Sisters Three (Completed)

26. Brenna (2/2)

With the end approaching, all who were not important or needed were shooed from the room. This included Morna, who, even if she had somehow started an affair with Afton, was not acknowledged as a family member, and was ushered out with all the other ladies.

Being the only female left, the task of nurse fell to Brenna. She reluctantly took her post by his side, mopping his brow and trying not to choke on the smell of rotting death.

"Perhaps..." one of the older generals said. "Perhaps it is time that someone should be sent out to locate Afton and bring him back. I think, should he miss his father's passing, it may be difficult for us to get him to focus enough on the plans that need to be made on the event of becoming the new head of the army."

General Rydon scoffed. "So you can try to convince the boy of respecting all the stubborn refusals to act that Robert made? Let the boy mourn all he wants. No matter his emotional state, he'll see that changes are needed if he wants the throne."

Brenna turned to Robbin to see how he was taking this conversation of his younger brother's imminent rise to power, but he was oblivious to the general's babble. Robbin's gaze was fixed to the bed, his eyes almost wild as he stared so hard that Brenna's breath caught in her throat. She whipped around to follow his gaze, and saw Robert splayed at an odd angle, his mouth agape, eyes opened just a sliver, and his body seeming somehow eerily... hollow.

Though she was loathe to touch his clammy skin, Brenna snatched his wrist up and groped for a heartbeat. She searched for what felt like hours, but there simply was nothing to find.

"He's gone," she said, surprised to find that his death stirred her stomach sharply.

"Are you sure? Women sometimes feel what they expect find," General Rydon said, surging forward. "I'll check."

He shoved her roughly out of the way and off the bed. Her foot caught in the folds of the bottom of her dress, tangling her legs and sending her plummeting to the ground. Robbin didn't make a move to catch or even help her. He was hovering over General Rydon, his knuckles white as he gripped the pommel of his sword.

Brenna watched from her lowered position as Robert's pulse was searched for by evidentially more qualified people. It was almost as if every general wanted to make sure the next wasn't wrong about the cessation of Robert's heart, and they all jostled to try and locate a beat in his neck or arm. Robbin stood behind them, yet over them, his breath baited and his hands just starting to shake.

A moment later, and General Rydon, apparently still the expert on vital signs, held up his hands to signal for silence. His peers looked to him, their faces stony and still.

General Rydon took a deep breath, shaking his bushy head slowly. "Robert Glenfarrow is indeed dead."

"What?" The voice belonged to Afton, bursting through the door at just the right moment to hear the news. His face was flushed and he held an elderly man tightly by one arm. Lurking behind them was Morna, a hand raised to her mouth at the sight of the corpse on the bed.

"He died," General Rydon repeated, retreating from Robert's side. The others peeled off as he did, leaving the bed in an empty space between their circled bodies.

"We can't find a pulse," Brenna said.

"No," Afton said, almost fiercely. He dashed into the room, dragging the old man behind him. The clinking of glass filled the air, and Brenna noticed for the first time that the elderly man was frantically cradling glass vials in his arms. "I brought the apothecary! There has to be an antidote!"

The apothecary dumped his potions onto the mattress and bent forward to check Robert's vital signs. Brenna fought a sigh. Apparently her word wasn't good for anyone.

The old man pried open Robert's eyes, then slapped his cheeks. Next he checked Robert's mouth, keeping it open with his hand while peering deeply at his gums and tongue. Afton stood right behind the apothecary, his anxiety radiating off him in waves.

Finally, the apothecary stepped back, shaking his head. "He really is dead, sir."

Afton bit his lip. "Give him one of the antidotes. Maybe we can still save him..."

"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't know what poison was used, so I wouldn't even have a clue which antidote to start with," the apothecary said, his face pitying. "Even if we did know what we were dealing with, it wouldn't matter at this stage. He's beyond saving."

Afton pressed the butt of his hands into his eyes, bending over and his sobs filling the silent room. Morna appeared from somewhere, sliding to her knees by his side and throwing her arms over his back. Brenna frowned, itching to pull her sister away before gossip could be incubated, but the rigid stillness of Robbin kept her in place. He did not cry as his brother did, but his eyes gained a faraway look.

The generals gave Afton a few minutes to mourn before Rydon stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Our condolences to you, Afton," he said. "Robert was a great man. Not many would fight Revours for the right to the throne, and without him we would already be under the influence of whichever foreign country Revours wanted to sell us to."

Afton looked up, his eyes shining with tears. "I know that now he is dead, I am in charge," he said. He visibly pulled himself together, wiping his face on his sleeve and standing. Shoulders back, chin up, for the first time he looked like someone who might someday rule. Brenna felt that old wound on her pride stir once again, that she couldn't have become his wife and queen.

"That's correct," Rydon said. "And as such, we will need to have a meeting with all the leaders under your command, in order to quell any fears that should arise over the death of your father. You must show all of us that you really are fit to be our ruler."

"Of course," Afton said, walking to his father's bedside. He lifted the limp hand and slowly worked off the Glenfarrow signet ring. With it, he'd be able to send orders to all the allies of the Glenfarrows and they'd listen to him. It was a symbol of the power that came with being the head of the Glenfarrow house. Sliding it on, Afton turned to face the room. Brenna took an unconscious step away from Robbin, hoping to somehow catch Afton's attention.

"My father made many rules, and while some of them were wise and prudent, others were prejudice and stubborn," Afton said. A few of the generals nodded in smugness. Afton continued, "I intend to change one of those rules right now."

Robbin stirred and Brenna held her breath.

"I am going to marry the love of my life, Morna Ildersong of Ittal," Afton said, his tone so firm that it dared anyone to protest. He held out his hand to where Morna hung in the background, and she took it with eyes as wide as saucers.

Brenna nearly fell over.

"That's not fair!" she shouted before she could stop herself. Thankfully her outburst was lost within the cacophony of the generals voicing their opinions on such a ridiculous match.

Afton glared at the waves of objections crashing against himself and Morna as they held tightly to each other's hands. "I've declared my intentions, and they shan't change. Argue all you want, but your next queen will be Morna and I expect your support to be that of any loyal subject."

Scorching anger boiled like a toxic tar in Brenna's chest and she knew she had to run before it exploded out of her in wrenching screams. With a glare that she hoped would melt metal directed at her sister, Brenna stormed across the room and through the doorway.

The trap of her vows to Robbin closed around her throat, strangling her. Her own sister had succeeded where she'd failed. Brenna could have held out for a few months and the crown could have been hers. The injustice of it scalded.

But even as she fumed, a small part of her whispered calmly to her mind. He loves Morna. It wouldn't have mattered if you were free or not. You truly are nothing to him.

Tears flew down her cheeks and she found a dark corridor to collapse to the ground and hate the world for setting everything against her.