Queen of Monsters and Madness

by Frost Kay

  “You’ve done well, love. You’ve secured peace.”

  She slowly spun to the warlord, his praise turning her heart cold. “If it was done, it was by no action of mine,” she replied woodenly.

  “But the people believe it was, and that’s all that matters.” He smiled.

  Sage looked past him to the Scythian crowd and realized that the thundering in her ears was actually cheering. Bile burned the back of her throat. How could they be applauding death? It was disgusting. Somehow, she ended up on her chair next to the warlord’s throne. She blinked at how Zane’s olive hand held her creamy one. Both different, but both stained by death. Chills erupted over her arms, but she didn’t bother to rub at them. The sea of celebrating people warped into swirling colors, Ezra’s beautiful magenta eye blank at the forefront of her mind.

  A tug on her hand turned her attention to the man at her side. Zane gave her a searching look. “I’m sorry.”

  A seed of bitterness took root at the empty words. Sorry? Well, so was she. He stood and guided her from her seat and down a few steps to a table piled high with all types of food. She simply stared. The aromas, normally enticing, upset her stomach even more.

  “We’re to eat?” she asked, incredulous.

  The warlord glanced at her. “It is our custom,” he said sharply.

  They expected her to eat after…

  She pulled a breath through her nose and pressed her lips into a firm line, hoping it would prevent her from vomiting all over the table. Zane placed her in a seat and took the one beside her. What she assumed was the warlord’s inner circle surrounded them and took their places at the table. People in power always surrounded themselves with other powerful people.

  The warlord gave some sort of speech, but Sage tuned it out, thwarting each of his subsequent attempts to pull her into his conversation. She couldn’t focus her own scattered thoughts, let alone carry on a conversation, most especially during this barbaric and morbid celebration.

  Relief filled her when the feasting finally seemed to consume most everyone’s attention. The questions and blatant stares decreased as they focused on the bounty of food. She scanned the table and paused when she met a familiar gaze. Blair. He looked much the same as when she’d last seen him except that tiny wrinkles appeared between his brows when his dark eyes met hers.

  She stared back, blankly, before noticing the woman in the seat next to him. The shock of red, curly hair pulled Sage out of her dream-like state. Hazel eyes peeked out from a freckled face as the woman arched a brow at her. Sage blinked, but continued staring. The woman wasn’t Scythian. Her round cheeks and soft pink lips lent her an air of youth, but the fine lines bracketing her eyes betrayed her age. The woman pushed back from the table and placed a hand on her belly. Sage glanced down to the redhead’s belly. A very pregnant belly. Sage’s stomach soured even further. A pregnant woman came to an execution. Did the redhead have a choice? Or had she been conned into attending as well?

  The woman’s other brow accompanied the first as she placed her fork down. Some of Sage’s disgust must have been apparent. She wiped all expression off her face and ignored the woman’s questioning gaze.

  Sage’s forehead wrinkled as something occurred to her. The only women present besides herself seemed to all be in some stage of pregnancy. Odd. She shifted in her chair and picked at the food the warlord had placed on her plate. Was that too some sort of strange custom? Community birth planning? A snort escaped her.

  “My lady?”

  Sage tried to keep her thoughts from showing on her face when she glanced at the speaker, a beautiful Scythian woman with a headful of raven braids. “Yes?”

  “When are you due?”

  “Due?” She searched the Scythian’s face. What did she mean?

  “When is the child due?”

  Child? The idea was so out of place, it struck her as hysterical. She laughed aloud and shook her head. “I’m not with child.” At her words everyone at the table stilled and quieted, their eyes moving from her to a spot behind her. Did she say something wrong?

  An arm slid across her shoulders, Zane’s cedar scent tickled her nose. “It’s much too early to be speaking of children. You’ve barely met her.” The censure in his voice was clear.

  The Scythian woman blanched and stared down at her plate. “Forgive me.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” Sage said with as much feeling as she could manage. The Scythian woman gave her a weak smile and picked at her food, while her warrior husband was stiff, his eyes glaring at his wife. Again, odd. Why would he be angry about a simple question?

  She thought dinner would be the end of it, that she’d be able to flee to her room and grieve, but boy was she wrong. Drinking and desserts followed, and as each hour passed, it became more unbearable. All she wanted to do was escape, to mourn the loss of her friend. Maybe scream and throw things a bit. The surrounding depravity sickened her. These people were celebrating like this had been the grandest of events and not an execution. It was as if his death phased them not at all. She swallowed thickly and sipped water from her cup, trying to ignore the gruesome commentary on Ezra’s death that was currently taking place at her table.

  A heavy furry head landed in her lap, and she did her best not to jump. Sage looked down to find large golden eyes peeking up at her. She set down her cup and slipped a hand underneath the table, praying the beast wouldn’t bite it off as she scratched Nali’s soft ears. The big cat let out a rumbling purr, but none of the revelers reacted.

  They were most likely too deep into their cups. Disgusting.

  “She likes you,” Zane murmured into her ear.

  Sage ignored his proximity and continued to pet the beast, tucking her thoughts away. “She’s beautiful.”

  “She is,” he breathed the words against her skin.

  His nose skimmed her jawline and then something wet touched the lobe of her ear. Sage jerked away and gaped at the warlord. “What are you doing?” she demanded, her hand sinking into Nali’s fur.

  His smile was lazy. “Tasting what’s mine.”

  She stiffened and then leaned closer to stare into his eyes. Zane misunderstood the action, and leaned in even closer, triumph lurking in his eyes. Sage placed a hand on his chest. “Are you drunk?” she asked, infusing her voice with as much disdain as possible.

  “Not at all,” he scoffed, plucking her other hand from the arm of her chair and nipping at one of her fingers.

  She yanked back her hand and closed it into a fist. She glared at her fist for a moment, seriously considering punching him. He caught the gesture and something akin to anticipation crossed his face. Her nose wrinkled. He was drunk.

  “I’m leaving.”

  His hand snaked out and clutched her skirts. “You’re needed here.”

  Leaning forward, she whispered in his ear, conscious of the advanced hearing of the others. “I am not needed. This display of celebration over a man’s death is disgusting. I’ve done what you’ve asked me.”

  “He wasn’t a man. He was Sirenidae.”

  He said it so matter-of-factly that she almost missed it. The prejudice. The hate for Ezra’s race. She pulled back and searched his face, his eyes confirming what she suspected.

  “You actually believe that? That Ezra wasn’t a man because he was Sirenidae?”

  A shrug and a haughty look was all the answer she received. She waited for some sort of emotion to bubble up inside her at his response, but there was nothing. Apparently, everything inside her was numb. Sage tugged at her skirts in his hand and then touched his fist when he didn’t release them.

  “I’m done. Let go.”

  He just stared at her.

  “Allow me to leave, or I’ll make a scene,” she hissed, and she meant every word. She’d create a scene so fantastic that it would go down in Scythian history.

  His black eyes traveled to her face, then he nodded. “Goodnight.” His fist released the crumpled silk of her skirt, dismissing her lik
e a servant.

  If he thought to humiliate her, she didn’t care in the slightest. She’d endured much worse and she was much too numb to care anyway. All eyes moved to her when she scooted her chair back and stood. “Goodnight…” She dipped her chin and spun on her heel, her black silk dress flaring with her every stride.

  The thrones loomed before her, seeming to grow with every step she climbed up the white stone dais. She skirted around the thrones and moved to the door behind them. Her hand paused on the handle as she took one more look at where Ezra had died. It was pristine, the shiny white stone glaring at her, showing no evidence of what had happened earlier. It was wrong. Like they had wiped away the crime. Like it didn’t exist. The air in the room seemed to evaporate the longer she stood staring.

  Hurrying through the door, Sage almost closed it on her feline shadow. Nali slunk through the door behind her and traipsed out into the hall. Using her memory, Sage navigated the hallways, not surprised when warriors materialized and followed her. Sage glanced down a side hallway and skidded to a stop, not believing her eyes.

  “Jas?” She blinked, and the hallway was empty. Her heart pounding hard in her chest she stared at the empty space. She could have sworn she’d seen her friend standing in the hallway. Oh no. Would she start hallucinating Jasmine, too?

  She shook herself and spared the silent guards a glance before continuing on. The sadness and anger she’d been waiting for crashed into her, and she gasped at the force of it. She picked up her speed and shoved the emotions down for the moment. There was no way she would cry in front of the warriors. They turned a corner and her door came into view. She hustled through, slammed it in the warriors’ faces, and placed her back against it. Her chest heaved, and angry tears spilled onto her cheeks. Everything was so muddled. The Scythians’ display was barbaric and revolting, and yet she’d been forced to participate. What kind of person did that make her?

  She pushed through her door and Nali jumped onto her bed, circling a few times before snuggling down, but Sage could not lay down. The emotions coursing through her had her feeling on edge and she began pacing the room. She ran a hand through her own hair and winced when one of the crown’s metal thorns pricked her finger. She’d forgotten it was there. She glanced to the mirror and examined her reflection. She was shocked to realize she looked like a queen, but not an Aermian queen—the enemy’s queen. She stormed up to the vanity and placed her hands on it, staring into her reflection.

  “Who are you?” she asked herself. “What are you doing?”

  “You’re surviving,” Tehl answered from her side.

  Sage stared at him. His visits had become less frequent ever since she’d stopped speaking with him over the last couple weeks. “Am I really?” She returned her attention to the face in the mirror. Was she doing what she had to in order to survive, or merely following along because it was easier than fighting?

  “You’re being hard on yourself and it’s partly because you lost someone today. Your legs are shaking so hard, I’m not even sure how you’re still standing.”

  Now that he mentioned it, she realized her legs were shaking and she was on the verge of collapsing. She let out a scream of frustration. “Why am I so weak? I should be healing, or healed!”

  “I don’t know.”

  The crown glinted in the low light; it seemed to taunt her the longer she looked at it atop her head. In a fit unlike her, Sage yanked the obsidian crown from her head, along with a few hairs, and lobbed it across the room.

  “Do you feel better?” Tehl asked drolly. “Anger won’t help, you know. It’ll make you vulnerable and prone to mistakes.”

  He was right.

  A deranged chuckle burst from her. “Tehl, you’re not even here and you’re right. It’s uncanny and it’s unfair.” She dropped her chin to her chest and glared at her clothes. It sickened her to have anything Scythian touching her skin.

  “The dress is beautiful,” he said. “Keep in mind, though, men generally only have dresses made for women they feel belong to them.”

  She bit her lip. It was time to stop talking to her hallucinations. It was dumb to keep lapsing. “I can’t speak to you, Tehl.” She glanced at him. “I appreciate that you helped me survive, but you’re not real, and it’s unhealthy to speak to you.”

  His face was serious, watching her. “I know, Sage. But I’ll be here when you need me.”

  She turned from him and stepped toward the bathing room. Her feet stumbled, and her hands clenched as memories assaulted her of her drowning. Her eyes turned to slits. She’d let fear rule her too much as it was. It was time to fight. Her fear ended now.

  Sage

  She was proud of herself. At least one positive thing had happened in this nightmarish day. She had changed and washed the cosmetics from her face in that cursed room; she’d never taken her eyes from the pool, and her heart was still pounding from it, but still, she’d done it.

  Sage knotted her dressing robe over her body, still feeling naked. The lack of underclothes was something she just couldn’t get used to. It made her vulnerable and she hated it. Her eyes wandered over to where the crown lay on the floor. It was beautiful and skillfully made, but she could hardly bear to look at it, as it brought gruesome memories to the forefront of her mind. Its beauty would be forever tainted by the stain of death.

  Quickly, she plucked it from the rug and returned it to its box. She then placed it by the door with the black dress neatly folded atop it. They were beautiful, to be sure, but she could not bear to keep them.

  She moved to the end of the bed and leaned a hip against it, eyeing the enormous ball of fur occupying that space. “Where am I to sleep?” she asked Nali. “You take up the whole bed.” She wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers and sleep.

  Nali cracked an eye before slowly stretching out onto her back, her belly up. Sage’s hand flew to her mouth as she gasped. Nali’s belly was crisscrossed with silver scars. “Oh my, you poor thing. What happened to you?” Who had done this to her?

  Carefully, Sage placed her hand in front of Nali, waiting to see how the beast would respond. The feline’s ears flicked to the side and she sniffed Sage’s fingers and bumped them with her nose. Sage smiled and scratched under Nali’s chin, feeling a sense of kinship with the powerful creature.

  “You and I are the same, it seems; both of us scarred. What a pair we make. I have to admit, I didn’t think we’d be friends. I was sure you were going to eat me.” Sage laughed to herself, and Nali let out a little chuff when Sage slowed her scratching. Her door swung open and she dropped her hand to her lap, any sense of peace evaporating through the doorway. Sage felt like a cat with her hackles raised; there were so many things she wanted to say to Zane, the fury and confusion from earlier welling back up inside her. But who would she receive, Zane or the warlord? She gasped when he came straight to her and pulled her off the bed and to him, his arms encircling her waist. She stood frozen as he buried his face into her neck and hair.

  “I’m so sorry, Sage. This was never meant to happen. What a hellish day.”

  Sage remained stiff in his arms. “You’re right, today was a day from hell.”

  He pulled back and clasped both of her cheeks, his gaze darting over her face. “You’re angry?” It was a question.

  She shook off his hands and shoved at his chest, though she couldn’t even move him an inch. “You lied to me,” she accused. It wasn’t as eloquent as what she’d been rehearsing in her head, but it was a start.

  He sighed heavily. “I did not lie to you.”

  “You said I wouldn’t have to watch! That all I would have to do was sit by your side and it would be over.” She stepped away from him and pointed a finger in his direction. “How could you subject me to that? You knew how I felt about the execution already, and yet, at the behest of your people, you forced me not only to watch, but participate!”

  “What did you expect me to do? Cave to you in front of my kingdom? That would’ve made
me appear both weak and inept as a ruler. Doing so would have been dangerous, not just for you but for me as well!”

  “Are you serious?” she yelled. “Standing up for what is right is not weak!”

  “How was it wrong? It was all according to law.”

  “But it’s barbaric!”

  His face turned to stone. “And what of Aermia’s hangings?”

  “We don’t personally have to hang them ourselves.”

  “Well, maybe you should,” he retorted, “Perhaps you’d consider it more carefully, then.”

  She tugged on her braids, realizing he had a point. She’d never been comfortable with that particular aspect of her government, but that was not the whole of it. “It wasn’t only the manner of execution – it was your reaction. You practically held a festival!”

  “Be reasonable here. There’s one less murderer in the world. Shouldn’t that be cause for at least some rejoicing?”

  Sage gaped at him. “He wasn’t a murderer, and you know it. He was sick. He attacked me and yet, I saw it plain as day. His attack made no sense. But, that aside, even if he was just a murderous person, his life was still precious.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Death should never be celebrated.”

  Zane held his hands out placatingly. “I know you’re having a hard time accepting what happened and that’s natural. You’ve been through some tragic experiences in the last couple weeks, Sage. But you have to realize: abuse, murder, ravishment; none of them make sense. So, stop trying to make sense of his actions.” He gave her a pitying look, “Sometimes, you just have to accept that someone is bad and move on. I’ve done it, and so can you. If you don’t, it will eat you alive inside.”

  That spiked her anger. “Don’t you dare! How dare you just chalk this up to some ‘poor, broken Sage’ situation. I’m not blind. I know what I saw, and he wasn’t a murderer. Something was wrong that day! And you–” she jabbed a finger in his direction, “don’t you talk down to me about ‘letting go’! Of course, I understand letting go. You know how much I’ve already done so!”