A Whisper of Night

15.2 || SCIROCCA 🍃

"NO!"

    Later on, Scirocca would remember nothing but falling. Later on, she would remember nothing but her sword hitting the ground, bile rising to her throat as she shook her father's convulsing body. Later on, she would remember nothing but the shouts and shrieks of the Alchemists, the stunned look on Sirok's face as his crimson-stained fingers trembled over his wound.

    "Father," she whispered. "Father - no - please - "

    This has to be a dream, she thought wildly. This isn't real - this can't be real - this -

    Someone was dragging her away. "NO!" she screamed, kicking and thrashing in their arms. "NO! NO!"

    "Drug her," came an Alchemist's voice. "Get her back inside - melt her sword - "

    Something pierced her arm. And then she remembered nothing more....

    She awoke lying down, surprisingly calm.

    She was alone, she realized. She was in the room she'd spent the last few weeks in - the room the Alchemists had assigned her. Several locks had been added onto the doors since the last time she'd tried escaping.

    Escaping....

    An awful sensation gripped her stomach. She wanted to throw up, to scream. No...no, that couldn't have happened. That could've never happened.

    She'd killed her father.

    She'd killed her father.

    "No," she whispered. She sat up, throwing the covers off her body. She was wearing a simple nightgown, made of the same gray cotton as the rest of the Alchemists' garb. "No, no, no." Her stomach was hurting. She stared at her hands, almost expecting to see blood there, but no...she was clean, as if somebody had washed her....

    She stood up, her head pounding, her stomach tumbling over itself. No, no, no. She had to ask someone - she had to know -

    The door opened.

    In strode Alchemist Mossbeard.

    "Scirocca," he said gravely.

    Her heart sank.

    "Why don't you sit?" he said. During all their time together - which hadn't been much - the Alchemist had treated her with the utmost courtesy.

    "What happened?" she said, clutching a bedpost. "Tell me here - please."

    He sighed. "We could not save your father," he said simply. "He...he asked for you before he passed away."

    Her knees buckled. Her hands suddenly felt like rubber - she sank onto the bed, her legs shaking -

    "I am sorry," he said simply.

    "No," she whispered. "This isn't possible."

    "We also found a fugitive with you," he said. "The Queen Majaeyra of Svanvald. Do you know what she was doing here?"

    She shook her head numbly. "No." Zalyne and Brennia...did they escape?

    "Very well. We shall deal with that later. But for now...we can no longer wed. Kinslaying is abhorred in the eyes of the Alchemists, and you must leave by night."

    "But where...where will I go?"

    "Back to the palace," he said simply. "You shall be tried there, along with Queen Majaeyra. She faces the lesser charges of breaking and entering, as well as thievery. We cannot find the scrolls she took from the library, though."