They hauled him back through the hall, Heath leading the way. The panic was starting to subside; even here, bodies were sprawled out, with the guards seeing to the wounded.
Detros came up, his face grim. “The fight didn’t last long, but there’s damage enough done. The Archbishop is down.”
“That priest we sequestered,” Heath said. “Send for him. I need to—”
“You need to see to your father, lad,” Detros said sorrowfully. “I’ll see to this for now.”
Heath grabbed Durst’s tunic and dragged the man through the double doors.
The throne room was filled with the moans of the injured, and some of the castle guards had a group of lords on their knees in the center of the room. Heath threw Durst in with them before he let himself look at the dais.
His father lay there, propped up in Keir’s arms, Lara and his mother kneeling at his side. A part of Heath noted that Eln was tending to the downed Archbishop. Crystal shards cracked underfoot, but Heath paid them no mind. All he cared for was his father.
Prest, Rafe, Amyu, and Yveni stood guard over them all, their swords still drawn.
Lara lifted her tearstained face to Heath as he knelt next to her. She’d wadded up a corner of the mantle and was pressing it to his father’s chest.
Heath met her gaze as his mother sobbed. Lara shook her head slightly.
“My son,” Othur rasped.
Heath reached for his father’s shaking hand.
Othur smiled. “So proud of you, my son. I love you.”
“I love you, father.” Heath choked out the words.
“Lara, daughter of my heart.” Othur smiled up at her. “Proud of you as well. You’ll be a good Queen.”
Lara reached out to stroke his cheek. “I will try, Father.”
Othur nodded and sighed. “Anna, love.”
Anna could only look at him. Othur reached out as if to cup her face with his hand. She had to help him lift his hand and placed it on her cheek. “Don’t cry, beloved,” Othur said. “I’ll wait for you.”
“Othur, my love.” Anna bit her lip as her tears spilled. “Othur, please, please, don’t leave me.” She pressed her hand against his, holding it up.
“Not my choice,” Othur murmured softly, then sighed a bit. “Doesn’t hurt so much now.”
He tilted his head back to look at the man who held him. “You’ll care for them?”
“I will,” Keir said. “For them and for Xy. I swear it by the fire, water, earth, and air.”
Othur nodded, his breath rasping. “All’s well then.” He focused on Heath. “You, my boy. You follow your heart, eh? In all things.”
“I will, Father,” Heath replied.
“I so wanted to see the babe.” Othur took a breath and sighed as he closed his eyes. “But the light is beautiful, isn’t it?”
He did not take another breath.
CHAPTER 29
DURST STARTED LAUGHING BEHIND THEM, HIS weird cackling echoing off the walls. One of the guards forced some cloth into Durst’s mouth, cutting off the noise.
Heath reached out for his mother, putting his arm around her shoulders. She leaned her head against him, silently weeping.
Lara was in Keir’s arms, her head on his chest, crying bitterly. For a long moment, they sat there stunned until Keir spoke. “Death of earth.”
Lara lifted her head and spoke through her tears. “Birth of water.”
“Death of water.” Marcus spoke from the depths of his cloak.
Amyu stood at his side. “Birth of air.”
Yveni took up the chant. “Death of air.”
Rafe spoke next. “Birth of fire.”
Prest’s voice was a rumble. “Death of fire.”
“Birth of earth.” Keir completed the circle. “The elements have sustained you.”
“We thank the elements.” The others spoke together, and Heath forced the words past his lips.
“Go now, warrior,” Keir said. “Beyond the snows and to the stars.”
Lara leaned over and took Anna’s hand. “Anna,” she said.
Anna looked at her, dazed and teary.
“Gracious Goddess, Lady of the Moon and Stars, now is the hour of his death,” Lara chanted softly.
Anna swallowed hard. “Gracious One, full of forgiveness, forget his offenses and sins.”
Heath cleared his throat and recited with them. “Gracious One, full of mercy, see his true repentance. Gracious One, full of grace, honor his true efforts. Gracious One, full of kindness, incline your ear to our plea. Gracious One, full of glory, embrace his soul.”
Anna lowered Othur’s hand, reached out, and closed his eyes.
“Heath,” Detros said from behind him. “Heath, lad, I need ya. The Archbishop is dying.”
“What?” Heath felt numb and cold. His father was dead. What did the Archbishop’s death matter?
But it did matter, even in the face of his grief. He forced himself to think, and looked over to see the man sprawled on the floor, his white-and-gold robes covered in blood. “How did that happen?”
Eln shook his head. “He’s trying to speak, but I am not sure what he is saying.”
Keir was lowering Othur’s body to the floor. The others were covering him with the ceremonial mantle. Marcus had appeared as if from nowhere, hooded and cloaked. He bent over Lara now, aiding her to stand. Amyu and Yveni were seeing to Heath’s mother.
Heath went with Eln to where the Archbishop lay. The man was pale, gasping for air. The two acolytes shook with fear, but they knelt at his side. The Archbishop’s robes were pierced with multiple blows, and they were covered with blood.
“At least one is to the stomach,” Eln said softly. “Another cut went into the throat. There’s nothing I can do.”
There was a noise at the main doors that had everyone reaching for weapons. Detros entered, with two guards and Iain, the chapel cleric safe between them.
Iain cried out at the sight, and ran forward. “Devoted One.” Iain threw himself down by the Archbishop. “What has happened?”
“There was a fight,” Heath said shortly. “I’m not sure who—”
“I did not see.” Browdus was behind them, against the wall. “But it must have been the Warlord.”
“Not I,” Keir said from behind Heath. He stood over the Archbishop and studied the wounds. “I did not see his attacker. There was only one rush at us, but they did not pass our line. Nor did they live.”
“And,” Eln said pointedly, “those are dagger wounds, not sword wounds.”
“My dagger is here, and unblooded,” Keir said.
There was a bloody dagger in the far corner. Heath could see it from where he stood. Plain, with a wire-wrapped hilt.
Browdus just stood by the wall, looking at them mildly.
“There is nothing you can do?” Iain had the man’s hand, and was appealing to Eln.
The Archbishop stirred, opening his eyes.
Iain leaned closer. “Devoted One, who did this?”
The man blinked up at him, then struggled to sit up. The acolytes tried to raise him higher. Drizin drew a breath as blood frothed around his mouth. “Witness . . .”
“What?” Iain asked.
The Archbishop pressed his bloody hand to Iain’s chest. “Need. Wit—”
Browdus stepped forward. “He must name a successor. I am here, Devoted One.”
The Archbishop shook his head, fighting to speak.
“Witness,” Iain said. “The succession must be witnessed. We need—” He went to stand, but the Archbishop had a tight grip on his arm. Iain looked around. “The acolytes for the church, two guardsmen for the common man.” He looked at the guards that had brought him. “Lord Heath, Lord Keir, please stand back.” Iain twisted around. “One of the lords—”
Heath scanned the room. Lord Sarrensan was helping his weeping wife to stand. “Lord Sarrensan, the Archbishop needs you.”
Sarrensan approached, his arm around his lady. His eyes widened as he to
ok in the sight of the Archbishop. Iain explained quickly.
Heath took a step back, making room. Keir had already returned to Lara.
“Devoted One.” Browdus stood at the Archbishop’s feet. “The witnesses are here.” Browdus knelt. “I am here, and ready to take on this task.”
The Archbishop’s eyes fluttered, and Heath could have sworn he was scowling at Browdus. The man tightened his grip on Iain’s arm. “You. I name you.” The words were emphatic and clear.
“What?” Iain squeaked. He reared back, but the man’s fingers were dug into the flesh of his arm. “Devoted One, I am not—”
“Drizin,” Browdus objected hurriedly. “He is confused,” he assured the others.
“No.” The Archbishop’s body shook as he pointed at Browdus. The arm then moved to point at Iain. “Him. Him. Successor.”
“No,” Browdus said. “That can’t—”
“So witnessed,” Lord Sarrensan said, looking at Browdus with distaste.
“So witnessed,” echoed his lady and the others.
The Archbishop convulsed, sagging as his body shook.
“Not long,” murmured Eln.
Iain nodded and started the litany. “Gracious SunGod, lord of the sun, now is the hour of his death.”
The others bowed their heads and recited with the young priest as the Achbishop breathed his last breath.
Heath didn’t join them. He watched Browdus, watched the red crawl up his neck, and saw the man’s eyes flicker to the dagger in the corner.
Detros was standing back, half an eye on the room, the other half on Heath. Heath caught his attention and lifted his chin toward Iain.
Detros nodded.
Heath relaxed slightly. Iain would be in good hands. He looked about, wondering where Atira was.
Iain completed the litany and stood, his hands folded into his sleeves. He was trembling, but he at least appeared composed. “Your Majesty.” He nodded to Lara. “The Archbishop is dead.”
“Devoted One,” Lara said.
Iain winced slightly before he cast a glance at the room. “Was the marriage ceremony completed?”
“No.” Lara’s voice was cold as steel. “We have much to do. But we will do it in the open air, under the stars.” She gathered up the hem of her blood-splattered dress. “Heath. Have the prisoners brought to the courtyard. Amyu, pick up that hilt for me. Anna, please . . . I need you.”
Anna stood. “Aye. I’ll come and see this done.”
Lara nodded grimly. “If you will come with us, Devoted One.”
“Your Majesty.” Iain bowed his head.
Lara reached out for Keir’s arm, and they strode across the floor to the door. Their guards scrambled to keep up. Iain followed after, with Detros right behind him. Browdus followed along. Everyone else in the room streamed after them, leaving a few guards behind as well as the corpses strewn around the room.
The boom of the Herald’s staff rang out, and Heath smiled to think that the old man had survived. He could barely hear the words, but he knew that Lara was summoning all within the walls as witnesses. Everyone had left the throne room; Atira must have gone with them.
The acolytes scrubbed at their tears as they knelt by the Archbishop’s body, keeping watch. Heath turned, but Marcus was there. “Go, lad. I’ll keep watch for you.”
“Thank you, Marcus.” Heath trotted out, scanning the hall as he went. The guards were still on duty, and working on clearing the area. Some had bruises and cuts, but no really serious wounds. A few Plains warriors were there, as well, with no worse injuries than those of his men.
The main doors were open, and Lara stood at the head of the stairs with Keir, facing a courtyard full of people, Xyian and Plains. Her voice echoed off the stone walls.
“ . . . attacked during the ceremony. My Seneschal and Warden, Lord Othur, is dead, as is Archbishop Drizin.”
The crowd buzzed, but Lara held up her hand. “Drizin named his successor, and the new Archbishop Iain stands here to complete the ceremony.”
“The consents of Xylara and Keir have been witnessed. Lady Anna, do you consent on behalf of the House of Xy?”
His mother’s voice rang out, loud and clear. “I do, by my own free will and hand. As did my lord husband before his death.”
“So it has been said and declared.” Iain’s voice shook slightly as he addressed the crowd. “Are the witnesses satisfied?”
“Aye,” rang out from the assembly.
“Xylara, do you take Keir of the Cat as your husband under the laws of Xy?”
“I do,” Lara said. “And as proof of my vow, I offer this ring to bind thee to me.”
Heath started, clapping his hand to his belt. The rings were still there. He pushed his way through to Lara and handed her the rings.
She smiled at him, then faced Keir and placed the ring upon his hand.
“And do you, Keir of the Cat, take Xylara as your wife under the laws of Xy?”
“I do,” Keir said. “And as proof of my vow, I offer this ring, to bind thee to me.”
Lara started to weep as Keir placed her ring on her finger.
“Then by the Grace of the Sun God, I pronounce thee husband and wife, and direct thee to seal thy marriage with a kiss,” Iain said.
Keir leaned in and gently kissed Lara’s eyes and lips.
The cheer startled them all as the courtyard exploded with joy and well-wishes.
Lara held Keir’s hand and let the cheering go on for a moment. But then she looked over at the Herald, and he pounded for silence.
“My thanks, my people,” Lara said. “The ceremony is complete, the future of our throne is assured.” She paused. “Now we must mourn those taken from us too soon. But before all that, there is something more that needs to be done this night. Lord Durst, come forth and submit thyself to our justice.”
The guards dragged the man out the doors and into the center of the courtyard. Heath started down the steps as they forced Durst to his knees before the Queen. Heath looked over, and at Lara’s nod, ripped the cloth from Durst’s mouth.
Lara took the hilt of the shattered Sword of Xy from Amyu, holding it so that the royal seal faced Durst.
Durst spit and coughed. “See?” he bellowed. “See? The Firelander will destroy Xy as he has shattered that blade.”
“Your treachery shattered it. Keir and I will forge it anew.” Lara lifted her chin. “I might have chosen mercy, Durst, for your state of mind. But in addition to killing Lord Othur, who offered you peace, you threatened the life of this babe, who will be heir to the throne of Xy.”
Lara held up the hilt, and the broken shard of crystal that remained glittered in the sunlight.
“Now I, Xylara, Daughter of Xy, by the grace of the Sun God, sworn and consecrated Queen, do hereby declare you, Lord Durst, traitor to your Queen, to Xy, and to the Xyian people. By my will and by my command, I hereby strip you of your lands, your titles, and your life.” Lara didn’t pause, she just squared her shoulders. “Heath, son of Othur,” she continued.
Heath knelt at Lara’s feet. “My Queen.”
“I hereby condemn Durst to death. Execute him.” Lara’s hand trembled as she lowered the hilt.
“Now?” Iain spoke up, pushing forward. “Your Majesty? Without prayers? Without a final shriving of his sins?”
“I grant him the same consideration he offered my child and Lord Othur,” Lara replied. “You may counsel him for a moment, Devoted One, but he dies this night, before these witnesses.”
Iain bowed, and went down the steps with Detros right behind him. Heath swallowed hard as he stood, suddenly aware of the task before him.
Detros sidled over. “Shall I call for a block and an axe? They’re stored in the Guard’s barrack. The axe is kept sharp.” Detros gave him a sharp glance. “This is not an easy thing to do. Strike hard, for the center of the neck.”
“Aye,” Heath said, looking over the crowd. Detros lifted his hand, but Heath caught it. “Hold a bit,” he whisp
ered.
Lara hadn’t moved, but Keir was slightly behind her now, offering support. Anna stood tall as well, her red-rimmed eyes focused on Durst.
“Your Majesty.” Heath went to his knee again. “Send for your executioners. This should be done by one of skill. A clean, quick death.”
“After what he’s done?” Lara spat.
“Even so,” Heath said. “Let the Queen’s Justice be tempered with mercy.”
Lara trembled for a moment, and Heath feared that her rage was too great.
“Othur would have had it so,” Lara finally said. “Call for the executioners.”
Heath stood as Detros signaled the guards. The block was brought, and with it two burly men in masks with a sharpened axe and black cloths.
Keir drew Lara back as it was set on the top step for all to see. Heath drew his mother close, expecting her to hide her eyes. But Anna stood tall and straight, regarding Durst with loathing.
Durst was wrestled up, but he shrugged off his captors and ascended the steps himself. At the top, he glared at Browdus, standing in the back. “At least my plans didn’t cost an entire village their lives,” Durst spat.
Lara went white at his words and then stared at Browdus as if she had never seen him before. She opened her mouth but then closed it, her lips pressed tight.
Durst knelt before the block. “My life for Xy,” was all he said, then he placed his neck on the block, stretching it out as far as he could.
The executioner never paused. He swung the blade up and brought it down true.
Durst’s head dropped—a quick, clean cut. The second executioner threw the black cloth over the body and head.
“Go forth, my people,” Lara’s voice rang out, steady but not nearly as strong. “We will not celebrate this night. But tell the tale to all, that the traitors are dead, and the Queen and Overlord married.” She put her hands on her belly. “We’ll celebrate our heir upon its birth. But not on this night of treachery and death.”
“Open the gates,” Heath bellowed.
The chains rattled as the guards swung the wooden doors wide.
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