by Sohan Ahmad
Cyrus sickened at every caress of the Queen’s sweaty fingers, each gentle touch betraying his mother’s memory. “Liar!” he shouted in the most violent of whispers. Forcing Diana aside, he pounced like a cobra on wounded prey. You killed her! he yelled repeatedly within his mind as his bony fingers squeezed tighter and tighter around her throat. The queen lies, he believed. Mother would never attack her. I’ll kill you! Though he could not know for certain, he could not find it in his heart to care, so overwhelmed was he with wrath and fury.
The Slithering Queen could do little to resist in her enfeebled state. Diana felt death’s lonely slumber approaching as life helplessly flashed before her eyes. I can still recall that spring season from decades earlier when I first fell in love with you, my lord and husband. Life was much simpler then, before disease and jealousy scraped away at my soul. The day our son was born was the happiest day I could ever imagine.
Diana also recalled the few months after that when Isa and her newborn child arrived at the castle. The humiliation has haunted me ever since. How could you allow another woman to share your embrace? Marcus, my love, I pray you share Cyrus’s devotion and take vengeance. Part of her relished the release from a slow and agonizing crawl toward death. I do not wish to leave you and your father behind, but I feel so light, and so peaceful. Eventually, the light faded from her eyes, which blinked at a tearful shadow that writhed in pain.
As her limbs dangled limp, the darkness dissipated from Cyrus’s eyes while water continued to roll off his cheeks long after he released his grip from her pale throat. The tears joined wine and blood to forge a mirror of maddening sorrow. Who are you? Cyrus loathed the reflection that stared back at him, attempting to scratch and wipe away the red-stained stench that lingered on his fingers. Surely, this is a nightmare. Yes, I must be lying next to Mother in our bedding. None of this is real. Cyrus’s heart wished to buy the luscious lies that his mind sold so cheaply as he crumbled beside a lifeless Isa, clutching onto the belly of her sticky, soaked womb as if he had never left it.
Downstairs, Ramses grew impatient. “Where in the pits is Isa?” He motioned Marcus to his side, whispering thick breaths of wine-scented swine, “Bring Isa to me. I’ll deal with Geno’s incompetence later.”
Marcus moved without hesitation. Thank the gods, sharing dull words with old men has grown tiring. As he pardoned himself, he noticed. Cyrus is missing too? He ventured halfway up the spiral stairs to find the young Drake’s broad back. “Where are Cyrus and Isa?”
“Apologies for showing you my back, My Marcus,” Geno answered with lowered head. “I thought I heard yelling in My Queen’s chambers.”
Oh no! What if it’s a Shadow? The prince darted ahead without a word.
“Wait, My Marcus!” Geno yelled, chasing him into the bedchamber. Marcus stood above three bodies, shaking like a slender tree within a storm. “My Marcus, please command. What should I do?”
The prince could hear nothing from the Drake’s mouth. A loud ringing hummed throughout his drums, numbing his nerves all the way to his feet. His mind cracked under the weight of it all. This can’t be real. Strips of bark ripped from the walls, hurling the three bodies around him as if they were vultures circling prey. Sweaty palms drenched his ears, attempting to muffle the maddening mirage that dropped him to his knees. Heavy gulps of deep breath slowly returned the air to his chest, but the following words that poured from his tongue were dry and ragged: “Geno, return downstairs and find Archonis, he will know what to do.”
The young Drake reached out to him. “But, My Marcus, I can’t leave you unprotected.”
“Do not question me!” Marcus barked, swatting Geno’s hand away as if it were a gnat. “Go now, I can take care of myself.” Once the slave had cleared his sight, Marcus placed his hands atop his brother. “Wake up, Cyrus! What happened here? What happened to my mother? Cyrus!”
The prince’s tremors cut through the blissful veil of slumber, raising the dew-eyed slave from his mother’s bloody womb. Cyrus rubbed the crust from the lips of his lids, unlocking his dream-soaked sight onto chaos. The nightmare was real. His haze faded once he found his brother’s face. Brother, what have I done? Please forgive me. I should tell him the truth. But his mind knew better. Why would he pardon me? I took from him what was taken from me. I am truly sorry, Brother, but I cannot die here.
Isa’s blood began to dry on his cheeks as Cyrus bowed his head. “Marcus, I’m sorry, but I found them like this when I arrived. I thought they were asleep, but no matter how much I called out to Mother, she wouldn’t answer.” Tears dripped down onto trembling, clenched fists to further mask his shame. “When I looked closer and saw the blood on their clothes, I understood . . .”
The slave’s grip on deception loosened with every word. Can you still see through my lies? I pray you do. Otherwise, you’ll never know the truth, he told himself as specks of guilt-dusted bone fell from grinding teeth. “I didn’t know what else to do.” I beg you. “Please tell me what to do, Brother!”
Standing over his mother’s fresh corpse, Marcus was speechless. What can I possibly tell you? He tried his hardest to summon words, but he could not, dropping to his knees. Mother is dead! Tears fell like a burst of summer rain, soaking his cheeks and tunic until the boy slammed his fists against the floor. “Forgive me!” the prince shouted, trying his best to sob no further. “You have also lost a mother, and here I am crying like a child instead of being a good older brother.”
Marcus…I don’t deserve your love. Cyrus’s lament grew deeper with each kindness. Mother, you were innocent, but I am not. You should be here, and I should lie there. The brothers embraced in a mutual tremble and whispered condolences to one another. Apologies, Brother, but this is all I can do now.
Meanwhile, Geno had returned to the dining hall, whispering his report to Archonis as instructed. Words fell upon his ear like drops of boiling oil. The Paladin paused for a moment. Isa. My Queen. Even this most stoic of men was nearly moved to tears. Spirits of our ancestors, I pray to thee, please watch over the soul of our dear Queen Diana as she has done for our kingdom. And for the soul of Isa, love and comfort her just as she has done for us all. May the Divine Serpent watch over you both. Upon completing his prayer, he interrupted the dinner with a whisper to his lord and oldest of friends.
When Ramses heard what he heard, he died for the briefest of moments. His breath vanished, blood turned to ice in his veins, and then a light blinded him. How did this happen! The light was rage, seething with sorrow. Gone are the only two women I have ever loved. The grief nearly snapped sanity into splintered shards before he crushed the glass from which he drank, painting his palm in a deep, dark red.
Those of the Serpent Council who were yet sober took notice. Soft words from harsh tongues hissed throughout the gathering until Ramses broke the silence. “Forgive my strength; the wine must have been poured from the Creator’s personal stock. Please continue to enjoy the feast, I shall return shortly with a clean hand. Excuse me.”
Many among the council chuckled in relief of the Cardinal’s jest. Troubled stares blinked away into gleeful smiles, but all serpents were not so easily deceived by the performance. Ramses, you and I are more alike than I dreamed. What succulent secret are you hiding? Instead of sharing the discovery, the rat-toothed noble simply remained silent, lurking behind his lord from a safe distance.
Ramses and Archonis blazed up the spiral steps in a desperate haste. Upon entering the royal chambers, they found the two brothers sitting silent in embrace besides their lifeless mothers. “How did this happen? I demand answers!” the King of Hardship roared, his anger threatening to slither below to his guests.
Neither child could speak as they were lost for words themselves. The lord and lover of the dead seared with an undying hatred of stillness. “I will have the answers I seek.” Ramses grabbed Cyrus by the arm and dragged him in front of his mother’s now-frigid corpse. Grasping onto a fistful of black hair, he plunged the boy’s face jus
t above his mother’s frosted lips. “I was told you were the first to discover the bodies. Tell me what transpired here, or I will rip the truth from your flesh.”
Cyrus did not answer, locking away both sight and voice. I deserve whatever torture you can imagine, but I can’t speak.
Threats continued to pour out of the widowed husband’s mouth until Archonis called to him. “Stop this, Ramses. Can you not see that the boy grieves as well?”
Ramses yanked his bastard up by his roots for all to see. “Your tone is far too familiar, Commander. Whom do you serve? The crown or a slave?” The boy’s feet lifted just barely off the ground, kicking the air in frenzy.
There was only one answer for a Paladin of Isiris. My heart belongs to both, but my arms and legs are bound by duty.
Marcus held no such conflict, leaping onto the bend of his father’s arm. “Release him at Father. Cyrus has already confessed what he knows. He’s no more to blame than any one of us, so leave him be!”
The Cardinal’s grasp finally collapsed from the weight of two motherless boys, releasing Cyrus into his son’s fierce protection with a puzzled gaze. “You claim innocence for this slave—the very slave whose blood rots next to your dead mother, my dead wife?”
The prince’s courage waned briefly at the sight of his father’s fury. “Cyrus was not to blame for this.” But he would not yield. “They were both dead upon his arrival, and nothing can be done to change that!” Emotion surged from the tips of his toes to the pink of his tongue, cracking open his hardened resolve like an egg born for breakfast. “If you must blame anyone, Father, then blame me! I discovered the truth of your nightly ‘business’ with Isa. When you were too busy in the chapel, I asked mother why you needed more sons. Was I that disappointing?” he asked, wiping the dripping water from his eyes as a firm timbre returned to his voice. “Do you see now? I was the last to see her alive. If you want more answers, then take them from my flesh, Father!”
His words wrapped around their throats like shrinking shackles. The elder snakes and slaves shared one collective thought. She knew? None paused to consider how the prince had uncovered such a lethal secret, but it was too late to matter.
Cyrus crumbled to his knees. It all makes sense now. The queen would never blame her holy husband. This is your fault! The green in his eyes scorched black, fingers curling tight as he saw Marcus writhe in agony. But you are my brother, the only true family I have left. How can I hate you?
As Cyrus sat there, wishing he could rip the hair from his skull, Ramses strode up to the prince and struck him like never before. “I thought your mother and I told you many times to never apologize for a slave. Now tell me where you heard such vicious poison. Tell me, boy, lest you desire the back of my hand again.”
There’s no need to drag Geno into this. So, Marcus answered, “I overheard your conversation with Isa while we were playing below.”
The Drake thought nothing odd upon hearing the Prince’s story, but Cyrus was not so slow. It all makes sense. He heard us.
Ramses realized in that moment that further deception was meaningless, so he delivered a startling message to his sons, bastard and prince alike: “I do not know what happened here, but none of it matters now. For Isa to die alone is one thing, but for Diana to fall as well . . . the gods curse me to no end. If the other kingdoms suspect, even for an instant, that a slave murdered the queen, can you even begin to comprehend the consequences?”
Neither child imagined what could be worse than the loss of their mother. “Allow me to enlighten you. The crown is only as strong as its enemies believe it to be. What will they think if one robbed of freedom can so easily end the queen’s life? A damned Shadow would have been better. Our people could rally behind us if an outsider was responsible, but there can be no doubts of loyalty within if Isiris is to survive.”
“I am sorry Father,” Marcus said, his voice ripped of its earlier passion. “I did not think . . .”
“Of course, you did not,” Ramses snapped at him. “It is my fault for expecting too much of a child.”
“What do we do?” the Prince asked with lowered head.
“We find out who did this!” The Cardinal barked, the fumes from his breath freezing Cyrus in a shiver.
I’m right here. What will you do with me? Cyrus wondered, wordless.
“But first, we will have to dispose of Isa’s body and spread rumors of Diana’s death,” Ramses said, rubbing the corners of his eyes with the tips of his index fingers. “Marcus, you will stay by my side from now on. I have allowed you to run free and wild for far too long, it is time I finally made a ruler out of you. Gone will be the childish life you have led until now. Your freedoms will be stripped until I deem you worthy of such a gift. Now, all that remains is what to do with my bastard.”
Cyrus offered nothing in his defense. As long as you let me live, I don’t care what happens. Abandon me to the streets, sell me, or banish me to the dungeons, anything would be better than staying in this crypt.
Marcus said nothing on his own behalf. I won’t let you hurt Brother again. But he was a fierce protector of those he loved. “Fath…”
Before he could complete a single word, Cyrus clutched onto his shoulder, whispering, “Please Brother. Don’t fight his decision. We have both lost enough. Just let it go.”
Sharp words that struck true. “Forgive me, Brother.” There was little else Marcus could say. “Apologies for the outburst, Father. I will listen.”
Ramses placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Go to your room for now,” he said, squeezing to hide the tremor in his hands. “Take Geno with you.” Turning to the young Drake, he said, “Do not leave his side, boy.”
Geno shot a glance towards the young slave, whose eyes were buried in his chest. I am sorry. Gods protect you, My Cyrus. But there was no time to wait for an answer. “Yes, My Master.”
Once the prince had cleared the chambers, Ramses looked to his battered bastard. “Return to your quarters, you will remain there until I decide your fate.” There were no arguments.
“At once, Your Holiness,” Cyrus answered, his hands shaking too much to make a proper royal salute. No guards were called. He was free to return on his own, but nothing else.
Once the three children had departed, Ramses, the husband, required a moment to mourn before he performed the ugly chores demanded of his position. Archonis remained at his friend’s side to offer what little solace he could. “Ramses, please allow me. You need not wear armor with me; I feel your pain as if it were my own.”
“Thank you, old friend,” the Cardinal said, his firm tone crumbling just as he did. Ramses watched every moment as his gray-bearded commander slowly cleaned Diana’s body, laying her flat so that she might see the heavens. Archonis joined his friend and lord, kneeling beside her in prayer, offering pleas for mercy to the Divine Serpent.
A handful of silent breaths passed before the Paladin suddenly arose, releasing he blade from his hip. “Shadow lurker, show yourself now or forfeit your life. I will not offer this warning a second time!”
A man waddled into the chambers from out of the darkness with his hands raised. “Please lower your sword, dear Paladin,” he said, “there is no need for such hostility.”
“What are you doing here, Councilman?” Archonis asked with bitter tongue.
The unsightly lord pressed his chubby hands together in prayer. “I simply desire to pay my respects to our fallen lady.”
“How did you know?” Archonis asked with the tip of his steel tongue. Deceitful rat! “Answer swift and true, or I shall free that round head from your shoulders.”
The noble heeded his advice. “I overheard just now. I swear it. My sincerest apologies for startling you, I meant no offense.”
Unlikely. Archonis believed, glancing toward his silent friend and ruler. Ramses needs me, this will have to wait. “Leave us, rat, His Holiness wishes to be alone with his wife.”
The stump of a lord groveled, bowing as quickly as his
gut would allow. “Of course, of course, forgive the disturbance. I too have experienced misfortune in recent days. My most skilled and capable slave attempted escape. The filthy beast did not survive the punishment handed down upon his capture, and now I find myself in the market once again.”
The Paladin’s holy blade aimed to cleave the lord in two, but it paused. “Rat, did you just compare my wife to a slave?” For the Cardinal’s tongue was sharper than any blade.
The sneaky lord shed his casual tone. “Never, never, you must believe me. I beg you forgive my ill words. They are tangled in remorse. Please spare my life, and I will never speak a word of this, I swear it.”
“Go,” Ramses ordered. His methods disgust me, but I still need his talent for growing gold from dirt. “Before I change my mind,”
The light-footed rodent retreated towards the spiral steps. “Thank you, Your Holiness. I should have known better than to press so soon,” he said, smirking within the shade of his lowered head. “Please mourn all you need, Your Holiness. We can talk after tomorrow’s council meeting.”
“Talk about what?” Ramses asked, rising from his wife’s side. “No more riddles, Rat.”
Archonis had heard enough. “Your Holiness! I urge that you take caution when dealing with this truth bender.”
He’s right. I should not trust this deceiver. But the stain of his lovers’ corpses was still fresh in his eyes. I am the blood of Elijah. He cannot deceive me. Ramses believed himself true, ignoring the protest.
The rat grinned wide as his spine returned. “Gratitude, oh holy snake, please know that I, above all others, appreciate the sensitive nature of your current situation. The royal slave pen has one too many while my own has one too few. ’Tis a simple matter to resolve once we balance the scales, would you not agree? In fact, allow me to sweeten the offer. I shall take the dead one as well and rid these sacred grounds of such filth.”