by Kyra Gregory
Sybelle kicked off her shoes beneath her dress, exhaling softly as she tried to find her voice. “Don’t fill yourself with my concerns, Ewin,” she said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “My fate is sealed. It has been ever since I was a child, try as I might have to pretend that my father’s life wasn’t coming to an end, and that my ascension would not happen. In our heart of hearts, we know that some things are inevitable and they are just to be expected.”
“Is that what you’re doing up here?” Ewin asked, looking over. “Are you expecting something?”
Sybelle didn’t reply, turning her full attention back to the sight in front of her. She would stay there for as long as necessary, she said to herself. Until she would see something, anything.
In the distance, in a sky painted in a wide array of blues, purples and oranges, she saw two weeks flutter in their direction. Ewin perked up, standing straight, expectantly awaiting a carrier pigeon to come with some sort of letter from the other side. Instead, the bird came closer and closer towards her, and, in doing so, revealed itself to be a jet black raven, its wings fluttering just inches from her face even as she recoiled in shock, teasing her hair with a gentle breeze before it settled on the stone wall in front of her. Ewin blinked rapidly and his brows furrowed together. Sybelle’s hands began to shake as she stared, wide-eyed, at the bird.
She shook her head, exhaling silently with a growing frustration. “Your warning comes far too late,” she whispered to it, clenching her trembling hands into fists as she turned away, leaving the wall with a swell of emotion in her heart and a suffocating sensation of tightening in her chest.
“What does that mean?” Ewin called after her, alarmed. He looked around and then focused his eyes on her, his gaze so strong she could practically feel it burning into her back. “Your Majesty! What does that mean?”
CHAPTER 11
SYBELLE’S LASHES FLUTTERED, her eyes blinking repeatedly. Her eyelids grew heavy and it took everything within her to fight the temptation to close them and lay her head down on the fur blankets that had been laid upon the ground of her throne room. Instead of allowing herself to submit to her desires, she took deep breaths whenever she felt her tiresome state dwelling upon her. She would force herself to sit upright, to roll her shoulders back and lift her chin up. She would shift the position of the heavy hardback that dwarfed her long-fingered hands, forcing the words deeper into her mind.
But it wasn’t very long until her shoulders would slacken once more. Her eyelids would drift shut and her fingers would scrub at them to rid them of the temptation of sleep, smudging the traces of kohl that defined her dark eyes until they added to the ghostly bags that told all of her exhaustion. Her breathing got slower and she yawned more often, dropping the book into her lap to leave her hands free for covering her mouth.
“Your Majesty,” Ewin’s familiar voice fluttered with concern through the room, forcing her to lift her gaze from the book she’d immersed herself in. He walked towards her, at ease around her at last, taking in the manner in which she’d converted what was once considered a room of note within the palace. Now, she had books, hefty books, littered all over her table and ground. Ellyn had brought her furs to keep warm as she read in her chair but, after far too much time sitting upright in the rigid seat, she migrated to the floor. “Should you not be in bed getting some rest?”
“I’m not tired,” she lied, forcing a smile as she turned her eyes back to her book, taking advantage of the moment of lucidity.
“You look like you haven’t slept in days,” he whispered, crouching down in front of her. “Do you require anything? Shall I call Ellyn?”
“I’ve dismissed Ellyn for the night,” Sybelle replied, waving her hand. “She’s had her hands full and I would have her rest for a change.”
“And you?” Ewin asked, looking her up and down. “Do you not deserve a rest for a change?”
“I’ll rest when I’m finished reading,” she said, rubbing her eyes again. “Assuming the world does not choose to fall apart when I do, I’ll sleep as soon as I’m finished.”
Ewin looked around the room, his brows furrowed together as he attempted to make sense of what it was she was reading. There was no sense to be found. The contents of the books varied widely. Some were history books; the history of Lionessa, the history of Evrad and Azura and the wars and treaties between the three. Some were records of the accounts of Lionessa, detailing every coin that had ever made its way into their coffers and how it had come to do so. “What is it you’re hoping to accomplish here?”
Sybelle cocked her head to one side, asking herself that very same question. She had some idea, after all, otherwise she wouldn’t have been sat here drowning in it. But, of course, putting her thoughts into words was far more difficult than she imagined. “I’m trying to learn all that I should’ve learnt from my studies years ago,” she confessed, her shoulders dropping. She looked up at Ewin, only to see him on the verge of smiling. Her blood began to boil and she could feel the heat of it within her cheeks. “I don’t see what’s so funny,” she snarled, her teeth gritted together. She shook her head, willing the anger to die down while her hands clenched tightly around the binding of the book, “You would think my father would’ve been stricter about my studies, knowing that I was to be in this position one day,” she said.
Ewin chuckled, “I’m sure your father was under the assumption that you would be assisted by many advisors by the time you were Queen,” he countered.
Sybelle cocked her head to one side momentarily, “Yes,” she started, “well, he was wrong,” she said. She looked around at the collection of books that she’d amassed, hauled from the darkest corners of the palace, taken from Sir Willeon Freeman’s office, others compiled by great scholars before they were tucked away in the library. “I’ve had no choice but to take it upon myself to learn everything,” she said.
Ewin shifted his weight in his crouched position. He pursed his lips together, contemplating the words he was almost so eager to utter against his better judgement. “You could always have asked Gyles to stay,” he said, his voice slowly lowering into a whisper. “If you needed him, if you’d let him know, I’m sure he would’ve stayed.”
She shook her head without giving it a thought, waving him off and returning to the content of the book that she’d dropped into her lap. “No,” she said, “certainly not,” she added. “Gyles has never been able to do as he’s desired. If his heart called him away from here then I wouldn’t stand in the way of it, not after all he has done to serve me.”
He cocked his head in contemplation but remained silent for as long as it took her to mull over the next few paragraphs. “Then allow me to serve you,” he replied.
She looked at him, a laugh threatening to erupt from her mouth but which she limited to a slight rumble in the back of her throat. “You already serve me,” she remarked.
“There’s yet a position to fill,” he replied, gesturing to the books. “And while I may not be as smart as Gyles,” he started.
“You’re not,” Sybelle affirmed with a growing grin.
Ewin’s smile grew from ear to ear but he continued, “I would assist you with learning whatever it is you need to learn,” he said.
She laughed, unable to stop herself. “I think you underestimate how much there is that I must learn,” she confessed.
Ewin pursed his lips together and reevaluated the piles of books. He nodded, firm in his decision. “Lay yourself down,” he whispered, reaching to retrieve the book from her lap.
“Excuse me?” She stared at him with wide eyes, unable to comprehend what he had in mind as he shifted to sit down on the very edge of her furs.
“Lay yourself down,” he reiterated, looking to the space he’d created upon moving a pile of books. “You may rest and I’ll read to you,” he said. She wasn’t sure how she looked at him in that moment. Perhaps as though he’d just fallen from the sky because his offer of assistance was just as unsuspect
ing. “You can rest and hear what you would once have read,” he explained, “and, should you succumb to sleep, I’ll keep reading and tell you what you’ve missed upon your waking.”
She laid herself down on the furs almost against her will, placing her hands on her stomach as she looked up at him, “I cannot afford to succumb to sleep,” she said.
His smile was warm, gentle and kind. “I don’t think you can afford not to,” he replied.
Perhaps he was right. No. He was right. Avoiding sleep was only making matters worse. Still, there was too much to do. She waved her hand in his direction and he began reading from the top of the page of the book she’d been reading. She took in each and every word, absorbed the knowledge that the book had to offer. However minute it may have been to the man, it was of worth to her. He was right. This was a better arrangement. Until she closed her eyes and the world around her, including his voice, disappeared.
***
Deros blinked in utter confusion as his skull throbbed, his head lolling from side to side as he slowly drifted back to the surface of consciousness. He looked around, seeing his feet in the sand. He wriggled his fingers, feeling the tightness of the ropes that bound his arms securely behind his back. He’d been ridded of his armour but his shirt remained, doing little to shield him from the splinters of the wooden pole scraping against his spine. He exhaled softly and hot blood trickled out of his mouth, dribbling down his chin.
Fingers grabbed him firmly by the hair and jerked his head in one direction and King Alessio’s face filled his vision. “You’re awake then,” he said, smirking.
Deros pulled his head out of the other’s hold, never minding the sting that came from having his hair pulled from his scalp. “Sorry,” he said, his voice an unfamiliar thing, “did you have nothing to amuse yourselves with in my slumber?”
King Alessio chuckled, taking steps in front of him that with his arms folded against his chest that Deros found dizzying to watch, “We’ve captured twenty-nine Lionessan soldiers,” he remarked. “I think we will be amused for a little while longer.”
Deros kept his vision from lingering to the captives. The soldiers, those that still lived, were bound in chains, overlooked by Azurian soldiers that didn’t take kindly to the Lionessans’ squirms and curses. Still, he didn’t dare look at them. He didn’t care for what they thought of him by having made the wrong decision, by having gone against Sybelle’s orders, by having endangered them. They hardly cared. Many of them were in agreement that much needed to be done before Azura broke through their walls. After all, even in their defeat, he supposed they could buy Sybelle, and Lionessa, some more time.
“At least let me die with my men,” Deros said, exhaling as he tipped his head back, staring down his nose at the King of Azura.
King Alessio chuckled heartily, shaking his head as he asked, “How delusional are you? Your men? They are not your men. They will never be your men. You’re a man of Evrad.” He pulled a wooden stool from a nearby tent, dragging it along the sand until it was a few paces in front of Deros before he took a seat, extending his legs in front of him and crossing his arms against his chest. “How easy it must have been,” Alessio started, a playful smirk pulling at his lips, “for you to have marched men that are not your own into a battle they were doomed to lose,” he remarked.
Deros said nothing, allowing his lips to pull into a smirk of their own as he stared up at the sky. The sun was setting; some sort of news of their failure would be reaching Sybelle soon.
“Mind you,” Alessio said, cocking his head to one side, “your new Queen must not think very highly of all of you either,” he said. “After all, she did send you to your deaths here, did she not?” Deros bit the inside of his cheek and the subtle action must have been noticed because the King leaned forward in his seat, drawing his legs back towards the stool, “Did she not?” he asked, persistently. He scoffed, a chuckle erupting deep in his chest, “She didn’t,” he clarified. “But if she didn’t, then who did?”
Deros kept as still as possible, not moving an inch, careful of how even his eyelids fluttered between blinks, careful not to reveal a single detail that would only serve to amuse the man that much more. He got to his feet, pacing, “She has no family left,” he said, “careful to have gotten rid of a potential heir who could rival her,” he said.
Deros chuckled openly, licking his lips as he contained himself. “Her brother?” he asked, lifting his pounding head from the pole. “You think her brother was ever a viable heir?” He shook his head, “No, she’s the only one who was ever taught to be a ruler,” he said. “Her brother was a child and even if she were to act as Regent until he was of age he would never have been capable of ruling. The throne was always hers.”
The King got so close to him, not replying to his words, his hot, sticky breath that smelt of braised pork feathered across his cheek that was slick with blood. “Then who thought it was a good idea to attack us?” he asked, cocking his head to the side, leaning into him as close as possible, his words nothing above a whisper that he felt right in his ear. “You?”
“You think I have that sort of power?” Deros asked, lifting his eyebrows. He scoffed, shaking his head and feeling the pain that had come from a knock to the back of it radiating to the rest of his body. “Please,” he whispered, rolling his eyes. “I’ve been in her company for no longer than a few weeks, do you think me capable of having convinced her of my loyalty in so short of a time?”
“I think you’re capable of plenty,” King Alessio said, punctuating his words with a clear blow to Deros’s abdomen, winding him entirely. “Tell me then, what pushes a man to betray his country?” King Alessio asked, leaning into him, grabbing him by the throat as he forced him to gasp for breath. “What was it? Dissatisfaction? You were at the right hand side of King Nero, you were a trusted advisor, were you not? Given land and wealth in return for your service to him.”
Deros scoffed, cocking his head back, “That is the furthest thing from reality,” he said, his eyes glazing over. “I received nothing from that tyrant.”
“A tyrant?” Alessio scoffed in a whisper. “What do you call this Queen you follow then? She set your country ablaze, killing more than just an army but killing thousands of innocents.”
“You wish to take the moral high ground?” Deros asked, a chuckle rumbling in the back of his throat, beneath Alessio’s clenching hands. “That is amusing,” he said, “coming from a man who threatens his people with death if they don’t do the bidding of those in power, working them in the mines and in the dirt like animals, selling their efforts for extortionate prices and never giving back to the poor creatures whose blood has been spilt while creating your empire.”
Alessio’s fist clenched tighter around his neck, cutting off his air supply for a matter of seconds, suffocating him to the point of causing a painful, burning sensation within his lungs before letting go, knocking his head back into the wooden post as he did so. “And do you claim the ruling of your country to be without sin of its own? How many villages did King Nero rape and plunder in his time?”
“With weapons you supplied,” Deros said. “You could have stopped any time, were you so terribly concerned about the well-being of others. Your only interest lay in keeping the treaty in tact, ascertaining that Evrad and Lionessa did nothing to threaten your way of life.”
“And Queen Sybelle?” King Alessio asked, taking a few steps back, cocking an eyebrow in his direction. “Do you think her moral in comparison? The very same could be said of her concerns; she came to me, asking me to honour a treaty that had fallen apart.”
Deros chuckled, spitting blood on the ground at his feet. “And who was the traitor there? Turning away a young girl, begging you for your noble assistance, in spite of the agreement,” he said. “That it was not your kingdom being threatened was all you cared about.” He scoffed, throwing his head back and staring down his nose at him, “Perhaps I am a traitor, in more ways than one,” he shrugged, an action th
at caused great agony in his ribs, “but so are you.” He pulled himself upright, securing his footing in the sand, bracing himself for an impending blow that would come King Alessio’s clenched fists. “And it’s not difficult to see that we will both get what we deserve for our transgressions.”
The man inched forward as he visibly did his best to keep his hands by his sides, no doubt certain that he would strangle him to death if he didn’t. “What’s she planning?” He asked, his teeth gritted hard together.
Deros smirked with not a shred of fear within him, asking, “Do you really think she would tell a traitor like me anything of the sort?” He inhaled deeply, ignoring the pain, and leaned back against the post, “You can just kill me now; I’ll be of no use to you in that regard,” he said.
“To be haunted by your mistakes,” King Alessio started, smiling as he went to walk away, “that is a fate far worse than death.”
Deros didn’t think to ask what he meant by that, nor did he even consider wasting his time on pondering it. He would find out soon enough, he imagined.
As the sun set on the horizon, plunging the beach in darkness and illuminating the sky with the moon and stars, a feast began. Fire pits were created in the sand for the roasting of pork and rabbit while the men brought provisions in barrels, no doubt alcohol among them, from their ship. Soon, many of the guards had drank half their weight in alcohol, soaked up by the hearty meals they feasted upon, all the while insulting, teasing and mocking the captive soldiers with a show of food and drink, none of which they were even able to sample.
Now would’ve been the perfect time to attack, had it been possible, Deros thought. Half the men undoubtedly didn’t know where their swords were, let alone had the capabilities of using them. The fight would’ve been verging upon easy, though, perhaps, still not enough to give Lionessa the upper hand.
The entertainment was all that King Alessio meant by his words. Late into the night, seated amongst his most trusted men, he instructed his soldiers to take two of the captives, giving them swords only for the purpose to fight one another. The two Lionessan soldiers wished nothing more to be executed any other way, a desperate plea that was clear on their faces by the white light of the moon. They shared a quick glance, one that intrigued Deros for a moment. They charged towards one another and pierced each other’s chests, just between the ribs, taking each other’s lives quickly and with little entertainment towards their captives who booed them in utter disappointment and ridicule.