by Ashenden, V.
The walk was long in the huge church, the music cycling over the same notes, but at last, she climbed the altar steps and turned to meet him, handing her flowers to a girl nearby. And then the veil was lifted off her head, revealing her crown. The music came down and the priest spoke up.
"We gather here today to celebrate the union of our beloved queen and her prince. The bond of love is the most powerful force on earth, symbolized by the union of marriage. With this bond of love, our queen will present to us today a king we can follow. Let us commence the ceremony."
* * *
Sienna's leg had begun to bleed again. She did not care though. She would feel nothing soon enough. The crowd was loud in the town, cheering and screaming, throwing vegetables at the carriage. Sienna was so hungry she bit into a rotten tomato. The other prisoners, even Homa, seemed to borrow the idea. The crowd soon changed their weapons to stones and the prisoners huddled together to shield themselves.
And then the gate to the carriage opened and she was pulled out, tripping to the ground, the other prisoners yanked along by the chain connecting them. The people were throwing things again, focusing only on her. Those nearby were spitting.
And then Sienna saw it, the gallows, a long tier made of wood, with an arch set above the floor. There were ten nooses, just enough to kill them all. She had hoped there might only be nine. A rock hit her in the face, making her stumble on her bad leg, but Homa picked her up.
"I'm here, child."
"Come on, come on!" a guard said, nudging Sienna with his spear.
Sienna looked around. There were soldiers everywhere, forming a barrier to keep the crowd at bay, all with spears. There had to be at least fifty of them. Did they need so many guards for ten chained prisoners?
And then she saw her uncle in the crowd, standing beside Mrs. Crockery, both of them shaking their heads in disapproval. Truthfully, she had begun to entertain the idea of her poor uncle saving her, shooting an arrow through the rope at the last moment or, or secretly dressing as the executioner.
The executioner. She saw him next, waiting up on the tier, a black robe all about his person. Sienna was shaking, trembling all over. She had stopped walking.
"Be brave, child," Homa whispered. "Don't let them have the satisfaction."
Sienna glanced over her shoulder. The satisfaction? The satisfaction of what, knowing she was scared to die? They could have the satisfaction, and she prayed the satisfaction would turn to pity and somehow, someway, they would not do this. She began to cry.
"Please, no," she whimpered.
"Move it!" a soldier shouted, jabbing her with the end of his spear. "Climb the stairs! Move!"
She was shaking her head. She couldn't do it. Never, not to that executioner.
"Please..."
"Be strong, child," Homa repeated, putting her hands on her shoulders, leading her forward.
Sienna looked down as her feet hit the wooden stairs. "I can't do it. I can't. Oh, God, no. No. No. Court, where are you? Court! Court, save me! Court!"
A guard grabbed Sienna's hair and pulled her up the stairs. She cried out as she stumbled, falling to her knees. The crowd cheered. She was pulled all the way to the first noose, the rope hanging there in midair, the wind taking it from side to side. Her eyes were down, everything blurry around her, but she could still see the breaks in the floor, could hear the sound of the wood creaking, the wood that would fall away and take her to her death. Sienna was sobbing now, screaming.
"Please! I don't want to die! Court! Please!"
One by one, the soldiers removed the shackles holding the prisoners. Their arms were re-secured behind their backs, this time with rope. Sienna pulled against them, but then they stood her up straight and the noose was slipped around her neck. She shrieked.
"God, save me! I'm innocent! I didn't kill the queen! I didn't kill her! Someone, please! Court, help me!"
"Sienna," Homa urged. "Be strong, child! It will be quick!"
Sienna wept as the soldiers stepped away, leaving her alone, the platform beneath her feet waiting to open up and swallow her, the noose already so tight around her neck it hurt to breathe. She tried to step away but there was no slack to move.
And then the executioner walked past, his eyes blue behind his black mask, moving down the line of prisoners, one by one looking at them. The crowd was growing quiet, watching, waiting for the finale.
"Prisoners!" the executioner called. "Each of you is entitled to your last words! Say them now! You there, start!"
The first man on the end snarled at the crowd. "I ain't sorry! Rot in hell!"
The second was a woman. "Please, he beat me! I was defending myself! Take pity!"
The third, another man said, "I robbed the coach, but I didn't kill the driver! I shouldn't be here!"
The fourth spoke up. "She was sweet."
The fifth, a woman said, "My family was starving! Please, someone give me another chance!"
The sixth took his turn. "The lord forgives you."
The seventh was quiet. He shook his head, saying nothing.
The eighth spit at the crowd. "Who's worse, me for killin' them or you for killin' me?"
The ninth, Homa cleared her throat and said, "Long live the king! And if he does not, believe it was the queen who took his life!"
Tenth, Sienna looked at the crowd. She lifted her eyes past them, up to the sunset. Dark clouds filled the sky, rumbling to bring the rain, running to her, lightning flashing. She cried out, "Court, I love you!"
And then the executioner pulled the lever and the floor dropped out from under her.
* * *
"And now," the priest said, "the vows, prepared by the bride and groom. Queen Celeste, if you please."
Celeste took out a small piece of paper, reading from it like a dictionary. "Court, you are the finest man I have ever met, and I am honored to be marrying you. We haven't known each other long, but in the time we've been together, I have met my best friend. I came to know that I fell in love with you the moment you kissed me in the courtyard. That was our moment, a moment I shall not ever forget, for it was the moment our love was created. You may not have been my first kiss, but you shall forever be my last."
Court's smile began to fade, sinking down his face, his eyes narrowing. The crowd was applauding and awing. Celeste gave them a grin, bowing her head. When she looked back at Court, she seemed to notice something was amiss in his eyes.
"Prince Cross," the priest said, "your vows, if you please."
Court did not need a piece of paper. He recited from memory, glaring at her as he spoke. "Celeste, before I met you, I was worried we would have nothing in common, that I'd be cursed to grow old with a woman I did not love, but then we danced and I found my soul mate, the one person who I have ever loved. I knew it the moment you told me I was your first kiss, and it was my hope that I would forever be the last."
The crowd grew quiet, murmuring to each other, their applause subdued. Celeste looked away from his eyes, swallowing, hiding a very small smile.
"The rings," the priest spoke up.
Celeste took out her ring.
Court did not. He just stared at her. "Who...who are you?"
"Prince Cross, your ring," Celeste said. "Priest, continue."
"Celeste Friora Avelot," the priest said, "do you take this man to be your husband, to love him and cherish him for all time, to serve by his side as his queen?"
"I do," Celeste said, reaching out, grabbing Court's hand, slipping the ring onto his finger.
Court looked down at it. Then Celeste's hand lifted, hovering in the air.
"Court Cornelius Cross," the priest said, "do you take this woman to be your wife, to love her and cherish her for all time, to serve by her side as her king?"
He looked up at her again, looked into her eyes. The crowd below held their breath at his silence.
"My ring, Prince Cross," Celeste whispered. "Do not dare cross me. You have asked for my hand and you will accept it, or
it will be war between our lands."
Court drew out his ring, grabbing her hand and shoving it on. "I do."
"The crown," the priest said. At his word, the steward brought a pillow with the king's crown sitting atop it. "Your majesty," the priest said, "crown your king. Bow, Prince Cross."
Court did not bow. He stood there, glaring at her. "It wasn't you, was it? Somehow, it wasn't you."
Celeste picked up the crown, raising her voice. "Court Cornelius Cross, as my husband, I do so endow you with the power of kingship over me and my lands." She lifted her arms, placing it on his head. "Take your place as my king and husband."
"Who was it?" he whispered, stepping closer. "Tell me."
"By the power vested in me," the priest said, "I pronounce you husband and wife, king and queen. Long live the king and queen!"
"Long live the king and queen!" the crowd echoed.
"You may kiss your queen, your majesty," the priest said.
Court did not kiss her. He was trembling. She had lied to him. It all began to fall into place. She had been switched, somehow, for some reason, with someone else behind the mask. Yes, her behavior had never been the same as that first night. How had he not realized it sooner? This was not the woman who he had fallen in love with. But then, who was it? Who? Who? Who!
"Who!" he shouted.
Celeste grabbed his shoulders and pulled him in, kissing him. He pulled away, breaking the kiss, and the music immediately came up, the crowd standing and applauding. Celeste turned, taking his arm, but he grabbed her, turning her back.
"Who was behind the mask, Celeste? Who? Who?"
She glared at him, her teeth clenching, her lip curling, the crowd still cheering, the music high in their ears.
"Who do you think, you fool?" she spat. "Who have you been running about saving all over the countryside? Who have you been spending your evenings with? Who have you been pining for whilst you were with me? And who, this very moment, hangs from the gallows? Yes! Your stable girl is dead, dead, dead, hung as your vows escaped your lips!"
Court's eyes spread far open, releasing Celeste's arms, stepping back. "No."
"Yes! You are my husband now, King Cross, and you will accept the fate with glee, for your peasant love is beyond you now."
"You killed her!" he shouted, grabbing her again. "You killed her!"
"No, I did not kill her," she whispered, her lips tight. "We killed her together. She hung from the rope on my command and with your words of condemnation ringing in her ears!"
"How could you do this?" he whispered in horror. "How? Why? I loved you."
"You loved her," she corrected, "but I have never loved you. Now, come along, King Cross. Walk me down the aisle. We must dance at our reception and make merry with our guests. The gravedigger has his own tasks to attend to."
Court fell to his knees there on the altar, the clapping crowd quieting in confusion, the music repeating without pause. And then the lighting flashed, the thunder rolled, and the great stain glass window shattered.
* * *
Vrine was laughing as she watched the gallows in the mirror. "Are you watching, servant? Perhaps I'll keep you alive long enough to witness your prince's death too. Would you like that, to die after him? Maybe I'll even keep you alive as my pet? I could turn you into a frog. Would that be better, to be a frog?"
She turned around, her eyes widening. Wellington was struggling, drawing the sword from his side, inching it out of its scabbard, the blade rubbing up against the vines. And then they snapped.
Wellington was on his feet instantly, pulling the sword out of the hilt, yelling as he charged. Vrine grabbed a vile from the shelf, smashing it on the ground. It sent a smoke plume into his eyes, blinding him. Wellington withdrew, coughing and squinting, the room hazy, his eyes burning.
"Where are you, witch?" he shouted.
"The prince's valet has a trick or two up his sleeve," Vrine said.
Wellington spun around, trying to follow the voice.
"A blind frog," she said, laughing. "Yes, I think I will."
He spun back around. The walls were echoing her voice. Where was she? He closed his eyes to focus. Then he heard it, the sound of glass vials clinking together. He lunged forward, cleaving. He felt the blade hit flesh and Vrine shrieked.
"My hand! You've taken my hand!"
Had he? Well, he was proud of that, at least. He opened his eyes, begging his vision to return. "There's yet more to take, witch!"
A vial suddenly struck him in the chest. He roared as it burned through his clothes, eating away his skin. He tore his shirt off in a frantic hurry.
"I am not going to turn you into a frog, servant!" Vrine shouted. "I will turn you into a goat and eat your heart!"
As Wellington backed up, his backside bumped into the caldron, searing his flesh. He hissed and spun around, keeping it in front of him. He sharpened his ears, listening, trying to catch footsteps. She was coming closer.
"Are you ready for the pain?" Vrine said.
Right in front of him! He dropped his sword, a gesture which paused Vrine for a moment, and then he shoved his hands forward, right against the cauldron. He hollered in pain as it burnt his flesh from his hands, but then it tipped, the scolding liquid flushing across the floor. Vrine cried out.
He tried his vision again, blinking, seeing her hazy image on the floor, writhing and flailing. He grasped up his sword, charging over the liquid, splashing it underfoot, the droplets burning his legs, and then grabbed Vrine by the neck, holding his sword, ready to impale her.
"Do not move, witch!"
Vrine was moaning in pain, slumped against the mirror, holding her bloody wrist, breathing tiredly, burns all over her body from the cauldron.
"Now, witch," he said, his vision growing clearer, "you'll answer for your crimes."
"Think you've won, servant?" she said angrily. "You can't kill me! If I die, the dragon will become wild! It will devour your prince, and anyone else it so chooses!"
"Then perhaps I will not kill you," Wellington said. "Call the dragon. Give it a new order."
"What? What order?" she spat.
"Send it to the gallows."
"Why?"
"To save the stable girl! I can't reach her in time, but that dragon can!" Wellington looked up at the image in the mirror. The noose was already around Sienna's neck. "Call it! Send it for her now!"
"Or what?"
"Or your blood is on this mirror!"
Vrine snarled, taking her hand away from her bloody limb. She withdrew a whistle, putting it to her lips and blowing. Then she motioned to the shelf. "The black vial with the scales inside. Add to it the golden hair from the dish."
He grabbed the vial and the hair, holding it up. "These?"
"Smash it to the floor."
He pressed the blade to her throat. "This better work, or I will slay you, witch."
He smashed the vial on the ground and a black fog rose. Vrine held her hand out.
"Dragon of the sky, wake and crow,
"Your duty to me, perform, bring death and woe.
"Take the scent of the one I show,
"Bring this girl to her love and do not slow."
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Revenge of the Dragon
Sienna closed her eyes, and then the floor fell out from under her feet. She expected the noose to stop her. Instead, the dragon smashed into the gallows, shattering the beam holding the rope. She fell to the ground underneath the platform, the wood breaking apart all around her.
Sienna climbed to her knees, coughing, her noose tight. She looked up to see Homa on the ground next to her. And then the dragon roared, standing on the gallows overhead, the rain pouring as it looked down. The townspeople were screaming, the soldiers shouting, and then the dragon let off a blast of fire and everyone ran. The gallows began burning, the rain fighting with the flame.
"Homa!" Sienna cried. "Are you okay?"
"I think so, child. What's happening?"
The dragon had grabbed her, pulling her up, her noose still tied to the broken beam. She immediately began suffocating. The dragon roared and bit the rope, severing it from the beam. Sienna coughed desperately.
"Sienna!" Homa called, trying to stand.
The dragon leapt into the air, landing on top of the bakery. Sienna could see the people below, fleeing through the streets, even the soldiers. The prisoners, all except Homa, were running away with their nooses wagging like tails behind them. The dragon leapt off the roof, flapping, taking to the sky.
Sienna pinched her eyes shut. She had never been very good with heights. She knew it was going to happen again, just like last time, back to the dragon's cave, down into the pit, but this time, maybe she was thankful, maybe Court would come, would save her. She could see him again.
But as she peeked through one eye, cringing at the distant ground, she saw they were flying toward the castle, circling around behind it. Sienna was so confused, and then the dragon dove, flying at a great speed, aiming for a large, circular stained-glass window. She screamed as they smashed through it.
Suddenly, the dragon dropped her from its paw. She fell, plummeting toward the floor, having a brief second to see the church in the castle. She didn't even know castles had churches. Celeste was standing on the altar in her beautiful white wedding dress, the priest looking up at the dragon, Court on his knees, his head hanging. The guests were behind the pews, crying out, running for the exits as the guards charged to the altar.
Sienna smashed into Court, knocking him off the altar and tumbling with him onto the floor. They rolled together and she wound up on top. It was all she could do to sit up on her knees, straddling him with her hands tied behind her back, looking down. His eyes blinked a few times, as if he couldn't believe it.