by N M Zoltack
“She is, and she will—”
“She should have been executed in front of all of those in Atlan the moment her treachery was discovered,” Vivian continued. “You should be the one to swing the axe. No guillotine for her, and if you had a role in Noll’s death—”
“I did not,” Sabine said sharply. “I… I could… An axe… I’ve never touched one.”
Vivian considered the queen’s tone, her manner, her pale face.
Sabine was considering actually taking an axe to her mother’s neck.
As twisted and repulsive as that might be, Vivian had to admire that, albeit begrudgingly.
“I… I suspected Rosalynne hadn’t told you,” Sabine whispered. “That is why I postponed the execution. You should be there, and yes, I suppose it should be a grand affair—”
“Like it had been for Dicun Lewis,” Vivian murmured to herself, thinking back to that execution so long ago. How different her life had been then, how different she had been. Worried about dresses and the sunlight glinting off bald heads. Noll had stood with his arms out, pretending to be as still as a tree.
With a small smile, Vivian did just as he had, standing tall, arms straight out. Sabine was staring at the floor again, perhaps not noticing or else ignoring her, but Vivian felt lighter a bit, feeling closer to her brother than she had in ages.
If only Tabes were a hunter of a dog! Vivian would love to bring him with her.
Because she would be leaving for Olac. There was nothing Rosalynne could say that would change her mind, not after learning that her sister knew their brother’s murderer and allowed her to live.
"I will be going for a short time," Vivian said abruptly. "When I return, if Greta has not been executed, I will see to it that you and she will both be executed at once, before I even have a chance to eat or drink upon my return. Do I make myself clear?"
“How long will you be gone?” Sabine asked.
Vivian gave a tight smile as she finally lowered her arms. “A day. Maybe two. Possibly longer. But if she’s not dead and her body burned—do not forget that part—once I return, whenever that will be—”
“It will be done,” Sabine vowed.
And Vivian believed her. There was something in the steel-blue almost gray eyes of the queen that glittered hard. Executing anyone-whether one swung the blade or merely ordered it—was not an easy feat at all, but execute one’s own mother was something else entirely apart.
Sabine would do it, though. Vivian knew this, and to accomplish such a thing…
Rosalynne had better be careful because Sabine would not play. She would fight her own battles her way, and she remained ambitious. This conversation proved it. Even while owning up to her own weakness, Sabine had revealed strength.
So long as she ensured the axe came down.
33
Ulric Cooper
Ulric honestly never felt quite comfortable in his own skin. For so long, he had strived to be more, to do more. He hadn't wanted to just be a servant, and he somehow ended up friends with Prince Noll. At night, he would recall with great fondness trying to teach the royal how to use a bow and arrow. Had it been frustrating at times? Yes, indeed, but Noll had a way about him that had been so fresh and honest. He hadn't acted like a prince. He hadn't ordered Ulric around, not truly, not like some of the other nobles treated their servants, more like paid slaves.
Deep down, Ulric always thought he was meant to do more than just be a servant. It wasn’t the life for him, and the closer he became to Queen Rosalynne, the more he wished to be one of her guards, to become a knight even.
Him. A knight. It was laughable, preposterous, downright absurd to even think it, and yet, was it so far from the realm of possibility given that he had found himself a band of merchants and other commoners who were willing to fight for the sake of Tenoch under his leadership.
Well, somewhat under his leadership.
Ulric’s band, so named Forbidden Doom by the fallen Gomes Wright, a young peasant, had suffered far more than just the loss of Gomes. It had been a slaughter, but Ulric had accepted as much going into it. He knew it would be a massacre, but so had his men and even the few women who had picked up arms to fight by their side.
He hadn’t expected their numbers to swell despite their losses afterward, but with many more of the peasants suffering the losses of their businesses, their fields to flames, or loved ones or a combination.
Armel Foreman, one of the peasants, was busy arguing with Gidie Leroux, one of the newest recruits, whose temper matched the fiery strands atop his head.
Aloys Carter crossed over to Ulric. They were the same age, having seen twenty summers, and out of all of those in his makeshift militia, Aloys was Ulric’s favorite. Somehow, despite the battles, despite the threat of war from fellow man and from winged beasts, Aloys remained himself, a jokester who hadn’t lost his hope. If he ever did… Ulric shuddered. He had become a leader somehow, but he needed his righthand man, and that was Aloys.
“Ignore them,” Aloys said.
“They’ve been fighting for hours,” Ulric muttered. “I’ve all but given up attempting to get them to find common ground.”
“What even are they going on about this time?” Aloys asked. “The color of the sky?”
Ulric glanced upward. The sky had been a hazy color of late, a strange gray shade, as if smoke from the dragons’ fire lingered in the air above them yet.
“They want to do as they wish,” Ulric murmured. Honestly, he was no longer so certain he was the leader of them anymore. “They’re fighting scared.”
“Only there is no fighting anymore,” Aloys pointed out.
“Yes, but that’s the rub. They want to fight. They want to wet their swords with the blood of their enemies.”
“We can’t fight the dragons, so let’s stop waste around, staring at the sky,” Gidie was shouting.
“But the dragons will flame Vincanans and us too!” Armel shouted back.
“Yes, but they might not come back! They haven’t yet. Maybe they’ve gone down to Vincana to blaze those right bastards. Burn ‘em all to the ground until they’re not even bones, until they n’thin’ but a pile of ashes! They’re on our side, the dragons are, and we need to help them out by killing the rest of those Vincanans!”
“Maybe we could scare them off,” Armel mused. “We could take a wing from the dragons.”
“A wing from a dragon!” Gidie barked with laughter. “Be you mad!”
“No, no. I just meant that we could burn down all of their ships, every last one of them. Make it so those Vincanans can’t leave. Then, we can hunt them all down, kill every last one of them…”
“Use one of our ships… No! Leave one of their ships for us to use so we can kill their prince and send back his head!”
Ulric had heard enough. “It’s getting late,” Ulric said, although there remained roughly two hours of daylight yet this day. “Let us consider our options. We can talk more in the morning and decide our best course of action together. All of us.”
As if they were the best of friends now, Armel and Gidie nodded and walked off together, still plotting the demise of Marcellus Gallus and debating which of the two would be the one to hack off his head and who deserved to ride in the ship so that at least one of them could see the face of their so-called king when he saw his son returned to him at long last.
With a weary shake of his head, Ulric left Aloys and the others. They had set up a makeshift camp for themselves in the burned-down courtyard. So far, neither of the queens had seemed to make any plans to rebuild the place, and Ulric wished to be near the castle. No, it hadn't been attacked since right after the Battle of the Rivers, when the dragon breathed his fire every which way, and then a small band of Vincanans came. Ulric and his band, hobbled and wounded, carting their dead with them, had been among the last to leave the riverbanks and the last to return to Castle Atlan. As such, they had been able to surround the Vincanans and assist in killing the last of them. T
hey hadn't seemed terribly organized as far as Ulric could tell, but then again, he was not a military mastermind, and he and his men did not oft act organized themselves.
His people had taken it upon themselves to feed themselves instead of relying on the help of the crown, which pleased him, but that had caused yet another source of contention among them—who would hunt and who would cook and all of that. Ulric thought they should have a watch set up as well, but no one else agreed with him on that front, not even Aloys. They thought the castle guards were sufficient, but in Ulric's opinion, there could never be enough eyes on the skies.
That was his largest concern, truth be told, what they should do when the dragons returned, as he was most certain the dragons would return eventually. How could he protect his people and those within the castle? There were no mountains anywhere near here, which made him think of Vivian. The princess had given him the slip, forcing him to return to the castle without her, and then he had been imprisoned on the false charge of his killing Noll. As if he would have hurt the prince! Never. He couldn’t claim that he had never killed a man, not anymore, but he hadn’t killed the prince.
Thinking back to his time spent living on the land with the princess, teaching her a bit of how to fight made Ulric smile. He almost missed that. His life had seemed so much simpler then.
Maybe it was because of thinking about those days, but Ulric realized his feet were bringing him to the royal stables. He peeked inside, and his eyes widened when he saw the object of his thoughts heading his way, guiding a horse out of the stable. She was dressed in simple attire—not a gown or even a dress but trousers and a tunic. Her dark hair was swept up, tied up, and the horse was saddled with several bags.
“You’re leaving,” he said.
It wasn’t a question.
“I am,” the princess said a bit evenly, lifting her chin as if daring him to send word to her sister so she could be stopped.
“Does Rosalynne know?”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Do you want me to accompany you?” he asked.
If she asked him to, would he? Could he leave his motley crew? Forbidden Doom needed a leader, but perhaps the militia would be better served in hands other than his own.
Vivian was silent, critically appraising him, and then she smiled brightly.
“I appreciate your willingness to accompany me to parts unknown. You do not even know my destination, but you would come, and I thank you for that.”
“You wish to go by yourself.”
“I seek great speed and must make great haste. Traveling alone would be prudent, I believe.” She eyed him, waiting, most likely waiting for him to argue with her.
But he did not.
“Be safe and stay smart, and do not allow yourself to be found by the Vincanans.”
“I know what to do.”
“You were taught by the best,” he jested.
“I did teach myself most everything,” she teased back.
Ulric chuckled. “You’re like the sister I never had.”
Vivian beamed and blinked a few times, holding back tears. “I…”
He felt like a fool. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, no. You’re fine. You’re sweet, and… You do not view Rosalynne as a sister.”
Shocked, Ulric coughed into his fist. “I, ah…”
“She will have to marry for the sake of the kingdom,” Vivian warned.
“I would never presume to—”
“You will take care of her?”
“Of course. If I were her guard—”
“You would never leave her side.”
“I would,” he said automatically.
“When she sleeps at night,” Vivian said with a smirk.
“Where are you off to?” he asked.
“You do not wish to talk about Rosalynne anymore? Why is that?”
“You are impossible,” he grumbled.
“I do not deny that.” She smiled warmly and patted his arm. “I will be going along a familiar road. I seek Olac.”
“What’s there?”
“Answers, I hope.” Vivian threw her arms wide and embraced him. “I cannot say I think of you as a brother, not quite, but you are a dear friend, and I thank you for everything you have done for me and for my family.”
“But of course, and you do not need to thank me.”
“If you ask Rosalynne to be her guard, I would think she would allow it, if that truly is what you wish.” Vivian, with the grace of an experienced fighter, mounted her horse. “I will be back swiftly.”
“Take care and have no fear. The castle will be awaiting your return.”
“I have no concern for the castle,” Vivian remarked. “It’s the people inside I am concerned about.”
With that, the princess rode off, leaving Ulric to consider her words. When had Vivian become so mature? She seemed wise beyond her years, but after a moment, she glanced back, waving, looking so very young again that Ulric just had to laugh. Vivian had always been the most high-spirited of the Rivera children, and Ulric hoped that as she continued to mature, she never lost that bit of her nature.
34
Queen Rosalynne Rivera
The harpoons were not so easy to construct, which disheartened Rosalynne greatly. The weapon needed far more than just the harpoon itself but also a platform from which one could aim and launch it.
Rosalynne had sent out both more messenger birds as well as riders. Thus far, none had returned, and with each passing day, more of Rosalynne's hopes fell. Her dreams had been quite troubled of late, and she was becoming more and more certain the dragons had a plan for each of the persons on Dragoona, a plan for her as well, and that plan might well be death for them all.
Long hours she had spent within the walls of the library, hours of reading accomplished, and Rosalynne could read between the markings on the scrolls. Her father had intended to do much and more for Tenoch by forcing the Vincanans to come to heel, to abide by his rule, but in doing so, he merely shifted the timeline of the war.
He sought to bring down the Lis to prove Tenoch could be strong so that Vincana would not attack, and during his reign, those from the south had not attacked.
It did not escape her notice that he had not been dead and buried long before the Vincanans came to their soil.
Yes, Marcellus and the others might not have intended war from the start, not until his best friend, Rufus, had been literally stabbed in the back, or maybe they had always intended for war. Perhaps not Marcellus personally, but Rosalynne could easily imagine that his father, the self-appointed King of Vincana, had always intended for war even before his son set foot on Tenoch soil.
The arrival of the dragons, however, had left that war as a stalemate. Well, perhaps a stalemate of sorts. She could not forget that Vincanans had come after the dragon had fled the castle.
Handle the dragons first and then deal with the Vincanans? Would it be possible to handle the dragons in such a way that they did not need to be killed? The dragons three had been a champion of the people, victors of the light. They only asked for truthfulness, for loyalty, for people to be good and kind and generous to one another. To serve one another.
But the people had been greedy, had vengeance in their hearts, and they fought back and killed the dragons. Ever since, humans had been allowed to do as they wished under the rule of their human kings. Some of the kings had been rather bloodthirsty and ruthless.
The Lis, however, had ruled longer than most, and yes, the Vincanans sought to rise up and fight while the Lis ruled from Atlan Castle, but Tenoch had been rather peaceful under their rule.
“Until Father.”
Rosalynne rubbed her forehead and brushed back her hair, nearly knocking her crown from her head. She gathered the scrolls and returned them to their shelves as best she could before leaving the library behind. It was nearly time for the last meal of the day, and she hoped Vivian would join her. She had not seen
her sister since they last spoke, and she wished to settle the air between them. There were times, like now, that she could scarcely recognize her younger sister. Vivian had changed so very much in such a short amount of time, but Rosalynne was floundering. A part of her suspected that she should make a move and strike at the Vincanans now, before the dragons returned, but had she waited too long for such an attack? What if she ordered the attack and then the dragon returned? What if all three dragons returned? What then?
Walking quickly, Rosalynne headed toward her sister’s room. Leaning against the door was Ulric.
The sight of his unkempt, wild dark hair that desperately needed a cut combined with his alluring dark eyes made Rosalynne smile despite herself and also despite the somber gaze he fixed on her.
“Are you waiting for Vivian as well?” she asked easily.
“No, actually. I was waiting for you.”
“This is my sister’s room,” Rosalynne said, confused. “Why would you wait for me here?”
And then she understood.
"Vivian has gone, hasn't she?" she whispered, her gaze shifting to the man's chest. He wore a tunic that had Tenoch's crest upon it, that of olive branches crossed above the throne.
“She has.”
“And she did not say goodbye,” Rosalynne murmured. “I meant to… We had much to discuss, but…”
“She will return,” Ulric said firmly. “You do not have to worry.”
“Oh, I am not worried,” Rosalynne protested. “That is a lie. Of course I am worried for her, but I am worried about everyone and anyone right now. I’m even…” She bit her lower lip and forced herself to meet his gaze. “I’m even worried about the Vincanans. Is that not absurd? They are our enemy. They seek to claim the throne, to kill me, but I worry that the dragons will go after them. I do not know how it is that the dragons have returned nor what they want. If we could appease them… I do not even know if that is possible.”
"You are the true ruler of Tenoch Proper if you care about even those who seek your crown."