The Spirit of the Realm

by Rachel L Brown

“Prince Felix, Your Majesty,” the lady-in-waiting next to him said.

  His mother took one look at him and quickly shooed her ladies away.

  “You’ve read the letter,” she said and she offered him a cup of tea.

  Felix crossed his arms. She sighed and set the cup down on the table next to her.

  “You knew about it?”

  “Your father told me everything,” she said with a sad smile. Felix slumped in a chair.

  “What do I do? I cannot tell the Queen. What if the High Vestral has her murdered at the coronation?”

  “Felix, calm yourself. If the High Vestral did that, the common folk would overwhelm and kill us all.”

  He quickly recounted the information he had received about Oddlehill and his mother frowned. She tapped her fingers against the side of her chair, her long sleeves brushed against the floor.

  “It seems the High Vestral has become blind to her own faults and is not willing to admit failure when it slaps her in the face,” she said. “If that is the case, then it explains why she is so against the Queen. She probably can’t bear the thought of a common-born woman standing up against her. Even if it means the kingdom will burn.”

  “And what about the Spirit of the Realm?” Felix asked when his mother didn’t continue.

  “That is another matter entirely, and I’m afraid we will have to seek out answers.”

  “We don’t have time for that,” Felix hissed through his teeth. His mother frowned at him.

  “Felix, if we take drastic action now, we might end up causing more damage later. You cannot act as you did with the Marshmires. The issue is the Queen cannot seek any allies within the noble houses; they see how the Queen has become nothing more than a glorified puppet. Not to mention they fear the wrath of the High Vestral.”

  “Then something must be done to distract her from the Queen.”

  “If a false God and the declaration of a false queen won’t turn her away from digging her talons deeper into the Queen’s back, I am not sure what else will,” his mother said with a small sigh.

  It would have to be something that attacked the High Vestral’s ego, something that would enrage her to the point she could focus on nothing else. Felix pulled his father’s letter out of his pouch and stared at the folds of paper that hid the words within.

  His father had likely suffered a horrible fate due to the High Vestral and the Spirit of the Realm. Because of them, the kingdom had not only lost their king, but Felix had lost his father. Anger coursed through him as he glared at the paper. His magic swirled within him, longing to be set free.

  If the High Vestral and the Spirit of the Realm were no longer working for the good of the Realm, then it was time for someone to reveal it to the kingdom before they succeeded in whatever plans they had.

  He knew the Queen had planned to make a revelation of her own, but if she did it, the High Vestral would not hesitate to attack her. If that happened, the integrity and the sovereignty of the Crown would vanish, leaving a vacuum of power open. The High Vestral would surely swoop in and seize that power before anyone else. No, the Queen could not be the one to do it. But the son of a disgraced king?

  He took a slow breath as the realization of what he would have to do crashed upon him.

  “Mother, do you trust me?” Felix asked once he felt like he could keep his voice steady.

  “Of course I do, why are you asking?”

  “Do you trust Vestral Alvar?”

  “Yes?” His mother replied slowly.

  “I have asked him to look after you and the Queen should anything arise,” Felix said, stuffing the letter back into his pouch.

  “Felix, what are you planning on doing?!” she exclaimed when Felix rose from his chair. He smiled and pulled her into a hug.

  “I am going to visit father’s tomb.”

  THE SOUND OF STONE hitting metal reached Felix’s ears the closer he got to his father’s tomb. It had been moved to the hall of his ancestors; a team of workers chiseled runes in the walls telling the story of his father’s reign. They had finished carving the effigy of his father.

  “Your Highness what brings you here at this hour?” A Vestral overseeing the men asked, an illumination rune hovered above him. Casting a pale white light on the hall.

  “I need a moment with my father,” Felix said.

  “Of course,” the Vestral clapped his hands and they quickly left him alone. The Vestral had left the illumination rune to hover above Felix.

  “Hello again father...”

  Felix cleared his throat and brushed a hand against the stone. Had his father battled against the same magic that threated the Queen? Was he also a victim to the games the High Vestral played?

  The memories of his father spending hours in the temple took on a different tone. The anger he once held toward him was gone and something else had taken its place.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t realize what was happening until now. I should have done more to help you and I...”

  He took a shaky breath gathering his thoughts before he continued.

  “I swear to you father I will do everything in my power to avenge your death and bring glory to your name.”

  He stared at the stone image of his face and wondered what type of King he would’ve been without the madness. What sort of legacy he would’ve forged...

  The workers had finished carving the words describing the King’s legacy and Felix’s heart dropped when he saw the final two that summarized his entire life.

  Insane drunkard.

  No, that would not be his father’s legacy.

  He grabbed a chisel and a hammer one of the workers had left. Taking care to not make too much noise, he removed the two words and quickly carved a single word.

  Warrior.

  His father was a fighter of a different kind and Felix was not about to let his efforts go unnoticed. But first he had to ensure the High Vestral was distracted enough to give the Queen a chance to fight back.

  He prayed to the Gods his plan would work or Sodervia was doomed

  22

  The Coronation

  SUNLIGHT FILTERED INTO Emira’s bed chamber, casting a golden glow upon the stone walls. It was the day of her Coronation. and the day she would reveal the High Vestral’s treachery to the people.

  She had spent the past few days locked in prayer to the Gods, and the time alone had only hardened her resolve to see justice done in the kingdom. She rose from her bed and shivered in the cool morning air; her hearth had burnt down to embers in the night. While she stoked the fire, a maid entered the room and curtseyed when she saw Emira.

  “My apologies for the fire, Majesty, Lady Ethelbright ordered me to wait. She wanted to let you sleep in,” the maid said. Emira continued toked the embers. She tossed a couple pieces of kindling onto them.

  “It’s all right, you may go back to your other duties,” Emira said, and the maid hesitated.

  “Your Majesty, I just wanted to say that I and many others are proud of you and cannot wait to see you crowned. It’s about time someone of our station was chosen by the Spirit,” the maid said and dipped into another curtsey. The maid fled the room before Emira could reply.

  Emira turned back to stoking the fire. For the first time in days, doubt and worry swirled in her thoughts. Would the people believe her when she ripped off the veil of treachery that surrounded the High Vestral and the Spirit of the Realm? Or would they chalk it up to madness?

  A sharp knock sounded on the door. Lady Ethelbright and Lady Janel swept into the room. Gone were the black and white dresses. Both ladies wore gowns that showed off the colors of their house. Lady Ethelbright’s dress was a light blue with light yellow sleeves that trailed behind her while Lady Janel was dressed in a red gown with long blue sleeves. Both of their dresses had tiny gold griffins embroidered on the hemline.

  They carried a dress made of gold and silver brocade with light purple griffins embroidered all along it. The griffins carried tridents over the
ir heads, their long tails wrapped around them like snakes. It was the crest Emira had chosen, one that harkened back to Emira’s life before.

  The maids carried a shift made of dark purple silk. They quickly changed her out of her night shift. If the maids noticed the protection rune that hung around her neck, they said nothing.

  Emira eyed the dress while Lady Ethelbright motioned for her to raise her arms. The dress looked heavy, but once the fabric poled around it. It was lighter than the shift she was wearing. The sleeves, however, were not the long flowing sleeves she had gotten used to wearing. These were tight on her arm with long silver ribbons attached.

  Lady Janel sniffled. “Oh you look radiant, Your Majesty!”

  Emira glanced at a mirror, her disheveled hair made her look anything but radiant. But she smiled all the same, for there was no need to dampen Lady Janel’s mood. She lifted her foot as a maid slipped on boots made with silver leather.

  Once they were finished, Janel stepped forward with a delicate gold belt crafted to mimic a golden vine that wrapped around silver medallions etched with the thirteen Divine Runes. The belt dangled the front of her skirt and at the end of the chain, a tiny. silver sea griffin glinted in the sunlight.

  “If you cannot ride your griffin to the ceremony, I figured it would be good luck to have some form of it with you,” Lady Ethelbright said.

  “Thank you,” Emira said.

  Lady Janel and the maids began brushing and braiding her hair, weaving in pearls and a blue stone that reminded Emira of the sea, winding her hair into a bun. Then they covered her hair with a golden hair net and pinned it with pins that had small pearls on the ends to keep her bun from falling out.

  “All done,” Lady Janel said and stepped back.

  “Now, let us adjourn to the drawing room, I have a surprise for you,” Lady Ethelbright said. Emira waited for them to leave the room, then she rushed over to her bed and grabbed a small pouch that held the rune of madness inside of it. She tucked into a pocket on in her skirt and hurried after her ladies.

  When Emira entered the draw room, a man and a woman rose from the chairs near the hearth. The woman was dressed in a golden gown with tiny silver fish embroidered into the fabric, and her gray hair was braided into a bun held in place by a silvery-blue hair net. The man was dressed in a gold tunic with dark silver pants; his boots were a dark brown with silver griffins stamped into the leather. His gray hair stuck out a bit when he ran a hand through it.

  Emira’s eyes widened when she realized it was her parents standing before her. With a small shout she ran over and pulled them into a hug

  “Gods be praised, you’re all better!” she exclaimed. When she drew back, she saw color had returned to her parents’ cheeks and they no longer felt like ice.

  “It’s all thanks to Lord Ethelbright and those physicians. Though I could have done without the bloodletting,” her mother said.

  “And you’ve turned into quite the Queen since we last saw you,” her father said, clearing his throat. Emira smiled and hugged them again.

  “Before we head out, your parents wanted to give you a few gifts,” Lady Ethelbright said and gestured to a table. A silver cloth covered a couple objects. Emira’s father hurried over to it and tugged on a long object. He smiled and he held out Emira’s trident, though it looked as if someone had dipped it in silver.

  “My trident!” Emira smiled and took it from him. The metal sung in her hands while she swung it around. Lady Janel and her maids jumped back as horror appeared on their faces.

  “But what about the sword we picked out? She needs to carry a sacred weapon!” Lady Janel said, and Lady Ethelbright shrugged.

  “A trident can be a weapon; I see no harm in her carrying it,” Lady Ethelbright said. She winced when Emira accidently slammed her trident against a chair, causing it to fall.

  “Sorry,” Emira said while a maid hurried over to right the chair.

  Emira’s mother walked over to her and tied a piece of leather onto Emira’s shoulder, ignoring the outraged whispers from Lady Janel. Then she went over to the table and lifted the fabric to reveal a small bird cage. A small owl hooted at her when she opened the door, and the bird flew around the room, causing her ladies to huddle together with fright. Her father let out a low whistle, and the owl settled on his shoulder.

  The gray owl turned its head to look at Emira, it was missing its right eye, and a long scar trailed down its face.

  “Vaste?” Emira squeaked out, and the owl danced on her father’s shoulder at the sound of his name. Emira held out her arm, ignoring the cries of her ladies as the bird flew over and landed on her shoulder. The owl nuzzled its head against Emira’s neck and let out a soft hoot.

  “Rupert found him huddled on the boat the morning after you left for Avemdal and nursed him back to health,” her father said. “Seems that sea griffin was more interested in your swordfish.”

  The Goddess of the Sea had given something back to her, and though a part of her would have preferred Thomas, she would not spit in the Goddesses face by not being grateful for what she gave her.

  This was the sign she needed to continue forward with her plans to expose the High Vestral.

  “Is Rupert here?”

  Her mother nodded and her father scowled.

  “Yes, but I am afraid he has decided it more important to chase skirts,” he glanced at Lady Janel, “I would guard yourself. Rupert can be terribly charming when he wants to.”

  Lady Janel merely giggled while Lady Ethelbright clapped her hands.

  “Your Majesty, it is time for us to begin the procession to the Coronation stone. You will have plenty of time to catch up later,” she said.

  “But what about the owl!” Lady Janel cried when Vaste fluttered his wings.

  Lady Ethelbright raised an eyebrow at her before she smiled. “The owl is a good omen, my dear. Since the Queen cannot ride her sea griffin, this seems to be a blessing from the Goddess of the Sea herself!”

  Lady Janel muttered something about the leather clashing with Emira’s dress while she left the room. Emira caught her parents looking at Lady Janel like she had three heads, laughing she headed through the door.

  EMIRA SAT PRECARIOUSLY on her saddle and clutched the reins of her horse. Vaste flew around her in small circles while a guard led her along a small road up the side of a mountain. Rocks cascaded to the valley below. Emira swallowed and turned her gaze to watch the sunlight glint off the guard’s helmet.

  Her parents and ladies had ridden ahead of her, up a different and less difficult path. Because Emira could not ride in on her griffin, she was forced to use the path others had claimed the first ruler of Sodervia had used for their coronation. When more rocks tumbled down around her, she was starting to think riding the griffin wouldn’t have been as bad, even if it weren’t fully trained.

  The sound of a hundred trumpets filled the air when they rounded a bend in the road. Revealing a large rock that jutted out over the mountainside looking out over the lake. Gold and silver banners with her crest on them hung from tall wooden posts that had been drilled into the mountain side. A sizeable crowd of nobles in silks of many colors stood waiting for her arrival. Servants held up small banners on small, gilded poles, and each banner had the crest of a noble family painted on it.

  A square stone covered in golden fabric stood near the edge of the outcrop. A loud cheer resounded from the commoners in the valley below. In the distance, the city glowed in the sunlight, and she heard the faint sound of bells ringing.

  Emira swiftly dismounted and Vaste settled on her shoulder. A guard handed her the trident and she began to walk. The crowd of nobles parted to reveal the High Vestral holding a glowing purple orb and twelve other Vestrals with small divine runes in their hands. Their cloaks were each dyed in their God or Goddesses preferred color, while the runes on their hemlines shone a bright silver.

  There was no one there representing the God of Justice and Mercy. He was the God she needed most on t
his day.

  “The Spirit calls forth the one it has Chosen!” the High Vestral said while she headed toward the stone chair; her dark cloak had no runes on it.

  Emira passed through the crowd, whispers floated around her and she saw a few young children point at her trident. To them, she probably looked like a fisherwoman playing dress-up. When she made to the front of the crowd, she saw Lady Ethelbright standing with her husband; he smiled gave a brief bow of his head when he saw her. Lady Janel was standing near Emira’s parents, and much to Emira’s amusement, Rupert was talking her ear off. Lady Janel didn’t seem to be bothered by it, though Rupert was getting a few glares from the young noblemen around them.

  Then she saw Prince Felix standing with his mother, and unlike the rest of the crowd, both were dressed in black. As she turned her head, she caught Prince Felix’s gaze; he eyed the trident in her hands and nodded his head with a slight approval. Vaste didn’t seem to like the Prince wasn’t acknowledging him since the bird gave the Prince a low hoot in response.

  The Dowager Queen glared at her son when Prince Felix lowered his head. His shoulders quaked with laughter and Emira had to turn away as the Dowager Queen began whispering angrily to her son, which only made him laugh harder.

  Emira turned her attention to the Vestrals in front of her when the crowd in the valley below gave another loud cheer.

  “Are you Emira, daughter of Helena and Aeron of Griffin’s Bay?” the High Vestral shouted holding her orb in front of her. The purple glow cast odd shadows on the High Vestral’s face.

  “I am,” Emira said, much to her horror her voice creaked. The Vestrals moved to the side, and the High Vestral inclined her head toward the stone. It was covered in a plush purple fabric.

  “Please sit, your Majesty.”

  Emira peeked over the edge of the cliff side, and her eyes widened when she saw the sheer amount of people below. Banners in every color drifted in the wind; the crowd roared when they saw her. She turned to face the noble crowd in front of her. Her parents beamed at her while she sat on the smooth stone, the fabric on it did little to keep her from slipping.