Keepers of the Crown

by Lydia Redwine

  Silva’s eyes had widened slightly. As if she had read the thought flickering in Cam’s eyes. The queen laughed, the sound coarse and unpleasant. “I believe Ilea’s agenda here is what you also believe it to be. Not entirely a group effort, is it?”

  “I do not know what her agenda is,” Cam thought. And it was true. She did not know what Ilea was planning. She only knew that her plan didn’t seem to be the same as their own.

  Silva stared as Cam remained silent and then rose slowly. She roved her eyes over Cam as she came to circle her. Cam’s muscles tightened and tingled. "My, Camaria, you have grown." She sighed slightly. "A shame you couldn’t have been a warrior for me. You would have received marvelous rewards. You wouldn't find yourself traipsing all over the countryside on dreadful quests."

  "At least I can leave my home for as long as I wish," Cam retorted.

  Silva's expression grew dark, but the next instant it vanished and was replaced with another false smile. "Let me remind you, Camaria, that you no longer have a home."

  Cam opened her mouth to reply, but no words came forth. Fury boiled inside her ignited her blood.

  "Let us return to the matter at hand," Silva said suddenly. “My proposed commencement of games will include four rounds, the winner is the one who holds victory of the most by the fourth turn."

  Cam's lips parted, her mind swirling, wondering what underlying plans Silva had in mind. The queen continued as she circled Cam. “And Ilea will be mine if I win. Take it or leave it, Camaria. The only other option is that you rot in my prisons until your pitiful, mortal death comes to a close.” Cam’s heart thumped wildly. "Do we have a deal?"

  Cam gulped, her eyes narrowing. She did not even try to contain her suspicion. “These games are but a weapon you would wield to learn from us what you think we know of the Crown.” Cam’s mind flashed to the boy who had only nights ago antagonizedSilva’s decoytoadegreeCamwouldn’thave thought possible. The boy who would one day save them all…

  “Maybe the time is now,” she thought. She shook her head. They didn’t have the Crown yet. And perhaps...the boy knew. If anyone were to know the whereabouts of the Crown it would be him. The light flashed in Cam’s brain. Perhaps they didn’t need Ilea at all.

  “But I won’t leave her. No one deserves to be left in Silva’s clutches.” She locked her gaze with Silva who was still staring from where she had returned to her throne. Patient anticipation was slackened into Silva’s expression.

  “She cannot find out that the Savior is here. Right under her own nose. Play the game, Camaria. Play it to distract her. If anything, they will bide us some time.” She opened her mouth to reply and thought, “If we don’t die before we can think of another way out.”

  “We have a deal,” she said aloud.

  And although Camaria knew they had somewhat of an upper hand in this, she felt inside her that this deal would be the death of her. And if she, Fiera, Adria, and Mista were the first to die, no one else would know that the Savior was here.

  “I've heard some say stories of dealings with the devil, but I

  never imagined that you would make a deal with the actual devil," Caleb said, shaking his head at Cam. Cam leaned against their cell wall, her arms crossed. Fiera and Joel sat side by side on the floor. Fiera looked at Cam, her mind bustling while Joel’s head was buried in his hands. Owen, Lia, and the others mingled around, soaking in what Cam had just told them. Peter paced. And paced. And paced.

  “We don't have much of a choice," Cam responded glumly.“Wehavenoidea whereshecouldbekeepingour people. And Ilea...well she has her too.”

  "What if they're already dead!" Caleb shouted, startling Cam. He leaped up from the floor, raking a hand through his hair.

  Cam trembled. "We have to try."

  "And what if Silva wins?" he questioned.

  "She won't," Fiera cut in coldly. She rose, coming to stand

  beside Caleb. She laid a hand on his arm. "I won't let her." Cam glanced at her, and they shared the same thought.

  Where were their sisters? Silence intervened. "For Elyon’s sake,

  Peter, stop pacing like that. It's making me nervous," Cam burst

  out.

  Peter halted. "Sorry, sorry. I'm trying to think." "I'm surprised you haven't blown up at me for making a

  deal with her yet," she replied.

  "Do not mistake me, Cam," he said. "I could very well

  strangle you, but being angry, especially now, won't help matters

  in any degree."

  “I think it was the most prudent decision to make. And

  the only person we should be strangling is Silva,” Fiera

  remarked.

  A scoffing sound reached them. Cam turned to see Owen

  leaning against the bars of their shared cell. He was shaking his

  head and laughing scornfully under his breath. “Cam, you had.

  No. Right. To do what you did.” He pushed away from the bars,

  moving towards her. His voice was ice, chilling Cam. She backed

  away, having never seen her friend like this.

  “Owen,” she began, a hand out to brace against him. “You can’t make choices for all of us!” he shouted. And even the Shadow Bearers beyond their cell turned to

  listen. Peter stepped between them, hissing whispered words at

  Owen. “She had every right to do what she did. Cam agreed to

  play the games. She didn’t agree that we would play.” He turned

  to Cam, his eyes softening. “Though I have every intention to

  participate, myself.”

  “Me too,” Fiera and Caleb said simultaneously. Owen’s hand flashed out to grasp Peter by the collar of

  his now filthy uniform worn at the ball nights before. Owen’s

  eyes were flashing. “So what am I supposed to do? Stay here and

  rot? Wait for all of you to get yourselves killed?”

  “He kinda has a point,” Caleb agreed quietly. “But what other option do we have?” Lia spoke up.

  “Saffira is still outside of the valley. We could wait for her to

  bring help, but what help could she bring?”

  Peter shook his head, pulling himself out of Owen’s grip.

  “She’ll only get herself killed trying to help.”

  Fiera stepped between Owen and Peter next, pushing

  Owen aside. “The option of playing Silva’s twisted games seems

  to be our only one at the moment. At least, it will bide our time.” “Until we’re pools of blood and flesh at the hands of her

  assassins,” Owen muttered.

  Fiera glanced at Cam. She knew her younger sister’s

  motive. At this point, all they could hope for was to distract their

  mother for long enough. “Aslongas Ileaneeds.”Cam’s eyes were

  pleading. She glanced down at Joel who had remained wholly

  silent. He was staring at his own feet, saying nothing. Peter began pacing again, and this time, Cam did not stop

  him. "What does the first game consist of?" he inquired a

  moment later.

  Cam's reply wasn't a direct answer. "Is there anyone

  among our company who writes riddles?" Peter ceased his

  pacing, eyeing Cam. A brow shot up questioningly.

  Cam sat down, wiping her hands on her torn trousers.

  “Each has to present a riddle tomorrow evening at some sort of

  feast we're all invited to. My assumption stands that hers will be

  impossible to solve."

  Peter mused over her words. "We must find a way to win

  at her own game."

  "Creating an unsolvable riddle isn't the only way to win,"

  Joel spoke up. All eyes turned in his direction. The first time he

  had spoken.

  "Please, do explain," Caleb and Fiera said in unison. Joel shuffled to his feet. “I assume these games are more

  or fewer devices in
which to torture us. You could create a riddle

  that would penetrate her. One which would hit the only sensitive

  parts of her stone heart left.”

  “The story Ilea told me,” Cam murmured.

  Joel’s brows furrowed. “Sure. Find weak memories and

  attack them. Make her feel pain once more, genuine pain. A sort

  of pain that involves feeling rather than just weariness of being

  trapped in this hell of a valley."

  "Brilliant," Cam breathed. “But perhaps not brilliant

  enough.” Because, so far, Silva was winning.

  Twenty-Four

  The following evening, Shadow Bearers appeared outside the

  cell door with clothing in their unusually long hands. Without a word, they handed the frocks over. Cam frowned in puzzlement over the clothing. Fiera was beside her also wearing the same expression. “These don’t look like the Mingroth fashion,” Caleb was saying from behind them.

  “That’s because its Medulla,” Fiera replied, her hands clenching the green fabric. The green of the flouncy gown in Cam’s hold was not dark, poison green but the gay green they had worn to balls back home. When home had not been a prison where memories of their dead sister lurked in the halls.

  “I’m not wearing this!” Fiera declared.

  “You would rather wear the rubbish ofShadow Bearers?” Caleb pushed. Cam barely heard them. “This is all a part of Silva’s game. Herploy to torture me. To torture us,” she thought as she glanced at her older sister. Silva intended to hurt her and Fiera more than anyone else. She glanced back at the gown in her hands. And an idea surfaced. “Fi, remember how you also hated these gowns even at home?”

  Fiera turned, her expression still set as a scowl. “Yes.” “And you would turn them into somethingyouliked.You would cut and sew and all sorts of things,” Cam continued.

  “And it would make Silva boil,” Fiera said, a grin spreading across her lips.

  Cam turned to Lia. “We have a little time before the feast if you want another project.”

  Cam’s hair was still dyed silvery black when Lia braided it behind her head. And then, as she turned, the guards swung aside the cells doors. On this occasion, they did not lead the prisoners by their arms. They did, however, keep in close proximity. Although Silva had told Camaria that only she had to actually play the games, Cam had sent word that their entire company would be present.

  Cam kept her head held high and her steps even as they mounted flight after flight of endless stairs to the throne room above. When they reached their destination, she found a surprise in a burst of bright colors and warmth. The radiant colors gleamed from the throne room. “Like a holiday,” she gasped.

  Then the rest of the room hit her like something rumbling from the past. The plants positioned along the walls, even the falsely frosted panes of the windows and the music. Oh, the music! It was trilling and gay and beautiful and…

  The room resembled exactly the ballroom in Medulla when it had been decorated for…

  “Terra’s birthday,” Cam breathed.

  For a moment, something of a thrill warmed her. But this was a weapon. Using good memories as a mechanism, distorting them in a place that could not uphold them.

  The queen herself was decked in a gown of bright green trimmed in black bows and lace. So unfitting for a place such as this. Her brunette mass of locks was decorated by a bronze and silver crown. She was held erect at the end of an expansive table beside a beautifully carved chair. Flanking the table, were enough seats for the entire Spirit Follower company and then some.

  “The Spirit Followers are my guests,” Silva announced in a cheery voice, thevoiceCam hadgrown up knowing. “But I have a few of my own people joining our feast on this night.”

  Cam had already seen the Shadow Bearers Silva was speaking of. A few in hoods to disclose their features and others dressed nearly as splendidly as the queen herself with their features crafted of something divine and wicked.

  Silva’s smile when her eyes alighted on Cam was something of the past. A smile so nearly real and like that of the mother she had once known, that part of Cam nearly smiled back. “Please, be seated.” Silva’s voice was sweet. Like wine poisoned. Maybe like the wine on the table now.

  Though she was hesitating in mind, Cam appeared confident as she slipped into the seat to the left of Silva. A moment later, Peter sat beside her. Fiera, Caleb, and Joel sat across from them. Cam was aware, too aware perhaps, of where all of her friends were seated. Owen and then Lia and then…

  And then Cam saw her.

  Ilea had been positioned at Silva’s right. So still had she been that Cam had not noticed that she was seated directly across from her. Ilea would not meet her gaze, so Cam directed her attention to Ilea’s own clothing. The gown was so different from everything else around them. The gown was scarlet and embedded with silver pins whereas the clothing all around them was varying shades of greens and rich browns.

  Ilea was so still, her eyes holding the same elegant absentmindedness Cam had come to know her for. As if nothing had changed. Except for the fact that Cam couldn’t look at her without noticing a shift. This woman was not who they thought she was. “But how could she be if she’s lived for centuries and we’ve only just met her?”

  Silva spoke again as if she had not even noticed the Scarlet Spy in their midst. But Cam knew that the queen had dragged her here. There was the intention in every detail. In the fact that the only roses visible were ones in vases like those seen in Medulla.

  “Let us enjoy a night of merriment!” Silva declared. “Please, by all means, dine and drink!” Her eyes fixated on Cam, and her voice was still light and airy when she said, “I swear on my father’s grave that neither your wine nor your food is poisoned.” Cam glanced towards Joel, remembering the rumors about the former King Andel.

  Although the Spirit Followers refrained for a moment from reaching for the food, Silva filled her plate and began consuming the meal like a giddy fiend. Finally, Cam took a platter and looked at it. Even the food was what she had eaten growing up. Hunted meats spiced with herbs and dressings. Greens topped with berries and nuts. And bread. So much fluffy bread that had been baked by farmers’ wives.

  It was as if they were already home. As ifMirabellehadn’t been forgotten as a pile of ash in the wind. As if...she were younger. But Terra was not here. Neither were Adria or Mista. And where had Silva found such things in this hellish valley?

  “Have some wine as well,” Silva said, smiling at her guests. The wine was poured. Cam sipped once. And then put it down as quickly as she could. Not because she believed it to be poison. “I can’t muddle my mind now…” Another platter was passed Cam’s way but not from Peter. From Silva herself. Silva was smiling as she handed Cam the platter. Cam gulped. She recognized the food.

  The layer of fluffy bread topped with the creamy pinkness of its spread was then dusted with just enough herb to make the green stand out. Medulla Midwives they were called. Called so because the midwives gave the little treats to new mothers. The sweetness brought soothing currents to the bloodstream. Cam had often found the food too sweet for her own liking but...

  It had been Terra’s favorite.

  She had eaten them by the dozens, and here Silva sat eating one after another after another... Just to mock her. Mock her in a place where such food was probably never seen let alone eaten. And there were just enough on the platter for Cam and her company. None for the Shadow Bearers.

  “Now,” Silva said with a clap of her hands. The lively music that had been drifting from the far end of the room faded. Cam glanced in the direction the music had come from. No musicians were to be seen. There hadn’t been any in the first place.

  Cam tried not to shudder.

  “Since you are my guests, I insist upon your riddle being presented first.” Silva pressed a smile to her lips. Her eyes fell on Cam. Cam did not meet thequeen’s gaze. Not yet. She glanced at each of her
friends, remembering how only an hour ago they had finished the riddle, putting pieces together one by one.

  Cam rose to her feet slowly. She pushed her chair back and stood before the room, her head held high. Her gaze roved the table, searching the faces of all present for attention before her eyes locked upon Silva. She smiled sweetly.

  But she would not think of the queen. Not now. Instead, she heard the voices of her friends. One by one, as she opened her mouth to speak.

  “There once was a woman who loved a person of crown and another of diverging renown…” Caleb’s line was spoken with more flare than Cam was giving to it now.

  Lia had spoken next. “One day, as dusk crept to her garden wall, a strange bird she had never seen, came to rest.”

  “Why a bird?” Caleb had asked.

  “Why not a bird?” Lia had said in return.

  Owen had interrupted, picking up the riddle with, “The bird began to caw like the knives that drove screams into the air. She called for her father to flee, but his drunken state would not allow his leave.”

  And then Fiera… “Upon the morn, the bird pecked at the dead men’s corpses. On that hour, the woman was a child, the child was a woman. She wove for herself a crown ofhemlock…”

  Peter’s voice came next, soft and steady. “She knew the price. She played the game, rolled the dice. The price to be paid left a crimson stain which would not fade.”

  And finally, Joel…

  “Her new companion contorted human souls; distorted good’s common goals.”

  But Cam heard her own voice when she spoke these last words.

  She paused, her heart pattering. Blood rushed in her veins as she heard her own words echoing through the room in a clear tone. “Thequestionis notwho the‘she’ was, forweall know the answer to that. The question is: Who was her companion?” Her hands clasped before her. “Answer that and the riddle is solved.” She seated herself once more, pulling herself to the table. Silence penetrated the expanse of the room. Cam held an icy stare. Silva did not react. Even as Cam’s eyes roved her every movement, she could not detect a response. Was she perplexed?

  Presently, the corners of Silva’s mouth turned upward. She was bearing the charming smile worn of before, but there was a twist to this one. Silva’s voice was light but threaded with ice. “You are cruel, Camaria. Crueler than I have ever given you credit for. But no matter, I find it fair.” Silva took a breath before continuing in a slow explanation. “The companion of the woman is revenge.”