by N M Zoltack
Earing with Aldus would be preferable.
No. Eating with that Marcellus Gallus would be far more desirable. Whoever it was that had killed the other Vincanan had caused a splendidly terrible mess of things.
Sabine eyed her mother with suspicion but then shook her head. Her mother would not have killed that man. There had been nothing to gain and far too much to lose by his death.
Unless her mother wished for war. War was when kingdoms fell and were then rebuilt after all.
"You are preoccupied tonight." Her mother stared at Sabine over the top of the goblet.
"As are you," Sabine said.
"Are you worried?"
"About the threat of war?"
"Is there another reason for you to be so unnerved?"
"No."
"Not that your people are already grumbling against you because of raised taxes, which will have to be increased once the threat of war is realized."
"We should not wait that long," Sabine said. "We need to prepare for war now. Even if war does not come, somehow, someway, being prepared would be preferable."
"Yes, I suppose that is so." Her mother pursed her lips before relaxing them into a smile. "I am proud of you."
For the moment.
Sabine returned the smile and then stood. "If you will excuse me…"
"You did not finish your food." Her mother tilted her head, appraising Sabine critically.
"My appetite is fine."
"You find the food lacking?"
"I have had enough," Sabine said perhaps a little harshly.
Her mother's gaze dropped to Sabine's torso.
Sabine glided out of the room. If her mother thought Sabine was pregnant, her mother erred. Sabine had been with Aldus, yes, but she knew the precautions to take to ensure an unwanted pregnancy would not occur. Now, if Sabine had been able to convince either or any of the Vincanans to lay with her…
But, alas, that had not been the case. War was imminent. As much as Sabine suspected that the younger queen was responsible for taxes being raised in Sabine's name, Sabine could not deny that the move had been a necessary one. Could she turn about and make it so that Rosalynne was to blame for the increase due to the war preparations? Would the people accept these taxes as necessary, though? Their safety was Sabine's first concern.
That and keeping the crown on her head.
Although Sabine met with her main advisor daily, another meeting could not hurt. Sabine turned to her guard. Tall, well built, with blond hair and blue eyes, Thorley Everett had once been Rosalynne's guard until the younger princess insisted that Sabine have a guard of her own. Sabine was no fool. The guard was meant to spy on her, but Sabine knew how to elude him when it came for certain meetings with Aldus. This gathering, though, would be ones of words, and so Thorley could know and do his part.
"Find Aldus Perez and send him to the library to meet with me at once," Sabine demanded.
The guard bowed deeply. "But who will watch over you—"
"In the scant few minutes it will take for me to journey to the library? A place where I am most certainly going to be safe?" she asked dryly.
"But after all of the murders—"
"If someone were to come after me, they would have done so already. Leave. The quicker you tell Aldus, the quicker you can return—with him."
"As you wish." Thorley bowed and marched away.
Sabine did not care for the library. She entered the room a few moments later. The air inside was stifling, stuffy, and she always felt as if she could not breathe here. Every inch on the walls had been turned into built-in shelves, and there were also additional rows of bookcases. Tables dotted the spaces between the rows, and Sabine chose a table near one of the only windows in the suffocating room.
Minutes passed, far more than she would have thought necessary for the advisor to be located. To pass the time, Sabine stood and wandered up and down the bookcases, eyeing the scrolls and books but not touching any. Only a few persons were gathered in the library, and they spoke in low whispers concerning an affair Sabine had not heard of yet.
This talk with Aldus would be interesting indeed.
When a full half-hour had passed, Sabine rushed to the door, intent to locate the advisor herself. There, coming down the hall, was Aldus and Thorley.
Sabine concealed her sneer.
Aldus bowed his head and glanced over her shoulder. "Should we go elsewhere to talk?"
"Not at all." Sabine turned to address those gathered in the library. "Might we have the room please?"
Wordlessly, the people gathered their items and left, some glancing at Sabine, most overlooking the advisor, all ignoring the guard.
Aldus shut the door, and Sabine clasped her arms behind her back as she stalked back toward the window.
"Under whose authority is the execution to take place?" she demanded icily.
"Why, you did, of course."
Sabine refused to turn and face him, afraid her expression might give her away.
"Who spoke to you about this in my name?" she murmured. Before the advisor could answer, she shook her head and held up her hand.
"Your mother," he said unnecessarily as Sabine had already worked it out.
What had changed? What had caused Greta to push forward like this, and what was she attempting to accomplish? To show that Sabine could handle matters and locate murderers? They were no closer to learning who had slain the Vincanan, and that was the one they desperately needed if they were to delay or even halt entirely the coming war with Vincana.
Fury laced through Sabine, and she brought her arms forward, clenching her fits and lowering them to rest on the table before the windowsill. Having Ulric as a captive provided Sabine a great deal of leverage. Perhaps that in and of itself was forcing her mother's hand.
Well, Sabine was not ready to lose her leverage. If Ulric were to escape by her hand, the servant would be indebted to her. He would be willing to spy for her, and any allegiance he might feel toward another would be dissolved.
Yes, that would be the best way to handle this most cumbersome predicament.
"What else would you like to discuss?" Aldus asked.
"I have other matters to attend to," Sabine said bluntly.
"Of course, My Queen." Aldus stared at her as he bowed, his gaze never wavering from her face.
"From now on, if someone addresses you on my behalf, you will ignore unless the words come from my lips too," Sabine uttered.
"I am not to trust your mother?" he asked.
He was baiting her.
Sabine merely smiled. "Trust is for fools."
"Without trust, one cannot have allies."
"Believe me. I know this well."
Aldus nodded but held his tongue. Oh, the man was cunning. No one could deny that. Had he insisted that she could trust him, she would have countered that only an unworthy fool would feel the need to voice that sentiment aloud. By maintaining his silence, he was suggesting that he had no reason to believe she did not trust him.
"Until tomorrow," she said, moving past him.
"Until the execution."
Sabine forced herself not to halter and left the room. The guard fell into step behind her.
"Can you go and see to my mother?" she murmured. "Without her knowing."
"Do you mean you wish for me to—"
"Spy? Not so much as I wish to know what else she is doing behind my back."
"If you wish," he said slowly.
"Rosalynne asked you to watch over me, to keep me safe, perhaps to spy on me. I know that. However, as a guard, your duty should be toward the crown and the crown alone. My mother is playing a dangerous game, and she might well be plotting against both Rosalynne and me. It is in both of your queens' interest that you do this."
Thorley bowed. "Very well."
Sabine did not wait for him to depart but rushed to the dungeons. How exactly she would aid Ulric in escaping, she had not yet determined. Did the servant even know he was t
o die yet? First, she would speak with him. Then, she would deduce her next course of action.
The moment Sabine reached the dungeon floor, she knew something was the matter. The place, normally dark and dim, barely illuminated by torches, was ablaze with light as if the sun had somehow entered the depths of the castle. Guards were rushing about, shouting at one another, and Sabine stood there, listening hard until she construed what their frantic worry concerned.
Ulric Cooper had escaped.
24
Fugitive Ulric Cooper
The sound of his rapidly beating heart echoed with the pounding of his bare feet on the gravel. Ulric Cooper could hardly believe it.
One or both of the queens had sentenced him to be executed.
Two, the guard Col Hobbs had taken it upon himself to not only deliver this news to Ulric but also to free the prisoner.
"Once you leave these bars," Col had whispered, "I cannot risk helping you anymore. You'll be on your own."
"The bars never would have kept me safe," Ulric had whispered. "Not from war, not from anything."
"Just do your best to get out of here and keep on running. That's all I can say."
"Thank—"
Col had yanked open the cell and covered Ulric's mouth with his dirty hand. "You can't say anything more," he said before grabbing Ulric's shirt and yanking him forward. “Now go before you’re discovered. I can only wait a few minutes before I have to sound the alarm.”
Ulric had never been down to the dungeon until he had been wrongfully imprisoned there for Noll's murder. That didn't mean he hadn't had time to think about where the dungeon was in relation to everything else in the castle. Ulric knew there had to be more than one set of stairs, and since Col had moved toward the one the guards used with frequency.
Racing past cell after cell had twisted Ulric's stomach. He hated to think that they might all be filled one day, but for now, all he needed was to find a way out of here, a window, a staircase, anything…
He did find a stairwell, and he climbed it and reached a hallway that led near a door to the stables and the bunker. Although that way meant safety out of the castle walls, it also meant the chances of rediscovery was high if he could not successfully steal a horse without being seen.
Instead, Ulric headed toward the communal room the servants used to wash themselves. He swiped some of the clothes from the males bathing, changed his attire, most grateful for the hat, and headed deeper into the servants' wings. From there, he was able to slip out another door that only servants used.
That had been an hour ago. So far, Ulric had done exactly as the guard had said—to get out and keep running.
It helped that he had tried to keep his body as fit as possible despite being trapped in that small area for so long and despite the little food and drink he had been given. He had run in the cell, done exercises, anything and everything to stay strong and sharp in both mind and body.
Although he could run yet, he began to slow as he entered the poorest section on the outskirts of Atlan. Here, he could blend in easily enough. No one would look twice. Some of the people living here had trees to call their homes. They had no places of their own, no food except that which they could find or hunt. As most had no weapons, hunting was no truly an option.
Thinking about food might not have been the smartest of ideas. His stomach pained him, and he rubbed it as he surveyed the scene before him. The path he had raced along had ended, and a few people wandered about in the dark alleyways that the light of the sun never reached even when the golden orb reached its pinnacle. Some of the persons would try to sleep on the roofs of the buildings, but more times than not, they lasted not even a night before they were run off by the store owner.
A young girl eyed Ulric. He could not tell if her skin coloring was darker than his or if a layer of dirt covered her face. Her clothes were tattered, and she was missing a few teeth.
Why would she notice him? Unnerved, Ulric moved away, slipping down an alley. The stores on this street were ones run by angry men and women who wished to survive and cared only about themselves. They argued with every customer, refused to haggle, and if they noticed anyone unsavory approach their ware, they would be quick to call out, “Thief!” even if nothing had been stolen.
The smell of cooking meat drew Ulric, but he had no money on him, nothing to barter. He would have to find his own food. Ulric would not be like the man up the street, palm out, begging for scraps or coins or anything bit of help anyone might pity him with.
Ulric moved out of the poorest section to the countryside beyond. Almost every bush he found had been plucked clean already.
The farther he walked, the hungrier he became but also the more isolated he was. Soon, he couldn't see or hear another person nearby.
Until a twig snapped behind him.
Ulric darted behind the nearest bush. Had a guard come for him? How had he been found?
But he heard the whisper of fine clothing brushing against itself. No guards' clothing sounded like that.
Curious, he peeked above the bush and stared at an angel.
Queen Rosalynne Rivera.
It had been so long since he had seen her, but she looked precisely as he recalled. Well, maybe a little thinner, but she remained majestic and lovely.
And he remained ignorant and lowly.
He scrambled to his feet and bowed. "My Queen," he murmured.
"Ulric," she said softly. "I am so glad I found you."
"How did you?" he asked.
"How does not matter."
"Considering I am on the run, it does matter," he pointed out and then rushed to add, "Forgive me. I do not mean to suggest that you are wrong."
"No, I suppose you have a point. Once I learned you had fled, I figured which door you might have left from, or at least from one of the exits the servants use."
"You are correct."
"I then deduced you would keep toward the city until you could leave without being noticed. I have some friends among the peasants, not as many as I would like, but I learned from one that they had seen someone fitting your description and which way you had been heading."
"You did not have to come and find me," he muttered. "I will be fine."
"Fine with ill-fitting clothes and no coins to your name."
Rosalynne pursed her lips and shook her head. She turned about and headed toward a horse that was grazing nearby. With ease, she removed a sack from the saddle and brought it over to him.
"Inside, you will find some clothes, boots, and a coin pouch. I… I hope the boots fit," she said apologetically.
"If they do not, I will trade for ones that do," he said. "I do not know how I can repay you."
"Do not be ridiculous. I am sorry you remained in prison for so long that this was your only recourse."
He nodded, his tongue heavy in his mouth.
"I hope you know I had nothing to do with your execution," Rosalynne said, her gaze not wavering from his.
He should look down, look away. He wasn't her equal, but her dark eyes mesmerized him.
"When I learned, I first tried to have it stopped but fear that I would fail had me wanting to find another way to help you. That was when I learned you had escaped."
Admiration bloomed in his chest. He should have known Rosalynne would never have risked moving ahead with the execution.
"I cannot thank you enough."
"I have done so very little to help you, and yet you have done so much for me."
"Hardly," he muttered. "I have failed you."
"Not at all," she said firmly. After a moment, she added, "It is your choice to stay or leave."
Was it his hope that made it sound as if her voice had a hint of desperation to her words?
"What will you decide?" Rosalynne asked.
Although he should not ignore her question, Ulric found that he had no answer for the beautiful queen. He had no notion what his course of action should be, but for now, he did not wish to leave Atlan. T
his was his home, yet his home remained a most perilous locale for him.
There was no singular decent option for him.
25
Sir Edmund Hill
The day was finally here, Dudley's and Tatum's wedding day. Jurian Hansen had agreed to cover for Edmund so that no one would realize he was gone and not attending to his duties. A knight’s duty was supposed to always be first and foremost in his life. A knight, a true one, would have no family save for his kingdom. Even if a knight were to marry, his family should come second to Tenoch Proper. Edmund wished his loyalties could be divided.
No! How could he even think such a thing? That was beyond preposterous and went against all of his training, all of his vows. Knights were held to a higher standard than most because of all that was expected of them.
Edmund wore his full suit of armor. What else would he wear on such an occasion? He had hidden his gift for Tatum close to the church so he could give it to her immediately after the ceremony.
He moved into position, standing beside the groom. Dudley wore his finest clothes, nothing at all like what a noble would wear, but he did seem happy enough.
"Are you nervous?" Edmund murmured to his brother as he watched the crowd gathered to witness the union. Many Edmund did not recognize, and he supposed they were either customers of the shoe store or else Tatum's alchemy shop.
"Why would I be nervous?" Dudley grumbled.
Confused by his brother's tone, Edmund appraised Dudley critically. His brother's scowl lasted only a moment.
"I had wished to surprise Tatum with a deed for a store for the inn," Dudley explained, "but the deal fell through. I only learned this morning."
"I'm sure you'll find an even better location soon," Edmund reassured him.
Dudley shook his head. "That spot was perfect, not too close to any other inns, no close to any taverns. I can't think of a better area."
"Are the new owners going to put an inn there?" Edmund asked.
"I don't know. I think so."