“I can’t ask you for money, nor your sister. There are so many reasons why that would be wrong.”
“You said you only owe a couple hundred. That’s nothing. I could give it to you.”
“Absolutely not,” Arrago snapped. He tempered his tone and said, “It’s not just the wages. That problem we’ve just solved. The real issue is that we’ve been running the nation on promissory notes. We owe nearly three thousand gold. I can’t wrap my mind around it.”
Bethany grimaced. “What are you going to do?”
“Edmund’s been doing an inventory of the castle. I’ll try to downscale as much as we can. Then raise more ready cash and move on to economizing nationwide as best as we can.” Arrago snorted. “Look at me, thinking only having twenty people to dinner is economizing. You know, I can’t stand those dinners. Tonight, Celeste’s uncle is visiting. Only it’s not just him. It’s his wife, their eight children, their children’s spouses, their grandchildren…” Arrago sighed. “Forty people are coming to dinner and they’re expecting a feast. Every night is like this. I’m sick of it.”
Bethany smiled. “Things are different when you have more than yourself to consider.”
“Yes,” he said, the humor gone. “It is very different. I know you told me that before, but I never quite believed you.”
She looked down at her letters. “I should go.” She stood, once more ready to flee his presence.
“You should visit more often.”
“No, I shouldn’t,” she said simply. Then in a strained voice, she asked, “You understand that, right?”
He nodded. “I do.”
“Good day, Majesty.”
“Good day, Lady Bethany.”
And he let the woman he loved walk out of his life once more. He watched her, sadness growing in his chest. It was a pressure, forcing the air from his lungs.
He turned to his letter. He didn’t know Mother Aneese very well. They’d only shared a few words and he wondered why he would receive personal notice from her. The Faith would be struggling, having lost yet another leader within a year. Father Torius’s death in an ambush had been hard on everyone. At least Mother Aneese had been able to prepare.
His Most Majesty Arrago, King of Taftlin
Please excuse the presumption of a humble mother of the faith writing a personal letter to you, a man I barely know. I don’t remember if we’ve ever shared a single conversation and yet I feel as though I know you intimately. Your name came up at so many meetings that my memory sometimes places you at those events. All of your peers spoke so highly of you that one of my regrets is never having made the time to make your acquaintance.
I write to encourage you never to lose your faith in Apexia. She guided your life, young man, from obscurity to royalty. If you continue to put your trust in Her, she will bring you safety, stability, and hope.
I believe you are a good man, and will be a great King. Do not lose sight of yourself and what you believe in your core. Do not let the politics of court dictate your attitudes and behaviour. Do not let the greed of your advisors lead you to disregard the roots from whence you came. At your hand, the North’s stronghold of slavery, crime, and evil can be crushed. Centuries of oppression and opulence can be overthrown with nothing more than your whim—and the hard work of your own hands and mind.
Yes, the road will be treacherous. Yes, there will be strife and danger. You might even be called upon by Apexia to give your life in the service of others. There is no greater calling than the sacrifice of yourself for the greater good. You are able to end the suffering of millions, Majesty. What a beautiful and heavy task She has placed on your shoulders. I both envy you and pray for your burden.
May the blessings of our most holy Goddess shine every day in your heart. May you never lose your path. May you forever be a symbol of Her goodness.
Your most humble servant,
Mother Aneese
Chills spread through Arrago’s body and he pulled his fur-lined cloak tighter. She was right. He needed to stand up for what was in his heart. He looked around the study and remembered how he’d felt when he first walked into the room to claim it as his own. The imported mahogany desk, chair, and shelves had awed him. The full working fireplace with chimney. The candle sconces on the wall, covered in intricate gold filigree. A golden statue of a horse on his desk—where he’d now stuffed several urgent letters between its legs.
He was using gold as a letter holder.
He’d freed the slaves that were working in Castle Gree and given them wages. But what about his other castles? What about his whole country?
And what about the poor? He had forty people coming to dinner in only a few hours, while hundreds of thousands of his people were going hungry. How many would starve this month? How many more would starve before the first spring crops came in?
He’d never felt so ashamed in his life. He was becoming everything he’d fought against. Well. That had to change.
CHAPTER 3
The Present
Sarissa lay on her side, curled around herself and as close to the fire pit as possible. Four days and she still didn't have the strength to sit up. Thankfully, the exhaustion had forced her to sleep on occasion, though the nightmares ensured her sleep was limited and fretful. She'd exhausted all measures and still the barrier failed.
It had been unstable in spots, allowing the entry of supplies and goods, for weeks now. While that was good for her people, it meant that soon the army would come through. Soon they'd all be dead. Soon oblivion would be her fate.
Oblivion would be a blessing. The dreams were unbearable. Insanity would be preferable. She knew what she’d done now. The cloud had finally cleared. She was a killer. A blight upon the world that needed to be burned away until only a memory of her destruction remained.
She should never have taken Bethany’s Power. What a miscalculation. It fought the Magic within her. She was splitting into two halves of the same being. Just as she and Bethany once were two halves that needed each other.
Quentin was dead. He’d frozen to death while doing a ritual. She was responsible for keeping the fire going, but lost track of herself. She saw the ritual through Bethany’s eyes. There was only one thing to do. He had to die.
She’d killed Quentin. He’d trusted her and she’d killed him.
She’d killed so many. Quentin had killed so many. He deserved to die. She deserved to die.
Then Sarissa’s mind came back to her. She shook off the thoughts and gritted her teeth. She had to find a way to overcome this war inside her. Otherwise everything she’d done, everything she’d tried, would be useless.
“Sarrisa!” A voice called from outside the room. “Sarissa, where are you?’
Ah, her husband. He'd been defending the labyrinth of tunnels and caves beneath the castle ruins that they occupied. Waves of desperate Rygents had been trapped inside the barrier and were committing suicide against her walls.
Cold air slapped her across the face before a cold hand did the same. She blinked up at her grizzled husband. His beard was long, wiry, and dirty now. More grey was in it and the creases around his eyes were deeper than ever. “Wake up!”
Sarissa blinked tears from her eyes, her cheek still stinging. “I can't, Robert.”
“You have to. The boundary is down.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I can feel it.”
“Then get it back up!”
“I can’t. It was formed with the spirits of the dead. They’ve all gone to either oblivion or to join Apexia on the wind. I’d have to start over and I can’t do it alone.”
Robert swore. “So you’re just going to lie here and die?”
“No,” she said. “I’ve sent the bulk of our people south to Castle Brook. If they leave now, they’ll be there in a day. That’s where the elves will attack.”
“How do you know?”
“The tear in the boundary happened there first. The elves probably think I’m at Castle Brook.”
“It could withstand a siege. I’m sure it probably has. Do you want me to go with them?”
“No, I’ve already sent word for them to prepare. Just before you arrived.”
“Why did you do that?” Robert demanded, his voice hot with anger.
“I want you here with me.” She rolled on her stomach and felt around under her pillow. She couldn’t remember what she was looking for, but she knew she had to find it. This was her chance. She needed to keep him occupied. “I think I should surrender.”
“Have you lost your mind?” He squatted next to her. “We’re here because of you. We’re fighting this war because of you. If you surrender, the first thing they’ll do is string you up by the neck from any tree or post they can find.”
“I know,” Sarissa whispered. “That’s what I want.”
Robert rocked back on his heels and stared at her.
“This was a mistake. An arrogant, hateful mistake. Who was I to think I could challenge Apexia’s power head on? I’ve lost so much. I hurt so much. I want it to stop.”
“You’re having the dreams again, aren’t you?”
“Stealing Bethany’s power brought all of her memories and feelings.” Her hands found what she’d been looking for. “Every time I sleep, I dream about her. I relive all of her memories. All of the pain and heartbreak. I saw Torius die. I saw Drea’s dead body. I felt her grief and I’m ashamed that I’m incapable of feeling that much of anything but hatred and rage.”
“What about everyone here? They’re here because they believe in you. Quentin died trying to help you stabilize the barrier. They’re fighting for a world where Magic can exist.”
She’d not told anyone how Quentin died. She let them believe she was still one of them. She wasn’t, though. She was Bethany’s. She was against Magic now. Her fight against Apexia was righteous, but she’d been fighting it the wrong way. Her fight against Magic would be righteous. She would atone for all she’d done.
Sarissa whispered, “I don’t think Magic should be allowed to exist.”
A sound too bitter to be a laugh escaped him. “You fucking stupid woman. You really have lost your mind. If you don’t think Magic should exist, then why are we all still here? Why did you send your men south?” Robert snorted. “You’ve turned into a madwoman.”
When Sarissa thrust the dagger into his neck, it was not anger that crossed Robert’s face. It was surprise. She’d not expected that look.
He tried to speak, but it came out as a gurgle.
“You are a rapist and a murderer. You deserve oblivion.”
Robert fell face-first on the floor. Blood sprayed and pooled. She’d cut him deep. That’s why trust was a failing. Bethany knew that. She’d said it when Sarissa betrayed her. How true those words were, now, here, at the end of it all.
“Magic is evil. It is the source of all evil. I vow to give my life to fight it. Magic is the destroyer of lives. I must destroy the source. I must destroy Sarissa, the Magi army, and Apexia herself.”
Bethany closed her eyes.
No, that’s not right.
Who was she again?
She looked at Robert’s still form. “I think I loved him once.”
She put her head on her blood-soaked pillow, her cheek squelching in the slickness. The sweet stench of iron filled her nostrils. She stared at her hand. So many lives died by this hand. She didn’t remember whose hand she was staring at.
Maybe she’d remember when she woke.
CHAPTER 4
The Past
Awe filled Allric as he gazed down at his wife and daughter. Little Opal Amber Bethany suckled contentedly at her mother’s breast. Amber reclined, half-asleep on the sofa in their comfortable apartment. She’d not slept well the last two nights. She said Opal was growing, and growing meant extra-hungry.
His little girl. Pride swelled inside Allric and a broad grin stretched across his face. He'd worried that marrying Amber would bring the world down on his head. And it would when the war ended, but he didn't care. He loved her and the tiny creature in her arms.
Whenever he questioned why they were still here fighting, he only had to look into Amber's eyes and know he was fighting to liberate her homeland. It was the only reminder he ever needed. He was doing what was right.
“Can you take her?” Amber asked. “I think she's done.”
“Of course,” Allric said and swooped down to pick up the fussing, squirming little creature. He rested her on his shoulder and swayed, lightly patting her tiny back as he hummed a song.
Thank Apexia Jovan wasn’t here to see this. He’d never live it down. Though, whenever he held Opal, he found he didn’t care what the others thought of him. Allric had never thought he’d fall in love, and now he’d fallen in love twice in the matter of a year. He was deliriously happy.
“Are you sure you don’t mind me going to the card game tonight?”
Amber yawned into the back of her hand and tugged up the blanket to cover her. She didn’t bother to button her dress. “I don’t mind. Celeste is sending over a nurse to help so I can get some sleep.” She yawned again. “Opal was cranky all day.”
“Have you been cranky? “ Allric crooned as he paced with his baby. “Have you been mean to your mama? Aw, my little girl is a firecracker, is she? You’re going to be just like your Auntie Bethany?” Opal let out a huge belch. “That's Daddy’s girl.”
She began making sleepy yawns and Allric paced around in silence.
When the silence was too much for him to bear, he said, “Amber, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Hmm?”
“I heard from my sister.”
Amber put her finger to her lips and pointed at Opal. Allric carefully eased the little belcher into the small bassinet by the sofa. A few more soothing sounds and a giant yawn later, Opal settled down.
“Finally.” Amber whispered. She patted the space next to her, and Allric sat, wrapping his arm around her.
“Which sister?” she asked.
“The half one.”
“She has a name, Allric.” Even when whispering, Amber could chide him better than his own mother. “Say it with me. Paverly.”
He rolled his eyes. “Pava said she isn’t going to disown me or Opal, unlike the rest of my family.”
“Of course she isn’t,” Amber said. “She’s Elorian herself. Other than you, does anyone in your family talk to her?”
“Absolutely not. No one wants to speak to Father’s half-breed love child.” Amber’s face contorted in fury and a hot reply was coming, but he raised his hands. “I am only repeating what my other sisters call her. When they still talked to me, that is. The fact that I write to Pava tells you I do not think of her like that.”
“Don’t ever use those words again.”
He looked down at his own child. She was a half-breed love child, too, in his family’s eyes. Apexia’s mercy. He hadn’t connected that before now. “I never realized how ugly those words were.”
“They are ugly,” Amber said. “Well? What did she say?”
Allric drew in a deep breath. He knew Amber was not going to like this conversation, but it had been two weeks and he’d been putting it off. “Pava already knew about us. She and Kiner are friends, so he told her. She wanted me to know that…” Allric drew in a breath; this was the tricky part. “If anything happens to me, she’d be happy to come live with you, to help raise Opal.” He gulped. “And to then care of you when …when…”
“When I’m too old to care for our child,” Amber said quietly. She slipped her hand over his. “I know.”
“Amber, we’re in the middle of a war. It’s quiet now, but the storm…”
“I know.” She gripped tighter. “We knew this when we married. When we had Opal. We knew the consequences of an elf and a Rygent having a child together. I knew you were a soldier first. I know I only have a few decades with you. For me, that’s a lifetime. For you, that’s just a flicker.” She touched his face. “I lo
ve you. Of course you would worry about your daughter’s future if you died. I’m worried, too.”
“You’re not angry?”
She smiled at him and his heart ached with happiness. “For being yourself? Never.”
They leaned in for a kiss, but were interrupted by a knock at the door. Allric winced and, sure enough, Opal let out an ear-bleeding sound of disgust. He sighed, scooped her up in his arms, and walked to the door. Hopefully it was the nurse Celeste was sending over.
A red-eyed, blotchy, haggard-looking Bethany stood on the other side, with a number of letters in her hand.
“Bethany? What’s wrong?”
Amber jumped to her feet, fumbling with the front of her dress. “Bethany? Come in. Good gracious, you look like you’ve seen the dead rise. Here, Allric, give me Opal.”
“I’m sorry to have woken her. I didn’t realize she slept this early in the evening.” Bethany forced a sad smile. “I don’t know anything about babies. I barely understand where they come from.”
“I’ll ask Eve to draw you some pictures,” Amber said, smiling. “That’s what she did for Allric.”
“Amber!” Allric said aghast. He looked at Bethany’s amused, though tired expression. “That is a lie.”
Amber winked at him. “Don’t worry. She’ll settle back down. I’ll take little Miss Fussypants into the bedroom so the two of you can talk.” Amber squeezed Bethany’s forearm as she walked by.
“What’s happened?” Allric asked, closing the door behind Bethany.
“Mother Aneese is dead.” She handed him a letter, tears spilling down her cheeks. She didn’t bother to wipe them away, which told Allric she’d been crying for so long she no longer cared.
“Merciful Apexia.”
Allric took the letter and sat down, stretching his long legs in front of him. He buried his face in his hand for a moment. She was an old woman, so that did take the sting out of it—knowing she’d lived a full life. It didn’t come as a shock; the last day he’d spoken to her, Aneese looked frail and sickly. He’d gotten the impression it was his last conversation with her and he’d made a point of thanking her for all her support and guidance over the years. She’d laughed at him and complained about his fussing, but they both knew.
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