Closed Doors and Broken Mirrors

by S R Nulton

He plunged the knife toward my heart… and fell over before he could touch me.

  I looked up, holding my wrist close to my chest as I felt it begin to swell. There was a big man standing over Bekin’s body, holding a club.

  He stared at me for a moment before raising the club above his head and screaming, “For the princess!”

  And that’s the story about how I started a riot in the middle of the capital city. I had a nasty feeling that Mama wasn't going to be pleased.

  ~

  Riots are ridiculously easy to start and much harder to stop. Particularly when the city guard is involved in the mayhem instead of combating it.

  As soon as he heard the battle cry, James was at my side and pulling me to safety. He was also keeping me from looking at Bekins as the man was beaten to death. I may not have liked him but no one needs to see that.

  If only I hadn’t heard it. I just knew that those sounds would haunt my dreams for the rest of my life…

  Within minutes, the crowd that had been listening intently to our plans had turned into a mob and were battling to get into the palace. The didn’t care about the structure as much as they cared about the concept. They were done with the king and they needed to get out their aggression on the closest target. Really, I think they were subconsciously drawn to his spells.

  Father had never been comfortable putting his life in someone else’s hands; he always figured that they were as duplicitous as he was. As a result, he had decided almost a century ago to get rid of the palace guards and put up a number of protective spells instead. They were mostly to keep out unwanted guests and the like, but they would also alert him if anything untoward happened.

  Like a mob attempting to tear the palace wall down, one stone at a time.

  It mostly kept the people from causing any serious damage, but that just seemed to make them angrier. Ironically, it seemed like the same complacency spell that had riled up their emotions as it faded was also keeping them from becoming distracted by those around them. Unlike every mob I'd ever heard of, they didn't lash out at any people. Well, except Bekins. Instead, the angrier they got the more they attacked the palace walls.

  “What are we going to do?” I asked as I watched more men trickle out of the city and join in. Someone had grabbed a torch and was attempting to burn the wooden doors, but he wasn’t having much luck.

  “Do we have to do anything?” Earyn asked as she moved to protect my other side. “After all, this is sort of what we were going for. Just a tad more violent.”

  I sighed. “Yes, we do have to stop it. Look I wouldn’t care if they leveled the entire palace, but we don’t know what’s in there.”

  “You mean like the wealth of the country?” James kept his eyes on the crowd as he asked but kept me in his arms the whole time. Actually, he kept one arm around me and the other poised on his sword so he could move me out of the way and protect me if necessary. It was incredibly sweet and comforting. It was also a bit annoying as it blocked my own ability to draw a weapon, but since my hands were still shaking, I decided not to bring it up.

  “Exactly. We know he has the money and he hasn’t purchased anything new for the Queen’s Castle for years now. Where is the money going? Probably somewhere in that building.” I pointed to the palace and sighed as I saw someone thrown away from the wall by a spell. “Also, they’re activating protective spells right now. Those walls are mostly meant to be nonreactive. It wouldn’t do to injure people for leaning up against the wall for a moment. That sort of thing gets around. The interior, however…”

  Judging by their expressions, the others seemed to realize what I was saying. My father was paranoid and cruel. There was no doubt in my mind that he’d placed some truly nasty traps in the courtyard and throughout the rest of the compound.

  “If we don’t stop them soon, people are going to start dying. Well, more people anyway.” Earyn shot a glance toward the body of my old butler.

  “If they’re lucky,” I agreed. “If they aren’t… well, they’ll wish they’d died.” I shivered, remembering some of the spells my father had punished me with over the years. Luckily, James had started to rub my arms when he felt my reaction and it kept me from falling apart under the weight of the memories.

  “So, anyone have a plan?” My voice was bright with false cheer but I met with only awkward silence. Well, that and the sight of someone falling off a ladder they’d tried to use to climb the wall. Fortunately, the mass of people attempting to attack the castle broke the man’s fall and saved his life. They even set him on his feet so he could join back in!

  I sighed and looked around for something to stand on. The only thing available, ironically enough, was the glass coffin. Stopping the mob would literally be over my dead body. Luckily whatever disrupted the illusion on me had also dissolved the body in the coffin, so there wouldn’t be any rumors about a counterfeit princess floating around.

  With no other choice, I moved away from my guards and had my fiancé help me up. Glass is very slippery, even when the dust has recently been cleaned off of it.

  “Anyone have an amplifier available? I don’t think they’ll hear me otherwise.”

  Pretty grimaced before pulling out a very strange object. It looked a bit like a tuning fork that had been attached by a string to a piece of slate. “It won’t amplify your voice, but it should get their attention,” she offered. “Just let me stand in front of you and cover your ears. It’s a bit loud.”

  When she saw that we’d all followed her instructions, she struck the tuning fork on the side of the slate. Then, she placed the base of the fork against the flat part of the slate.

  Have you ever heard someone drag their fingernails across a chalkboard? Have you ever done it yourself? The vibrations are just as jarring as the sound, yes? Well, now imagine that sound and then make it bigger. It sounded and felt a bit like a dragon dragging his claws across a diamond in the middle of a gigantic cave.

  We were lucky, partially protected as we were by being behind the sound and blocking our ears. It didn’t help much, but it did help. The mob was not so lucky. Most of them were writhing in pain, some on the ground. The palace lost a few windows as well, which was perversely entertaining.

  When the sound finally dissipated, I had the attention that I wanted. Well, not wanted, precisely, but definitely needed.

  “Please, stop,” I called, keeping my voice gentle and calm. “I don’t want you hurt, and you would be if you got in. My father has surely laid some horrible traps for people who breach those walls.”

  That seemed to click in some of their heads, which was good.

  “How are you alive?” someone called out.

  I grimaced. “Well, you know how it goes. A handsome prince kissed me and saved my life.” James blushed slightly, but said nothing. “My father tried to kill me. He really did. Three times, in fact.” They started to murmur angrily again, so I decided to change the subject, just slightly. “But he failed! And I have a plan in place to get rid of him, but you must be patient for a little longer. And calm. He will take advantage of you if you let your emotions rule. You are stronger than him. You have lasted this long and you can take it just a little longer because you are much stronger than he believes and no king will get the better of you!”

  A cheer broke out as people recognized the truth of my words. Either that or they appreciated my vote of confidence. It didn’t really matter. Just so long as they believed me. Sometimes you needed to be told you were already strong to become strong.

  “Now, I need your help! I need you to keep your heads and remain calm. And I need you to start thinking about what you need fixed immediately. What can’t be dealt with any longer? What will cause you the most problems? And then find someone you trust to write this down. When my father is gone, I need to know what needs to be changed. I haven’t lived here though. I don’t know if it is the taxes that are causing the most harm or whether there are too many foreigners being given preferential treatment or if there is too
much corruption in the city officials. But you know that. So write it down and be prepared. The wait won’t be long.”

  CHAPTER 11: PREPARE FOR BATTLE

  CAILLTE LYNN

  It was possibly the most uncomfortable two days I’d ever experienced. Well, day-and-a-half, really.

  Every time I turned around, the king was there, scowling at me and asking me what Bekins had said, where he’d gone, what he was up to. He was never satisfied that I didn’t know anything. Apparently being mad also makes you into a seer. If I’d known I might have gone crazy on purpose years ago! Honestly, he’d searched the castle at least five times and Bekin’s room and study at least twelve times. Judging by the angry yelling and crashes, he didn’t find anything helpful.

  It did give me ample time to measure the level of his magic reserve. It wasn’t looking good for him, though. I’d used the mirror to spy on him and asked how much power he had left. Through a combination of images and colors, the mirror let me know that he was down to less than an eighth of his power. A quick call to Spinner assured me that the king was quickly running out of time. I already knew that, though. Even without the confirmation, I could visibly see that he was heading into dangerous territory.

  Over that day-and-a-half, my husband had already aged significantly. That thick black hair he took such pride in was soon shot through with silver and thinning ever so slightly at the crown. His face, once relatively smooth but mature, was now a network of wrinkles and lines. His eyes were sunken and circled by dark marks, made all the more obvious by his loss of weight.

  The king had been a warrior before he’d stolen the throne and had always had a body that reminded you of that fact. He wasn’t the strongest man, but he wasn’t weak or small. Yet suddenly, he was. His tunics bagged about his body and his cheekbones protruded most alarmingly. Even his posture was more bent than before.

  That’s not to say that he wasn’t still formidable or that the changes were so very drastic. It was merely that they happened so fast. It was a bit like when you move to a new town and then come back to visit but everyone has changed. It’s the sudden juxtaposition of how you remember them against what time has done that shakes you. The king had remained the same for so long that any change was immediately noticeable to me. Making it worse was that every time I turned around, he’d changed subtly again.

  Well, his beard didn’t. I had no idea what exactly he’d done to make it blue, but whatever it was seemed to resist his rapid aging. It actually made him look worse, though. The beard had never quite looked natural, but suddenly it made him look like he’d put on disguise, like a child playing dress up and attaching a false beard. And it looked even bluer every time I looked at him! I knew that it was because his skin was growing paler, but it just looked odd.

  The changes in his body didn’t slow his verbal assaults on me though, nor did it stop him from becoming violent when he didn’t get the answers he was looking for. I just barely escaped being injured by him on several occasions. I wasn’t the only person there though. It got so bad that the cook up and left. I didn’t blame him. He’d been interrogated more vigorously than I was and could barely limp away afterward. It did mean that breakfast was a bit sparse, though. I didn’t mind, but it put my husband in an even worse mood.

  I’d had no idea that he was so close to his butler, but judging by his reaction, I was very wrong. Not that he was acting like a friend. He wasn’t worried. He was angry, like someone had stolen from him and he wanted his property returned. Or a general who’d lost communication with his troops and didn’t know where they’d gone.

  Then it clicked in my head! I’d always known that Bekins was a spy for my husband. The man had done nothing to disguise that fact. I also knew that they kept in communication, which was how Bekins always knew when the king was arriving or when he was needed, despite the fact that there was never any post delivered to the castle. There was really only one explanation.

  Bekins had stopped talking to the king!

  I couldn’t think of why, though. He was normally quite fastidious about keeping the king informed about everything. Bekins was compelled to meet and excel every expectation so he could prove his worth. It was why he’d been used as an assassin so many times despite never being trained as one.

  I blinked. What if he found out he’d failed a mission? Like killing Snow. How would he react?

  The old butler wasn’t the type to want his mistake bandied about. No, he’d want to fix it immediately then beg forgiveness after he’d proven himself again.

  I was shaken out of my thoughts by my husband’s sudden and vehement cursing. I looked around but couldn’t see a reason for it.

  “Why would they try to get through the walls?” he wondered angrily. Then he pushed to his feet and rushed out of the room. The only words I recognized before he disappeared were ‘riot’ and ‘peasants’. Either way, it was clear that the people in the capital had finally pushed off the spell and weren’t happy with their ruler. All I could do was hope that Snow wasn’t there when the riot began.

  “I doubt she’d be there…” I muttered as I cleared off the table and started on the dishes.

  That evening, though, I discovered otherwise.

  Mama, her note began.

  Don’t worry. I’m not hurt. Bekins cornered me at a rally in the Fessrel and attacked me. When someone spotted the king’s butler attempting to kill the king’s daughter, well let’s just say that there was a bit of to do. The results were a minor riot and the death of Bekins. I’m not sure if that is considered good or bad news, though. We’d already left by the time that Father returned and the crowd had dispersed. I do wish I knew how Father manages to travel so swiftly. We are on our way to you and should be there within the week.

  Your little light.

  I sighed and shook my head. Clearly our plans had been accelerated once again, but I wasn’t all that surprised. Life had a way of throwing strange issues at you that way. Still, I’d had an inkling that things were progressing faster than they really should. Then again, my husband wasn’t known for denying himself his little extravagances and frivolities. His indulgences may have looked different than those that other kings enjoyed, but he had them all the same. Mostly they were specialized spells that allowed him to avoid actually doing anything. He was too noble, after all. Also, too untrusting. Anywhere he lived for too long inevitably ended up being run by magic instead of people.

  If I knew him at all, he had refused to simplify and was expending unnecessary energy keeping those spells active. He wasn’t a good enough magician to set them to run off of a power source other than him. Or, possibly he wanted it to be more difficult to disrupt the spells by cutting the power. Either way, it was backfiring on him and working in our favor.

  “I guess I better go get Dallin. It seems that it’s time to get started.”

  ~

  Preparing for a party of eight was not something I was familiar with. I’d never entertained before, but I’d made sure that there were enough clean rooms and linens and I figured that everyone would be happy with soup and bread whenever they finally arrived. It was getting rather cold lately. I also set up the mirror to alert me when the king was on his way back. I didn’t want to be surprised by him again, particularly when we were so close to succeeding in our quest.

  “Lentils?” Dallin asked as he slid up behind me in the kitchen. As soon as my husband had left Dallin had showed up. He’d also let me know that the cook was resting comfortably in a nearby village.

  “Yes. They are cheap and filling. Plus, I like lentil soup. Don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. I just didn’t imagine you’d know how to make it. You are a queen after all.”

  I snorted. “I’ve been a queen for just under half my life. The rest of the time I was just a girl who needed to know how to run my own home. Cooking, cleaning, gardening, canning, the basics of sewing and mending as well as knitting… basically anything that might help my future family. I’ve always liked co
oking though. It makes me feel calm.” I crumbled some dried thyme in the soup and stirred it one last time before letting it alone. “There. I’ll add some more salt when it’s time to serve.”

  He laughed. “Let me guess, you have the mirror keeping an eye on your daughter too?”

  “Of course I do,” I replied, parroting his earlier comment. “Now, what have I said about hanging on me.” I raised my eyebrow as I eyed him over my shoulder. While we’d been talking, he’d wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close.

  Dallin sighed and slowly released me. “I know, I know. You’re still married and you won’t be the type of person who cheats on your spouse, no matter how awful your spouse is. You can’t blame me for trying though.”

  I just shook my head and went to check on the bread I’d left rising. “Yes, I can. You are the captain of the palace guard! You know how to control your impulses and how to act with honor. Just because you want something doesn’t mean it’s right to go after it.”

  Dallin sighed but nodded anyway. He knew I was right, even if he didn’t want me to be.

  We’d had a variation of this argument many times by now. Ever since I admitted to myself that he really was interested in me as a woman, I’d had to remind him that we weren’t free to indulge in our feelings. The more time we spent together, the harder that things became for me. I didn’t want to be that woman, the one who stops considering if something is morally right and only thinks about if it feels good. It’s easy to fall into selfishness but much more difficult to rise above it.

  I could easily justify myself. I’d been forced into the marriage. It wasn’t a real relationship. He was evil and trying to kill me. The problem was that while all of those things were true, they didn’t give me the right to act without honor. What my husband did, those were his choices. I had to choose for myself who I wanted to be and I didn’t want to be an adulterer.