“You will be king, as was your destiny,” the sorceress said to him. “And I will be your queen.”
Hazel did not move. She could not simply race over as she had before. An actual plan was necessary... or perhaps merely a weapon was. She felt for the crystalline hilt of her ruby blade. Drawing it carefully, she attempted to bound to her feet before she realized something weighted her to the floor. Upon her stomach, the amulet had planted itself like a horse’s hoof. She gritted her teeth as she attempted to remove it.
“Giants,” she whispered desperately.
Promptly, the amulet was lifted from her. It then floated across the room and was laid silently beside the witch. Hazel sprang into action, half ready to hack the head off the sorceress. But that was when her voice sang out in fury. It was not from her throat alone from which it resonated, but the sword in her hand. As she sang, her song rose in volume as if, quite astonishingly, amplified by the weapon.
Instantly, Maera turned to her, throwing her own mouth open in song. Her melody reached Hazel’s and she actually felt her own soundwaves being pressed back at her. Desperately, she increased her volume and the sorceress staggered. Ignoring the doubt within her, Hazel bodily pressed forward, drawing her sound nearer and nearer until it overwhelmed the witch’s vicinity. At last, the woman dropped to her knees, covered her ears and screeched in furious agony.
Maintaining her hold over their enemy, Hazel focused part of her song after the vines clasping Armond until they crumbled into brittle pieces. Freeing Dorian was another story. He would not awaken. Instead, he threw his arms around Maera as if to protect her from Hazel, but when that did not work, he stood and withdrew his sword.
Hazel stepped back, uncertain of what to do. She could not call on his love for her as she had with Armond. Instead, her mind raced over their years of friendship, when he’d been her only friend, the one with whom she’d shared her every secret, had trusted so explicitly.
That friend started toward her and she fell back another step as she recalled how he’d been using her all those years. A flash of his face when he’d demanded she keep away from his prison cell sent fresh pain through her. But she had not given up on him then and she would not now.
His eyes were a blend of numbness and hatred as he seized her wrist to keep her from escaping. She nearly released her sword in disbelief. Instead, she roared out her heartache at him. Against her will, tears washed down her face. But the drops drew his attention to her eyes. At last, he staggered back. Releasing her wrist, he stared down at the sword in his hand, taking in what he’d nearly done.
It was then he leaped into action. Stealing Armond and Hazel from the room, he raced them through the mansion, out the front door and down the path. It wasn’t until the three were thoroughly out of breath that Hazel made him stop.
He bent over to rest his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “I…” he breathed, “nearly killed you.”
She patted him on the back. “She almost made you kill me.”
He shook his head. “Your voice… it’s back.”
Her eyes darted to Armond, searching for what he might think. A blush stole over her as she recalled what he’d said, what had broken the sorceress’ power over him. He loved her… and he’d proven it. There was no doubting him now.
She was surprised to find an answering blush on his face. It was clear he’d just learned that he felt even more than he’d realized… and he was actually self-conscious about the fresh confession.
He offered her a glittering half-smile and asked, “Did you sing through that beautiful blade of yours?” He came to stand close beside her and took it into his hands. “Where ever did this come from?”
“A… friend of the prophet’s.”
His brows rose as he handed it back to her, his eyes conveying something he did not speak. He was seeing her in a new light. “You were our hero in there… yet again.” Abruptly, his knees buckled and he cried out in pain.
Hazel dropped to her knees beside him. “What is it? What is the matter?”
He drew back his sleeves to reveal arms covered in thorns… the barbs from the enchanted roses. Just as Hazel had feared, they were poisoned—that was, if the green hue emanating from every tiny wound indicated anything.
“They’re all over my body!” he bellowed out.
Hazel looked to Dorian as he examined the lesions himself. “We must get you back to the clan,” he said forlornly. “Can you stand?”
Armond nodded and drew to his feet only to have them buckle under him again.
Dorian looked to Hazel. “You’ll have to help me drag him. Take one of his arms over your shoulder and I’ll take the other.”
It felt an age before they finally met Blythe. With his great girth, he took Armond up over his shoulder and raced him through the forest. Armond screamed as the thorns dug deeper into his flesh and the toxin spread.
When they finally appeared at the village, Armond’s face was green and the village healer shook his head. “Never seen a case like this.”
Hazel leaned in close. “This is the king of your country now.”
The man blinked at her. “I am well aware of who he is, young lady.”
Huffing, Hazel left the tent as the healer explained that he must locate and remove every single thorn and then apply a salve purported to heal any ailment caused by witchcraft.
Not far from the settlement, she stopped to lean against a tree, stealing a few moments to breathe her emotions into submission. What would they do if the salve did not cure him… if he could not return to his throne? Who was the subsequent heir? She didn’t believe there was anyone left of the royal family except… her.
She shook her head. She would never take his place. But… if he didn’t make it… would she have to? She shook her head again. He would make it. She looked to the heavens where she imagined the Great Entity’s throne room to be and prayed Armond’s return of the amulet placed him under the Entity’s favor again.
“Do not worry, Hazel,” Dorian said, making her leap at his sudden appearance beside her.
“...I didn’t hear you coming.”
“I know. You were in your worrying stance. But he will be all right. I know it.”
“How can you know it?”
“Because he returned the amulet. He is in favor again.”
She bit her lip as she examined his silhouette in the moonlight. “How can you be so certain?”
He shrugged. “The night you told me the Great Entity had spoken to you about me… that he knew all and he offered his mercy… It was no small matter to me. If he could be so benevolent concerning my iniquities, he certainly will be with Armond.”
She smiled at him, though he could not see it in the darkness. It was true. The Entity was more than a god—not just a distant, overbearing lord. He was a hero and one who cared more intimately over the workings of those he’d created than she would ever have expected.
“So…” he began. “Armond is in love with you.”
She could hear the grin in his voice and couldn’t help smiling herself. She was glad he could not see it. “So it seems.”
“Well, he could not do better.”
“But he is king. He must wed someone who can offer fresh strength to the kingdom.”
He laughed. “Hazel, I don’t think there is anyone stronger than you in any kingdom. I tell you, I adored you as the sweet, rejected girl you were, but you have transformed into a pillar of strength. I am amazed by you.”
Her mouth nearly dropped open. “Aw, Dorian…” she said with a light punch to his arm. “You look up to me? I’m like your exemplar now.”
He chuckled and lightly shoved her back to her tree. “Don’t push it, Lady Fortune.”
* * *
By the following day, Armond was fully alert and by the next, he could walk without aid. They remained a few more days to be certain he had all the rest he required. But by the end of six days, he was near pleading with the healer to bequeath him a soun
d prognosis so he could return to living again.
Even so, Hazel could tell every bump of the carriage caused him discomfort, making it clear he’d been exaggerating his wellness. She only hoped the journey homeward would not be too taxing.
Once Dorian has fallen asleep, Armond leaned forward with, “Maera says she will aid the Deep South in their upcoming strike.”
“She would have helped them anyway,” Hazel replied. “It is my belief that the ‘amulet of protection’ was only a ruse to weaken us for them.”
“But don’t you think she’ll aid their cause more fiercely now?”
She considered. Maera did seem the vengeful sort. “Likely.”
He swallowed. “And she said it will not be long before they come… I’m just not prepared for this, Hazel. What will we do?”
“It will test your role as king, I grant you. But we will see this through together. We will inform Gunther of what was relayed. He will prepare our troops. And we have an ally in Bashtii, don’t forget. We will send Fredrick word as well and he will be at the ready.”
Armond snorted. “He is a whole peninsula away should we need him. You know, I asked him for a portion of his troops—”
“I know you did, but he cannot afford to be without them for an indefinite period of time. It would be foolhardy when he is such a new king and will be considered untried by surrounding kingdoms. Many would like a chance to get their hands on Bashtii.”
“But we are half the kingdom we were before and I am as untried as he is.”
“Yes, but they are his troops—not ours. He will send aid when we have actual sightings of our enemy’s approach.”
“I don’t like that we’re forced to count on him so much.”
“Well, he’s all we have just now. We lost every other ally when we lost King Zephuel.”
“Then why haven’t we worked on that?”
“I don’t know. You’re the king. I just returned from salvaging the alliance we still have.” She folded her arms and looked out the window, working to conceal her flaring temper.
“Hazel.”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is argue with you.”
She glanced at him. “I don’t want to fight with you either.”
“And the last thing I want to do is keep discussing him.”
“Fredrick?”
“King Fredrick.”
She raised a brow at him. That had been rather snappy for someone who claimed they did not wish to fight with her.
He smiled humbly. “Have I ever told you how gleaming your hair is in the evening sunlight?”
She rolled her eyes.
“I mean it,” he said with a grin. Abruptly, his face lost its merriment.
“What is it?”
“I… was just remembering your gift.”
She caught her breath nervously, fearing what he might think. “Yes?”
“I heard Blythe discussing it with you during my recuperation.”
She nodded.
“I disagree with him.”
“Disagree?”
“I don’t think you should train. What if someone should hear? I don’t know what the people would do to you.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know how they fear the idea of the singers of old. They love you now, but if they ever learned… I’d never let them do anything to you, but I still hate to think what—”
“Armond, I’m fine. I’ll be careful. The training is only to make certain I can control when it is used… so it is never used again.”
“Please make very certain.” He sat forward and took her hand into his own. “After what happened at Maera’s… If you weren’t so capable, I don’t know what would have happened to you. You’re… so much more precious than I ever knew when we were young. I just want you safe, Hazel.”
Her returning smile did not reach her eyes. She had always taken care of herself. She did not need him worrying over her. But in another moment, she softened. Perhaps she simply was not accustomed to someone caring. And someone to care for her was what she’d always longed for. Here, that person sat before her and she seemed only to bicker with him. She squeezed his hand. “The Entity will see me well.”
24
Hazel swallowed. She was in the deepest, darkest part of what was left of the old castle. No one ever went there. It was rumored to have been an old torture chamber where the ghosts of its victims haunted. She rather doubted this. Even so, it provided the perfect place for her to determine how difficult it would be to train the gift out of her voice.
Taking a deep breath, she began with a tune she hated—one Lady Nora had so loved. Unexpected tears sprang to her eyes as the melody melted from her mouth. She recalled instances her guardian had requested she sing just for her. It had not been motherly or loving, but it had been a sort of appreciation. And Hazel had to admit it: She’d loved Lady Nora in some capacity, even if the woman hadn’t been capable of loving her back. She’d worked so hard to gain the woman’s approval to no avail. Now, she was gone from the world forever.
Hazel nearly gasped when she realized she was surrounded by a swirling cloud of torchlit dust. Her voice rose and it rose. As her grief mounted, it danced morosely, seeming to droop with its own sadness. At last, she ceased as sobs overtook her. How could one mourn someone who’d been so antagonistic? There had to be something wrong with Hazel that she could feel as she did. But then, she never had allowed herself to properly mourn any of the losses endured that fateful day. She’d marched forward, dragging the whole kingdom with her. Now, all the sorrow of that time returned and she fell to the ground under its weight.
The creaking of a door sent her back to her feet. She blinked several times. A new door had appeared, but… it was not possible. Those spiraling stairs with their gleaming handrail were too familiar. Slowly, she started up, running her fingers along the banister.
“Oh…” she gasped, drying her face with her baggy sleeve as she took in the sight of her tower room—her little home.
Racing to the bookshelf that still sheltered her books, she stroked their bindings. Somehow, the window she’d broken the day the fire was replaced. For that matter, the dust that should have caked every surface from a year’s neglect was absent. By some miracle, it had survived. Anything she’d loved, she’d kept in this place and it was all safe.
“How?” she whispered out. She recollected the castle’s structure from the outside and knew this tower was not present. At great risk, she unlatched the window and leaned as far out as she could. Just as she’d thought, the tower was a new addition.
“But how?” she laughed out, a hand going to her throat in a tumult of emotion. Could it be the castle had somehow… collapsed the room into itself… burying it safely beneath the surface?
Joyously, she threw herself into her favorite old chair and splayed her skirts out until she was comfortable. Laying her head back, she closed her eyes and inhaled the aromas. Though her life had changed so much now that she was more than welcome in Castlehaven, this place still felt the most like home—like a parent cradling her weary body after all the striving over the last year. Here, she was just Hazel and nothing more was expected of her than that.
“Argh!” she growled, leaping to her feet as she took in the placement of the sun. It was time for evening meal and she’d promised Armond he would see her there that evening. Every muscle in her body and mind pleaded for her to remain. But she was a woman of her word. Racing down the stairs, she shouted, “Don’t go anywhere!”
* * *
Everyone present at evening meal was abuzz over the chairs that had mysteriously scooted about of their own accord. Hazel bit her lip as she caught Armond’s glance. It had to have been her singing. Somehow, the gift’s reach had far surpassed what she had surmised. She was only grateful she’d done no harm. But it was true, in the end. She could never sing again. If it could range through stories of stone, she had no idea what she might be capable of�
� and she had no way of practicing in private.
She did her best to plunge into the meal, working to shove out the discomfort she felt that it was she they spoke of, though they had no idea of it. Many believed the castle itself had performed the act since it seemed to possess a flashier personality than the previous one. But the meal became more enjoyable for her as the topic waned and other matters were discussed. That was, until she caught a quiet conversation between a nearby couple.
“They say there is a secret engagement between King Armond and our Lady Fortune. Though why it should be so private, I cannot imagine.”
Hazel’s face heated. She dared a glance at Armond and her agitation intensified as she realized he’d heard the conversation as well. He looked back at her thoughtfully, though she could not read what those thoughts might be.
“Can we talk,” he mouthed to her.
Casting a glance about for any watching eyes, she replied with a subtle nod and the lowering of her gaze.
What could he wish to speak about? Was he bothered by the gossip? Did he blame her? She shook her head at herself. It could not be. She’d done nothing to reveal her feelings for him… so she hoped. Even so, it felt like a whole evening had passed before the supper ended and he drew her into his personal sitting room.
The moment the door was closed, he swiveled onto a knee before her. “Hazel… will you marry me?”
She drew her hand back before he could take it. “What?” Why was this proposal so much more surprising than the last? Was it because she’d not expected another? Or because it meant so much more now?
“Marry me,” he urged. “Be queen of Kierelia and rule by my side. The people need you and I need you.”
Turning her back on him, she marched across the room and fell into a chair. She well understood this was not the response he hoped for, but she needed a moment to regain her composure, to think.
Unwaveringly, he followed and sat close beside her. “What is the matter?” he asked gently. “Still can’t bear the sight of me?”
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