by N M Zoltack
“He truly is. He helped an entire town, saving them when the dragon attacked.”
“What if the dragon only attacked because of Marcellus being there?” Oldrich countered.
Ah, the prince. Olympia had wondered who they were conversing about.
She finally stood where she could see her brother’s face but where the duo could not see her, and she sucked in a breath. Oldrich had been struck repeatedly, to his eye, to his lip.
"Your eye is swelling," the queen said as if she could read Olympia's mind.
“I’ll be all right.”
“And your lip is split. Here.”
The queen removed a handkerchief from within the folds of her skit and blotted Oldrich’s lip. Her brother’s dark eyes closed, and he lifted his hand as if he meant to touch her, but he did not, instead lowering his hand to rest on his leg.
“Marcellus did mention one point,” Oldrich murmured.
“Which was?”
“Why do you trust me to go off and do this or that for you when I should be by your side?”
“You aren’t a prisoner,” Rosalynne exclaimed. “You are not a slave, and there is no chain that bounds you to me.”
Oldrich’s expression was easy enough to interpret—he wished there was such a chain.
“You are not merely my personal guard either,” Rosalynne said. “I trust you with my life, and if you wish to not do errands for me, that is fine. I will ask another, but surely you must tire of being with me day and night.”
“I do not.”
“But you have friends… and your militia…”
Oldrich stiffened. “Yesterday, Marcellus spoke to me concerning Girdie.”
“The man in your militia with magic, yes?”
“Indeed, that is the one. Marcellus said he was quite capable and levelheaded. I thought I might turn the militia over to him, if you think it wise.”
“You do not wish to lead them anymore?”
“I do not have time for the militia and my duties to you, and you are my queen.”
But there was such a heavy undercurrent to his words that while he said, “you are my queen,” he might as well have said, “you are my love.”
“And I could order you to tend to your militia. Those men and women respect you. They listen to you better than anyone else. You trained them personally.”
“Yes, but… would you order me to do that?”
“I know that is what it would take,” Rosalynne murmured, “but we are beyond orders. I would never ask you to do something that you do not wish to do.”
"If you will not order me from your side, then I will remain here."
“Are you sure that is what you want?”
His look said it all. “I am sure.”
Olympia swallowed hard. This moment seemed so very touching and personal between the two, and she felt like an outsider. She should not be here, witnessing it, and yet she could not bring herself to leave.
“I would give up anything for you if you but ask,” Oldrich said.
“I would not ask you to give up the militia.”
“But I wish to.”
“If not for me—”
“There is you.”
“Ulric…”
Olympia lowered her head. There was pain in the queen's voice, sorrow too. Did she know that Oldrich loved her? As much as the notion that Oldrich loved the queen shocked Olympia, now it made so much sense why he had reacted so adversely to the knowledge of his lineage.
He did not wish to go against the woman he loved.
But the queen, what did she feel for Oldrich? As a friend, clearly, but as something more?
“For the sake of Tenoch, for there to be peace, Marcellus and I—”
“He can return to Vincana,” Oldrich said desperately.
“Ulric…”
Hearing the queen continue to say Oldrich’s faux name wounded Olympia far more than she could say, but perhaps all of this was for the best. If the queen could only open her eyes, she could wed Oldrich, and there could be peace. Yes, send the Vincanan prince back to his land. Be away with him. The Vincanans could render onto Vincanans.
And a Li could be on the throne once more, even if not Olympia. Her brother. Not that he would rule in the names of the Lis, but he should. Ulric Cooper. Cooper was such a boring, common surname. It was not his.
But Queen Rosalynne would not give orders to Oldrich, and neither would Olympia. The two women had that in common at least. Olympia had no claim on her twin, and that wounded her most of all.
64
Bjorn Ivano
His hand ached from flexing and unflexing so much. Bjorn had stared at every single man within the castle of an age of Olympia, all of the ones with dark hair and eyes, and he could not be certain if any of them were her twin. How could he know without a shadow of a doubt? Doubt was all he felt, and yet, he had hope enough to persist in his efforts. He would not let Olympia down.
At the end of a hallway, he paused, indecisive. Which way should he go?
A hand touched his back, and he spun about. His eyes widened as he took in her form, and his jaw dropped. Yes, she had a hood up that concealed roughly half of her face, but he recognized her instantly.
He seized her hand, and for whatever reason, he brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
“Stop,” she said crossly, yanking her hand free, but he grabbed her elbow and directed her into the nearest room, a tea room that was, thankfully, empty.
“I do not think it wise that you are here and wandering about,” he said crossly.
Olympia lowered her hood. “I’ve had the hood up whenever I walk about the castle. No one knows who I am.”
“You are wrong. Some of the guards, I overheard them talking about the Li princess, and they were talking about your looks. Somehow, they know your face.”
“How can that be?” she asked, her brow furrowed, but then she waved her hand. “That does not matter.”
“How can you say that?” he argued.
“I have come to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye? Whatever do you mean? Why are you going?”
“I plan on leaving.”
“Where? Why?”
“I have no set plans beyond leaving,” she admitted.
His eyes narrowed, and he clenched his hands so he would not grab her shoulders and rattle some sense into her. “Why would you go? I have all the hope in the world that you will change the world. You will make a difference. That is why I have followed you all this way. You might have sought to have me guide you here, but you have guided me as well, and I am a better man for having met you.”
“Maybe my leaving will do just that,” she murmured.
“Do what?”
“Change the world.”
"You cannot mean to leave." He fumbled about, trying to think of a reason that would make her stay, and seized upon one. "Your brother," he said triumphantly. "You cannot leave without saying goodbye to your brother first. I admit that I have not located him just yet. I have been trying. I swear I have, but when I came, there was a battle, and I was imprisoned, and—"
“You are healed.” She reached up and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead.
He jerked back, not recoiling from her touch but because he was shocked. “You knew?”
“That you were beaten? Yes. I saw you in the cell, and I had no means to free you. I sought to return, but by then, you were gone.”
“I was not just beaten. I was given a potion by a would-be alchemist who tried to kill me.”
Olympia gasped. “Who would do such a thing?”
“Sabine Grantham, but then she has killed before.”
“Did she seek to kill you because you gave her the poison she then used to kill Jankin?”
He flinched. “I don’t know if it was because I was a prisoner and therefore easy to target or if what you said was true. I didn’t really have time to ask.”
“I am so sorry.”
; “It is all right. Princess Vivian saw me, and she had a female alchemist come and heal me.”
“Another? And you trusted her?”
“At that point, I needed help, or I might have died anyhow.”
“Bjorn, I do not know what to say.”
“There is nothing for it. What happened happened, but the future is fluid. We can choose our own paths, and I was freed.”
“You stayed here to locate my brother.”
“I did. I will not leave—you will not leave—until he has been found.”
She smiled wanly. “About that…”
Bjorn gaped at her. “You know who he is? You have found him? Have you two spoken?”
“Yes, yes, and yes.”
“Who is he?”
“You might have seen him. His name is Oldrich.”
“Oldrich? I know of an Ulric.”
“He is one and the same. He goes by Ulric Cooper, but his true name is—”
“Oldrich Li,” Bjorn murmured.
“Indeed.” She beamed at him.
“Did he know?”
“Know?”
“About his lineage? About you? How did he take the news? I must confess that I have not crossed paths with him much in the past few days. Actually, truth be told, I did think he might have been your brother, but how could I be certain? How are you certain?”
“I had help.”
“From who? Who could you trust?” he asked even though his thinking was more along the lines of who else could she trust.
“The vicar,” she said smoothly.
Bjorn scowled and shook his head. He scratched that scruff growing on his cheeks. “If you mean to trust the man simply based on the fact that he is a vicar… I cannot say why I feel as I do, but I do not trust the man. I believe he is hiding something.”
“That is because he is.” She hesitated as if deliberating and then nodded. “His name is not Albert Leeson. He is Aldwin Lehr. He killed his twin and assumed his identity—”
“Wait. He killed his twin, and you believe him a trustworthy fellow?”
"His twin would have given my brother and me over to Jankin to avoid being killed. Aldwin was too staunch a Li supporter for anyone to believe he would join Jankin. To save the Li babies, Aldwin did what he must, and he watched over Oldrich from afar. No, Oldrich did not know who he truly was until Aldwin and I spoke with him, and it came as quite a shock.”
“Do you think he believes you?”
Olympia considered this and then shrugged. "I think it does not matter much to him. He's content to remain here as Ulric Cooper, and perhaps it would be best for him if he… I found my brother. He is alive, and he knows the truth. It is up to him to accept who he is, and if he chooses not to, I cannot force him to."
“You traveled all this way more for him than you ever had the crown, didn’t you?” Bjorn asked.
She inhaled and held her breath before releasing it. “I suppose so, yes. Family has always meant more to me than anything else. Family highest of all. He and I… we were separated at birth, and although we are twins, perhaps our lives have been too far apart for us to ever truly connect again.”
“So you will just go then. Leave the castle, leave Atlan, and… go where?”
“I told you already. I don’t know.”
He swallowed hard. “You really shouldn’t leave without saying goodbye to your brother first.”
“You… You’re right.”
“You do realize that if you leave, you might never see him again,” he warned her.
“I know that,” she said softly, “but I know he’s all right. I know he’s alive, and he’ll… He has a chance at happiness here. What more can I want for him?”
“You don’t want the crown anymore?” he asked.
“I think I need some time to just figure out who I am and who I want to be, what I want to do. On the island, I kept to myself mostly, but I pitched in. Everyone did. We all worked together for the greater good, but I always knew I wasn’t a part of Xalac, that I was merely a visitor. I want that sense of belonging that the islanders shared. I also wish the world could be like that, everyone working together toward the common goal of us all surviving, thriving… I know it’s too much to hope for—”
“There is no such thing as too much hope,” Bjorn said, capturing her hand and bringing it to his chest.
She stared up at him, a curious curl to her lips, and he thought about kissing her, but she was already pulling away.
“If the guards do know my face as you say,” she said, drawing up her hood, “then I best find him and be on my way.”
Bjorn thought about asking if he should go with her, but she already left the room, softly closing the door behind him, and just like that, as it seemed was always the case, she slipped through his fingers.
Who she was, who she wanted to be, what she wanted to do…
Bjorn knew who he was, and he knew who he wanted to be. As for what he wanted to do, that was tied to who he wanted to be.
He wanted to be worthy of Olympia.
And he hoped he could be one day, sooner preferably, if the Fates were kind.
65
Queen Rosalynne Rivera
Never before in Rosalynne’s life had she felt more torn. Her heart would not listen to her mind. She knew what she should do, but her heart would not accept what must be done.
Marcellus himself did not seem overly keen about the prospect of marrying her, and why should he? But it would be for the sake of peace, and that was all that truly mattered.
Perhaps talking with another would help her. Alas, her first confidante, her sister, had not yet returned, and although she understood Marcellus’s concern, Vivian had the right of it. She was not a child any longer, and she could do as she wished.
Considering Ulric, who had gone to see Wilfrid Frye and Thorley Everett, was the topic she most wished to discuss, he was not an option. Rosalynne trusted the two guards as much as she trusted Ulric, and the two had been charged with locating the murderer of the servant with magic, Hamon Dannel. Then, she supposed he might go and talk to his militia.
The dear man. He truly would do anything at all for her, and while she appreciated the gesture, she wished he could find true happiness. Death surrounded her—her mother, her father, her brother, her servant, and so many others she had spent time with, far too many. It seemed almost as if the adultery of her father’s second wife had set about enough turmoil and deceit that nature had opted for carnage for all those who came in contact with the Riveras.
Finally, Rosalynne opted to go and see the vicar. At times, his advice could be rather wise, as if the Fates truly did speak through the man.
She walked to the castle, addressing a few questions that servants and nobles asked her along the way. Her hand pushed open the door to the chapel, and she entered, only to find the place empty.
Kneeling before the Fate of Peace, she prayed for a long while. When she straightened, the chapel remained empty. Why were the peasants not coming here? Why was no one praying? Had their faith in the Fates waned? Perhaps that was not too unsurprising, giving all of the devastation and destruction they had survived, but surely prayers of gratitude were warranted?
A soft sound drew Rosalynne’s attention, and she approached the altar. Around the back, she noticed that the rug had been pushed aside. A door was there, in the floor.
Curious, she opened it to see a ladder. She saw nothing at all but darkness, and she cautiously started to climb. At once, a light came from the stone around her.
At the bottom of the ladder was a small room with a bed and a desk and so many shelves filled with vials and jars. It sprung to mind an alchemist’s shop.
The vicar was there, mixing ingredients together. On the desk, standing upright, was a book. Was he… No, he could not be practicing alchemy, was he?
Albert Leeson held up the vial, swirling the contents inside with a slight shake. The liquid inside was a bright purple, and he drank it entirely. With eyes s
hut, he turned about to face her, his chin lifted.
“What wonders can you show me?” he called out. “Fates, I call upon you! By the power of alchemy, grant me the wisdom I seek! Yes, yes, I see… Oh, yes!”
The vicar said no more, but it was some time yet before he opened his eyes.
Rosalynne had her arms crossed. “A vision, hmm? You call upon the Fates at your leisure? Is that alchemy or something else?”
“Alchemy,” he admitted, “and you should be praising me for being willing to take the risk.”
“The risk?” she asked skeptically.
“Yes,” he said, his tone earnest. “If the potion is not done precisely so, if the Fates do not wish to reveal anything, the alchemist can be rendered blind.”
“Have you done this often?” Rosalynne asked.
“Once before,” he said, but he neglected to say which other time he had, although she had a guess. “Sabine is dead.”
“Is she?”
“Aldus too. Both of them the dragon killed.”
Rosalynne nodded slowly. She could not say that she was startled to learn this news, nor was she heartbroken over the news.
“I am afraid that you will die soon,” the vicar continued.
“And Prince Marcellus—soon to be King Marcellus—will be the one to rule over—”
“Oh, no. He will die as well, and your sister too.”
“And the land will have no leader?”
“No.” The vicar smiled so wide that Rosalynne felt sick to her stomach. “No, Olympia will gain the crown.”
“Olympia?” Rosalynne asked slowly. “Olympia Li?”
“Yes,” the vicar said, as smug as could be.
Rosalynne clapped her hands twice. Immediately, two guards started to climb down the ladder.
The vicar had been under the trance of the vision for so long that the queen had time to go and fetch guards and have them lie in waiting until now.
Albert Leeson’s eyes grew wide. “What is this?”
“You are to be arrested,” she said calmly.