by N M Zoltack
“And this guard?” Rosalynne asked, narrowing her eyes. She had hoped her people would embrace peace, but Marcellus had fought against them previously, even if not during this latest attack. He had killed good men from Tenoch. While she was ready to move forward toward peace, her people might not be so quick to forgive.
“He has been reassigned to work in the dungeon,” Vivian said sweetly. “And if he does not find that amendable and he continues to complain, well, he can occupy one of those cells.”
Rosalynne could not help but laugh at that. “The princess is not one to be trifled with.”
“A strong and capable warrior,” Ulric agreed.
"A bit idealistic at times, but perhaps that is what the world needs," Marcellus added as if he did not wish to be outdone.
Vivian gestured for them to continue. "Go on. I love hearing compliments."
This time, they all laughed, and Rosalynne marveled at how her younger sister had blossomed into a fierce lady, capable of fighting with words, wits, and weapons.
For a time, when they had been younger, Vivian had hated Rosalynne because Vivian wished to lead, and a part of Rosalynne wished she had been born the younger.
But the Fates had willed Rosalynne to be the elder, and she would do anything and everything her position of queen required of her, even if that demanded her life.
19
Sir Edmund Hill
The summons to a large meeting room came as a surprise for Sir Edmund Hill. He had been privy to many meetings with the queens and now merely Queen Rosalynne, but many other knights were joining him on his trek to the meeting room.
Once Edmund entered, he was stunned. There was barely enough room for all of the knights in the room. Several moved to the side to allow him to walk closer to the queen, who stood by the short window in the back of the room.
Queen Rosalynne gave him a nod of acknowledgment, but she did not address him or anyone else until the doors were finally shut.
"Thank you all for coming so swiftly," the queen said. She did not shout. Regardless, her voice carried throughout the room, and Edmund was certain all could hear. "As you know, one of our own slew one of the dragons."
Edmund grimaced as the knights all turned to him. He had only been able to because of a special potion from Tatum.
Tatum Hill.
Not his wife.
His brother’s wife.
His late brother’s wife.
A widow.
Society dictated that Edmund should provide for Tatum, but she was strong and capable. She had run a successful business with her alchemy potions. Yes, despite the curse that all female alchemists are said to fall victim to, Tatum was an alchemist like her father before her.
Even with the peasants no longer seeking her aid, Tatum now made potions for the castle. She must want for nothing, except perhaps for her husband to live yet.
Edmund missed his brother. He did, but he also had not always been the happiest with Dudley and some of his choices, and that he had agreed to give Tatum over to another man because he owed the louse money…
Try as he might, Edmund strove not to judge Dudley, but how could he? Tatum had deserved so much more from her husband.
The queen lifted a hand, and even though the knights had the wherewithal not to cheer for Edmund, all attention returned to the queen.
“The Vincanans have managed to vanquish another dragon,” Queen Rosalynne said.
The knights shifted and glanced at each other, but not even a peep could be heard.
“Sir Edmund Hill,” the queen said.
His heart sunk as he stepped forward.
"I would have you lead the party against the last remaining dragon. The dragon is the sole threat we will concern ourselves with presently. You can form your own team, but that dragon must not be stopped. The dragon must be killed. Far too many have been killed, entire villages and towns destroyed… This cannot continue on."
“Of course,” Edmund murmured.
“Won’t you form your team?” The queen regally waved her hand to the knights gathered behind him.
“I will. If I may… I would appreciate a moment of your time.”
“Certainly. You have it.”
He cocked his head back toward the door.
The queen lifted her hand. “Those of you Sir Edmund has selected will be notified soon. Please, you may leave.”
It took only a moment for the knights to orderly depart. Edmund knew that this was merely a show for the queen. Once alone, they would cheer and argue about who should go and who lacked the skill and should be forced to remain behind.
“What is it that you require?” the queen asked once the doors had shut again.
“I am afraid that I cannot.”
“You cannot…”
“I refuse to kill the last dragon.”
Queen Rosalynne appraised him a long moment. “May I ask why?”
“I am tired,” Edmund said slowly. “All of the fighting. All of the death. It’s too much. My brother…”
“You lost your brother. My condolences.”
“I know,” Edmund muttered. “I know that by refusing your command, I am standing against the crown, that I am…”
He exhaled slowly. All his life, all Edmund had ever wished for was to be a knight. He sought to be worthy, to be a noble warrior.
There was nothing noble about slaughter and fighting and killing.
With great reverence, Edmund removed his sword and placed it at his queen’s feet.
“I cannot dissuade you from this course?” she murmured. “You will forsake your vow?”
“I… I am just Edmund now,” he said.
No longer a knight.
A fresh start, yet why did it feel as if he had lost everything all over again?
20
Princess Vivian Rivera
The guards weren’t the only ones to side-eye and scowl at Marcellus. The servants were too, and Vivian did not relish the idea of leaving him alone.
“I do know how to handle myself,” he said dryly.
“Of course, but I do not think a sword—”
“I might not have been raised a prince, but I do know how to diffuse a fight with words.”
“You don’t always choose the violent path?” she teased.
But he scowled. “You know I don’t.”
“It was a jest.”
“I know. I… That was Ulric, hmm?”
“Yes,” she said warily. “You did not seem to like him. He is a wonderful—”
“Tell me about his parents.”
“No.”
He wearily rubbed his forehead. “Forgive me. I did not mean to order you. If you don’t mind, I would appreciate knowing—”
“I would appreciate learning if you snore or not when you sleep,” she countered.
Marcellus gaped at her.
“You must rest.”
“This chair is comfortable enough, I suppose,” he finally said. “You will be standing watch, I suppose? Since you do not trust me.”
“The issue is not my trust, but theirs,” she murmured.
He grimaced but nodded ruefully. “I honestly never wanted any of this,” he mumbled. “Not the war, not the crown. They’ll never believe that, though.”
“They do not need to know that. What they need to know is you.”
“They will never open their hearts and minds to me.”
“That is on you and Rosalynne to work out,” she said.
Marcellus eyed her. “You’re not going to sleep.”
“I will.”
“May I ask what you are going to do instead?”
“You may ask,” she said with a wry smile.
“But you won’t answer.”
Vivian hesitated. Before Rosalynne had left to address the knights, she had pulled Vivian aside to mention something rather interesting.
“I’m off to visit… someone.” Her smile grew.
“You can be rather trying.”
“At times, I suppose, yes.” She curtsied to him. “Bjorn.”
His scowl only made her smile stretch even wider. “Who is he?”
“Do not worry. I’m not certain if the two of you would get along. I would like to see you two spar each other.”
“Would you now. You think he has a chance against me?”
“I do.”
“Hmm.” His nostrils flared. “You did not precisely answer my question.”
“You seek to know all of my business,” she murmured.
“So you wish to know some of mine.”
“It would be fair.”
“And life has been so fair lately.”
“Oh, life is never fair. That is why we have to endeavor to right that grievous wrong. You first.”
“Why me?”
“You are a prince.”
“You are a princess,” he countered.
“I asked first.”
“Technically, you did not ask a question at all. Therefore, I asked first.”
“You can be as stubborn as a mule,” she grumbled.
"Have you much firsthand experience with mules?"
“Yes, actually.” She threw back her head and laughed. “My brother, Noll, you have to understand. He was older than I am but younger than Roz, and he, well, he did not act like other boys his age. When he was about seven, so I was six, he desperately wanted to go for a ride.”
“A horse.”
“Well, that is what most would ride, yes? We do not have many ponies, though, and there was nothing small enough for him. I think, now that I’m older, that the stable hands knew we weren’t to be on horses, especially not Noll.”
“They brought out a mule,” he supposed.
“Yes! Noll was so ecstatic, but I knew it was not a horse. The stable hand insisted, though. Noll needed help climbing up, and then he demanded that I ride with him.”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. The mule was not patient at all, not a good choice at all for this endeavor, and she ended up throwing us right into a huge pond.”
“There is a pond near the castle?”
“A pond of mud, not water,” she said, laughing again. “All because of the stubbornness of a mule.”
Marcellus chuckled. “Did Noll ever get onto a horse?”
“Not often,” she murmured, and she hung her head.
“Forgive me. I did not mean… You wish to know something about me. I—” A yawn cut him off, and he covered his mouth a moment too late.
“Rest. If you wake before I return, you can think of a worthwhile story to share about your boring life.”
“My boring life?”
“Oh,” she said with an airy wave of her hand, “I’m certain your life was such a bore before you met me.”
Marcellus laughed heartily. “You are a wonder, Vivian.”
She inhaled deeply, trying not to take his words to heart. “Sleep well.”
The princess ducked out of the room before he could respond, and she made haste to the dungeon.
The champion from Maloyan was huddled, sleeping in the corner. A pile of clothes was far from him, and she did not wonder as to why he had shed them. He had on a tunic that covered down almost to his knees.
“Bjorn Ivano,” she said sternly.
The man groaned and lifted his face.
Vivian stilled. Whatever she might have said to the man flew right out of her head.
When Rosalynne had mentioned Bjorn had returned and had been subsequently imprisoned, Vivian never would have expected the man to have been beaten.
Without delay, Vivian marched up to the nearest prison guard. “Go and fetch a healer.”
“The healers are all busy with the—”
“Do I appear to care about your excuses?” Vivian winced. Such a tone was what she might have used years ago, when she had been so unworldly and rather ignorant. “Is there not… The alchemist. Go and send for her at once.”
The guard nodded, bowed, and rushed away.
Vivian slowly returned to Bjorn’s cell. She had not known the champion all that well, but she had known he had tried for Rosalynne’s hand and clearly had failed in that venture. Well, she supposed one could not win every battle they faced in their lives.
It did not take all that long for the alchemist to appear. She hurried forward, her steely blue eyes wide as she glanced about.
“Open the cell,” Vivian ordered.
The guard scowled but did as instructed.
“In here,” Vivian said, urging the alchemist inside. “I am—”
“Princess Vivian. I know. I am Tatum Hill.”
“My sister speaks highly of you.”
“And I her. I am certain that if I have the pleasure of getting to know you, I will do the same with you.”
Vivian brushed a hand across Bjorn’s forehead. His dark-brown hair remained short, although longer than when he had bested all of the warriors on the field. His one eye was swollen shut.
“He’s sweating badly, but he feels cool to the touch, not warm,” Vivian noted.
“I can help him,” Tatum said, smiling widely.
“Helping people is your true calling.”
“Oh, I don’t know if that is true or not, but I do try,” Tatum said modestly.
“You gave the knights potions to aid in battle.”
Tatum winced. “Yes, but in aiding them, I assisted in the deaths of countless others.”
“You have the kind, compassionate heart of a healer.”
“I do strive, for the most part, to make potions that help or enhance rather than…”
“Not like…” Bjorn shook his head and either fell asleep or became unconscious.
“He has broken bones,” Tatum mused, examining him all over. “Cuts, lacerations… Hmm. That is strange.”
“What is?”
“The tips of his ears.” Tatum brushed his hair back from his ears. “I have seen marks like this but only in those who live high in the mountains, where it is extremely cold.”
“How could that have happened?”
Tatum reached for a leather thong draped over the rope belt about her trim waist. She tied up her brown locks, clearly settling in for work. “I do not know, but I would be more than willing to have you assist me. Not all the work I do is merely with my potions.”
“However I can help, I will do so gladly,” Vivian said. “My sister, she—”
“Oh,” Tatum said, “I know, but not all are on her side, are they?”
Vivian eyed the alchemist.
“When you are a healer, people forget you are around, and they will whistle and then talk outright.”
“And what are they saying?”
“Not everyone is happy with your sister’s rule. Not that they want Sabine or that they want the Vincanans to take over.”
“So they want…”
"There has been talk concerning the Lis," Tatum murmured.
Bjorn coughed slightly.
Vivian bit her lower lip. Not everyone knew that a Li princess had survived the massacre of her parents or that she was potentially within Atlan or at least headed this way.
“There has been so much negative in my life lately,” Tatum said. “I just wish to find my purpose.”
“I think we all hope to find that,” Vivian said.
“I’ve heard that you know how to fight. Have you taken part in battles?”
“I have.”
“Would you like one of my potions?”
“What will it do?” she asked curiously.
And the two talked for the hours that were required to tend to the broken man who had once been a champion, a friendship forming between them that hopefully would last until they died.
21
Alchemist Apprentice Sabine Grantham
The more Sabine stared at her notes, the more frustrated she became. The potion had started to work, and then it stopped. Was it not potent enough? Would it have worked on a lesser man than a former tournament champion? But i
f this potion were to be the device to turn the war in favor of Tenoch, if this potion were to destroy a dragon, then it must be far stronger. Nothing could possibly come back from its effects.
Bjorn, well, he would live. Sabine had observed him long enough to realize that terrible conclusion was inevitable. She could not dare to have him ingest another version as there would be no possible way to know if the second potion worked correctly or if the combined effects of the two had caused his death. Plus, the man had been beaten, so that could have played a role as well. It's possible that the potion was not even as strong as it seemed, despite its failure.
No, she needed to make the potion stronger.
In addition, she needed a strong man who had no injuries whatsoever to test the potion on. That ruled out any knights and guards as they had been engaged in battle recently, but she would worry about the who later.
For now, she needed to stop being afraid.
She needed to be bold.
She had become queen because of her ambitions as well as her mother's, but she was making her own decisions and choices now. Greta was dead, and Sabine had given up her crown for this.
Despite not being queen, she would do her part to save Tenoch. She would unite the world once more.
Everyone would know peace once more.
But for that to happen, first, Sabine had to start using the darkest poisons. Nature had come up with some potent venoms, and Sabine would use them in addition to the magic of alchemy.
Yes, her mind was opening up. She could see exactly what she had to do. It was as if opening herself up to using darkness to forge ahead toward the light was all she needed, the release, that drive.
Sabine knew what to do.
22
Valkyrie Horatia Ramagi
Having no pressing need to return to the outskirts of the swamp, Horatia and the Valkyries remained where they stood, on the outskirts of the town the dragon had decreed them to destroy. An hour had passed since they had arrived and opted to disobey the order.
Liviana Papius approached Horatia. “Should we depart?”
“The dragon will come for us,” Horatia said, “when he is ready.”