by Bone, K. L.
Mara reflected upon these words now as she considered what she was about to do. Then, fighting through her sense of dread, she moved the bloody rose forward and slid the pendant into the indentation on the golden chest. The piece slid effortlessly, acting as the key, and a loud ‘click’ sounded as the ancient lock released from the inside. Then Mara placed both hands upon the lids and ran her fingers across the cold, dusty surface. “Forgive me, Liza,” she whispered to the long dead Princess. “Forgive me for the sins I must now commit.” She moved her hands forward as though caressing a lover and then slowly, carefully upon the top, exposing the contents of the chest to the early morning air for the first time in over six-hundred years.
The chest was lined with black cloth. She reached forward, her hands shaking as she slowly lifted the dark silk which held its carefully guarded contents. Within lay two Arius blades. Both were silver, differentiated only by their intricate hilts. The first was black with a line of silver roses running down both sides of the hilt. Two rubies were embedded in both sides of the handle, far enough away from the center that they would not hinder the grip of its holder. The second featured a golden hilt, adorned with black and white diamonds. The blade marked with roses had been Mara’s personal blade carried into the battle of the Muir Court. The second had been taken from Edward on sands of the Muir Court.
Mara dipped her hand deeper into the chest and lightly caressed the hilt of her ancient blade. The silver metal was cold against her fingertips as she ran her hands along the length of the sword. Entranced, she pressed her palm against its tip, hissing as the sharp edge sliced through her thin layer of skin. She raised her hand. A thin stream of blood trickled down her snow-white skin from a wound which Mara knew, would take a long time to heal. She closed her eyes tightly and drew a deep breath before placing her hand back inside the golden chest. This time, she laid her hand flat against the silver, then slowly curled her long fingers around the black hilt. She tightened her grip, her fingers gliding into each nook and crevice as though she had held the sword only yesterday.
She stood slowly as she lifted the familiar blade, a sense of completeness washing over her that she had not felt since she had last held it in her hand, at the edge of an endless sea. She closed her eyes as she raised the sword, drawing it before her in a slow, graceful arc. With this sword, she had saved the lives of her men. With this sword, she had avenged the death of her Princess. And with this blade, she had nearly killed the man she loved. With this blade, she had…
She could see the young boy standing barefoot on the sand. The last living Prince of the Muir Court, mistaking his killer for his savior. The little boy, not five years old, staring up at her with a trust which would haunt her for eternity. Those deep blue eyes streaked with white lines like waves upon the ocean – the last eyes to ever hold the sea. “Yes, child,” her words echoed through the silent tower, “I am going to make the bad dream end. All you have to do is close your eyes.” It was this sword which she had pulled in silence from its leather sheath, the enchanted blade that would never betray its deadly purpose. Mara’s hands had trembled as she reached to pull it from her side, but steadied the moment her fingers had clasped its dark hilt. The boy’s eyes never opened as she raised the sharp blade high for a downward stroke, her body easily moving into the familiar gesture even as her mind recoiled from this most heinous of sins. The blade came down as the clash of striking metal rang through the air, racing down the beach in the powerful ocean winds.
Mara shook her head, recoiling from the memories of that night long ago. She turned to glance out the window leaning her head into the small opening, allowing the cold mountain air to clear her mind. She placed the sword upon the ground before reaching down and removing the diamond from its place in the golden lock. She slid the blood stained diamond back onto its silver chain and secured it again her neck. Then she moved back towards the chest. Lying beneath the second blade lay two leather sheaths which had been crafted to fit each blade. Mara’s, much like the sword it was created for, was interlaced with the outline of a line of silver roses while Edward’s had several large black and white diamonds running down the center. She pulled both sheaths from among the folds of black cloth and carefully placed each blade in its case. She then gathered both swords in her arms before beginning the long descent down the stairs, leaving the small tower to eventually emerge into the same hallway where she had begun.
Mara entered her chambers to find Edward still asleep, his body only partially covered by the sheets and blankets. She walked forward silently and eased herself onto the edge of the bed. She gazed down upon his sleeping form for a long time before reaching forward and brushing the long strands of his hair back from his cheek. When he did not wake, she kissed his brow before standing from the bed, placing his Arius blade in the spot where she had lain. She turned and retrieved her own blade before exiting the room as silently as she had entered.
Mara walked down the hall, requiring only a single left turn before coming to the door of Brendan’s room. Resisting the need to knock, she opened the door slowly as it made its familiar creak before fully revealing the room beyond. Everything was in perfect order as Mara stepped into the room. The bed was made with practiced precision, the thick wool blankets pulled tightly in place. His books were aligned by their coordinating size along the wooden shelves against the wall. A pile of papers were stacked neatly upon his desk, with a single pen lying across them. Even the fireplace which, Mara knew, was used on an almost nightly basis, was remarkably clean, clear of the ash and soot which one would expect to find. No pictures covered the walls, save for a single calendar opened to a scene of a setting sun dipped into an ocean so blue, serving as almost the only proof that Brendan had ever lived within the room’s barren walls.
She moved closer to the calendar as her eyes trailed toward to the desk. Upon it lay the only other proof that a person had lived within these walls—a single portrait. It was small, hand-painted with its age clearly showing, yet it was there just the same. Mara stepped to the desk and reached forward, raising the portrait encased in a silver frame gently in her hands. Mara remembered the day they had commissioned the portrait. It had been Brendan’s request, the single gift he had been granted upon receiving the rank of Sub-Captain. They stood there together, Brendan, Mara, Phillip and Mathew. They were standing in front of their mountain setting, the portrait having been painted on the balcony of the room in which Mara currently stood. They were smiling in the portrait, each expressing a rare moment of companionship which was never destined to last.
Still clutching the portrait, Mara moved to the left side of the room and pulled back the curtains which shrouded the entrance to Brendan’s balcony before opening the glass door. She stepped out to find that the glimmer of early morning sunshine had vanished. The sky had transformed to a dark grey, causing the distant mountains to appear almost ominous in the gathered shadows. Mara’s black velvet cloak blew gently behind her in the breath of the cold wind as she moved closer to the balcony’s edge.
It was carved of stone lined by thick, stone pillars which had been used to withstand the test of time. From this side of the castle, Mara found herself staring across at the very staircase she had climbed to the tower. She leaned against the black stones that composed the balcony’s edge and after staring out for several long moments, she slid a leg along the rail, and raised her hand and pressed her forehead against the palm of her hand and fought back a fresh round of tears, clutching the small portrait as she shivered in the cold breath of the mountains.
She might have spent days on that balcony had a voice not startled her from her thoughts. “Mara,” the strong voice called as she looked up to find Garreth standing between the swirling curtains of the glass doors she had failed to close. Caught off guard, she did not have time to suppress neither the pain in her expression nor the tears gathered in her eyes. “Mara.” He spoke her name more gently than before.
“What is it, Garreth?”
He moved from the curtains and walked towards the rail upon which she sat, her long dark gown trailing down the balcony’s edge to almost touch the ground. It was not until he reached her that Mara realized he was not alone. Nolan trailed tentatively behind him, unsure as to what degree his presence would be welcomed.
Surprised by this unexpected presence, Mara’s eyes flew to her cousin’s, silently awaiting an explanation for the additional intrusion. Then to her further surprise, Garreth knelt before her, reached forward and took her hands in his own, turning her body away from the mountains to face him. “My Lady.”
“Yes?”
“My Lady,” he stated again. “I need to speak with you about subjects which I know you would rather be left unspoken. About events which I know you would rather leave in the darkest corners of the past. Yet we need to speak of them just the same.”
She looked down at him with a sense of foreboding, then stood, pulling her hands from his grasp. “I’m afraid you are going to have to be more specific, my Lord. There are several moments of my past which I would just as soon have forgotten.”
He gave a slow nod. “Yes, it is true. Yet, despite all the darkness which we have experienced, there is only one which is forbidden.”
Anger began to seep into Mara’s tall form, stiffening her stance and creeping into her voice. “No.” She spoke the single, short word and then turned walking back through the swirling black curtains. She was caught off guard by the roaring fire which was now burning brightly inside the room, but paused for no more than a step before proceeding towards the door. However, before she could reach the hallway, Garreth had reached her side, grabbing her arm in his powerful grip. She whirled around, but froze when she saw the look of concern in his golden eyes. “Please, Mara,” he pleaded. “Just listen, that is all I am asking.”
She drew a slow breath before pulling her arm free of his grasp then walked silently towards the light of the fire’s golden flames. It was not until she stood close enough to feel its warmth upon her cold skin that she finally spoke. “Why, Garreth? We both know what happened that night.”
“Yes,” he replied. “But Nolan does not.”
“This has nothing to do with him. He is just a boy.”
“Boy or not,” Garreth replied, “he is a part of this now.”
Mara turned back to face him. She wanted to say he was lying, that the boy could still be saved, that he could still escape their shared and inevitable fate. Yet, she could not seem to form the lie upon her lips.
“Mara,” Garreth said gently. “You need to tell him.”
She visibly stiffened.
“Mara, everything that has happened, everything that is happening, ties back to that night.”
“No.” She attempted to sound firm, but was unable to mask the strain of emotion. “No.”
“My Lady,” Garreth tried again.
“It is forbidden.” Her body visibly shuddered.
“He needs to know.”
“No,” she said venomously.
“Liza’s death…”
“Do not speak her name!” Mara felt her hand sliding towards the Arius blade tucked securely against her side. She drew a deep breath and forced herself to stop mid-motion.
Garreth’s gaze followed her hand, his eyes widening in recognition of the blade she had sworn to never carry again. He then returned his eyes to her violet gaze before slowly shaking his head. “It’s staggering,” he finally stated in a quiet, reserved tone.
“What?” she asked through clenched teeth.
“The depth of your pain and how little the years have lessened it.”
Her breathing became shallow as she said, “You weren’t there. You didn’t see.”
“I saw every—”
“You didn’t see!” She took a step forward, closing the distance between them. “I was bathed in blood that night, Garreth…were you?” Her body trembled as she spoke.
“Mara.” He spoke her name with such tenderness it threatened to break through her angered resolve. “How can I help you?”
“I don’t need your help,” she answered, but her voice quavered. “Just, please. Don’t say her name.”
Garreth shook his head. “We were so worried about Edward, about…” he paused, “about her. No one even thought to look to you. I am so sorry, Mara.”
“I was not the one on the table that night.”
“No,” he replied. “But you were—”
“Stop!” she all but shouted. “Please, just…don’t. Please. I can’t…I just…”
“My Lady,” Garreth interrupted. “I know this hurts. And you are right. I was not in the room, not when the worst of it happened.” He paused, allowing his words to settle over her as Mara attempted to collect her emotions. Then he continued, “But, whatever happened last night—whatever the King is plotting, it has something to do with that night.” He drew a deep breath. “You know it is true.”
Mara closed her eyes tightly and turned away from Garreth to face the crackling fire which seemed to dance before her. She opened her eyes slowly, keeping her gaze fixated upon the swirling flames. “Okay, Garreth. Tell him…how she died.”
Chapter XXXVI
“I was once a favorite of the Queen’s,” Garreth said quietly. “She was my stepmother, you see. And somehow she managed to find a tender spot in her heart for me; though it was likely due to her love for my father who was also Liza’s father. Whichever the way of it, she would, on occasion, listen to me when she would heed no other.”
Garreth gave a heavy sigh. “So it was little surprise when I was called to the door of the Queen’s chambers the night that she had Edward on her table.”
“What had happened?” Nolan inquired anxiously. “What do you mean, on her table?”
“An expression,” Garreth replied. “It was worse; he was actually on her bed.”
“Her bed?”
Garreth nodded. “When I walked into the room, I didn’t even notice him.”
“What do you mean?”
“My sister, Princess Liza, was lying on the ground with blood running from a cut across her head. Her dark hair was matted across her face. A man was kneeling beside her, jerking her head up with a tight grip on her long, black hair.” Garreth cleared his throat softly. “When I walked into the room, it was as if she was all that existed. My vision zoomed in. I was halfway across the room before I realized that she was not looking at me.”
Garreth paused, staring into the blazing fire as though he could see the past playing out within its golden flames. “I turned towards the front of the room, where I found the Queen laying upon the bed, with a man’s bloodied form lying beneath her. It seemed like a long time before my mind reconciled the fact that the man lying there was Edward. It was…” A shiver seemed to run through Garreth, who took a step closer to the fire before continuing. “His chest was in ruins, the skin of his left side completely removed, scattered in blood strips along the sides of the bed; the muscle lay bare beneath. It was the first time in my life that I truly realized the horror of our immortality—the extent of what we can live through.”
Chapter XXXVII
Garreth reached the door, but was met by a pair of men wielding their swords by the large stone door to the Queen’s private chambers. “The Queen is not to be disturbed,” he was informed in a cold voice by a guard whom Garreth barley recognized.
“I was summoned,” Garreth replied Then a high pitched scream shattered the dim light surrounding them. Garreth’s hand instantly slipped to the hilt of his blade at the sound.
“What the hell is going on? The Queen—”
“Gave specific orders,” the guard on the door spoke again.
“Look,” Garreth tried to reason. “I received a message to report to the Queen immediately. I have to—” He was interrupted by another scream. “What the hell is going on?”
The large, black door opened and Mara appeared from the other side. Her bloodshot eyes were open wide and her face was streaked with
tears. She stepped between the two men guarding the door as Garreth moved forward.
“Mara?” he asked in confusion. “Mara, are you hurt?” She took several steps forward, staring down the dimly lit corridor with a blank expression. She stepped past Garreth who gently grabbed her left arm. Mara jumped at his touch. He stepped forward, guiding her several steps to her right and into his arms. He raised his arms to either side of her, and again spoke her name. “Mara? Mara, have you been hurt?” His eyes searched her shaken form.
“No,” she finally answered.
“What is going on? Who is…is it Liza?” His heart seemed to pound harder.
Mara lifted her head slowly as a series of shivers began to run up and down her body. “You need to get in there,” she managed to reply, her voice barely rising above a whisper.
“They said the Queen…”
“Changed her mind.” She drew another shaky breath and forced herself to face the two men. “The Queen wants to see Garreth.”
“But we were ordered…”
“She wants, Garreth, her stepson, in the room,” Mara instructed. She drew another breath.
“But…”
“Stop!” Anger flared into her voice, helping to clear her head. She snapped her gaze from Garreth to face the man speaking. “I am a Captain of this guard; you are not. I am a Princess of this Court, niece to her Majesty, Queen Clarissa. This,” she motioned toward Garreth, “is another Captain and the son of your King.” She took a step closer to the lower ranked guardsmen, grateful to be feeling something other than fear. “Step aside. That’s an order.” The man who had spoken lowered his gaze and reluctantly stepped aside.
“Garreth,” Mara said to the older man.
“What is going on?” he asked again. “I do not understand.”