by Rachel Angel
“I’m sure he’ll be here shortly,” I said walking closer to the bed. I looked at the king, almost unrecognizable with his eyes closed and his mouth gaping. As the queen had remarked, his coloring was strange, as was his excessively shallow breathing.
While Father remained shocked by the events, I came closer still to the king and reached for his wrist. Holding it between my thumb and index finger I tried to find a pulse. It was just as weak as his breathing.
“Don’t touch him,” the queen screamed. “He needs a doctor.” She turned to the door. “Where is he? Where is he!?”
A young maid came quietly to the door and knocked lightly. “Excuse me,” she said softly.
“What is it?” Father said brusquely. He immediately caught himself and softened his features and his tone. “My apologies. What is it? Where is the doctor?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but Miss Eleanor informed me that, with so many overnight guests, Dr. Murphy had to leave the castle and go find accommodations in the village. I’ve sent Rodger out to fetch him, but it might take a while. The stable boys were all asleep and…”
“This is ridiculous,” the queen cried out, cutting off the young girl who simply bowed and backed away. The queen turned angrily to my father. “How can you let this happen? With so many important people in attendance, how can you not have a physician on hand? It is irresponsible.”
“I’m sure the doctor will be here soon,” Father said simply.
The delicate clinking of metal on metal drew our attention to the doorway.
“The odor of illness permeates this room,” the woman in the doorway said, wrinkling her nose. Her long wild red hair flowed down to her waist and her green eyes were big and bright as they scanned the entire room. She wore a white laced up shirt covered with a turquoise vest over a skirt of green and blue strips of fabric fastened at the waist with a big black leather belt.
A mystic, I assumed.
“Who are you?” Father said.
She smiled, showing her yellowed teeth. “Death is upon you,” she said, her voice cracking.
“What are you talking about?” Avery said.
“Get that madwoman out of here,” the queen said.
The odd woman laughed. “Madwoman, indeed. Was it not you that I heard screaming like an animal? All for what? An ailing husband? A dying king? Is he truly worthy of such hysterics?”
Indignant, the queen huffed and turned her back to her.
“My senses never deceive me. The call of death is here.” Waving her hands around in an oddly mystical way, she entered the room. Her bare feet were silent on the wood floor, but the anklets she wore, covered with tiny golden medallions, jingled with every step.
“Who in the blessed world is that?” Axel whispered as he came up beside me.
“I don’t know,” I whispered back. “I think she may be a mystic.”
“Ellabella,” she said to no one in particular. “My patients call me Ellabella.”
“I don’t care what they call you,” the queen said. “Get out of here.”
“There is a time to heal,” Ellabella said, her eyes going from one person to the other. “There is a time to mourn.” She looked up to the ceiling, raising her hands to some invisible force. “There is a time to yield. Death is not a punishment. It is a privilege.”
“But it is not his time,” the queen stated firmly.
“Then let us see if this is the time to heal,” Ellabella said.
“Can you heal him?” Axel said.
“Heal,” Ellabella chanted. “Heal the soul of the king. Heal the body. Heal the mind.”
“What is she doing?” the queen said.
Ellabella reached into the leather pouch slung over one shoulder and pulled out a small metal hollow ball at the end of a delicate chain. Scented smoke emanated from the metal openings in the metal ball.
“If the gods so desire it,” Ellabella said, “he will heal. It is up to them.” She dangled the smoking ball over the ailing king and swung it back and forth.
The king stirred and coughed.
“That smoke is making him worse,” the queen said.
“Okay,” Avery said. “I think you need to leave.”
“The gods are finicky,” Ellabella said. “But the gods are never wrong. If they request his soul, then it shall be. If his time on earth is over, then it shall be. Do not argue with the powers of the gods.”
“That’s enough,” Avery insisted. “Get out.”
Ellabella stood over the king. “Oh me ooh ah aye,” she chanted. “Oh me ooh ah aye. Comi sol ooh ah aye.” She reached once again into her leather pouch.
Mesmerized, we all watched her, the repeated chants putting us into some sort of light trance.
“Oh me ooh ah aye,” Ellabella continued to chant.
I saw shiny metal, gleaming metal, bright silver. Sharp. Ellabella brought the glowing dagger high above the king and grasped it with both hands. “The gods have deemed he be disposed.”
“Stop her!” I cried out, breaking through the trance.
Before any of us could even move, too paralyzed by the trance, Sir Richard Honeywell, the Head Knight at Kingsbury and my childhood friend Henry Honeywell, stormed in, pushing Ellabella away from the bed.
Chapter 9
Violet
Ellabella hopped out of Honeywell’s reach as he tried to grab a hold of her. Waving her dagger around as she continued to chant, she darted one way then the other, every movement accompanied by the jingle of her anklets.
“Oh me ooh ah aye. Oh me ooh ah aye! Oh me ooh ah aye!
The chant became increasingly ominous and dark, her voice going lower and lower all while taking on a huskier tone.
“The King of Islandia must die!” she suddenly shouted as she lunged at the poisoned king.
My father shielded the King with his body as Ellabella plunged her knife into my father’s chest.
“No!” I shouted. Running to her, I saw the murder in her eyes as she turned to face me
“The King of Islandia must die!” Ellabella screamed, her high-pitched voice hurting my ears. “The people decreed it.” She stood in place for a moment dangling the dagger up high as my father’s blood dripped off the pointed tip. She seemed to rejoice in the pain she’d inflicted on the Kingmaker.
I stopped a few paces from her and she suddenly broke from her reverie and charged me, her bloodied dagger held high. “Daughter of the Kingmaker! Lover to the Princes of Islandia! You cannot be the Kingmaker once you love and marry a king or a prince! You! You can never! You will never choose a new king!”
I wanted to fight, to dodge her blow, but I was frozen by the fear for my father. A thick pool of blood surrounded him.
“You cannot!” she yelled.
Ellabella was almost on me, but Henry Honeywell jumped in front of me, blocking her path.
“I need to stop her!” Ellabella screamed as she reached past Henry to try to get to me.
Henry grabbed her wrists and cracked the dagger out of her hold.
“No,” she continued to shout as she struggled against Henry’s hold. “You don’t understand. No one can make a king!”
“I’ve got her,” he said as he twisted her arms behind her back and pinned her to the floor with his knee.
More of my father’s knights arrived, armed and ready. They grabbed Ellabella, each taking a strong hold of her arms.
“Get her to the dungeon,” I said, finally finding my voice.
Chapter 10
Violet
The sun was bright and warm, far from how I felt inside. I was cold. Right down to the bone, I was cold. Numb, in fact. Standing on the balcony of my father’s room, I looked out over the sea, breathing in, breathing out.
I wanted to stay calm, to remain stoic, but inside, I was a mass of nervous tension and fear.
My father. How could this happen to my father?
With his nightshirt soaked with his blood, my father’s knights had carried him back to his room and set
him in his bed.
I held back the tears as I closed my eyes, seeing him, so frail, so white. My father, the strong and indestructible man. I couldn’t believe he was so fatally injured.
“Miss Violet.”
I turned away from the sun and faced Dr. Murphy who had finally arrived at the castle an hour earlier. For the past hour he’d been with my father, but I couldn’t bear to stay and watch. “Yes.”
“I have good news,” the doctor said. “The blade missed the heart. Your father is going to be all right.”
“But there was so much blood.”
“Yes. He lost a lot of blood, and he will be weak for some time to come.” Dr. Murphy looked reassuringly at me. “The blade did hit the shoulder muscle and he will be sore. Lifting a sword will be virtually impossible for a few weeks, if not months.”
“All that matters to me is that he’s all right,” I said, going inside. “All that matters is that he lives.” I went to my father’s bedside.
He was so pale as he lay there. The doctor had brought an aid with him and had patched my father up as best he could. While everything had been cleaned up, a few surgical instruments remained on the bedside table along with a few bloodstained swatches of cloth.
“Thank you so much, Dr. Murphy,” I whispered hoarsely. “Thank you for saving him.”
“I’m happy I was able to get to him in time,” he said. “A little while longer and it would have been too late.”
He came to me and put his hand on my shoulder. “You are a wise and strong young woman,” he said. “They tell me that it is you who put a cloth over the wound, that you kept the pressure on.”
I turned to look at him and nodded.
“It is you who saved his life, Miss Violet. While your father may have lost a lot of blood, he would have bled out completely if it had not been for you.”
“But even as I put pressure on the wound, the blood continued to seep out,” I said.
“Yes, but at a considerably lesser rate.” He looked at me with a smile. “You should be proud of yourself, young lady. Very proud.”
“Thank you,” I said, truly grateful for his kind words.
“I hear he’s going to be all right.”
I turned to the sound of the voice. “Henry,” I whispered. “Oh, Henry.” I went to him, leaning into him and finally releasing the stress of the past hours.
“It’s all going to be all right now,” he said gently, running his hand into my hair.
Dr. Murphy walked by us. “I’ll be back to check in on him in a little while.”
I nodded. “Thank you again.”
And he was gone.
I looked up at Henry, his blond hair giving him an angelic appearance. I needed an angel. I wanted to completely release the strain of the day. His clear blue eyes looked at me with the tenderness nurtured by all our years of friendship. Even as a young boy, despite his playful nature, he’d always been reliable; always there in a pinch.
“How are you feeling?” he said, his eyes darting from my eyes to my lips to my neck. He frowned as he found the mark on my neck but said nothing.
“A little tense but now that I know that Father will be all right, I’ll be better.”
“Good,” he said. His gaze suddenly turned official. “It’s unfortunate that I must do this now, but…” He hesitated. “We need you downstairs.”
I looked up at him. How could anything be more important than being with my father at a time like this? “Can it wait?” I said. “I’d like to be here when Father wakes up.”
“I’m afraid not,” he said gently. “Please. Everyone is waiting.”
I glanced at my father then back to Henry. “All right.” I pulled away from him and went to my father’ side. “I’ll be back soon, Father.” Kissing his brow, I fought back the tears before turning to Henry again. “Can you give me a minute to get properly dressed?”
“I suppose I can indulge you that,” he said with a playful grin.
He escorted me back to my room and waited just outside my door as I headed in to change. Suspecting that this was going to be a somber and official meeting, I opted for a dark blue simple gown of cotton trimmed with darker blue piping. I brushed my hair and pulled it back and up into a simple bun, then splashed some cool water over my face.
Unadorned, I walked out.
Pressing his lips resolutely together, Henry nodded and gently took a hold of my elbow, leading me downstairs.
In the room my father reserved for important meetings with other nobles, many of the previous night’s guests were waiting.
Henry brought me to the front of the room where his father, Sir Richard Honeywell was standing. He nodded at me and turned to address the small crowd. “For those of you who do not know, the Kingmaker was attacked earlier this morning, as was the King of Islandia. An attempt was also made on Violet’s life.”
A few of the people who weren’t aware of what had happened mumbled their horror and confusion.
“The King of Islandia is in critical condition, and the Kingmaker is resting, but also in critical condition,” Sir Richard said.
Again, many people muttered among themselves.
“In the meantime, a Kingmaker must be appointed.”
I looked to Sir Richard, finally understanding what was happening. I hadn’t even stopped to consider the consequences of my father’s convalescence.
“As the laws of the land would have it, I declare Violet to be the new Kingmaker. She will dutifully take on the role that is rightfully hers.”
The mumblings became a little louder as nobles looked at one another.
Richard raised his hand to quiet everyone down. “If you have anything to say, now is the time.” He looked at the group. “Is there anyone who would like to challenge my decision?”
I looked to Richard. It wasn’t even his decision. It was my birthright. He, himself had just stated that it was rightfully mine. No one could challenge it. No one would. They all knew the title of Kingmaker was mine to take. Since I was born, they all knew that I would one day take on my father’s role.
But to my surprise, out of the corner of my eye I saw a hand rise in the crowd.
“I oppose.”
I looked to find Reggie with his hand up. He stepped forward, his eyes steadily on mine.
Shaking my head slightly as I looked at him, I tried to understand his motives. Why are you doing this? I wanted to say.
But then Axel joined him. You know why, he mouthed. Ollie also came forward along with a few other princes. And, finally, Avery joined them as well.
They were all against me; all trying to take away what was rightfully mine. I tried to keep my composure, but I felt my anger rise. How dare they!
My breathing became hard and jagged, and I was certain my cheeks had turned an angry red. Realizing that I had clenched my fists, I tried to relax my hands. I tried desperately to remain calm.
While I could understand Axel’s motivations – he’d made it clear he wanted me to be with him instead of taking on the role of Kingmaker – but the others.
It didn’t make sense.
“Why would any of you seek to challenge my calling?” I finally said.
Chapter 11
Tempest
I looked at all of them. They were men I’d known for years; some of them I’d known my entire life. Why were they betraying me? Why were they keeping me from my birthright?
For a long moment I was simply in disbelief. Had I misunderstood? Or, perhaps they didn’t understand what they were doing. Perhaps they…
No! There was no reason. There couldn’t be. And I wasn’t mistaken. It was as plain as the nose on my face. They were sabotaging my life, my destiny.
Confusion and disbelief turned to pain at the betrayal then slowly turned to frustration, and finally anger.
My fists tightened and my entire body was stiff with rage. I was certain that I was beet red because I could feel the heat on my cheeks. I wanted to say something, but what?
Bastards!
Traitors!
Wretches!
In the end, I simply grunted my discontent and stormed out of the room. I walked aimlessly through the halls of the castle for a long while. My thoughts went around in circles, asking, wondering and trying so hard to understand. But the more I thought about it, the less I understood.
I headed out and walked the grounds hoping the gardens and creatures that shared them would soothe and calm me as they always had.
Nothing worked. I was angry. I was livid. I was enraged.
Petulantly, I headed back to my quarters.
“How dare they?” I muttered to myself. “How dare they do this to me?”
I pushed open the door to my room and slammed it shut behind me. Leaning against the door, I let out a loud grunt.
“I thought you’d never get here.”
Startled, I looked around the corner to the sitting area of my room. “Lucinda?” I said when I saw her. “What are you doing here?”
I looked at the armor and sword set out on the settee.
“You’ve been grunting your way around the castle grounds,” she said.
“Yes,” I said, crossing my arms defiantly over my chest. “Well, I do believe that I have just cause. Do you know what they did to me? Do you know what they’re doing?”
Lucinda just looked at me, her wise eyes chastising me. “I know what you’ve been doing. Brooding like a spoiled child. Do you think your father would be proud to see you like this? Do you think I am proud of your behavior?”
“But, Lucinda,” I said, hearing the whining tone of my voice. “Do you know what they’ve done? Kingmaker is my destiny and they are all trying to take that away from me.”
“Calm down, Violet. Please.”
“I am calm, Lucinda,” I said. “I’m just… I’m just angry.”
Lucinda sat down on the edge of the settee and gestured to the delicate chair across from her. Grinding my teeth, I plunked down on the red velvet cushion of the chair.
“If I am to be completely honest with you, Violet, your behavior is not in keeping with a reliable, mature and reasonable Kingmaker. You are behaving like a five year old who has had her toy taken away.”