by Emma Fenton
Despite the physicians’ best efforts, word had spread throughout the palace about the king and queen’s impending death. For the past two days, it had been eerily quiet in the halls. The Councilmen had been keeping to themselves, and even Jaya had managed to more-or-less disappear. The servants were more solemn than usual, their usual chit-chat in between work giving way to silence. And, to Ria’s increasing frustration, Mikhael stayed in his chambers, purportedly handling more business of state.
But the longer he kept away, the surer she was that he was avoiding her, though she couldn’t imagine why. At their last meeting, he’d sworn to protect her, but now, when she needed him most, he pulled away. Her parents were dying. Jaya was more of a threat than ever. And Mikhael was nowhere to be found.
Ria was hauled out of her thoughts as she passed by the grand entrance and spotted the very man she was thinking about. Mikhael stood opposite the three Councilmen, straight-faced and stiff. Servants rushed around them, each carrying large, ornate trunks out through the main doors. Mikhael nodded sharply at something one of the Councilmen said before glancing up, his eyes landing on Ria. They passed over her quickly, dismissive, and he returned to his conversation as though she wasn’t in the room at all.
Her feet carried her towards the four men without her permission. Seeing Mikhael had brought a rush of emotion: relief that he had not—as was her worst fear—contracted the same illness at her parents, hurt that he had avoided her, and indignation that he now ignored her. But mostly, confusion reigned.
“Mikhael?” Ria said as she neared them, frowning. Mikhael looked at her then, but there was a blankness to his gaze that she had never felt directed at her. “What’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me. Why?”
“I am returning to Anor,” he said curtly. “I have put off my responsibilities long enough, and the challenges of managing my country from afar are an unnecessary inconvenience.”
Returning to Anor? Panic swelled inside her chest, filling her lungs until there was no room for air.
“For how long?” She tried to force a calming breath, but it wouldn’t come.
“Anor is my home.” He brushed an invisible fleck of dust from the collar of his coat. “My return will be permanent.”
“Permanent?” she asked, unable to keep the alarm from her voice. He remained expressionless. When she spoke again, her voice was insistent, desperate. “How long, I mean, before we see each other again?”
“For what purpose?” he asked coolly, looking down his nose at her.
It was like a slap to the face. Ria stared at him, unable to form words, unable to create coherent thought. Her mouth opened, then closed again, brow furrowed. She felt sick. For what purpose, for what purpose, for what purpose, repeated over and over in her head.
Mikhael turned back to the Councilmen, a forced smile on his lips. “Thank you for your hospitality. May the amity between our nations continue.” He bowed his head to the Councilmen, and then turned briefly to Ria.
Hope tingled in the center of her chest, hope that it was all a misunderstanding. Hope that he was putting on a front for the Councilmen, or maybe that he was lying, that he was going to take her with him.
“Princess,” he said instead, empty of emotion. He gave her the same, courteous head-bow, then turned on his heel and strode purposefully out the door, his guards flanking him as he left the palace.
Her eyes stung, but she blinked away the tears. No, she thought, panic climbing so far up her throat she thought it might burst out of her. No, he’s not going to leave me here. He wouldn’t. He loves me, he wouldn’t.
“Princesza,” Paavo started, his hand resting on her shoulder, but she barely heard him. She shrugged him off and ran after Mikhael.
It was brighter outside, sunny and almost warm. He was standing by his carriage, luggage piled high on top, and talking to the driver. He must have heard her coming, her boots clicking against the cobblestone street, but he didn’t bother to turn around.
Without thinking, she grabbed him by the arm and yanked him so that he had to look at her. She hated how he was looking at her like she was nobody. A stranger. Like they’d never kissed, never held each other close and whispered soft promises of forever. Like they’d never been in love at all.
She’d wanted to yell at him, to demand that he tell her what was going on, but all that came out was, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
It clearly wasn’t the question he was expecting, because for a single moment, his eyes widened, eyebrows twitching upwards in surprise. It was gone as fast as it came, and the blank expression settled back on his face.
“Let go of me, Ria,” he said, and though it was the coldest he’d ever addressed her, she couldn’t help the relief that he was at least using her name now. “I’ve wasted enough time here.”
She recoiled, dropping his arm like it had burned her. “Is that what I am to you? Wasted time?”
“The engagement is over,” he said matter-of-factly. “Three years spent on a failed endeavor is wasted time.”
“Over?” The ground had been ripped out from under her feet and now she was in free fall. “You don’t want me anymore?”
Now, Mikhael rolled his eyes. “Don’t be childish. This match was never about want, or love, or whatever you like to call it.”
“I do love you,” she protested.
He shrugged. “A lucky side-effect.”
“But I thought—”
“What?” he asked, voice condescending. “That I was marrying you for love? You can be such a child, Ria. Naïve. This was a marriage of convenience for both of our countries. Yours wanted to get rid of a spare heir and improve relations with Anor. Mine sought allies and money. But now, likely on your sister’s orders, there will be no dowry to accompany our wedding. Your Council does not favor the match. I have nothing to gain by marrying you.”
Ria had nothing more to say to him. Any argument, any plea for him to keep her was gone, scooped right out of her with his harsh words. She stood there, frozen, as he turned from her, climbed in his carriage, and drove off.
Ria didn’t know how long she stood there. Part of her hoped he would still come back, that he would return and say that it was just an act. He would say that Jaya was watching them too closely, that he was going to take Ria with him, get her out of Helhath and to safety. He would say that he was sorry and wipe the tears from her eyes, and then he’d kiss her and promise that he did love her, had always loved her.
Mikhael did none of these things.
When the sky turned gold with the sunset and Ria was so empty that she could no longer summon tears, she turned and walked into the palace. But, she thought, Mikhael left because of the Council. This can still be fixed.
***
“Renegotiate the contract,” Ria said as she barged into the Council’s meeting chamber.
Paavo was the first to react. “Now, princesza, I know you are upset, but—”
“I don’t want your platitudes. I want you to fix this,” she snapped.
“No.” This time it was Nasir who spoke, rising from his chair. “Your ex-fiancé is a tactless, demanding, presumptuous ass. He neither respects our traditions, nor the Council’s authority.”
“You denied him my dowry,” Ria said, not backing down from Nasir’s condescending gaze. “You had no right—”
“The Council,” Vili wheezed, “is not authorized to make withdrawals of that size from the treasury without the ruling monarch’s signature. Which, in case you have not noticed, we would be hard-pressed to get from your father given the state of his hands.”
“We offered him the highest sum that we could,” Paavo said. He gave Ria a pitying look. “He refused.”
Ria’s composure crumpled again, and she felt that there might be more tears coming after all. “Please. There must be something—”
Nasir sneered. “Even if we could, we are in unanimous agreement to no longer conduct business with this Anorian prince. The Council will not show
weakness by appeasing the every whim of this child.”
This was it, then. Ria stared blankly at the Council, ignoring her own tears. If they would not appeal to Mikhael, he would never come back. She would never see him again. Up until this moment, Ria had not quite accepted the truth of her situation. She’d been tired, devastated, but not totally hopeless. She’d thought that the Council could be persuaded; she had been wrong. She’d hoped, still, that there had been a misunderstanding; there had not. The Council had not broken the engagement, Mikhael had.
“There are plenty of other suitable men in the world, Ria,” Vili said, having completely misread the cause of her distress. “I am sure we will be able to find another husband for you.”
No, she wanted to say. The only future she’d ever imagined was with Mikhael, sitting atop the Anorian throne with their children playing at their feet. Now that he was gone, she felt adrift and unsure what shape her life would take. But she did not want a husband that she did not love, one who did not know her or value her the way that Mikhael had.
Or so I thought.
Instead, Ria merely turned from the room. The Council would do what they wished with or without her input, and she did not have the energy to fight a pointless battle.
***
A two-hundred-year-old vase shattered against the wall, water and half-wilted flowers sloshing to the floor. Ria stood on the other side of her bedroom and stared at the mess. Throwing the vase felt good, almost as good as she imagined punching Mikhael in the teeth would. After hours of crying and reliving her last conversation with Mikhael in her head, the sobs that were stuck in her throat melted into scorching anger. It settled in her chest like an unmovable stone, and she’d screamed into her pillow as if that would dislodge it.
But his words kept coming back to her every time she thought she was too tired to care anymore, always reigniting her fury. Unnecessary inconvenience. Waste of time. This match was never about want, or love. I have nothing to gain by marrying you. Each time she thought about it, it was like hearing him say it for the first time all over again.
She’d worn out her vocal chords, but her arms were still good. She picked up the next object closest to her—a small glass bottle of perfume—and hurled it at the wall. It, too, smashed into a thousand tiny shards. The weight in her chest lightened for a single beautiful moment before the anger returned full force.
One more, she thought, eyeing the hairbrush on her bedside table. It probably wouldn’t break, which was for the best. Ria already felt a slight twinge of guilt whenever she thought about Sofi having to clean up after her fit of rage. The hairbrush was a light, but solid weight in her hand. Good balance. Perfect for throwing.
She reared her arm back, imagining that Mikhael’s face was the wall, and was about to throw when the door to her bedchamber burst open. Ria lowered her arm as Sofi came into the room, sheepish at having been caught. But Sofi didn’t seem to notice the mess. Her eyes were locked on Ria’s.
“You’ve been summoned to the King’s chambers, my lady,” she said, her voice more serious than usual. “The physicians say it is urgent.”
Ria wasted no time in traversing the hallways to her parents’ rooms, her anger with Mikhael suddenly replaced by a cold, seeping dread. Part of her hoped that the physicians found a cure, but she knew it was unlikely. There was only one reason she would be summoned at this time of night, and it wouldn’t be for good news.
The incense burning in her parents’ chamber did little to mask the scent of rotting flesh. It was a side-effect of the illness, yes, but now the smell was more pronounced than ever, heavy in the air and inescapable. Ria was only two steps into the room when it overwhelmed her. She pressed a handkerchief to her nose, trying to stymie the urge to gag. It helped, but only a little.
On the bed, her father’s body was a shriveled mess of loose skin. He’d been getting worse over the course of the past week, but now his whole body had succumbed to the decay. The skin was blackened and blistered, and it hung limply over his skeletal frame. His face was the worst. It no longer resembled the king at all: the skin pulled taut over his skull, his teeth rotted out, and his eyes gone, leaving black pits in their place. Ria could hardly look at him.
The physicians stood around the far side of the bed, Jaya and the Council on the nearer side. Ria reluctantly joined her sister, determined not to look too closely at her father’s body. She already thought she saw something wriggling underneath his skin, and the thought alone of bugs consuming what was left of her father’s corpse nearly made her vomit.
“I’m sorry, princesses,” the physician whom Ria had first spoken to said. “But your father, the king, is dead.”
I’m not going to cry, Ria realized as her eyes remained completely dry. She felt a little guilty. You were supposed to cry when your parents died, even if you weren’t close with them. She tried to summon tears, but they wouldn’t come. Her father was dead. Jaya would be queen soon, and then Ria was as good as dead too. Maybe that’s why she was so numb. Maybe I wasted all of my tears on Mikhael, she thought bitterly.
“And our mother?” Jaya asked.
The physician grimaced. “Alive for now, but she will undoubtedly follow within the hour.”
Jaya raised her head imperiously.
Not even cold in their graves, and you’re already taking control, Ria thought, biting back a sneer. This wasn’t the time or the place to get into an argument.
“I want to see her,” Jaya said.
“I advise against it, my lady,” the physician said. “Her body, as part of the decomposition, has bloated to nearly twice its usual size. A release of gases, we believe. Attempts to relieve the situation have proved…messy.”
“I don’t care.” Jaya was glaring at physician now, and Ria didn’t blame the old woman for taking a step back. Jaya’s temper was infamous. “I will see my mother before she dies.”
So you can make sure no one can tell you poisoned them. A small part of Ria thought that she was being a bit too unforgiving. Jaya was losing her parents too. Only because she killed them, a larger part of Ria’s brain snapped. She tried to calm herself. It’s only a suspicion, Ria. You don’t know anything for sure.
The physician nodded in concession and glanced at Ria. “My lady?”
Ria shook her head. She did not want to spend any more time in Jaya’s presence than necessary. And besides, her mother was too far gone to care if her children were at her bedside. Maybe it was selfish, but Ria didn’t want to remember her own mother as a half-living corpse.
Jaya followed the physician into another section of the chambers, leaving Ria alone with the Council. Paavo’s hand rested gently on her shoulder and squeezed. It was probably meant to be comforting, but Ria felt strangled by it. As soon as the queen was declared dead, Jaya would have free reign. Nobody, not even the Council, would be able to hold her back.
***
The physician was right. It took less than an hour for the disease to tear through the queen’s body, leaving her as decomposed as her husband. Ria stood on the balcony of her parents’ chambers, breathing in the fresh air and praying to the twin gods of death and life that Jaya might kill her quickly.
Please, not this illness, she thought. If I have to die, give me a knife to the heart, or a spear through my chest, or drown me, hang me, light me on fire and let me burn. But if you hear me, please do not let this illness take me.
Ria rather doubted Jaya would poison her in the way she had somehow poisoned their parents. They hated each other too much to be so discrete. Jaya would want to watch Ria die. She would want Ria to know who killed her. It was almost a relief.
Ria rested her elbows on the balcony railing. The moon was getting low in the sky again, a sign of the impending dawn, but Ria’s tiredness had little to do with being awake all night. So much had happened in the past two weeks alone that she was starting to wonder if death might be a welcome reprieve. With Mikhael abandoning her, her parents’ deaths, the men in the library, an
d the Elder Scholar’s strange meeting, Ria felt as though she was swimming beneath a frozen lake, unable to find a way to breach the surface for air.
Ria stilled.
How could she not have remembered? Death rises with the full moon, the Elder Scholar had said. She looked at the slowly-sinking orb in front of her with growing horror. What else had he said? Ria thought as she wracked her brain. Something about usurpers. It seemed so long ago, and she had discounted his words so quickly, but what if it was more than the ramblings of an old man? What if that small voice in the back of her mind had been right? What if it really was magic?
She needed to talk with the Elder Scholar. Immediately.
She slipped back into the darkened chambers, head ducked to avoid catching the attention of Jaya or the Council. They were undoubtedly discussing funeral arrangements, but Ria couldn’t be bothered now. With a single-minded focus, she made her way to the library.
He was exactly where she expected. Piles of books and parchments were strewn across one of the long tables. Master Ameer stood over them, ink stains smudged across his fingertips and chin. He looked worse for the wear, and it occurred to Ria that he might have been searching for a cure for her parents as well.
“Did you know?” Ria asked without preamble. “Did you know they would die?”
The Elder Scholar barely glanced up from his work. “Their illness was severe. I suspected some time ago that there was nothing to be done.”
She stormed over and slammed her palms on the table. “You said that death rises with the full moon. The moon is full. My parents are dead. How did you know?”
Master Ameer raised his eyes to meet hers. She recognized that look. He wasn’t going to tell her because he thought she already knew the answer.
“You can see the future,” she said, voice just above a whisper.
“I see glimpses of potential futures,” he corrected. “Of which there are a great many.”
Ria narrowed her eyes. “But some are more certain than others. You knew about my parents. That day on the docks, you were warning me.”