“Who else knows about this?”
“Aside from me and Prince Felix? A few of the men, but I doubt they thought much of it,” he said.
She watched the runes on the door, pulsing with magic. How much more had the High Vestral had hidden from her?
The Vestrals standing next to the door noticed her gaze, and she felt a swirl of magic dance around her.
The door suddenly flew open and the High Vestral ran out of the room. Emira and Lord Rover barely had time to rise to their feet before she was in front of them. The runes on her cloak were a bright silver, casting unnatural shadows on the wall behind her.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed, Lord Rover stepped back and bumped into a chair.
“I was checking on the status of Prince Felix,” he said and the High Vestral’s eyes narrowed so much Emira wondered if she could see him. The High Vestral stared him down for a few moments before she turned her piercing gaze on Emira.
“The Spirit has its answer. Prince Felix will be given to the Western Marshes and the trade routes will remain closed,” she said, and Emira could have sworn she saw a glint of triumph in her eyes.
The path the High Vestral was treading would only lead to more bloodshed. A part of Emira wanted to throw the might of the Sodervian army at the Western Marshes and make them pay for the harm they had done to the people. And she would if every other option broke down, but the Spirit of the Realm wasn’t giving them a chance.
“No,” Emira said when the High Vestral started to walk away.
“What? Have you been listening to anything I have said? For the good of the realm-”
“The good of the realm? What do you know of the realm? You sit here in your temple amongst the finest of luxuries, letting your Vestrals cause more harm than good to our crops. Letting the people wallow in misery and despair while you prance around in silks, pretending there is no famine. People starved and died while you kept the grain stores closed,” Emira drew herself to her full height and clenched her fists at her side. “I know about the report.”
“What report?” the High Vestral rolled her eyes, “I receive hundreds of reports every day.”
“The report I sent you about the Marshmires involvement with the bandits,” Lord Rover said his voice dark with anger.
The High Vestral’s mouth formed a thin line and her face turned a dark crimson. Emira felt the magic around her tighten on her throat. She struggled to breath and gripped the back of a chair.
“High Vestral!” Lord Rover yelled. He grabbed a goblet from a nearby table and threw it at her.
The magic around Emira faded away, and she watched in horror as the wine in the goblet splashed onto the High Vestral’s face. The goblet dropped onto the floor and only the sounds of clattering metal could be heard. The High Vestral wiped away the wine with her sleeve.
“You are lucky I don’t call the guards,” she snapped.
“And you are lucky that I don’t do the same and have you hanged for high treason for threatening the Queen’s life,” Lord Rover replied, his hand moving over to his side as if he were trying to draw a sword, but he only grabbed air.
The Vestrals beside the door moved toward them, but the High Vestral waved them away with a flick of her hand.
“Fine, I suppose you will have to learn the hard way,” she snapped at Emira and turned on her heel. The Vestrals followed her into the sacred room and the door slammed behind them.
“Thank you,” Emira said. Lord Rover picked up the goblet from the floor and drank the reaming wine.
“It is my duty, Your Majesty. I took an oath to protect the Crown, and I’ve been wanting to do that for years,” Lord Rover grinned, but his face quickly turned serious. “You realize you have put yourself directly into the fire with this?”
“For the good of the realm, I would throw myself at a sea griffin with only my hands to defend me,” Emira said. Lord Rover laughed.
“Well, let us hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said.
Lady Ethelbright and Lady Janel hurried into the drawing room. When no Vestrals followed behind them, Emira walked over to them and smiled.
“My dear ladies if you could please gather the Royal Council? Today I believe we have made peace!”
They hurried out of the drawing room, Emira could not shake the feeling of foreboding. There was no turning back now, and the Spirit of the Realm was bound to be furious.
She hoped she would be strong enough to brave the storm.
14
The Agreement
WITH THE WAY THE GUARDS dragged him from the tournament field, Felix expected to lose his head that very instant. Instead, they threw him into his old quarters and locked the door tight; leaving him to his own musings.
He spent most of his time staring at the stone walls he used to glare at in his youth. The stones had not changed at all, even the furniture was the same, though his bed was not as soft as he remembered it. His favorite tapestry, which depicted a hunting scene, had been replaced with a mourning cloth. He longed to be free of this room and away from court and memories that haunted him.
He half expected his father to barge into the room, singing a song he had composed the night before in some burst of creativity. He almost missed the off-key singing. When he got older, his father had hardly talked to him, preferring the company of his bottle under an altar in the temple.
Days turned into nights as he awaited his fate. The chamber servants made their way in and out without saying a word to him. With each passing day, the likelihood of him being beheaded grew dimmer. The Queen, or more likely whoever was advising her, had been smart to keep him away from King Olric. It kept the King from overacting in anger and Felix from drawing his sword.
A sharp knock sounded at the door and Felix hopped up from his bed. He opened the door to find two guardsmen, both of which wore chain mail instead of decorative plate mail. Good, it meant he was not being hauled off for a beheading. It was times like these he appreciated the strict traditions of court. They made it much easier to tell if you were likely to die or not.
The guards moved aside, and Lady Ethelbright stepped from the shadows between them. Her hair had gotten grayer, but she still glared at him with the fury of a thousand suns. Her expression was helped by a small amount of magic she used to shock him. Felix raised an eyebrow and was about to tell her to be careful. He had no idea how the Queen viewed magic. Perhaps Lady Ethelbright had gotten her lucky break.
“Her Majesty has decided to let you visit your father’s tomb. It has come to her attention you have not had the chance to pay your respects,” she said.
Felix did his best to pat down his hair. The shock from her magic had made it stand up.
“How generous. Was it you who suggested it?” Felix asked, falling into step beside her.
“No, she came up with it all on her own,” Lady Ethelbright purred, sounding like a proud tutor. She probably had the Queen under her thumb. Out of all the nobles, Felix was grateful that it was her. Though Sodervia was not the home she was born in, she and her husband did their best to help the people. Not to mention she had helped him channel his gift and saved him the fate of being tied to a God for life.
“Have they decided upon my fate?” Felix asked, they made their way onto the bridge that connected the castle to the temple. Lady Ethelbright hesitated; her mouth formed a thin line before she spoke.
“You are to be kept under the Royal Council’s watchful eye. Lord Rover will be put in charge of the border army and the Marshmires are returning home with King Olric.”
He expected as much, though it did not lessen the sting of having those pretentious bastards being set free. Gods only knew when they would have their bandits raiding the villages again. He prayed that Lord Rover could withstand the surge of enemies likely headed his way.
“Is there anything else?”
“The Queen believes she has secured the peace between our nations.” Lady Ethelbright lowered her voice, so much so that Felix
struggled to hear her. “However, there are whispers in the court this will not last and the kingdom is headed to war. The Queen is doing her best to stop it, but I fear her efforts are only putting her life in danger.”
Felix stopped walking. “War?”
“Yes, war,” Lady Ethelbright snapped, “what exactly were you thinking?”
“I was hoping to send a message to the Western Marshes their actions have consequences. Scare them so they’d leave us alone and bother the Acrillans.”
“Well you did, and now the rest of us have to live with that decision. I thought you had grown beyond this, Felix. Why did you do this?”
Felix kicked a loose stone and watched it fall to the ground below.
“Grief, perhaps. I attacked the castle after I had discovered my father was dead and the Spirit...” he trailed off, watching smoke rising from some chimneys in the distance. He could hear the cries of the famine-struck below as they begged for food. His army didn’t have enough men for a full-scale war; they would have to recruit from the populace, and if most of them were starving...
“It will be nothing but bloodshed and Sodervia will crumble.” Felix wanted to throw himself off the bridge. He wondered if the Goddess of Fates was laughing at him, he wanted to protect the realm, but he had doomed it instead.
No wonder the Spirit hadn’t chosen him.
“Yes, that is why her Majesty needs your help. She wants you on the Royal Council.”
Felix raised an eyebrow. “Me? I doubt the High Vestral or the Spirit want me on there.”
“No, they do not, which precisely why I want you on it,” one guard said, taking off their helmet. A woman with dark hair and gray eyes smiled at him. It was not a cheerful smile, more of a determined one.
“Your Majesty!” Lady Ethelbright exclaimed. At her outburst, Felix dropped to his knees.
“Why are you dressed as a guard?” Lady Ethelbright asked the Queen while the other guard removed their helmet to reveal Lord Rover. Felix raised an eyebrow at him; he would never have expected Lord Rover to agree to something like this.
“Never mind that. Prince Felix, please rise,” the Queen said. Felix carefully drew himself to his feet. Now that he looked closer, he saw the chain mail was rather loose on her frame. She looked like she was still recovering from not having proper meals, something he had seen in every common folk along the borderlands.
“Your Majesty, I was not expecting to meet you out here,” he said as the Queen started walking towards the temple. He hurried after her, mindful to stay a step away. The Queen, however, moved to walk beside him.
“I feel safer out in the open,” she replied. Felix felt his stomach twist into knots. His father used to say that in the beginning of his decent into paranoia. He must have made a face because the Queen quickly continued.
“I fear the High Vestral has spies everywhere, and Gods know what magic she is using in the castle. Lord Rover tells me magic is forbidden in the temples.” She glanced at Lord Rover, who nodded his head. Felix bit back a laugh at his demure expression.
“And how do you know you can trust me or Lord Rover?”
The Queen smiled again; this time it was filled with mischief.
“Lord Rover threw a goblet of wine at the High Vestral,” she said. She did not elaborate any further and Lord Rover beamed with pride. Felix would be hearing about this for the next ten years.
“I see,” Felix said.
“Prince Felix, the kingdom needs your help. I could use someone like you. Unlike you, I was not raised in a castle. I have spent most of my twenty-five years on a fishing boat, and you have spent your entire life in this world. I am learning as fast as I can, but there are storms on the horizon, and I am not ready to face them alone.”
They neared the entrance to the temple; where a lone guard leaned against the doorframe, watching a group of beggars below. The Queen and Lord Rover put their helmets back on right before the guard’s gaze turned to them.
“Your Majesty, I-” Felix started to say.
“Ah give him some time to think on it, Your Majesty,” Lord Rover interjected before Felix could continue. “Let him mourn his father properly first; poor lad’s been holding it in for weeks.”
“Of course. Prince Felix, please pay your respects. I will have Lady Ethelbright visit you in the morning for your answer.”
With that, she slammed down her visor and marched forward. She waved a piece of paper in the guard’s face and made several gestures to Felix. After what seemed like ages, the guard let them through.
Felix followed them through the door into the mausoleum. A sweet incense filled the air as he walked past the stone coffins with the effigies carved on top. Each ruler had been immortalized in stone; the sculptors depicted them in their greatest moments. Some clutched a sword while others clutched a scroll. It was rather elegant, despite the gloomy atmosphere.
They made their way to the center of the mausoleum into a large room with a domed ceiling. In the middle of the room was his father’s tomb.
The effigy was not quite finished, only his head had been fully carved, but the rest of the stone coffin was draped in the banner of his house. The carver had chosen a younger version of his father, one which was still full of hope. The moonlight filtered down from the glass roof above and small silver runes etched in the stone glittered in the light. The runes were the story of his father’s life. He skimmed over the best parts and left the darker moments alone.
He heard the shuffle of feet and turned to see his small escort leave the room, leaving him alone. He stared at the stone image of his father’s face; the hopeful gaze was a stark contrast to the man he would later become.
“Why did you do it? You could have been the greatest ruler this kingdom has ever seen, and yet you hid away from all. You preferred to curry favor with the Gods than try to help your subjects,” Felix snapped. He paced back and forth, unable to keep still. “Your kingdom was being ravaged by those who wished to harm it. The Goddess of the Harvest unleashed her wrath, and you believed whispers that I was planning on killing you. Why did you believe them, father? How could you even think I would even try and do something like that?”
The stone face remained silent as he paced around it. He would never get an answer; he would always be left with this hole. Time would not heal it, and neither would death.
“You are a disgrace to your house; you have destroyed everything! I hope you are in the darkest room in the halls of the dead. I pray you see no light at all!” he shouted and tugged on the banner, the fabric tore in his hands and sent him tumbling to the ground. He hit the ground screaming, decades of rage and sorrow bubbling up all at once. He crawled back over to the stone tomb, not caring if he looked like a feral animal. He slammed his fist against it, blood pouring down his wrists as he cried and let his frustration out on the stone.
After what felt like years, his anger began to cool and he slumped against the stone. He tore a piece of the banner off and wrapped it around his bloodied hands. He rested his head against the cold stone, trying to ease the pounding in his head.
“Prince Felix?”
He looked up to see a Vestral for the God of Death standing nearby; his head was bald and silver runes were tattooed on his forehead. Felix started to stand, but the Vestral shook his head and pulled out a small scroll. He handed it to Felix. The wax seal depicted a griffin holding a spear, the sigil of his house.
“Your father wanted me to give this to you,” the Vestral said, frowning when Felix tried to tear it up. The sigil glowed and strengthened the paper so he could not break it. “You can burn it afterwards, but it won’t let you destroy it until you have read it.”
“I have never heard of such magic.”
The Vestral smiled, an odd look on a Vestral to the God of Death. They usually had a somber demeanor.
“Your father invented that one,” he heard his mother’s voice behind him. Her gown was so dark that she blended in with the shadows. If she had worn her mourning
veil, he would not have seen her at all. He wondered if she’d been here the entire time. She knelt next to Felix and the Vestral left at her signal. Her auburn hair had gone stark white, and she had more wrinkles around her eyes than he remembered. Though grief still plagued her, she looked healthy.
Felix froze. “What do you mean, invented?”
“Before he... succumbed, your father spent a lot of time trying to improve this kingdom. He spent hours with the greatest thinkers and Vestrals in the realm, trying to improve life for all.” She eyed the bandages on his hands. “Though a lot of his ideas were blocked by the Spirit of the Realm.”
“So? That is what the Spirit does, ensure the kingdom doesn’t fall into ruin.”
“Felix, have you ever considered the Spirit might not have Sodervia’s best interests in mind?”
“If you are suggesting I take up arms against the Queen...”
His mother thwacked him on the back of his head.
“Guard your mouth! I was not suggesting such a thing at all. We will lose the common folk if we harm so much as a hair on her head.”
Then the Spirit was smarter than Felix gave it credit. If it was planning on doing something to the realm, having a peasant become queen meant anyone who dared rise up risked losing their head.
“Besides,” his mother continued, “the poor thing is trying her best, even though she considers Lady Ethelbright to be valuable council. I am more concerned about our legacy and the future of our house. The Spirit refuses to assist the Queen in any matter. It seems to be throwing a fit, because she honored the Gods before the Spirit during her griffin ceremony.”
Felix frowned. “When did people start honoring the Spirits before the Gods?”
He could recall none of the commoners in the Northern villages praying to the Spirit. However, he had not spent too much time in any of the temples; time spent staring at a statue was time away from saving lives. At first, Alvar had tried to get him to go with him to pray every day at the little makeshift shrine in the camp, but Felix had convinced him his actions to save the kingdom were a greater offering to the Gods than lip service and stale food.
The Spirit of the Realm Page 17