by N M Zoltack
But, here she was, married to the king. The precise timeline to be designated by the king, but soon, she would be crowned as queen. It was almost too much for her to accept.
Yet, truly, she hadn’t married the king only for the title that would bestow upon her. She knew and accepted that he was king, and as such, his word would always override hers. Instead, she had gotten to know the king. He spoke of Aldith with only biting, spiteful, hurt-filled tones. Whenever she could convince him to talk about his first wife, Queen Rohesia, his eyes would gloss over, filling with happiness that Sabine never ever saw at any other time.
That look was what she wanted for herself. She longed to mean that much to him. When the king had that expression over his face, his age turned back. His weight disappeared. Only his happiness remained, and that was so very handsome that it stole her breath away.
Of course, most of the time, the king was a miserable soul, so very depressed and distraught that she struggled to find a way to get him to even talk to her. It was frustrating to be sure, but she struggled just the same. She longed to help him as much as was possible. Perhaps, one day, she could provide him some measure of happiness.
They had been wed for all of three days. The king insisted that she stay in the queen’s quarters. She hated the idea of sleeping in the bed where the previous queen had died. Had his first wife died in this room too?
Sabine’s first act as almost queen was to ask or rather demand that the bed be taken out and replaced with a new one. The new bed had not yet been constructed, and so she had no choice but to sleep in a chair. To say that she was displeased with the soreness in her neck and back would be an understatement.
That morning, she had her maids, all five of them, tend to her, drawing her a bath, working on her clothes or hair. It was so refreshing to have everything done for her. The Grantham family had old money, old ties that traced back centuries, back to when the dragons might have ruled. Honestly, Sabine thought that a myth. Dragons were not real. How could they have been? Dragons were a party to magic, and the world had none. Therefore, how could dragons possibly be real?
Once she was dressed in a morning gown, since queens or soon-to-be queens could only ever wear gowns, not merely simple dresses, Sabine made her way to the royal dining hall. The rest of the royal family were already present.
Sabine glided into the room and kissed her husband on the top of his head. He hardly acknowledged her. She was undeterred. Sometimes, he acted this way. Other times, he acted as if he needed her in order to breathe.
“How are you all this morning?” Sabine asked those gathered.
The children, all three of them, just stared at her.
The eldest, Princess Rosalynne, first in line of the crown, was only three years younger than Sabine. That must have been rather awkward for the princess, knowing that her new mother by marriage was that close in age.
As for the prince, well, Prince Noll would stare at Sabine. All the time. Sabine was used to stares. She had been for years. Men found her attractive. They saw her and fancied themselves in love with her. She found the attention rather unsettling, but her mother acted as if that was natural. Perhaps it had been the same for her mother in her youth. Sabine didn’t care for it, though. That detail she kept to herself. Her mother might not understand or appreciate that little tidbit.
As for the youngest child, Princess Vivian, she stared at Sabine, and Sabine had no notion as to what the child thought of her. Then again, Vivian was only six years younger than herself. She was not truly a child.
“It is a bright and sunny day out,” Sabine tried. “Who would like to break their fast out of doors with me?”
Even the king joined his children in their looks of shock.
“Oh, come now,” Sabine said. “Don’t tell me that none of you have ever eaten outside?”
“I have,” the prince said. “I ate some berries and nearly died.”
“Oh,” Sabine said faintly.
“He ate the wrong berries,” Vivian explained. “Poisonous ones. I’ve told him a million times that red with purple spots are okay, but purple with red spots will kill you. He didn’t listen.”
“I didn’t die either,” Noll said.
“True, but that’s only because you’re too stubborn to die.”
Noll shrugged. “Maybe. What does stubborn mean?”
“Difficult,” Rosalynne said. “Outside, with food, is a recipe for asking for bugs to invade your space. Is that what you want?”
Sabine stiffened. “No. I wish to enjoy the sun while eating. If no one wishes to join me, I will break my fast with you here.” She glanced at the king, who was staring at his empty plate.
He hadn’t been served yet? Oh, wait, he had, and he had already eaten and cleaned his plate before the others had been served.
Sabine sighed. All of this was so very awkward and strange. Hopefully, tomorrow would be better. Honestly, she did not expect that to be the case.
21
Sir Edmund Hill
Edmund’s duties required him to work long days and even late into some nights. He hadn’t much time to eat or think, and he most certainly didn’t have time to go and see Dudley as much as he wanted to.
As he sat on the edge of his bed after a long night of patrol throughout the marketplace, he sighed.
He should’ve realized that the noise of discontentment wouldn’t go unnoticed. There were twenty guards stationed in the barracks to the south of Atlan proper. All of them slept in a long hall, ten beds on either side. Some of the guards worked only at night, leaving a few beds empty. Several guards liked to spend an hour or two at the taverns after work. Edmund was not among them. A few snores peppered the room, but not everyone else in the barracks was asleep as evidenced by the guard in the bed next to his rolling over.
“What is it, Hill?” the guard grumbled.
Jurian Hansen was one of the new knights alongside Edmund, which meant he was one of the brood who had been rather torturous to Edmund when he had first started his training. Most sons were sent away for training at the oldest ten, but Edmund had been thirteen. Even so, Edmund’s worth ethic had been such, his thirst for knowledge so great, that Edmund had been knighted at nineteen, whereas some were not until twenty or even twenty-one. Then, once the others learned that Edmund came from a peasant family, they had tried their hardest to cause Edmund to quit. Pranks, cruel jokes, spooking his horse… nothing they did deterred him. He might have earned the respect of a few of them, but none of them liked him, and Edmund didn’t worry about that now.
Perhaps this was why Princess Rosalynne had stationed Edmund close to the castle but not within the castle itself. He wished she would have opted to send him farther away instead. Then, the other knights would not have known about Edmund’s humble beginnings. It wasn’t that he cared what they thought, only how they then treated him.
“Nothing for you to concern yourself with, Jurian,” Edmund said.
The knight sat up and ran a hand through his black hair. “Might as well tell me. You’re liable to tell me anyhow.”
Edmund furrowed his brows. “How do you figure that?”
“You talk in your sleep. Didn’t you know? How else did you think we found out that you hate toads?”
Edmund scowled as Jurian laughed. The pages had placed toads in Edmund’s boots. The shock had startled him and made him cry out. He wasn’t truly afraid of toads.
“You don’t care about me,” Edmund grumbled. “Just sleep and leave me be.”
“I haven’t been able to sleep in weeks,” Jurian said with a shrug. “No one else seems to want to talk, so I guess you’ll do. Spill your news, spill your guts.”
Edmund leaned down, elbow on his knee, chin in his hand. “It’s not really news. Well, not my news. It’s about my brother.”
“I didn’t even know you had one.”
“Do you?” Edmund asked.
Jurian smiled. He tended to think he was one of the best looking knights around. The pe
asant girls certainly thought so and followed him around at the marketplace. Edmund had caught Jurian kissing a few, but Edmund knew the knight would never marry any of them. Why Jurian bothered with them Edmund didn’t understand. He thought it cruel, but he would never tell Jurian that. Edmund’s opinion didn’t matter.
Jurian wagged a finger at Edmund. “Nice try. We are talking about your brother, not mine.”
“Ah, so you do have one.” Edmund grinned.
Jurian’s lips twisted into a scowl. “Get on with it.”
“He is to marry a female alchemist,” Edmund said in a rush.
Jurian’s eyes bulged, and his lips parted in shock. “I did not hear you right,” he said slowly.
Edmund sighed again. “Now you know why I am not exactly happy.”
“I would say so. A female alchemist. You know the dragons—”
“Yes. They slew them all without reservation.”
“The dragons only attacked those who had wicked hearts,” Jurian said.
“It’s a good thing for you they aren’t around anymore,” Edmund muttered.
“I heard that.” Jurian grinned, though. “That might be true. Did you hear about Septima?”
“Wasn’t she the one who said she would cure the King of Vincana?”
“Yes, but instead she caused his body to overheat to the point that his brain turned liquid and streamed out his ears.”
“She wanted to become queen, yes? That was her goal?” Edmund asked.
Jurian nodded. “If not for the dragons, she might well have. We are lucky that, despite the dearth of dragons, we have a decent enough king.”
Edmund raised his eyebrows. “Decent enough? Do I detect that a certain knight does not love his king?”
The knight in question snorted. “I love my shield well enough and my land.”
“You love the attention the shield grants you,” Edmund argued.
Jurian grinned, his white teeth flashing in the darkness. “Yes, well, can you imagine if Septima hadn’t died?”
“Do you think it’s possible that even more would’ve perished?” Edmund asked.
The king she had boiled from the inside out had not yet had sons and also had no wife because she had perished giving birth to a dead son. As such, the murder and then Septima’s death via the dragons set off a massive civil war in Vincana.
“Without a doubt,” Jurian said. “She would have killed anyone who looked at her. I’m certain she would have united the continents and islands herself.”
“Vincana Proper.” Edmund shuddered.
“I hope to be stationed there one day,” Jurian said.
“That would be interesting,” Edmund offered, but the knight had changed his mind. Well, the islands or another city would be nice, but not the continent to the south.
“Roshanak was another female alchemist.”
“Was she the one who used to sacrifice children for her elixirs?” Edmund asked.
“No, she was the one who sold ‘special’ tonics for women to sleep in to look youthful longer.”
“Ah, yes, and the tonics was blood.”
“From humans.” Jurian shook his head, disgusted.
“Katla was another. She was said to be so beautiful that all she had to do was lock gazes with a man, and he would do whatever she wished.”
“And she had some of those men kill. Female alchemists are rather violent.”
“They really are.”
“No wonder you are all up in arms about your brother. Doesn’t he know how dangerous female alchemists have been throughout history?”
“I can’t imagine he doesn’t know,” Edmund said, but then again, perhaps it was possible Dudley didn’t realize. Edmund had to talk to him as soon as possible.
“You have to get him to see reason.”
“I will do my best.” Edmund rubbed his chin and mused, “It makes you wonder who is teaching the females.”
“The way I figure is that some are sneaky and underhanded. They might only want money and riches and might not always resort to murder. Those are able to survive and pass on. I don’t think there are many operating right now.”
“Which is strange,” Edmund mused. “Without the dragons to keep them under tail, why aren’t they running havoc? Why hasn’t one maneuvered her way into power?”
“All good questions and I have another. Why is it that the male alchemists aren’t known for abusing their powers?”
Edmund shrugged, but he had a theory. Power, at times, tended to get the better of both men and women. More likely than not, male alchemists also abused their power and wisdom but clearly not to the same degree and notoriety as their female counterparts.
Jurian lay down and faced the ceiling. “It almost makes you wonder why the crown doesn’t send the knights to hunt down and round up or even kill the female alchemists.”
“If a crime can’t be proven to be committed by them all—”
“It’s only a matter of time,” Jurian said darkly. “One of Roshanak’s victims to make her tonics was a distant relative of mine. If your brother won’t listen to reason, you might want to consider what is necessary. If she were to have an unfortunate accident…”
Edmund said nothing, letting the knight think what he would. It wasn’t that Edmund felt anything toward Tatum, but he would not do anything to harm her.
But he would arrest her if he could prove that she meant his brother or anyone else ill will. If she had committed a crime, he would likewise bring her before the king. There was no such thing as a good female alchemist, or at least history had not remembered any.
Troubled, Edmund fell asleep where unsettling dreams plagued him of a mysterious woman dressed in brown robes who sought to give him an elixir he knew would kill him.
22
Rase Ainsley
Countless days had passed since Rase first located his pa at the Jolly Snapdragon. Most nights, Rase tried to sneak away to go there and see what his pa was up to. Maybe he could finally learn what gambling was. If it could get them more food, he was all for it.
But Leanne needed Rase. Terrible nightmares plagued her, and Rase quickly discovered that rubbing her back soothed her. It was a good thing he had learned this trick as their ma did not tolerate loud noises at night, and Leanne had been calling out. The last thing Leanne needed was a scolding when she was already so worried over her friend.
Rase was even more afraid for his sister than he was her friend. Leanne hadn’t eaten in days, not since he had found her dry heaving. His poor sister couldn’t keep anything down, and she didn’t want to take away from Rase or their parents.
Earlier that day, though, Rase had managed to find a gillyrob bulb. Once steeped in water, the resulting tea would make someone sleepy. Rase had made that tea for Leanne, and sure enough, her sleep seemed peaceful enough that Rase risked ducking out of the house.
Rase’s feet were sore by the time he reached the Jolly Snapdragon. Why did his pa travel so far away every night? Was his pa even here that night?
Instead of walking inside immediately, Rase traveled around the tavern, peeking through the windows, looking for both his pa and Maxene. As always, too many crowded in the Jolly Snapdragon for Rase to see more than a few.
Frustrated, Rase ended up slipping inside the place. He ducked his chin and lifted his shirt to cover his nose so the smoke wouldn’t hurt his lungs like it had last time. He coughed for two days after his last visit. The first tavern he’d visited hadn’t been nearly as smoky.
For lack of a better idea, Rase made his way toward the table where he had seen his pa the first time. Sure enough, his father was there, sitting with a cluster of hard-looking men with nasty sneers on their faces. More than a few were missing teeth, and one had a vicious scar that caused his left eye to stay closed and curled down the side of his face to meet the corner of his lip. Rase couldn’t’ look away as the scarred man grimaced, the skin along the scar puckering and rising unnaturally.
“When will you lea
rn, Adair?” the scarred man asked, his voice dripping with contempt. “You aren’t gonna win back what you owe, and if you don’t start paying us back…”
Rase stiffened. His pa’s name was Adair. Owe? Did his pa owe money? For the meager food he brought home? Pa was bringing home less and less these days. If his pa was trying to get money, he should be able to buy a lot more than just scraps. They could have bread smothered in butter and vegetables and all different kinds of meat and maybe even some fruit tarts and cakes. They could live like kings and queens.
But why even bother with money when they could hurt or scavenge the land for food? Rase didn’t understand. Maybe this was why Ma was so upset with Pa all the time.
“You’ll get your money,” Pa grumbled. “I have some of it.”
Rase’s stomach growled loudly, not that anyone but him could hear it above the din of the boisterous crowd. He wished his pa could use the money to buy some food, but clearly, these men wanted to be paid and paid now.
Pa abruptly stood and yanked a coin pouch from his belt. He threw it onto the table and almost knocked over a tankard. A few coins spilled out.
The man with the scar smiled. “Maybe we can play a round after all then. What do ya say, lads?”
Pa laughed and rubbed his hands. He seemed to be in good spirits, and they rose even more when the scarred man bought Pa some ale.
Rase hadn’t noticed the dice on the table before, and the men began to take turns rolling them. Cards were dealt, and Rase kept glancing around, trying to figure out what was going on. They called out numbers and laughed and seemed to be having a good time. Unlike earlier, all of the terrible hatred toward Pa seemingly forgotten.