by Bone, K. L.
Her vision went from blurred to unrecognizable as she clung to Edward, fighting to breathe. “Hold on,” Edward said, but his voice seemed distant, filtered. Then the world began to fade.
Chapter XXVIII
Nolan sat in the corner of his cell with his face buried into the palm of his hands. “What have I done?
“You can’t blame yourself,” Garreth said from beside him.
“But it was my fault. If I hadn’t been there, then she never would have…”
“Mara knew what she was doing when she dropped her blade.”
“But she wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t…”
“Nolan,” Garreth interrupted. “That decision was made by the Captains. Let the consequences lie with them.” Garreth gently touched the younger man’s arm, slowly coaxing him to reluctantly lower his hands.
“They are hurting her because of me. She’s a hero…my hero. It’s my fault they are doing this to her. I am not worthy of such sacrifice.”
“I’ll say again, Nolan. Mara knew what she was doing when she dropped that blade.” He paused before adding, “If it helps, she didn’t do it for you anyway.”
“For Edward?” Garreth’s lack of response was answer enough. “I understand they have this love story. But I don’t understand what happened. Why did Edward stay when Mara left? Why have I never even heard of them being in the same room before, let alone in love? I saw the look on Edward’s face when she showed up to save him from the Arum dungeons. He looked shocked, like she was a ghost.”
Garreth glanced around, but the guards stood on the far side of the room which would make their conversations difficult to overhear. “Mara had not seen Edward in half a millennium.”
“But why? I mean, all you have to do is look at them.” His gaze trailed to the cell across the room. Mara lay unconscious in Edward’s arms. “How could they stand it?”
Garreth sighed. “How far have you gotten in the book I gave you?”
Nolan thought for several moments and then said, “She was invading the court. She had gathered the royal family into the parlor.”
“Yes,” Garreth replied. “I remember.”
The room had been vast. A large fire burned along the back wall with a series of blue velvet chairs standing before it. Numerous members of the guard lined the wall awaiting orders of their Captains who had entered the room moments before. The highest ranking members of the Guard—Brendan, Regald, Mathew, Phillip, and Mara—were in matching black cloaks with the silver mark of the rose etched into the dark material. On the opposite side of the room stood the royals of the Muir Court.
King Dacian was a tall, handsome man. He was broad across the shoulders with deeply tanned skin from his many days along the beaches that lined his kingdom by the sea. Sophia, his golden-haired Queen of over a thousand years, stood to his left. Draped only in a thin gown of white silk, the Queen stood closest to the fire. The family had been held in this room for several hours while the Rose, along with the army of the Ciar Court, had secured the ground, killing all in their path. Now, only the royal family remained of one court that had been so powerful only hours before.
Mara stood in silence, watching the gathered group for what seemed a long time before she drew a deep breath and began to cross to the opposite side of the large, circular room. She paused a few paces from them, Phillip and Mathew flanking her on either side.
“At last,” it was the King who spoke, “someone in charge. Princess Mara, what is the meaning of this?”
Mara ignored the question, her eyes focused upon the tall man standing to the King’s right. “Would you like to tell him, Prince Nicholi, or should I?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” the Prince lied.
Her eyes narrowed. “Then you are even more of a coward then I originally envisioned. Or is it that your Father is already aware of your crimes?”
The King’s voice cut through Mara’s words. “Where is Queen Clarissa? I demand to see her.”
“You will not be making any demands today, your Majesty.” She turned her violet eyes upon his blue ones, laced with white like waves foaming in the sea, before turning back to the Prince. “I ask again, would you like to tell your father why we are here?”
“Because you’re insane,” came his response.
She ignored the statement, allowing more silence to slide between them before she took a step back to stand alongside Phillip and Mathew. “Fine, I will tell him.” She placed her hand upon the hilt of the blade sheathed at her side. “Prince Nicholi of the Muir Court, I charge you with the murder of Princess Liza Sethian of the Ciar Court. In the name of the ancient Order of the Black Rose and the Captain of her memorial Guard, I have come to see her avenged.” She drew a deep breath. “Confess your sins, your Highness, and this shall all be over quickly. Lie and you shall face the wrath of my entire guard.”
He stared at her, surprise showing through his features. It was again the King who spoke. “How dare you make such an accusation! I demand to see your Queen!”
“With all due respect,” Phillip said from beside Mara, “the Captain of the Rose outranks the Queen in this matter, as well you know, your Majesty.”
Mara never removed her eyes from Nicholi’s. “Do you confess to the murder of our Princess?”
“I’ll say again, Mara. You are insane.”
Mara watched him for several moments, then she stepped to her right and grabbed the arm of the King’s middle daughter, Princess Cordelia. She was tall and slender with long hair that was so blonde it was almost white. Mara dragged her several feet across the room while several members of the Rose stepped forward with blades drawn to stand between the royals and their Captain. Mara then turned the girl roughly to face her brother, forcing Cordelia’s back against her chest. Mara reached her hand forward and grabbed the Princess by the back of her neck, directing her line of sight to Nicholi’s. “Confess your sins, Nicholi. Confess to the murder of our Princess.”
“Let her go,” the Prince replied. “She has nothing to do with this.”
“Then tell me the truth. Tell me how you killed her.” Mara’s voice held a calm that was far more dangerous than her anger. “Why did you kill our Princess?”
“I did not.”
Mara stared across the room directly into the eyes of the Crown Prince as she raised her silver blade and slit his sister’s throat, covering her hand in a gush of warm, wet blood. The King raced forward, only to be met by Phillip who plunged his own silver blade deep into the King’s chest. It ripped through skin and muscle, separating bones to pierce the King’s lungs. Then Phillip stepped back, jerking his deadly blade from the King’s chest as he fell to the floor, unable to breathe. The entire room stood frozen for a moment before the Queen let out a scream, scrambling to the side of her fallen husband.
The Prince took a step forward, rage burning through his deep blue eyes. Mathew and Regald moved forward as one, grabbing the Prince by both arms, forcing him to his knees. They held him there, forcing his arms behind his back, putting their full strength into the movements. His sisters began to sob from several paces behind them, but they dared not move for fear of the seasoned warriors surrounding them. The Prince lowered his head as far towards the ground as he could with the hold on his arms, anguish showing plainly upon his features. “They are Arius blades, Prince Nicholi; killer of the immortals. There is no coming back from their strokes.” Mara drew a slow breath. “Now tell me, your Highness. Do you confess to the murder of Princess Liza Sethian of the Ciar Court?”
Nicholi jerked his head from the ground in his kneeling position. “If you are going to kill me, then do it.”
She moved left and grabbed the youngest of his sisters. At only a hundred years old, Princess Yara had hair more golden than either of her two sisters. She forced Yara across the room as more men stepped forward, placing themselves between where the Prince knelt and where Mara now stood. Mara turned the youngest of the Muir Court Princesses in front of her, ho
lding her in a similar fashion as to how she had held Cordelia, placing the Princess’ back against her chest. Mara then aligned her silver blade with the Princess’ throat and stared coldly at Nicholi.
“Tell me how you killed Princess Liza!”
“I did not kill her!” Nicholi stated. “My sisters have nothing to do with this. They are innocent, for Gods’ sake! Mara, please!”
Yara died with a single stoke of the blade.
Nicholi attempted to rise from the ground, fighting the two men who held him, but it was no use as Mathew and Regald held him tightly, eventually forcing his torso to the ground so he went from a kneeling position to lying flat on the ground. The Prince made a sound that was neither sob nor scream but something in between, full of anguish at watching his family die. “Your brother is next,” she stated. “Confess and I will put you in his place.
“Damn you!” Nicholi shouted. “Curse you! By the Gods of old I curse you, Mara Sethian. You killed them! Innocent girls!”
“Then may the Gods curse us both,” she replied. “As it is no more than you once did to our Princess. The girl, the child, whose body you sliced into bloody strips until we could barely even recognize her. You sister did not suffer half of what my Princess endured as she fought to draw her last breath.” Her eyes fell upon the remaining siblings, a younger brother and his eldest sister, both golden haired. “Is that what I should do? Shall I slice through their pale, flawless skin? Slip my blade into the sockets of their sea-blue eyes? Shall I tear their bodies until not even you can recognize their remains? Is that what I must do, before you will confess?”
“No, please.” Nicholi’s voice was frantic, fearful and left no doubt that he believed that Mara would carry out her threat.
Mara bent down to her knees in front of the Prince who was still being held in his helpless position. “Confess,” she demanded. “Confess.”
The Prince drew a ragged breath and finally said, “Okay. I killed her! I killed Princess Liza.”
Mara drew a deep breath, a relief pouring through her from a tension she had not known had existed. Her voice came out enraged and unsteady, her calmness of moments ago vanishing in a single word: “Why?”
“Because I had come to make her my bride only to find that she had been sleeping with the Captain of your Guard. Tainted, spoiled, ruined! So I cut her, one piece at a time. Oh how she cried out as we cut into her skin. She called for you, did you know that, Mara? She called your name as we stabbed our blades through her chest and cut her chest into long, bloody ribbons.” Mara felt her hand tightening on the blade against her will. “Two Princesses ruined by the same man. Tell me, Mara, did you stand guard while he fucked her?”
Mara’s blade came down with the full weight of her strength behind the movement. The blade sank through his neck, severing his spinal cord, leaving his neck attached to his body by only a few strands of skin. Blood spurted, splashing over the two men who held the Prince, causing them to jerk backward in surprise. Mara again brought down the blade, the two remaining siblings standing in shocked silence. Mara brought the blade down again, splashing more blood upon her dark cloak. A third time and Nicholi’s head was completely removed from his body. A fourth, fifth, sixth…Mara lost count, bringing her sword down in a rage which knew no end.
It was Garreth who, finally stepping away from his place by the far door, touched her shoulder. She whirled around, causing him to side-step her wild turn of the sword. He grabbed her arm, forcing it down to her side. “It’s over, Mara. It’s over.” Her body trembled. Blood splattered her face and both of her hands were crimson, covered in blood most royal. “It’s over.”
She stared at him for several long moments before her eyes trailed past him, and she realized that Edward had, at long last, arrived. She stared into his jet black eyes and said, “Kill them.”
She did not turn to look at the rest of the slaughter, only listened silently to the screams as the last Prince, Princess and finally, the Queen of the Muir Court were slaughtered by her men. When the last scream had died, Mara Sethian, Captain of the Black Rose Guard walked across the room and took a formal bow before the Captain, bending at the waist, without ever removing her violet eyes from his dark ones. “Behold the murderer of Princess Liza,” she stated in a voice with all emotion long spent. “May the Black Rose protect you in life, or avenge you in death.”
She then straightened and issued an order to the men standing behind her. “Burn it. Burn it all.”
Then she left the room without another word, walking past Edward into the halls beyond.
“Edward never forgave her.” Garreth’s voice was a mere whisper across the dark cell in which he sat beside Nolan, his eyes trailing to Mara’s still form, cradled in the circle of Edward’s arms.
“For avenging the Princess?”
“Yes…and no.”
They sat still for a long time. “Wait,” Nolan suddenly said. “Something’s not right.”
Garreth forced his attention back to the younger man.
“You named three Princesses, the Crown Prince, and one younger brother.”
“That’s right.”
“But in the book, Mara said there were three Princes. Three of each, I’m almost sure of it.”
Nolan suddenly seemed even younger, a child raised in a time of peace. “Yes,” he answered. “There was another: Prince Dorian. He was four years old. The nursery was in a different part of the castle. His maid managed to hide him along the edge of the beach before members of the Ciar Guard found her.” Garreth’s words trailed off again.
“What happened to him?”
“You don’t understand it, do you, Nolan? The oath of the Black Rose which you have attempted to take in such ignorance? It is an ancient oath, one to supersede all bonds of friendship, fidelity and love. An oath taken before the oldest and most powerful of the Gods of old. Mara swore to destroy the line which killed our Princess.” Garreth gazed up at Nolan with an expression he did not understand. “You asked what happened to the child, the last Prince of the Muir Court?” His gaze trailed again to where Edward sat, his back against the thick metal bars of his entrapment. “Mara killed him. A sin for which she has never been forgiven.”
Chapter XXIX
Mara awoke to find both arms encircled with thin, silver chains which held her arms securely to the legs of a silver chair. She was disoriented, the world out of focus as though the injected drug had not completely worked its way through her bloodstream. The light was harsh upon her eyes and it took several moments before she was fully able to examine the scene around her.
Edward stood near the center of the room. His arms were forced above his head in thick, silver chains, pulling his form taut. She continued to trail her gaze across the room to find it nearly barren, save for a small black table to her right upon which laid an array of cruel looking instruments meant for a single purpose. Beside the table, holding a thin silver blade, stood Viktor.
“Well,” Viktor said, “it would seem our Briar Rose has awakened. Welcome, Mara.” Viktor stepped closer to his seated captive, holding out the blade as though for her inspection. She looked at him fearlessly through the slowly lifting fog, leaning forward in her chair. “I’m ready.”
“Fearless,” Viktor responded. “I was told it was one of your many faults.”
“Deadly,” she replied, “would be another.”
He moved the tip of the sword closer, stopping mere inches from her skin. She looked up at him with cold eyes. “If you touch me with that blade, my young, young lord,” she paused to let silence emphasize her words, “I will kill you.” She forced her body forward, pushing her chest lightly against the blade. Viktor pulled his arm back, drawing it away from her before blood could be drawn. Mara continued to glare coldly into Viktor’s golden eyes as realization slowly dawned. The curve of his lips began to harden to a straight line, the spark of laughter faded from his eyes, and yet still, Mara continued to stare silently upon her would-be torturer.
&nb
sp; Viktor straightened his posture and turned slightly toward where Edward stood chained in the center of the room. He put the tip of the blade to the top of Edward’s shirt and slid it down, splitting the material in two. When it finally lay in rags at his feet, Viktor dragged the blade lightly over Edward’s skin. “Well,” he said slowly, “since it seems that you are prepared to welcome your fate, let’s say we start with him.”
The sight of the blood running down Edward’s chest drew Mara’s gaze as a moth to a flame. She watched it well to the surface and slide slowly down his pale skin in thin, slender streaks. Her eyes followed the crimson trail, so striking against his white skin. Edward did not offer a repeat of Mara’s threats, but instead remained silent as Viktor pressed the blade into his left shoulder, against his collar-bone. Viktor moved down Edward’s shoulder before returning to his chest. He pressed lightly, just enough to draw blood. He slowly moved the thin blade in long, vertical strokes. Mara watched Viktor’s movements, unable to remove her eyes from the lines of blood which were slowly beginning to change the color of Edward’s skin from white to red.
Memories poured through her, increasing in their intensity. As she watched, the skin began to split, the cuts growing wider until Edward’s chest was a mass of blood, the cuts becoming inseparable as his chest transformed into a single, gaping wound.
Mara blinked. When her eyes opened, the cuts were again thin, shallow marks. However, moments later, they began to widen as though living things slithering across his chest. Her heart rate began to increase, thrumming through her body as bile rose in her throat. She tried again to clear her vision, but this time it was to no avail. She stared at the injuries that continued to widen, exposing bone and muscle. As the blade again struck his collar-bone, this time above his right arm, a slight hiss escaped Edward’s lips.