towards us, pulling his axe from his belt.
‘Stop!’ Odette’s voice is shaky but clear. ‘As your future ruler, I order you to stop. No one is to touch them.’ The guard hesitates for a moment – steps back.
Aron points at the queen. ‘The only traitor here, stepmother, is you. You and that man next to you. Siegfried of Olorys. Who is also your half-brother. And your lover.’
There is a shocked murmur from the onlookers on the main balcony. A louder outburst from the flightless servants gathered beyond the fence of the arena.
Siegfried laughs. ‘Lies. The reckless lies of an unimportant, flightless boy who wishes to take back the throne he has rightly been denied. See –’ he turns to address the courtiers – ‘the treacherous Protector of Atratys stands at his side.’
‘We have the letters, Siegfried.’ I take the package from Aron and hold them up. ‘The letters that you and my father wrote to each to other, planning the king’s murder. And who, not knowing the relationship between you, would have suspected the queen of poisoning her own husband? You and she and my father are the guilty ones. Lord Rookwood found one of my father’s notebooks and brought it to me, that’s all.’ I glare at the court, daring them to disbelieve me. ‘He is innocent.’
‘Ridiculous.’ Siegfried laughs again, but his voice is strained. ‘You expect us to swallow this elaborate confection of fantasy?’
‘I expect Convocation to examine these letters. I call upon them to assemble, as is my right as a Protector. And then I will give evidence. I will tell them how the king planned the murder of my mother, and how her death led my father to seek revenge. About the potions my father concocted and shared with you. About your plans, once you were king, to dispose of Odette and marry me, in order to gain control of Atratys and the Crown Estates as well as Olorys. I’ll tell them about the king’s assassin, the hawk, whose body lies in a cellar beneath this very Citadel –’
‘And I will tell them,’ Odette’s voice is stronger now, ‘how you have imprisoned me since the death of my father, and how you threatened the life of my brother when I told you I would no longer marry you.’
A babble of confused noise – shouted questions, arguing – erupts from the main balcony, distracting me, but my attention is drawn back to the royal box by a gasp of pain. Siegfried is gripping the top of Odette’s hair with one hand. In the other he holds a knife, the edge of its blade against Odette’s neck.
‘Aron –’
Silence descends as the rest of the audience realises what is happening.
‘Take your hands off my sister, you coward.’ Aron has drawn his sword, though he must know we’re too far away to do anything. ‘Come down here and fight me.’
But it is the queen who answers. ‘I think not, Your Highness.’ Now her initial fury has passed, her expression is calm, her voice oddly amused, and I see for the first time the resemblance between her and Siegfried. ‘Lower your blade and stay where you are, unless you want to lose another member of your family.’ Aron swears, but obeys. A trickle of blood runs down Odette’s neck onto the white fabric of her dress.
One of the Dark Guards at the edge of the royal box inches forward, but the queen turns on him, pulling a dagger from her belt. ‘Get out, all of you, or the princess dies.’ The guards back away and the queen locks the gate between the royal box and the main balcony.
Siegfried sneers at me. ‘Are you pleased with yourself, Aderyn? You, and that one-armed whelp standing next to you? Enjoy your victory and Rookwood’s caresses while you can.’ As he forces Odette backwards towards the door in the side of the balcony, the one that leads directly to the royal apartments, the queen faces the court.
‘The crown will be ours. Stand against us if you wish, but the whole of Solanum will pay the price. I promise you: this is far from over.’
‘Let my sister go.’ Aron’s voice is hoarse.
The queen laughs. ‘Kill her, brother.’
I can just hear Odette’s whimper: ‘Please, Siegfried, no …’
Siegfried’s mouth twists into a snarl –
He shoves Odette away from him and onto the ground, at the same moment as Turik launches himself forward. The queen, with a shriek of rage, strikes her brother – her diamond ring leaving a bloody gash across Siegfried’s face – raises her own knife, her arm outstretched, and plunges the blade downwards towards Odette –
Turik grabs the queen’s arm. For a moment he holds on, screaming as her skin burns him, but Siegfried hauls him off and the queen thrusts her dagger into his chest. Siegfried drags his sister away, through the door to the royal apartments. Slams it shut behind him as the Dark Guards begin to break down the gate.
‘After them, now!’ Aron yells at the guards nearest us. After an instant’s frozen confusion, they begin charging towards the castle.
And finally, finally, I can think about Lucien. ‘Release Lord Rookwood, instantly.’ As one guard hurries forward with a set of keys, I demand the cloak of another. ‘Help me with him.’ Lucien moans as I cover his lacerated back with t
he cloak. When all four shackles are undone, the guards support Lucien so he doesn’t collapse and lower him slowly onto the grass. I pull the cloak around him, covering him, and rest his head in my lap.
‘Lucien? Can you hear me?’
His eyelids flutter open, his cracked lips move, but no sound comes out.
‘Water!’ I snap at the guard who gave me the cloak. He runs off, returning a few minutes later with an iron cup. I raise Lucien’s head a little and help him drink.
‘Aderyn …’
My shoulders slump and I stroke his hair back from his face. ‘You’re safe now.’
‘You saved me.’ His voice is barely a whisper.
‘I told you I would.’
He smiles. ‘So you did … And now we can go home to Atratys, together.’
I don’t respond.
Wincing, Lucien lifts his fingers to my cheek. ‘Why are you crying, my love?’
‘Because –’ But I can’t tell him that I’m married. Not yet. Instead, I bend my head and kiss him. ‘I’m crying because I’m happy. I’m happy that you’re still alive, and Siegfried is gone.’ I smile through my tears, because both those things are true.
‘Your Grace …’
I glance up. There’s a doctor waiting nearby, and servants with a litter. I nod, and the servants – wearing heavy gauntlets, just like the Dark Guards – lower the litter and lift Lucien carefully onto it. I get to my feet. ‘We’ll take good care of him,’ the doctor assures me, watching me anxiously.
‘Of course. I expect to be regularly informed of Lord Rookwood’s progress.’
The doctor nods and leads the servants back into the castle. And I wonder whether I will ever kiss Lucien again.
The Dark Guards nearby are watching me. ‘Get back to your duties. And someone –’ I point at the tub of writhing borer worms, feeling my mouth twist in disgust – ‘destroy those creatures.’
Seven hours have passed. Or it might be eight; exhaustion is clouding every faculty. But somehow – probably due to the uncertainty poised like a blade beneath my ribs – I am still awake. And properly dressed. I sat for a while with Letya, and after speaking to the doctors about her neck I’ve dispatched one of the pages to Merl to get the recipe for a cream we use there on burns. Whatever else my father may have been, he was an excellent chemist.
A Throne of Swans Page 26