The Kingdoms of Evernow Box Set

by Heidi Catherine

  Rose came out from under the desk and returned to Jeremiah’s side. His face was crumpled, his eyebrows knitted together and water pooling in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, pulling her to him. “I should have killed him, but you said not to. What are we going to do? What’s your plan?”

  “It’s okay. I told you it’s okay.” She ran her hands down the front of his robe, taking hold of it and pulling his ear to her mouth as she lowered her voice and told him exactly what she had planned.

  With each word she spoke, she could feel the tension seeping from his body. It was going to be all right. He just needed to trust her.

  “Will you do it?” she asked when she’d finished telling him her plan.

  He nodded.

  “Good. Because it’s the only way.”

  He nodded again. “You’re right.”

  Rose wrapped her arms around him and wondered how she was going to let him go when she felt like she’d only just found him. But afterward… that was what would happen. He’d leave her. Of course he would. He hated the palace. There was no way he’d hang around here to be with her. And she knew now that there was no way she could ever leave.

  She either died here or she lived here. Or both. No matter if her plan worked or not, this was where she’d remain. Because leaving may preserve her life, however, it was certain death for everyone else. And she may have the death of one man to carry on her shoulders, but she didn’t need the weight of a thousand. She’d never be able to stand up again.

  Soon she’d know. It was time. Her future had arrived.

  KING VIRTUS

  THE NOW

  King Virtus sat outside the balcony room in the arena at the top of the stairs and tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair, admiring how lean his forearms were now that he’d dispensed of the extra weight he’d been carrying. Thankfully not all his body parts had shrunk like this. His cock was bigger than it’d ever been. He heard the way it made the Queen yelp with pleasure. Lucky bitch. She really should be more grateful.

  Today was the day. He could wait no longer, no matter what his stupid whore of a wife thought. Her warnings were meaningless.

  He had his son now. He didn’t need the Queen anymore, except for his son to suckle on her tits. He would keep her, for now, but her days were numbered, just like his own mother’s had been after he was born. Although, having a spare might come in handy, he supposed. Another son. Just in case. There was too much to think about right now.

  Whether or not he let his wife live, his daughters were no longer of any use to him. His merciful years of letting them live were over. Young Prince Virtus would be the next ruler of Forte Cadence. Not Rose or Eliza or Tash or … what was that young one’s name again? Cara. That’s right. Cara wouldn’t rule either.

  He’d laughed when he discovered his Queen had let his daughters escape, no doubt to her family in Aria Flats. Was she so stupid to think that he needed them in his palace to bring out their deaths? He could whisper for it from a million miles away and so it would be. He should probably wipe out his twin sister while he was at it, just in case.

  He hated his twin almost more than he loved his son. It was just as well his father had had the sense to lie about their birth order or right now she’d be Queen and he’d be watching her as Prince Virtus. But nobody alive knew about that, except for him. His father had made sure of that, only telling Virtus himself about it on his deathbed. He wasn’t even sure why he’d told him, although he supposed a King had a right to know about such things, even if they were no longer of any relevance. Just because his sister took her first breath a few minutes before him, didn’t make her more worthy of the crown. Luckily his father had seen the crown between his legs and taken action to ensure the right person got the job.

  His eldest daughter, Rose, had chosen not to run away with her sisters. She was probably too frightened to leave. Another foolish whore in the making. Not that she would live long enough to be a whore.

  He thought back to the conversation he’d just had with the new Conductor, uncertain if he was up for the task. He was a strange young man, although he had potential. He had the sort of handsome face people respected. And being the Conductor was definitely the sort of responsibility that required respect. He’d need to put in some time with him, of course, to make sure he knew what was expected of him. He just needed to get the unpleasantness of disposing of his daughters out of the way first.

  A smile spread across his face at the thought of the unpleasantness. A male heir at last. And what a strapping baby he was already. Strong arms and legs and quite a temper too. His daughters had never bellowed for their milk like that. Just more proof that men were superior to the weaker sex. They knew how to ensure their demands were met. Prince Virtus was an expert already. He’d make a fine King one day.

  A guard approached.

  “They’re ready for you, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing his head.

  Excellent. Oh, how he loved a good Whispering. No doubt the foolish beetles would think his latest Whisper excessive, but what did they know? And who could they tell without the use of their voices?

  He laughed as the door was opened for him and he stepped onto the balcony.

  One thousand beetles, all lined up waiting for him. And the new Grand Beetle standing before them, holding the sword like it was going to take on a life of its own and run away from him if he loosened his grip.

  He’d relax in time, when he came to realize how important his work was. How many lives he was saving by keeping Forte Cadence safe, even if a few lives had to be lost in the process.

  “The Whisperers are whispering. The Whisperers are whispering. The Whisperers are whispering.”

  Excellent. It had begun.

  The Conductor swept his sword across the arena, shaking slightly under the weight of it. Extra rations would need to be arranged to fatten this one up. Strength was needed to lead an army.

  Rows of beetles fell silent and knelt on their mats with their heads bowed, waiting for their command. This was his favorite part. The waiting. Knowing he had all the power here.

  The Conductor raised his sword above his head, then brought it down a little too quickly for King Virtus’s liking. He’d need to speak to him about that. It was important to get all the small details of this ceremony exactly right for maximum effectiveness.

  The Conductor looked to the balcony at the rear of the arena and nodded at him. Waiting. The Whisperers were ready. The Conductor was ready. Was he himself ready to do a job he should have arranged many years ago if his heart hadn’t been so soft?

  King Virtus nodded. Let it be done. He owed that to his son, just like his own father had owed it to him, taking care of his older sister well before he’d even been born, then swapping his birth order with Georgia to arrange the twins in the order they should have come into the world. Sometimes the universe made mistakes that needed correcting.

  Hopefully, this new Conductor remembered his words precisely. The words were important. The King’s daughters are dead. One letter could make all the difference here. If they were to whisper daughter in the singular, they’d need to do it all over again.

  The Conductor cleared his throat in a way that was entirely unnecessary and appeared to take a deep breath before he let the fatal words fall from his lips.

  “The King is dead.”

  It took King Virtus a few moments to understand what he’d just heard.

  It wasn’t until the Conductor said it again that he was able to react.

  “How dare you!” he bellowed from the balcony, just as the first row of those traitorous beetles lifted their heads, removed their hoods and stood.

  “Do not speak!” King Virtus shouted, clutching at the railing with both his hands.

  “The King is dead,” they whispered.

  “Anybody who says another word will be killed!”

  It was a shame that he was going to have to kill more Whisperers, but this was unacceptable. Never had he witn
essed such heresy!

  The second row stood and King Virtus held his breath, waiting for the sweet sound of silence. It was okay. This could be undone. He would have them Whisper for his health and all would be fine.

  “The King is dead,” the first two rows whispered together.

  “No! Silence!”

  Row after row joined in and the chant became louder, the arena filling with hushed voices, whispering in unison for his doom.

  Sweat poured down his brow and his heart pumped at a rate he’d never experienced before. He had to do something! He had to stop this before it was too late.

  “Guards,” he said, spinning around to find he was alone on the balcony.

  He went to the door and turned the handle to find it locked. How dare they! He was their King! Their ruler! They couldn’t lock him in or out. If he wanted a door opened in his own palace, the door would open.

  “Let me out!” His shouting was drowned out by the whispering, which had risen to a volume he’d never before heard in the arena. They weren’t whispering at all, they were shouting, with joy in their voices.

  His hands flew to his chest as he willed his heart to slow down. He wasn’t going to die. He was the King. He decided when he died and now was not the time. This could be undone. His stupid wife could get another message from his ancestors to save him. This was ridiculous!

  “The King is dead. The King is dead. The King is dead.” Over and over those hideously evil words continued to hammer at his ears.

  “Stop it! Stop it!” He returned to the balcony and leaned over the edge, calling out until his voice was hoarse and his breath was coming in gasps. “Stop it! We command you to stop!”

  They would pay for this! Heads were going to roll.

  “The King is dead. The King is dead.”

  He put his hands over his ears, unable to take it anymore. Those words! Those horrible words! They needed to stop. Why weren’t they stopping?

  He leaned over the railing to see the faces of these traitors. Let them look him in the eye as they chanted for his death.

  “No!” He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Those disgusting beetles weren’t chanting with their heads respectively bowed. They’d turned so their faces were pointing right at him. They had smiles on their disgusting mouths and their hands were outstretched, linked together like a chain of filth.

  “The King is dead. The King is dead.”

  The Conductor had joined the beetles and was holding the hand of a young Whisperer who had the same eyes as him. There was no sign of his sword.

  “Traitor!” the King yelled, removing his hands from his ears and grabbing hold of the railing in front of him once more and shaking it. “Traitor!”

  The railing loosened and he shook it further, hoping it would crash down and knock some of those filthy traitors on the head. They’d pay for this.

  “The King is dead. The King is dead.”

  Each word was like a knife in his chest. He could feel them stabbing at him, the pain so real he wasn’t sure if perhaps he’d been attacked. He ran his hands over his chest, but it was fine. No, it wasn’t fine. He was being attacked. Attacked with words and nobody knew better than him that words were a far more powerful weapon than any sword or fist. Words flew straight into the ears of the universe.

  Then the pain became too great to bear and he clutched at his chest, crying out for help.

  “Please!” he called, using this word for the first time in his life. “Please, help me! We won’t hurt you! Things will be different. We promise. Please, just stop.”

  They didn’t stop. His words stopped instead, and he stumbled, crashing toward the railing. It broke apart, swinging open like a gate, welcoming him to his final resting place.

  The people below scurried for safety as the King fell to the floor. No longer Whisperers, they were now people. People who had hopes and dreams and names. People who no longer had a King.

  Because the King was dead.

  “Long live the Queen,” said Jeremiah, leaning over the King’s lifeless body.

  “Long live the Queen,” said Micah, nodding as she squeezed her brother’s hand.

  The people formed a circle around their dead King, and a new chant erupted and filled the arena.

  “Long live the Queen! Long live the Queen!”

  It took them a while to see her standing on the balcony, where only moments ago her father had taken his last breath.

  A hush spread across the arena as they waited for her to speak.

  “You are my people,” she said. “I don’t wish to speak to you from here because I am one of you. Not one who stands above you. I stand with you.”

  She stepped toward the part of the balcony where the railing had broken away.

  “Will you catch me?” she asked.

  The people below stretched out their arms and she let herself fall, trusting them like they had trusted her.

  They caught her and set her on the floor and she took a few steps away from her father’s crumpled body, smoothed her skirt and smiled.

  “Freedom is no longer coming,” she said, through her tears. “Freedom is here!”

  AURELIA

  THE NOW

  Dead. Dead. Dead. Aurelia’s husband was dead. Which meant her daughters would live. It also meant that, for the first time since her wedding day, she also was allowed to live.

  It was easily the happiest day of Aurelia’s life. Her husband’s death was her birth.

  The first thing she did was send Tryon to her sister to bring her daughters home. The second thing she did was search the palace until she found her beautiful Rose. Her daughter, the Queen.

  Which made Aurelia the Queen Mother, a title she liked no more or less than the one she’d had before. She still preferred to be called Aurelia.

  She found Rose in the garden, surrounded by Whisperers.

  “Mother!” said Rose, walking over to her.

  “My daughter,” Aurelia said, pulling her into her arms and kissing her cheek.

  “You’ve heard the news?” asked Rose.

  “I have,” Aurelia said. “The guards came to me immediately. I was a little…” she searched for the right word, “shocked.”

  Rose nodded.

  “You are the Queen now,” she said, aware she was stating what was obvious to all. “Should I dip my head and curtsy?”

  “Don’t you dare!” Rose laughed, her eyes crinkling, reminding Aurelia of how she’d giggled as a child. “I’m outlawing the curtsy immediately.”

  “You do realize the seriousness of the position you hold,” Aurelia said, wondering if her daughter was ready for the task ahead.

  Rose’s face fell and her features smoothed out. “Of course I do, Mother. And I’ll be needing your help.”

  Aurelia smiled. “Most definitely. And am I allowed to ask how you did it? Is it true you changed the Whisper?”

  Rose smiled again. “I’ll tell you everything later.”

  Aurelia nodded. “Just tell me one thing for now. Did he suffer?”

  “Greatly.” Rose studied her face for a reaction.

  “Good.” Aurelia felt a weight lift. Her husband had deserved no better.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” said Rose. “There’s something we need to do, and I wanted us to do it together.”

  Aurelia nodded, having a feeling she knew exactly what it was.

  “What is it?” she asked her daughter, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She really was a beautiful girl. Aptly named after Aurelia’s favorite flower.

  “The dungeons. It’s time to let all the people go free, not just the Whisperers. We’ll open all their doors and send them home to their families.”

  This was what Aurelia had hoped Rose was going to say. There could be no celebration of freedom until everyone in the palace had that same right.

  “Your first official act as Queen will be one of kindness,” said Aurelia. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Gabrielle has waited long enou
gh,” said Rose.

  Aurelia’s hand fluttered to her mouth. “How do you know about Gabrielle?” She was sure she was the only person who knew Gabrielle’s name.

  “That’s another long story,” said Rose. “For later. The prisoners have waited long enough for their release.”

  This was true. Every minute in the dungeon must feel like a century.

  “There are two people you need to meet,” Rose said, turning to beckon to the group of Whisperers on the lawn. “Jeremiah! Micah!”

  Two Whisperers approached. Aurelia studied their faces, recognizing one of them as the man who’d stolen her daughter’s heart. The same man who’d brought her breakfast every day for many years. Had he played a part in what’d happened in the arena today?

  “Mother, this is Jeremiah, and his sister, Micah.” Rose stood between them, with an arm over each of their shoulders.

  “Pleased to meet you,” said Aurelia.

  The Whisperers smiled at her.

  “You’ve always been kind to me, Your Majesty,” said the male Whisperer that Rose had called Jeremiah.

  “Then please always be kind to my daughter,” she said, already knowing this man had quite a different heart to the one that’d stopped beating inside the man she’d married.

  “We have no time to waste,” said Rose, taking a step toward the palace. “Let freedom truly be here.”

  Aurelia paused to burn the memory of this moment into her brain. The bad had become good. So good she could scarcely believe it. Gabrielle had been right. All she’d had to do was trust and wait. Her daughters were alive and her baby son now had a chance to grow into a good man, instead of the monster her husband would surely have raised him to be.

  Together, the four of them made their way into the palace and down to the dungeon. Aurelia wasn’t entirely certain why Jeremiah and Micah were with them, but it seemed to be important to Rose. There was someone down there, they said they needed to see.