Sia exhaled soundly. “I am gravely sorry.”
Griswold’s eyebrow rose as he chuckled. “Yes, what an irony!”
“Don’t go looking for it, Griswold.” She snarled back, firmly pressing her fist onto the glass.
Otho shook his head and chuckled. “What is wrong with you two? Cassia, you always try to remind us that when we are united we stand strong and yet here you are arguing with Griswold.”
She tipped her chin up. “He hates me for some unknown reason-”
“You killed and massacred my people in the War,” Griswold interfered, his voice was beyond sharp. “Don’t even think for a moment that I will ally with you.”
“She has killed citizens of all the seven Lands,” Argoth growled from his seat. “But we are all willing to forget her crimes to survive, together in this world because she is unlike the King. She wants us all united.”
Griswold shook his head. “As if I will ever let my people unite with those scum.”
Sia snapped that moment. “Maybe we should let our swords decide.”
He narrowed his eyes. “It would be my pleasure.”
Beathan shook his head. “Stop it now, you two.” Ethan pounded his fist on the glass and groaned. “If you are incapable of handling your pompous pride then leave this chamber and let us finish the meeting.” He pointed a finger at Griswold and then at her. “We are in the dawn of War and you are fighting with each other. I am afraid both of you should leave this chamber.”
Ethan was right. Sia cleared her throat and looked at her entwined fingers before her. She would tell him at least for what the King had in mind for her. He –only- should know, let the rest dream in the darkness of what was plotting against them.
“Do you need more troops?” Ethan asked as he looked at Argoth.
“No, not yet, but Sermena and Terehan must be prepared to aid us or –gods forbid- be prepared to fight for their lands should the King pass our borders.”
She shook her head. Sia would have never allowed something like this to happen. “I will give you any knowledge I have of the King’s army and whereabouts. Everything you need to know,” she eyed Griswold who glared at the onyx floor as if he laid eyes on it for the first time in his life and was fascinated by the strange silvery shades. “All of you.”
Ethan’s hand came to rest upon mine on the table. “Thank you, it is of high importance that we trust each other during these dark times.”
Mithras nodded. “For the sake of our sister we will send aid to you, Argoth if you are in need of it.”
Timus stood from his seat. “My army will be prepared.”
“As will be mine.” Handres nodded.
“And mine.” Hianos stood and went to Argoth, clasping a hand on his shoulder.
“I wouldn’t miss the fun too,” Otho said and she smiled at the fact that he had the strength to joke even though they were plotting death and fire.
Beathan smiled. “My home and my army are at your disposal, my friends.”
Sia cleared her throat, attracting everyone’s attentions. “Navacore is the Eighth Land of the Adanei now and my army was one of the strongest among the Lords, it’s yours too, Argoth and you can use my woods, they will take care of a fine amount of Dark Elves, the trees don’t really like Dark Elves. I will have to speak with Ardan and Nadaon though.”
Argoth nodded a smile playing over his lips. “Thank you, Cassia. It means a lot to us, but your people may not agree.”
“They will agree,” she said and nodded. “They follow me blindly, my warriors.”
Silence went over the chamber as everyone turned their glances towards Griswold who simply stared at the floor as if it was the most magnificent and peculiar thing he had witnessed in his life. He raised his head, suddenly conscious that they had been looking at him for a few minutes waiting for a reaction, a word, something.
He cleared his throat; it was the first time Sia had seen him so little composed. He took a deep breath and stood. “You don’t need me to win this war. You have the Heir.”
His sarcasm made her shudder. How dare he? While people, people like him were being slaughtered. She stood and pounded her fist on the glass. She was about to drag her sword and behead him there at this moment before everyone.
“How dare you?” She asked, her other hand had visibly fallen on her sword. “Are my soldiers so inferior to you? You pompous arse, I’ll slit your throat right here.”
He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “I dare you, woman.”
She snapped. Human?
Sia reached for her dagger in her boot and hurled over the table to press the dagger against his throat as she held him pinned to his seat. He merely chuckled, the dagger vibrated against his skin.
He had made a mistake; he had called upon the most violent and most infernal human part of her. If he had merely called her a lowly elf she wouldn’t have minded, but when he called her human. A lowly human for him to feast upon and humiliate, something indeed had snapped inside her and it wasn’t the King trying to get to her.
“I will kill you,” she snarled at him pressing the dagger firmer against his skin to prove her statement. “If you dare call me like that again you’ll regret the day you were born.”
Something shone silver around his neck and Sia’s eyes flickered towards it. Her mismatched gaze lingered on a silver pendant hanging around his throat. A rune inscribed onto it and then another beside it. Cassia cringed.
What was happening? She knew that rune, she had read about it hundreds of years ago. The King had an obsession with it. He was mad with inscribing it everywhere, on his clothes, on his sword, on his comb, everywhere.
Cassia’s mind cracked opened like a burned nut. Her eyes widening in realisation. It was one of the runes her sword bore just below the hilt. A small little circle with three arrows each pointing upwards. She had seen it before, she had seen it before.
On Leondir’s diary, on her sword, on the King’s crown.
Wonfare.
It was not a place; it was a magical rune for transportation and safety triggered only by silver blood.
Cassia’s world spun.
That bastard knew something about the Sword, he knew.
Griswold gave her a lopsided smile sensing her eyes on the pendant and then chuckled bitterly. She looked up. She didn’t press the dagger too much because it was coated in blood bane and Griswold was required there, at that moment of the war.
“You are a dishonourable maggot. Take your filth away from me.” He said plainly as she snarled at him and held him tighter.
She growled and pulled at his hair, the bastard didn’t even flinch. She pulled away from him and walked to the door.
“I will wait for you in the training grounds. Ramis, at noon. If you win you will get to keep your armies in your lands, if I win then you will send help.”
She slammed the door behind her and disappeared through the corridors until she reached the training grounds.
The bastard knew about the Swords.
38
The King sat on his throne.
The crown heavy on his head, his chin grazing the heavy ornament around his neck.
The air smelled of dust, dust and something foul. So foul that made him cringe.
He raised his head and glanced at the darkness in the room.
Suffocating, suffocating, suffocating.
He didn’t care, he didn’t care. Not as long as he had power in his hands and magic in his veins. He didn’t care to acknowledge the dead human man on the marble floor a few feet away from him.
He barely cared. He was the King.
No one defied him, not even Cassia.
Oh! A sinister smile took over his handsome face. If he could only get his hands on her. Damn the blood on her veins...
If he could only hurt her more than a mere whipping.
He huffed loudly and slammed his hands on the armrests of his throne.
‘Kill her, you know you can.’
He smiled at the voice in his head. “Of course I can, but I want to humiliate her before her own followers.”
‘My sinister, Master. Oh! What a great Lord you are.’
“I am.” The King raised his head to the ceiling, trying to look up to the skies, but his eyes found only white marble. He hated white; he still didn’t know why he had built a white palace of marble. “And the gods should be afraid of us.”
39
Cassia’s sword dodged Ael’s. Beads of sweat reached the corner of her eye, blurring her vision for a moment before she blinked it away and concentrated on the next blow.
She had been in the training grounds for the last three hours. She had fought with five more men from Beathan’s guard, easily manipulating them into losing every time they tried to get her down. She was the Heir of the King, a child of a civilisation build upon the fine foundations of war and toil.
Ael was the Captain of the Guard and as it seemed a fierce warrior, despite how foolish he had seemed with a sword back in her city. He had approached her after she had taken down all of the five guards, whose names she had already forgotten or never cared to ask. He had challenged her to win this duel or dine with him. She had managed a bitter laughter and pointed at him with her blade.
Ael was all youth and lean muscles, his catlike movements made her admire his technique, strange and swift, unpredictable. She chastised herself. How could she have not seen it before?
He took a few steps closer to her, swinging his sword down, she twisted about her left side and avoided his swing.
He cracked a smile and advanced again, forward, toward her with the falchion blade, elegantly curved, broad and single edged. He held the sword up and pushed to the front.
She dodged the first blow and met the second with her blade. She had been sweating and whimpering for the last hour, but she still had a long way till her muscles would turn lax and weary from the harsh pushing and nudging.
The weight of his blade made her upheld feet falter. She took a step backwards. Cassia grunted and she braced herself again, observing him for a moment. His stance had turned weary, slumping forwards, his shoulders must have been sore. She admired the fact that he didn’t give in to her assaultive blade.
She took her chance of ending this game.
She stroke fast and blindly towards him.
The arched blow she gave him reached and sliced through the fabric of his shirt around his waist. She made a point there, that if she had wanted to cut the flesh off of bones she would have done from the very beginning.
Swinging her blade in her hand, Cassia charged at him three times in a row, straight and strong; iron meeting the powerful, unyielding black silver of her blade.
Ael fell on his one knee with a wince, his blade facing upwards as it withheld against hers. She pressed further down hoping that he would eventually get the message and step away, but he still wanted to fight, he still wanted to dine with her.
She sighed heavily as her one leg pushed on the back of his thighs and threw him forward, face down on the sand he growled and braced himself on his hands and knees. She kicked his sword away as he turned around, his back against the soil and smiled up at her.
Twisting her blade on her left hand, Cassia cleared her throat and pressed the point of the sword against his chest. He remained there, glancing upwards, completely exhausted and spent from the violent sword fight. He was a worthy opponent, at least not as useless as the rest of the guards seemed to be.
She raised an eyebrow. “Dine with me?”
He gave a bitter chuckle and shook his head. “I don’t think I can even move my fingers after this.” He sighed and closed his eyes sighed again and opened those pale blue orbs.
“So you would back away.” She pressed the sword firmer against his chest.
He chuckled. “If her Majesty could tolerate an exhausted Captain then I’ll dine with her.”
“Good.”
“How about eight?”
“Eight’s fine with me.” He grunted and closed his eyes again. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Are you going to lay there for the rest of the day?”
He chuckled and sighed. “Leave an elf at his peace.”
“As you wish,” she pulled her sword in its sheath and twisted about her feet. She bowed down and grabbed her robe as she left the ring. “Don’t be late.” She yelled back at him.
She only received another frustrated grunt.
+ + +
Upon returning to her chamber, Cassia came to face Mersila sitting on the sofa across her bed, indulging herself inside the contents of a novel.
She crossed the room and went to the wardrobe. It was either she had to find something decent in there or she was to flash to her castle. Thankfully flashing was not as detectable outside of the Citadel. She let her sword on the ground and dropped the daggers from her waist.
Mersila closed the book with a thud. She sighed heavily and rested her head on her fist on the arm of the couch. She cleared her throat and rolled her eyes.
Mersila raised an eyebrow and sat up straight. “Did my timorous brother managed to gather his lost confidence and ask you for dinner?”
Cassia choked and grasped onto the wardrobe. “No,” she winced. “Barely your business with whom I dine with.”
The she-elf shook her head smiling. “I merely wanted to know who has you at standing at the tip of your feet.”
Cassia shot her a glare over her shoulder. “I don’t want to be late, that’s all.”
“Who is he, if not my brother?”
“The Captain of the Guard.”
Mersila’s mouth hung open for a moment, eyes wide and an eyebrow rose up to her hairline. “I guess you are the first one. What did you possibly do to him? I mean, he never invites ladies to dine with him.”
“I’ve told you, Mersila.” She shook her head and turned around. “I am no Lady.”
“You are, of course, you are, but you grew up in a different way than the rest of the lot.”
Cassia twisted about her feet ignoring Mersila and grabbed a dark green gown from the wardrobe. As she turned around, she came face to face with Mersila who was eagerly glancing at her choice of dress with a grain of doubt adorning her beautiful features.
“You are not going to wear this to dinner with Ael, are you?” Mersila grabbed the dress from Cassia’s hand inspecting it.
The heir crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to the side. “What is wrong with the dress?”
“If you were dating a normal elf it would be alright, but not Ael. He is the second most eligible bachelor in Feremony.”
“As if I should care about this.”
Mersila chuckled. “He is Ael, the Ael.”
Cassia rolled her eyes and went to sit down on the sofa; she crossed her legs on the knees and glanced up at with a sigh. “Well, I find his fighting technique a bit sloppy.”
“Ah, Sia you are my role model.” Mersila smiled. “But you definitely match Griswold’s taste in clothes.”
Sia tried to speak, but she choked again coughed in her hand. Griswold, what a bastard of an elf he was. She had been on the very brink of killing him right there before the Lords in the morning. She lived for the day when she wouldn’t have to face him or hear his name again.
She pulled her eyes away from Mersila and combed her fingertips through her hair, pushing locks of brown away from her face in an act of nervousness. She cleared her throat. “And what should I wear, fairy of wardrobe?”
Mersila smirked and tilted her head. “You are quite fortunate I have taken interest in magical fashion and can easily manage this little beast of a dress.” She cleared her throat, straightened her spine and took on a professional face. “Get up, wear the dress. I think I have a lot of work to do.”
+ + +
Cassia breathed out soundly as she gazed at herself in the mirror. Mersila had outdone herself. The dress was light and easy to move, even shooting an arrow wouldn’t be much of a mess. Mersila had
rendered the dull dress into a practical one. Through the dress myriad shades of green spread out from the tight corset to the eloquent skirt. Cassia wore black leather pants underneath though.
The front of the skirt reached up to her knees and from the back, it nearly reached the floor, it was as if many leaves of various shapes had been pulled together to form that strange combination of a dress. Over her bust, the embroidered green flowers were decorated with little blue jewels. Her arms were bare though and little green fringes spread down to her elbows slightly tickling her skin.
She had stuffed two daggers in her boots for the sake of being prepared for anything.
Mersila had pulled back Cassia’s brown hair and placed a green, silver circlet around her forehead. Mersila had done her makeup with another spell and thankfully had comprehended the fact that Cassia didn’t like heavy powders over her facial skin. The kohl made her eyes stand out more, but it also reminded her of the way she usually dressed when she was in the Citadel.
She shook the thought of smearing Mersila’s astounding work over her face in an act of spite for the King. It reminded her of pain and toil and she hardly wanted to go to the dinner. Thank the Nature; Mersila had left the room with a smile and a wink a few minutes ago.
Cassia managed a smile at her agreeable reflection. She wasn’t beautiful, she had never been. The ladies in court were far more good-looking and handsome with their light coloured hair and green eyes and pale completion and unblemished skin.
She sighed heavily, a vine spread over her chest, making her heart feel weary and old, and for the first time in her life, she could feel the stinging of tears threatening with so much ferocity to spill over her careful makeup.
The ladies at court were not bound to the King with bonds so tight that not even those pitiful Adanei gods could severe. These females hadn’t fought in battles. They hadn’t known what it felt like to sleep at night, on the cold ground with a thin grass and three feet of mud separating them from the dead, decomposing bodies of their fellow soldiers. They didn’t know how it was to be raped and whipped the way she knew. They had never felt the fear of never waking up alive again.
A War of Silver and Gold Page 31