Kingdom Soul

by Brittni Chenelle

  “Yeah,” I said weakly.

  “What’s different from being a regular soldier? Because I hear soldiers in Camelot make three times those of anywhere else.”

  “More money, plus the title.”

  “So you did all this for a pay raise? In that case, I’ll pay you more if you let me go.”

  “You’re not a queen anymore.” I looked at her tattered dress. “I doubt you have enough to fill your table.”

  “I am to become a princess of Vires.”

  So Merlin was right. “Aren’t you advantageous? And I suppose you’re doing this for money and a title?”

  “For love,” she said. She’d spoken it so earnestly that I stopped walking.

  “Me too,” I said involuntarily.

  “Is it that girl, Merlin? I saw the way you rushed to save her the night you found us two years ago.”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t need some girl poking around in my head. I pulled the reins of the horse forward.

  “You know,” she said, “somehow that makes me respect you more.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re a hero in your story. On a quest for the sake of love. Sounds like a hero to me.”

  I turned, only to feel the sharpness of steel cut into my cheek as a flash of red swept by. My cheek stung, and on the ground beside me was a red, dragon-hilted dagger stuck in the ground. If I had kept walking, she could have killed me. I turned to her, waiting for her to shrink in fear, but she didn’t. “I’m the hero of my own story. I have my own love to return to.”

  I bound her hands and gagged her. I wouldn’t be fooled by her again. I’d consider the dagger a trophy from my quest, but something bothered me. Why use a dagger when she had Merlin’s power in her blood? Was she showing mercy? I didn’t ask. One of the reasons Arthur had used Viran troops to capture her was to deter her from killing any of Camelot’s troops with magic, but this had been smooth. Too smooth. The only possibility I could think of was that Merlin had been wrong. If it was love Charlotte was fighting to get back to, she would have used every ounce of power she possessed. It was unlikely that she had any power at all, but I wasn’t about to tell Arthur that. Not before he knighted me.

  Although she’d drawn my blood, something she said quelled my fears. No matter the circumstances of the quest, everything I’d done was for love, and that was a heroic cause.

  Even Arthur had acquired his position through questionable means; maybe that’s why he’d shown me mercy. But it didn’t make him less of a king. It didn’t take away from the fact that in five short years he’d transformed empty, broken Drethen into thriving, wealthy Camelot.

  If it weren’t for his pursuit of Gwen, I might’ve been proud of him.

  Quest or not, I was going home. I’d have Gwen. I was a knight, and I’d earn that title as Arthur earned his.

  31

  Merlin

  Fire wielding was a slow process. It was easy to lose control of the flames, and I'd suffered several minor burns in the process. As soon as the flames flickered red, my chest seized with fear. The basement was an easy place to avoid burning anything important, but it still filled with heat and smoke.

  When the stones in one room blackened, I'd rotate to the next. I could burn almost two rooms in one day at my current level. I raised my hand, the blue glow cutting through the back smoke like rays of sun through the clouds. I inhaled deeply to muster my energy only to choke on lungs full of burning stone.

  I gasped for fresh air, this time crouching below the smoke, but it was no use; once I started choking, I couldn’t recover. I burst through the open door as the smoke was pulled deeper into the cellar by an invisible force. Left, that was the way out. The way toward fresh air, I was certain, but why then did the smoke drift right?

  I followed it through the row of empty rooms, one after another. I hadn’t ventured this far; there was no reason to. Each room was exactly the same in size and contents, without exception. However, the staircase I’d come in by was, as far as I knew, the only way down here, too far below the ground for windows. So what was pulling the smoke this way?

  Further and further I strode, until the last row of lit torches. The darkness stretched out in front of me, pulling the smoke in like hell’s gates, summoning a ghostly figure. I swallowed a lump of nervousness I hadn’t realized I’d felt, lit a timid blue flame, and entered the dark unknown.

  The bleak blue light of my flame drenched the corridor in a wintery glow. I resisted the urge to check each cell I passed for anomalies and instead stayed my course and followed the smoke.

  A ghostly whistle stopped me in my tracks, and I felt the wisp of cold air run through. It was odd, but what had I to fear? Even drained of most of my power, I could incapacitate any foe I uncovered, but something here was sinister, evil, dangerous. My intuition urged me to turn back.

  The dark corridor seemed endless, and my growing anxiety spiked as I stepped forward into clean air. I raised my hand, the blue light catching the black smoke as it sucked into one not-so-special cell. The corridor continued on in darkness, but the smoke was my guide. I turned into the cell, the back of my mind still curious about how far the corridor went on. I made a mental note to continue exploring until the end... another day.

  Each step brought me closer to the eerie whistle. I approached the back wall of the empty room. The smoke hummed as it sucked into a gap between two stones. What was this? Extinguishing my flame, I blinked through the total darkness as I placed my hands flat against the frigid stone. I pushed, and when it didn’t budge, I lowered my shoulder and rammed it into the wall. My stomach dropped as the stone door slid forward and the cold whoosh of open air hit my face. I stumbled through, lighting my hand with the shaken panic of a child afraid of the dark. A secret passage?

  Inside was a room half the size of the cell I’d come from. It was empty except for a black rug that glowed blue in my light. I saw the flicker of the flame mirrored in an object at the center of the rug. There was an archway, at the far end of the room, that looked like a staircase.

  Excitement thudded at my chest as I knelt and examined the silvery stone. It looked like a precious metal. Round, an oval in shape—but it was too smooth to have come from below the earth. I reached out and rubbed it with my free hand, surprised by its warm surface. What is this? It was the source of evil that had led me here, and in it, I saw my glowing blue eyes for the first time reflected back at me. I stared in awe of them, my mind brushing over my mother’s last word to me: witch. I tried lifting the stone, but it was heavy and I needed two hands. I wasn’t ready to extinguish my light, and end my exploration, not when I’d finally found something.

  Leaving the stone, I walked beneath the archway and held my hand up to see stairs that led up. The smoke rose the staircase and I followed. My adrenaline pulled me up, flight after flight, but drained as I huffed breathlessly with no end in view. Determined, I continued. My legs burned, growing heavier with each step up the endless staircase. Finally, I saw a bright green window at the top. Recharged, I climbed the rest of the way, my gaze glued to the glowing square.

  At the top of the stairs was a large door with an arched window at its center. The opening was covered on the outside by green, leafy vines, but I could still hear the whip of the fresh air beyond. I yanked at the handle and pushed at the door, trying to get it open, but it didn’t move. Where did this let out? If I’d been brave enough, I would have burned the door down, or sliced the hinges with a precise gust of wind, but I wasn’t sure where it led or if I’d draw attention to the door. I wanted to get the unusual stone out of here, to examine it in my room where I had natural light. Surely it was worth something and, if it was, it belonged to Arthur. I needed to get it out of here before it was discovered by someone else. I turned and descended the stairs, vowing that I’d inspect every inch of the castle’s exterior until I found the door again, from the outside.

  32

  Minseo

  When Morgana realized that Charl
otte wasn’t joining us, she was inconsolable. I held her little body to mine; it was so hot that I feared she’d burst into flame. Her arms were wrapped tightly around me as if she feared letting go, and I ached when I looked at her. Her screams and cries were an echo of how I felt inside. I held her in my arms. It was my fault her mother was taken. Finally, it was more than I could take, and I let myself fall apart once more.

  My tears drew her attention, and she cupped my face in her hands like a concerned parent. When she looked into my eyes, I swear I saw my little brother looking back at me. She took my hand and sat silently beside me as if she understood. I was not her enemy, I too wanted Charlotte back. She wiped my face with her sleeve, and we fell back into a weighted silence.

  She didn’t cry again after that, as if she feared I’d cry too. Children cry, overwhelmed by the world around them, certain that adults have the answers. To witness that illusion break must’ve unsettled her.

  I wasn't ready to lose Charlotte this way, but neither was Morgana. I couldn't be the man I was when I left Vires. I could not drink Charlotte away this time. I couldn’t rely on the crutch of numbness to pull me through. I needed to become the kind of man my brother was—strong enough to pull Morgana out of harm's way and return to Camelot to get Charlotte. Strength was the key to making everything right. I thought of Morgana’s hands on my cheeks—she was scared. She needed comfort, to know everything would be okay, and instead she was forced to comfort me at age four.

  Then it hit me; this was probably how Charlotte felt when Young died. Lost, overwhelmed, scared. It was in a moment of gloom on this level, or worse, that I’d left her in.

  I took a deep breath and Morgana mimicked me. I smiled. It wasn't for nothing. Despite this pain, I felt more alive than ever. Charlotte brought me back; she trusted me to look after Morgana.

  I was still alive. I could fix everything.

  I took Morgana’s hands between mine and rubbed them warm. She smiled, but maybe just for me.

  An hour later, I was relieved that Morgana fell into a deep sleep, her head bouncing with every jerk of the carriage until the coach came to a stop. My first instinct was to panic. Was it Lancelot again? Was he here for Morgana? My nerves eased when Gabriel climbed in, his wide frame jostling the carriage until he rested on the seat.

  “How's she holding up?” he asked.

  “She's alright,” I said.

  “And you?” I looked up at him, his dark eyes scanning my face. “I figured as much,” he said, “But you're not in this alone.”

  I nodded, unable to find my voice.

  “I've never seen Morgana take to anyone so quickly.”

  I sniffed. “I'm really happy you agreed to come with us. You've been a great teammate throughout this whole ordeal. I promise, once I know Morgana is safe in Vires, I'll get Charlotte back.”

  “I know.”

  I blanched, “What? How?”

  He smiled and leaned back in his seat. “Because love always wins.”

  I sighed, disappointed that he didn't have a more concrete answer. “Tell that to my brother.”

  “Minseo,” he said, biting his lower lip, “there's something else. I didn't want to say anything to Charlotte because I wasn't sure, but now I wish I had.”

  I leaned forward, making sure not to wake Morgana. “What is it?”

  “I don't think Charlotte has what Lancelot and Merlin are looking for. But if she's figured this out, she'll probably pretend she does.”

  “What are you saying?” I asked.

  Gabriel eyed Morgana, her breath still steady. “Perhaps we should talk about this outside the carriage.”

  33

  Charlotte

  I’d never been to Bullhorn. Five years ago, it was tucked safely behind Drethen borders two armies between their great kingdom and mine. It was all Camelot now, as far as I’d ever traveled. What wasn’t Camelot by name, was in alliance. Even Vires had somehow fallen into Arthur’s hands. Still, I trusted Minseo—he’d sort it out, he’d protect Morgana, and for now it was as far as I could send her away from Arthur’s castle.

  Once again, I’d lost everything I cared about—Morgana, Minseo, Gabriel, Junho—all for the sake of a title I thought had perished years ago.

  The Viran soldiers I’d come to know hardly spoke a word to me. They marched me in like the prisoner I was. Was it shame that silenced them? Sadness? Regret? No matter, I felt the isolation seep in with each step we took away from my loved ones. I didn’t know what a man like Arthur wanted with me, but I knew from experience it wouldn’t be good.

  As we traveled overnight, I had to stop my mind from cosseting the burgeoning doubt inside. Of course, it was over. I dared to love again. I’d already learned what the consequences of that were. I thought of tilting my head back, calling out to Young for help as I’d done so many times over the last few years, but he wasn’t there. Not out there in the endlessness of space and time, nor inside me. I bit back my urge to cry, and Lancelot reached for his sword. Half out of breath, he glared at me. What did he think I would do? I was outnumbered eleven to one, but the look in his clear green-brown eyes was fear. I recoiled, scrunching my brows together. Based on his mirrored expression he seemed equally puzzled. After a few dragging moments, he sheathed his sword and we continued. What don’t I know?

  I saw Bullhorn in the distance, a towering city that swallowed the horizon. Trading carts clogged the streets, people rushing in all directions, roads spitting out in every direction like waves from an island. The castle perched above all, from its podium at the center, like a white crown floating above the chaos. Impossible. That kind of growth took hundreds of years. How? How in such a short time did Arthur turn the depleted Drethen empire into this—the center of humanity?

  I should have known it was something spectacular, something more tangible than the alliances that rallied so many behind a teenage boy. One thing was certain: Arthur wasn’t just anyone—he was born to be a king.

  The castle was half-embedded into the mountain, the white walls only on the half that reached toward the sky. The rest could only be seen up close, with windows carved into the stone of solid rock peeking out at the city below. Attacking Bullhorn Castle would be as useless as knocking down a mountain. It would never fall, and for the first time in five years, I allowed myself to surrender to hopelessness.

  Lancelot hesitated before helping me off the horse. I stepped down, feeling slightly dizzy and unbalanced from the long journey. Up close, I could feel the immense size of the mountain castle, like being swallowed by the earth. I tore my eyes away and scanned for Arthur. Who was the boy capable of all this?

  My gaze stopped on a striking girl with green braids. I’d seen her before; she’d saved Morgana from the fire two years ago. Her black eyes were gentle and sympathetic but changed when she turned to Lancelot.

  “Merlin,” Lance breathed. “Where is Arthur?”

  Merlin spoke, her voice low and beautiful, like the start of a song. “He thought it best that I settle the girl in myself.” She smirked, lighting up her whole face. “I’m actually surprised you made it here in one piece,” she said, and her gaze flitted to me.

  Once again, what did they expect me to do?

  Merlin turned to the soldiers. “You’re dismissed,” she said.

  Jay Hyun stepped forward. “With all due respect, I’ve been ordered to stay with Charlotte.”

  Merlin walked up to Jay Hyun, his posture stiffening. “Did Prince Minseo say so?” My heart thudded as a silent moment lingered between them. Jay Hyun remained frozen.

  My voice sounded, “Please,” I said. She turned to me, holding my gaze before turning back to Jay Hyun. She sighed. “Fine, we’ll accommodate you.”

  She turned to me, her face softening. “Charlotte, please come with me.”

  I turned to Lancelot. “My dagger, please,” I said.

  Lancelot looked befuddled but handed me the dagger without so much as a word. I eyed the shallow cut on his cheek as I sheathed i
t.

  The dark-fleshed woman turned to Lancelot. “Lance,“ she spat, “take care of the others.”

  “Take care?” I asked as we walked toward the entrance of the Bullhorn Castle.

  “Water and a place to rest until they’re ready to return to Vires,” she said.

  I wasn’t sure, but from the short interaction between them, it almost seemed like Merlin preferred me to her partner Lancelot, and I wondered where her allegiances lied.

  34

  Merlin

  As I led Charlotte into the caste, I felt the sudden overwhelming sense of belonging that I hadn’t expected. Since leaving Lance, I went days at a time without speaking to anyone. It dawned on me that I’d never met a person who could understand what this power felt like—what it meant—the way Charlotte could. She was a stranger but also all I had. What words would she use to describe the sensation? How did her powers differ from my own?

  I resisted the urge to bombard her immediately with questions and instead felt myself reaching for her energy. I wondered all the while if I’d be able to feel the tingle of that which was beyond the ordinary. I pushed the smallest bit of my own energy to mix with hers. An ordinary person wouldn’t notice that I'd done it, they’d feel a wave of light-headedness or ask for some cold water, but they never suspected I’d had an effect on their energy. But Charlotte wasn’t ordinary. She was a witch like me. A future battle mage, a sister. If she felt it, she didn’t show it. So I pulled my energy back with a bit of hers, but all I felt was loss and unwavering despair.

  The guards closed the doors behind us, Charlotte's eyes tallying them as we walked.

  Impatient, I said, “You’re not in any danger.”