by Frank Morin
The outer, domed wall of blue-tinged, translucent quartzite bathed the scene in soft light from three sides. Only the rear of the throne room, directly across from Shona, broke the pattern with its bank of windows and their fantastic view of the waterfall plunging past. The air smelled of clean mountain water like it did through most of the city, but in the throne room, it was tinged with perfumes that tried to mask worry and fear.
The rushing of the falls created a constant background noise that usually helped mask the many whispered conversations between nobility. Today the many high nobility, officers, and courtiers who stood in tiny clusters around the room, all oriented toward the throne, remained absolutely silent. Shona’s already tense nerves ratcheted another notch tighter. Everyone focused on the queen with desperate intensity, although more than a few turned at her entrance, looking eager for any distraction.
All of that served only as the backdrop for the queen, and she drew Shona’s attention like a max-tapped Solas in a pitch-black cave. Queen Dreokt sat on the Obrioner throne, looking completely at ease in the famous stone chair. Crafted from the best pieces of all nine affinity stones, it was a masterwork of art and power.
Shona wasn’t sure what she expected, but the slender woman with gray-streaked, golden hair and piercing blue eyes emanated power in near-palpable waves. She wore a gorgeous gown of deep blue, trimmed in intricate gold thread along the bodice. The heavy golden crown of Obrion stood on a stand beside the throne, but she wore a delicate golden tiara that included every affinity stone, mounted in ornate brackets.
King Turriff and his entire family, dressed in finely-cut servants uniforms, stood to either side of the throne’s raised dais, focused entirely on their queen, looking eager to serve.
As Shona approached, she noted a rack of weapons standing to the left of the throne, within arm’s reach of the queen. It was an incongruous sight in that room where weapons were barred except on the royal guard. The gilded rack held a sword, a long-handled hammer, several wicked-looking knives, a whip, and a simple leather glove with a long cowl that would extend back up to the elbow.
It did not encourage happy thoughts.
The deep baritone voice of the royal caller boomed across the room, echoing repeatedly from the domed exterior. “Presenting High Lord Dougal and High Lady Shona.”
Shona strode between the ranks of onlookers, head high, acting like she belonged there. If she believed it, maybe they would.
Her father stopped several yards short of the dais and bowed low. Shona curtsied while he said, “Your Royal Majesty, I am deeply honored for this opportunity to present my daughter, Shona.”
“Present yourself, child,” the queen said in a soft but commanding voice.
Shona stepped a little closer and curtsied again. “Your Majesty, it is my great honor to meet you.”
Queen Dreokt’s glowing blue eyes seemed to drink in her entire vision, and Shona felt a touch against her mind, a flicker like a caress, but inside her head. She kept her thoughts focused on her father, her desire to do her duty, and her eagerness to serve her queen.
The touch became harder, like a hand pressing down on her brain. She forced herself not to flinch, not to move, and kept her thoughts unchanged.
Queen Dreokt spoke in a happy, almost girlish tone. “Oh, it’s so refreshing to meet a young person who understands their place in the world so clearly.”
Shona blinked as those mesmerizing eyes released her. The queen grinned at her like an old friend. She almost sighed with relief, but caught herself just in time. Her muscles quivered with tension, and she felt exhausted, but she maintained her position without moving.
Queen Dreokt made a beckoning gesture. “Come here, child.”
Shona approached, stepping right onto the raised dais when the queen beckoned her even closer. She felt acutely aware of everyone’s stares. Up close, the force of the queen’s gaze felt like a palpable weight on her shoulders.
When Shona dropped her gaze the queen made a tsking sound. “No child, look at me.”
Shona looked into her eyes and they blazed with inner light, again consuming her vision. For a moment her mind froze, her muscles became rigid, and she forgot to breathe.
Then the queen blinked, releasing her, and Shona sagged visibly before catching herself.
Queen Dreokt abruptly rose to her feet. Shona stumbled back in surprise, tripped on the edge of he dais, and fell hard to her backside. She grunted from the impact and glanced around, already feeling humiliated and expecting a wave of laughter from the watching nobility.
None of them had seen her fall.
Everyone had dropped to their knees, heads bowed, some shaking with fear. Shona got the distinct impression that bad things usually resulted from the queen rising. Her fear escalated to near panic as she realized she was the cause of the queen’s wrath this time. What would the woman do to her?
She looked toward her father, who had dropped to one knee. He glanced at her, fear in his eyes, but she read the terrifying truth there too. He was powerless to help her survive whatever punishment the queen was planning.
Queen Dreokt stepped closer and Shona scrambled to her knees like the others. Her dress caught on her legs, nearly toppling her over again, but she tapped a bit of granite to strengthen her core and managed to remain upright, head bowed, hands trembling against the cool crystalline floor. She stared down at the billowing spray, like ever-shifting clouds beneath her, and wondered if that might be the last thing she saw.
“You are a lovely girl,” the queen said in a surprisingly approving tone.
Shone risked looking up. The queen stood at the edge of the dais, studying her as one would consider a prize pet. “Strong and well-learned. I sense ambition, but wrapped thoroughly in a desire to serve your masters.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Shona said, proud and more than a little surprised that her voice did not shake.
Queen Dreokt stepped down from the dais to stand beside her. Shona dropped her gaze again, wondering if the punishment would come now, and which weapon the queen would use to strike her down. Ian had said it was considered a great honor to be executed personally by the queen, but she had hoped to survive a little longer.
She hadn’t really accepted the possibility that she might die today. She had overcome many challenges in her life. Sure, reports suggested that many had perished, but those men and women weren’t Shona. Now that she faced the moment where she might actually die, helpless to defend herself, she felt truly powerless for the first time in her life.
The feeling was so foreign, she very nearly broke down in tears. Only a lifetime of discipline kept her in place, silent, poised, outwardly calm, but her fears very nearly distracted her from the purpose Ailsa had drilled into her.
Shona realized her thoughts were slipping and wrenched them back to focus on her father and her desires to serve him and the queen in whatever capacity they required. The terror that set her heart racing and her hands sweating against the cool floor lent her desire to serve more humility than usual, and in that moment she would honestly and gratefully have accepted whatever duty might be imposed upon her.
Queen Dreokt did not strike. She said nothing, but walked a slow circuit around Shona, who managed to remain perfectly still, fighting to keep her breathing under control. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the queen’s progress, her gown swooshing softly along the floor, her footsteps inaudible beneath the constant rumble of the waterfall. No other sound broke the absolute, tense stillness of the throne room. The queen’s perfume drifted down to her, a surprisingly pleasant, floral scent. Shona only hoped the queen could not smell her rank fear.
The slow circuit seemed to take forever as the queen paced around Shona, her thoughts and intent a mystery. Shona wanted to scream from the tension, from not knowing which second the queen would strike, or what mistake she had made to seal her fate. All she could do was kneel in breathless anticipation, trying to keep her mind centered on her duty. She cou
ldn’t tell if the queen was still reading her thoughts, but didn’t dare assume she wasn’t.
It felt like hours later when the queen abruptly returned to her throne, sat with a flourish, and said, “Rise, my child.”
Shona stood on wobbly legs, trying to straighten her twisted dress without drawing attention to the movement. Behind her, the gathered witnesses rose too. Shona caught hints of surprised whispers. They had honestly expected her to die while kneeling before the queen. Now that Queen Dreokt again sat on the throne, the weapons rack was once more within easy reach.
Queen Dreokt did not reach for a weapon, but gave Shona a motherly smile. “You’re an exceptional young lady.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Shona managed, her dry throat rasping, the sound barely more than a whisper. She dared consider that maybe she had survived after all.
“And yet you have established no secondary affinity.”
Shona’s nervous tension flooded back. Was this the moment when she failed the interview? She forced herself to look up into the queen’s eyes again. If she was to die, she would face her fate like the high lady she’d trained all her life to become.
Queen Dreokt laughed, a happy sound, like that of a young child. She actually clapped her hands together and nodded in approval. “Yes. Yes, I like you child. In fact, you must attend me daily.”
Shona nearly screamed, but she couldn’t even let herself think all the thoughts she wanted to. It took all of her training, all of her willpower, but she managed a grateful smile and curtsied.
“Thank you, my queen. Serving you is my greatest desire.”
“And service to me brings with it the greatest rewards,” The queen said, her tone shifting to one of grave self-importance in the blink of an eye. She extended a hand, holding something.
Shona accepted it and was surprised to find a tiny piece of limestone. Before she could formulate a question, the queen touched Shona on the cheek.
A shock rippled through her from that touch and Shona staggered, her muscles quivering uncontrollably. She dropped to one knee, shaking, trying to understand what had happened. How had the queen done that? What had she done?
Why did the room look brighter?
She blinked a couple of times, then focused on the piece of limestone still clutched in her hand. Light burst between her fingers as if she held a piece of the sun.
Shona gasped and opened her hand. Sure enough, the limestone was blazing, filling the room with green-tinged light. The quartzite dome absorbed it and glowed in response, brightening the room even further. Shona became aware of the connection to the limestone, like a gentle warmth along her palm. The affinity was part of her, familiar as if it had always been there, but was now suddenly awakened.
Shona laughed and looked up into the queen’s smiling face. “How is it possible? I mean, I’ve never managed even a flicker from limestone before.” She realized with horror that she’d addressed the queen like an equal and quickly apologized.
Queen Dreokt made a dismissive gesture. “My child, your enthusiasm warms my heart. Your primary affinity was so strong it clouded your mind to other possibilities. The potential always existed within you. I just poked it to life like stirring a sleeping ember.”
She laughed then, as if she’d said something hysterically funny. Shona didn’t understand, but curtsied again. “Thank you so much!”
Perhaps the queen could help her discover a tertiary affinity?
Queen Dreokt’s laughter cut off as abruptly as it began and her expression changed instantly back to serious. Shona very nearly shuffled farther away. Had the queen heard that thought, disapproved of it?
Queen Dreokt spoke loudly, casting her gaze across the room. “Thus are my worthy servants rewarded.”
She waved Shona back, but added in a friendly tone, “Be sure to attend me daily in the afternoons, my dear. I think we’ll become excellent friends.”
“I will, Your Majesty,” Shona said as she retreated to her father.
With a thought, she shuttered the limestone’s power. She wanted to test it, explore the new affinity she’d just miraculously gained, but didn’t dare cause an interruption that might trigger the queen’s anger.
Her father gave her a restrained hug and whispered fiercely, “Well done, Shona.”
“Thank you, Father.”
She had so much to think about, so much to understand, but Queen Dreokt spoke again, her tone regal and disapproving. “And now you will all witness the punishments that must come to those unworthy servants who disappoint me.”
She waved to the outer door. It opened, and a pair of Boulders dragged a terrified looking man into the room.
15
Some Nightmares Keep Getting Worse
Shona sidled to her right a pace to see around a portly lord dressed in a rich doublet of crimson and steel of house Feichin to get a better look at the poor man getting dragged toward the queen.
He didn’t look like a criminal. Probably around her own age, his handsome face had that open, innocent look of sheltered nobility who knew little of strife or warfare. He looked terrified, but also a bit confused.
She felt sorry for him. Even if his infraction turned out to be minor, dragging him to the throne in front of all the assembled nobility created a sense of existing guilt. She’d fallen into the trap of snap judgments before. She thought back to that frustrating day when she’d made perhaps her stupidest mistake with Connor.
She’d supported Carbrey’s decision to hang Connor for treason. He’d just burned her hair, burned the weakening powder they so desperately needed. In her rage, she’d turned on him and set the stage for Verena to slip into his heart.
Queen Dreokt stared down at the frightened man forced to kneel before her dais, her expression disapproving. Silence settled over the assembly as everyone craned a bit closer to learn the man’s terrible infraction.
The man prostrated himself and cried, “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty. Whatever I did, I promise not to do it again. Please forgive me.”
“Whatever you did?” She snapped angrily. “You fool. You don’t even realize your fault.”
He shook his head violently. “I am a fool, but I’m a loyal subject. Please teach me how to be better.”
She glared down at him. “You dared ascend the mountain yesterday. Do you deny this?”
He rose to a kneeling position, looking confused. “I did. I was hunting an Icy Snowdrop for my beloved. Look.”
He withdrew from inside his tunic a little wooden box, as long as his hand. Shaking with haste and fear, he carefully pried open the lid, extracted an exquisite flower and held it up. “I’ve kept it close to my heart ever since I found it.”
The delicate snowy petals drooped down from an icy-blue heart. Shona had seen the rare flower only twice. It was prized as an exceptional symbol of love and coveted by enamored young men as ideal gifts during courtship.
“It is lovely,” Queen Dreokt breathed, leaning a bit closer.
The young man dared extend it for her to take. “They bloom only on the peaks above Donleavy, and only after snowstorms. Please, take it as an apology.”
The queen accepted it and sat back on her throne, examining the flower. A little smile played across her face as she stroked one snowy petal, and the man visibly relaxed. Shona dared breathe a little easier. Flowers were known to soften every woman’s heart, but could the fragile little gift really assuage the queen’s fury?
“I appreciate this gift, and I will treasure it,” Queen Dreokt said in that same happy, almost-little-girl voice.
Then her expression changed in the blink of an eye back to wrath and she glared down at the man. “But you still dared climb the mountain above me, dared look down upon me as if you were somehow better.”
The man paled in terror, but Shona exchanged a confused look with her father. That was what offended her?
Queen Dreokt’s expression turned sorrowful and she spoke in a motherly voice. “My dear boy, lessons must be taug
ht, or order cannot be maintained.”
The man began to weep, begging for forgiveness, swearing he hadn’t realized what he did was so wrong. Who could have imagined such an offense?
The queen’s expression did not change. She gave no outward indication of tapping any affinity stone, but the poor, doomed man suddenly pitched over, clutching at his head, screaming.
Shona took half a step back, as did most of those assembled. The man rolled and writhed on the floor as wisps of steam began hissing out his ears, nose, open, screaming mouth, and even around his eyes.
Then his scream faded and he slumped against the clear floor, unmoving. The hissing steam continued to rise from every opening in his body. Shona frowned as she studied him. His skin was turning brown, almost as if. . . .
The smell of boiled meat wafted across the room, and Shona gagged and held her breath when she realized what it was. She’d experienced death in many forms on the battlefield so she maintained discipline better than some of the courtiers who knew nothing but sheltered palace life.
When they realized they were smelling the man cooking in his own blood, several of them vomited. Of course then they scrambled to try mopping up the mess with their fine clothing, weeping with fear as they muttered apologies in the queen’s direction.
She ignored them, but crinkled her nose at the smell. With a dismissive wave of her hand, the quartzite under the dead man’s feet flowed aside, allowing his body to tumble down into the boiling mists of the Mealt and disappear into the loch far below.
Then the floor under one fat woman, who was blubbering hysterically as she tried vainly to wipe her vomit from the floor, also disappeared. Her scream echoed out of the obscuring mists for several seconds, even after she must have crashed into the loch and died.
A powerful wind gusted up into the room through those holes in the floor, flapping robes and well-groomed hair. It smelled of chill mountain air, heavy with water from the mists. In seconds that wind scoured the room clean of the stench of the dead man as well as the smell of vomit. Then the wind faded back to calm silence and the floor flowed back into place.