by Casey Odell
“Send you?” asked a voice from behind the king. “What could you hope to accomplish?”
“All I ask for is three months,” she said, ignoring his question. In truth, she really didn’t know how she was going to accomplish her task, how she was going to find them. All she knew was that she had to try. “Just stop the centaurs for three months. Please.” She glanced over them, her voice pleading. “My home, my world, has been destroyed. Everything that I knew is now gone. Even…” she choked, her throat growing tight. “Even my mother.”
“But you cannot deny that the plan has worked,” said the gruff voice.
“Don’t think I am doing this for you!” She whirled on the man, fury replacing the sorrow. Never did she wish to hear those words again. Was that all she was to these men? Some sort of treasure to be sought and gained by any means necessary? “How can you all just sit there and let this happen? There are people dying out there! And for what?”
“Has the king not told you?” asked the clear voice.
“He has told me enough. But this is not the way to do things.” She turned her gaze to the shadow of the man. “Even if the whole world is in peril, this is not how you should save it. We are not some objects that you can just take and do with as you please. Do you think any of us will side with you, cooperate with you, if they found out the truth? You should be ashamed of yourselves. I am glad that you are shrouded in darkness because I don’t wish to see the faces of men who could do such evil.”
The room grew quiet again for several moments.
Claire took a slow shaky breath. She’d let her anger get the best of her again. Perhaps they wouldn’t even consider her request now.
“Three months, you say?” asked a voice from the middle left.
“Yes,” she answered, quietly.
“Is it true?” asked a hoarse voice from the top right row. “About your… mark?”
“Is what true, my lord?” she asked carefully. How much had they heard? Razi had been gone for the past few weeks, but surely the Council had their spies within the palace. She hadn’t been careful enough trying to hide it.
“May we see it?” he asked.
“I-I don’t see how that is any concern for my request,” she stammered, slowly covering her right hand with her left.
A few whispers echoed through the room.
Claire grew uncomfortable, even more so than she’d been. She wasn’t sure she liked where this was heading.
“Hide it all you want,” said a deep voice to the right, center row. “But we will see it regardless.”
There was a snap of fingers and then the guards were on her, grabbing her suddenly from behind. Just like in the forest throne room all those months ago, only this time they weren’t as kind.
“Let go!” she cried, terror filling her. If they found out, what would they do to her? Certainly, she wouldn’t be as valuable to them if they found her powers didn’t work as they wanted.
One of the guards grabbed her tight, his arms circling her waist, lifting her up off the floor, armor digging into her flesh. The other stretched her right arm out for the Council to see.
“Wait!” Claire shouted, struggling to escape their grip. But it was useless. Their hold was too strong. “Please don’t!”
The Councilmen remained silent as they watched, ignoring her cries. The guard that held her arm drew a dagger from his side and slipped it under the sleeve of her dress, then he began to cut, shredding the fabric, tearing it away to reveal the wild dark lines of the mark, now almost halfway up her upper arm.
The heavy clunk of the doors sounded through the room just then and all their eyes shifted up away from her. She knew instantly by the expression on the king’s face who it was, the ever-so-slight change from cold to anger.
“Claire!” Farron shouted, his footsteps approaching from behind rapidly.
Her heart leaped. Why was he here? She didn’t dare turn to face him. How could she after what she’d done to him?
Farron grabbed the guard holding her arm out and shoved him away. The other released her quickly and she stumbled to her feet. The Council erupted into chaos at their new arrival.
“What is the meaning of this? We had a deal!” Farron’s eyes swept across the Council, fury in his voice.
One of the men said, “The agreement is still in place, but it is null if it is she who approaches us.”
Farron’s attention snapped to her. She tried her best to ignore it, casting her gaze down to the floor.
“All I ask is just enough time,” she said softly, unsure if anyone could hear her. Why did he have to show up?
“Is three months enough time?” asked the low clear voice from the right.
She paused, considering her answer, in the end opting for the truth. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” the gravelly voiced man asked, incredulous. “And we should trust you with such a task?”
“What is the meaning of this, Claire?” Farron asked, turning towards her, ignoring the Council members.
“This doesn’t concern you.” Still, she wouldn’t look at him. Her eyes belonged only to the old men who would decide her fate.
“How will you find them? Is it true that your powers do not work?” a deep voice from the third row asked.
The question threw her. So they did know. “I-I will find them, you have my word if I have yours. How I do it is my own business.”
“Claire, you don’t know what you’re doing,” Farron said in a hushed voice, his hand encircled her arm just above her elbow. “Please don’t make a deal with them!”
“Leave, Farron!” she snapped back as she yanked her arm from his grip. He may have been right, but it was too late to turn back now. Her mind was made up.
“Is it true that your powers consume you?” This one from the second row, to her left.
The question grabbed Farron’s attention. He looked up over her head to the man who had asked it.
Claire tensed, her breath catching. She didn’t want Farron to know what was happening to her.
“Claire, we should go.” Farron turned back to her.
“Stop it!” she choked out, a lump gathering in her throat. Tears started to sting at her eyes. It was all just too much. “Please leave.”
“Claire, please!” His voice was pleading, desperate.
“Is it true that you are dying?” The king’s voice suddenly filled the room, hushing everyone to silence.
Farron froze, then slowly looked up at his brother.
Claire let out a deep breath, half sobbing. He had done that on purpose, the king. They all knew it, but for some reason he wanted Farron to know. “I… I don’t know.” Farron looked down at her, then at her arm, confused, worried. Scared.
Another round of hushed whispers swept over the old men.
“I think what these good men wish to know, my lady, is if you are able to fulfill your end of the agreement before that thing on your arm consumes you,” the king said, recovering from his outburst.
“I will find them. That is all I have to promise. I beg of you, please let me do this.”
More whispers. The king laced his fingers together in front of him, seemingly satisfied, considering.
“Send me, then,” Farron said suddenly.
The king sat up straight, a frown settling in on his beautiful face.
“That is unnecessary,” Claire said.
“And why should we send you?” asked a hoarse and thin voice.
“The others, of her kind,” Farron said, clear and confident. He wasn’t intimidated by these men, and it showed. “You wish to find them, I take it. Then send me.”
“And again, we ask you why?”
The king’s eyes found Claire’s, and she averted hers to the floor. He was unhappy with her, but she didn’t see how that was her fault. She didn’t know what to do. The matter was going beyond her.
“Am I not the one who found two already?” Farron asked.
“By luck.”
&
nbsp; “The kind of luck you need right now, as I’ve come to understand,” he snarled.
“This is hog shit!” the gravelly voice chimed in again. “What makes you think that we should trust you not to run off again, taking her with you?”
“He may be right,” said another.
“I don’t need him to finish my task,” Claire told them, anxious for them to make a decision. She did not want him coming on her mission any more than his brother or the Council did.
“I will pledge my allegiance to you,” Farron announced, his voice raised to be heard over the Councilmen.
Silence fell over the room for a heartbeat, then two.
The king shot up from his seat as the room erupted into chaos again. His eyes burned into Farron.
Claire swallowed hard, shocked. It was the last thing she had expected. The king was furious. The elders surprised. Everything had gotten out of control. Why was he doing this? Why was he going so far for her, even now? She didn’t want this, not one bit. But she was helpless to stop it.
“After all these years, you are finally willing to pledge?” There was amusement in the voice from the second row, left.
The king’s terrifying gaze shifted to her. She just looked back at him in dismay.
“No,” she whispered. “Please no.”
“If that is what it will take to have you trust me enough with this.” Farron grew still next to her.
The Councilmen talked amongst each other for a few moments.
“Farron, don’t!” she growled, her hands clamping into fists. “I don’t need you for this.”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Claire,” he whispered.
Claire couldn’t stand it anymore. She had to get out, away from this mess. She let out an exasperated sigh. How did things get to this? Farron had done exactly what she’d been trying so hard to prevent. “Do we have a deal, my lords?” she asked, suddenly tired. “You have nothing to lose but a few months of your time if I don’t succeed.”
They were silent until one of them finally spoke up.
“You have made my conscience heavy today,” said the deep clear voice. “I vote yeah.”
Relief temporarily filled her. But she needed more than that. One by one the Councilmen voted, surprisingly in her favor, with the gravelly voice and a few others as exceptions. Her goal in making them feel guilty had worked. As well they should have. Where was their conscience when they had agreed to the centaur attacks in the first place?
“You have won your cause,” King Líadan said, his voice cold, dismissive.
Anxiety roiled in the pit of her stomach. She was glad, but then there came the monumental task that now lay before her. “Thank you, my lords.” Claire curtsied again, bowing low. Farron was quiet beside her. “I will leave at once, then.”
Then, before they could say anything more, Claire turned and rushed to the doors, still open from before. She heard the voices of the Councilmen behind her, but they were too low to make out what they said. The guards stood aside as she passed through the doorway.
“I’m sorry, Claire.” Lianna stepped out from the shadows just outside the room.
Claire stopped short, her eyes going wide. So it was her that had told him. Regret showed clear on Lianna’s face, a strange sight indeed. She didn’t know what to say to her. Too much was already racing through her mind. So, she just continued on her way, only stopping when she turned the corner of the corridor. Out of sight, she leaned her forehead against a marble pillar. The cool stone felt great against her skin. A tear slid down her cheek, then another.
Her hands shook, her whole body trembled. It was a wonder that she had been able to speak so forcefully to those shadowed men, to stand at all in front of them. She may not have been able to inherit her mother’s courage, but she could at least pretend that she had. In the end, she had gotten what she wanted, or most of it, anyway. And that’s what mattered. She could tremble and cry to her heart’s content in her room, away from prying eyes. Away from one silver-haired elf. She couldn’t let him know how scared she was. How weak she felt. How much she needed him, if even just as a friend, as the support she desperately wanted.
But she knew she couldn’t have him, not even as that.
“Claire,” Farron’s voice sounded from the end of the hall.
Quickly, she straightened and wiped the tears from her cheeks. It was no use fleeing. His footsteps approached fast.
His hand encircled her arm and spun her around to face him. “Why are you doing this?” Worry showed clear and raw on his face.
It was the first time she had looked at him in days, and it was just as hard as she thought it would be. He looked tired. Hints of dark shadows showed under his eyes. It seemed he hadn’t gotten any more rest than she had lately.
“Do you remember,” she said softly, “when I told you how I hated feeling powerless? How I couldn’t do anything to stop the attacks? This is something I can do.”
His grip loosened, his expression softening.
“I may not be able to fight them, but it’s something. If I can spare even just one town, just one person, from what I had to go through, then it will all be worth it.” She couldn’t stop the tears from sliding down her cheeks again. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Farron,” the king called. He stood at the end of the hall, still displeased by the look of it.
“Not now!” Farron shouted.
“By order of the king!” his brother demanded.
Claire flinched. It was the first time she’d ever seen the king lose his composure.
“You will obey me now or so help me, I will send you into the deepest bowels of the dungeons. Don’t think I won’t.”
Farron made a sound close to a growl, then turned towards the king.
Claire took the chance to pry out of his grip and ran. At first, she wasn’t sure to where— she just needed to get away. But then she found her feet leading to her room. She needed to leave. Soon. Tonight if possible. She couldn’t risk having Farron follow her on her mission. It would just be too hard.
With shaking hands and a vigor she hadn’t felt in weeks, Claire shoved a few changes of clothes, along with the fancy hand mirror and comb, as well as a few other select items to sell or barter along the way, into a rough-looking rucksack. One that Marla had managed to rummage up from who-knows-where. Claire was grateful, however, and proceeded to pack her scant belongings while Marla ran to the kitchens to see if she couldn’t work her magic there as well. Even though at the beginning she was unsure about having a maid look after her, Claire had found herself growing increasingly fond of the older woman, who was always helping her out when she was in a pinch, in her calm and quiet manner. She truly was going to miss her.
Claire paused for a moment before strapping the belt with the dagger about her waist. She’d changed in a hurry into brown slacks and a deep maroon shirt, close-fitting and light for the warm days. A cropped leather jacket covered her arms, mainly as a way to hide the ever growing mark, but light and soft enough for the journey ahead. She was tempted to leave the dagger behind, being a gift from Farron and all, but what else did she have? People were still after her, and although not very good with it, it was always nice to have a blade between her and the enemy. She took a deep breath and buckled the belt on. Her guilt would just have to deal with it.
She touched the pendant around her neck and made sure the chain was secure. If she lost it, who knew what would happen? It was the last thing keeping her sanity, and wild, ever growing mark in check, and her nightmares at bay.
Her fingers worked her hair into its familiar braid as she waited for Marla to return. Her heart beat at a steady but frantic pace. Where would she go? How would she even start? Suddenly the task just seemed too monumental for her to undertake all by herself. She should have never agreed to do it all by herself. But what other choice did she have? She couldn’t have Farron join her; that would just be too painful. For both of them. Lianna wasn’t likely to leave
the comforts of the palace anytime soon. And Razi was far away fighting beasts, a noble cause no matter the reasons why he was doing it.
No, she was on her own for this journey. But where to start? If only Mother were here—
Claire froze, the idea striking her like lightning. Of course!
Quickly, she finished off her braid and tied the pack shut, the idea forming in her head. The man in the dungeon had pointed her in the direction of her mother. Finally, she had the freedom to leave and resume her search once more— even if it wasn’t for one of her kind, it was a start. The king had said that the Syndicate had a few in their custody already. Perhaps her mother would have a clue as to where they might be. That is, if she would help her. Or if it was even her in the first place. It could be a trap for all she knew, but it was a risk she was willing to take.
Tired and too anxious to wait any longer, Claire left to find Marla, taking in the sight of her marvelous room for what could be the last time.
“Do ya know how to ride a horse?” The boy was young, his voice just beginning to crack with the first signs of manhood. He ran a hand through his tousled brown hair and yawned.
He hadn’t expected her, or anyone for that matter, at such a late hour. Claire felt a pang of regret for waking the boy. He’d looked so peaceful, sound asleep in a stack of fresh hay. After meeting up with Marla, she had pointed her in the direction of the stables, but not before hugging and scolding her for her rash decisions. She’d said a few words in her native tongue, and Claire couldn’t help but feel not all of them were entirely friendly.
“Not exactly,” she replied, feeling even guiltier. Her fiancé had led her around once or twice on one of the horses reserved for members of Stockton's defense squadron. But that was years ago, and to be honest, the experience had frightened her.
The stables were dark, except for a few lanterns lit here and there. Rows of stalls lined both walls. A rustling or slight snort could be heard every now and then. The whole palace was asleep, and the town below as well. It was the perfect time to leave. Although the stable boy, and probably the horse that would be unlucky enough to be hers, would think otherwise.