Rovan
In all the years I spent fighting for Dhernon, I'd gotten the opportunity to see the ins and outs of Dhernon politics. Merit and lineage was the usual standard by which power was passed on, but the Queen had no children of her own. Apparently, I was the closest to a child she had. In my case, I unknowingly signed my life away to evil spirits and wound up under the Queen's thumb.
Much to the dukes' chagrin, I was given this Kingdom on the condition that I took over swiftly and went through the Queen's coronation process, which usually involved a ritual. In this case, I would have to ingest a chalice with the contents of a chosen sacrifice of the Queen.
I'd tried my best to steer clear of the much darker aspects of magic, and I managed to get away with it since the queen had my neck in a death grip. Tomorrow, however, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to stomach it. Not after her comment about sacrificing the orphaned infant I'd given my mother charge of with no explanation.
Considering the Queen's soft spot for me had turned into a cesspit of control and obsession, I sent extra soldiers to guard my sister and mother. Only a fool would trust the Queen, and I was not going to risk it.
I already was risking enough at the moment as my eyes veered from the fake smile of the Bermillian duke before me to Roselena. She stood stiffly next to the queen, holding an empty wine glass.
She stood out like a sore thumb in her uniform, or perhaps, she stood out only to me. Though I suppose that wouldn't be such a stretch considering her life was on the line because I hadn't managed to hide my attraction to her.
Guilt reared its ugly head, and I forced myself to look away. I knew what I was feeling was irrational, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to accept the fact that I would have to let her go.
"She's quite a pretty girl." The duke commented as he tipped his glass of wine back. He gestured toward Roselena.
I glanced at her quickly and tried to convince myself otherwise. It was futile, and though I wish it weren't true, I'd caught myself staring at her too many times to deny that I thought she was beautiful.
Still, the lie slid off my tongue too easily. "I suppose she's fine."
"Well, if you chose her as your personal attendant, she must be a good worker." He paused as he watched me in interest. "You know, I'm actually looking for someone to work as a governess at my estate. I bet she'd do a lovely job. Maybe we can negotiate."
A scowl overtook my face as I studied him carefully. At face value, this seemed like a good opportunity to send Roselena away before the Queen snapped. However, governess work was most often done by noblewomen or the maids of nobles who were taught to read. As far as I knew, I was the only one who was aware that Roselena could read, but I'd never bothered looking into it. I didn't think it would matter considering what the head maid had said about her family's business.
As I looked at the duke's confident expression, I felt my intuition spark.
"What kind of negotiation?"
He smiled and lowered his voice, "One you can't refuse."
I raised an eyebrow at him, feeling tension pulling at my muscles as I stared at him for a long moment. What was he playing at, and why was Roselena the reason he was willing to bargain?
I doubted he was that desperate for a governess.
"I suppose I should return to my room now. It was lovely speaking to you outside of the meetings. And again, congratulations." He extended a hand.
Keeping an eye on his face, I placed my hand in his, and as expected, I felt him press a note into my palm. Of course, he didn't know that the note was useless if he wanted to communicate in secret. The second I saw the note, my familiars would be blabbering to the Queen.
I squeezed the note in my hand tightly as I watched him turn and leave.
Glad that I was finally alone, I moved to take a moment to myself outside and away from everyone, but of course, my plans didn't go as expected. No, instead, I felt a hand on my forearm and a swift whisper in my ear.
"Code black."
My legs moved before I could fully process the signal. I was outside when I finally realized that code black meant either my sister or mother, or both, were in danger.
Blue made it easy to get to the main palace quickly, but when I finally made it to the door of my family's room, I was met with silence. There were no assailants, and there was no sign of movement.
I was too late.
I walked into the dark room with a small piece of hope that was squandered in only a second. My eyes brushed over the a mess of furniture and broken ceramic. The bed sheets were gone and scattered on the floor, and I could only stand frozen at the entrance. My heart felt static as if unsure of what to do or feel, and for a second, I felt an overwhelming loneliness.
"She's not here." I heard a weak voice speak from my left, and when I finally found the source, I registered my mother sitting on the marbled floor and leaning against the window sill.
(!) She was holding her side, breathing weakly as she bled out onto her dress and onto the floor. I realized she was wearing the gown I had gifted her for the coronation tomorrow. It was a brilliant blue, but with the blood stains in the dim light of the moon, it looked black.
It was an appropriate color I suppose. She was obviously dying, and I couldn't find it in me not to care. It was at times like these that I wished I could be as unfeeling and inhumane as my peers in Dhernon. Maybe then I would be able to bear the thought of losing the mother I'd spent the majority of my life resenting.
I approached her silently and crouched down before her.
"She wanted to wear the dresses at least once. So we put them on as we were packing to leave like Joaquim had instructed." She told me with a small smile.
"Did she escape?" Hope was clear in my voice.
"I knew there was something wrong when the guards outside left their places. I told her to leave the room with the baby and follow the map of the tunnels."
"How long have you been like this?" I said, feeling a bit less grieved as I held onto the fact that my sister was relatively safe.
"Not long."
That explained her coherency, but with the amount of blood I was seeing creeping over the glossy floor, I knew she would soon enter into a state of relaxation and denial. Where the pain was no longer there, and death wouldn't seem so bad.
I grit my teeth as I felt my eyes begin to feel warm and my breath grow shorter and heavier. She smiled as she reached out and touched my face with her bloodied hand.
"I'm sorry for not being a proper mother to you." She breathed slower. "I'd convinced myself that my business was all I could do to support us, but after what happened with Evelyn's father, I was so ashamed, and I couldn't face you."
So she neglected me instead. Bitterness broiled in my abdomen, but I couldn't find it in myself to take it out on her. Not when she was dying.
She parted her lips once more, "I lied before. You're nothing like your father. He would never have protected us the way you tried to."
There was no response I could formulate. I never imagine she would apologize, let alone say something positive about me, but I suppose death brought about a sense of clarity. As delusional as she seemed to be, she truly believed the words she was saying to me.
"You no longer have us to protect, Rovan. Now you can do what you want." She sounded weaker with every word she spoke, and she seemed to gargle a bit.
Blood began to wet her lips before dribbling down the corner of her mouth. Her hand slowly dropped down to her lap, smearing blood on my cheek.
I moved to sit down against the wall behind her, and pulled her down to lie on my lap. Again I couldn't find any words to say other than, "We did our best."
She smiled softly, which created a rather morbid image, but I savored it. I couldn't remember the last time she dedicated a genuine smile to me.
She coughed a bit as she tried to respond.
"Don't talk anymore. It's okay." I murmured.
Now she seemed to realize her time was running out, and she gripped my arm weakly.
"You have to check the portraits of the princess." She cleared her throat and coughed again, spraying blood onto my clothes and face.
She coughed weakly and her eyelids grew heavy.
"I will." I reassured her. "It's okay. Don't worry."
Her breathing sounded phlegmy, and I knew it was from the blood overflowing out of her lungs and up into her throat. Slowly, her eyes closed and she seemed to relax, obviously losing consciousness.
I ran a hand through the white hair tinged with blood, a heavy feeling in my chest pushing out a deep breath.
"It's okay. You did your best too."
I sat with her for what felt like hours, feeling exhausted and worn out. I almost wished I could join her, but as always, my wish did not come true.
"She's gone too soon." The Queen's voice whirled through the air. "Perhaps, I can be your mother from now on, hmm?"
Disgust was clear on my face, but I was too tired to hide it. I was too tired to even lift my face to look at her.
"My plans didn't go as perfectly as I'd wanted them to. Your sister and that lovely baby are gone, and so is your beloved little maid." She sounded annoyed.
Hearing that Roselena was gone troubled me, but in the end, it was better. The further away she was from this mess, the better.
"Better luck next time, I suppose."
I stilled as I did whenever I needed to go unnoticed.
"Though I can't take credit for the maid's ending... Roselena being ravished and left for dead was just a coincidence I couldn't have seen coming." She sounded so pleased with herself.
(!) When she said Roselena was gone, I assumed she meant that she had escaped or gone missing. But this... to hear that she was raped and killed... it took my grief to deeper depths than I thought I was capable of feeling. To an arduous place, simmering with ire.
So even as my eyes moistened in grief, I shoved it down with anger. With rage I had carefully collected and stored away for a rainy day, I dried the tears in my eyes as I listened to her speak. My hand was still resting on my murdered mother's warm head as she continued to speak so righteously.
"Next time, don't try to hide anything from me. Whatever magic you used to block your familiars out ends now. Or I won't stop at just your girlfriend or your mother. I'll go after your precious little sister wherever she's hiding."
"Yes, your majesty." That was all I could say.
She sighed as if this was just as hard for her as it was for me. "Don't be too mad at me. I did this because I care. I can't lose anyone else."
Yes. Neither could I. But it seemed her cruelty and depravity had pushed me over a precipice into a psychotic break, because that entire night, I sat awake in my bed, sharpening my sword slowly and gingerly.
The anger and hatred blooming and corrupting me from the inside was like a tap dripping poison. Every drip was corrosive, and it drove me toward the decisive action that made my heart race and my adrenaline pump like a drug.
The voices in my head were unbridled with rage and discouragement. When I expected them to fight me for control, they could do nothing but cower.
Instead of their grating voices, the sound of a clock ticked in my ears. It started out faintly and grew louder until it sounded like I had a ticking clock right by my head.
It triggered a memory I had buried under everything.
The watcher's words came to my mind. The clock of your life is ticking. I had almost forgotten about it as if it were a fever dream, but this tangible and audible reminder was more than enough proof that she wasn't lying. It meant that I was about to make a decision that could end my life.
It didn't change anything. My mind was already made up. My mother and Roselena were murdered ruthlessly, and my sister was safe and sound. There was nothing left for me to protect or live for.
Even as I stood outside of the commons palace the next morning, I could feel hatred fueling my every step. The music was deafening as I walked in procession toward the throne before me, but even the music was drowned out by the increasingly loud sounds of my familiars and the ticking clock competing for dominance in my head.
A man with a large chalice filled to the brim with the fluids of a magical ritual sacrifice stood on a ceramic column, almost frothing from the filth and grime of its contents. My eyes shifted from the cup to the queen who stood behind him in between two high mages. Each of them looked pleased. As if they'd triumphed in beating the beast they created into submission.
I stopped before the throne and stood in front of the mage with my hand resting on the hilt of my sword for comfort.
Looking back at the man who was waiting expectantly for me to bow, I stared at him insolently, making it clear I would be bowing to no one. His eyes flitted away to the thick book in his hands. The Black Creed who only mages past a certain rank had access to, and I was expected to finally move up to that rank.
He began to read from it poetically in a language that most of the attendees could not understand. I didn't understand it myself, but it made me feel like a calf for the slaughter. It suddenly felt like I was the perfect sacrifice.
My eyes landed on the queen who stared at me with a smug, satisfied expression, and I thought it would be rather perfect to make her the sacrifice rather than myself. My hand moved to tighten at the hilt, but as I felt my hand tighten at the hilt, I felt my body begin to freeze up against my will.
I looked up with wide eyes and saw the mage smirking to himself as he paused to look at me. In that moment, I knew I'd been a fool. I felt something inside of me break and disintegrate into nothing.
If you humble yourself and call out to Me, I will surely help you.
Those words boomed in my head, silencing the clock's sound and the victorious screeches of the evil spirits in my head. The voice was commanding but merciful, and all I could do was give up, surrender to its authority like a child beaten down to the bone.
I registered something shift in the air and I wasn't the only one. I stared up at the mage who's smug smile dropped as he faltered with his recitation. He glanced up at me, and though my muscles began to loosen up, something told me I should act like I was still frozen.
Suddenly, the doors flew open and a crazy, haggardly looking man yelled out in proclamation. The chains around his wrists clinked together as he stood tall on his bare feet and wind blown hair.
"Oh, you wicked people. You harlot of abominations. How long must He endure the evil of your hands. You brood of evildoers. You call good evil and evil good. You think yourselves gods and eat the waste of your deceit. How long must He look upon your wickedness in longsuffering? How long will you reject His mercy and kindness?
"You eat and ravish your own people, your own children. You forgot His sacred word and filled your cups with filth. Even mixing blood and creating abominations. Now He will fill your cups with wrath and judgment. Choose now whom you will serve, for the time is nigh. For He will cut off evil, starting with the head."
Everyone was startled but no one dared to try and stop his passionate speech. It was as if their hearts had been pierced and they could do nothing but listen.
As for me, with every word the man spoke, the hilt of the sword grew hotter and hotter until I was forced to release it.
When I did, my sword pulled straight out of my sheath on its own. It moved with speed and precision that even the high mages were unable to counteract. It split the air like a tree being chopped down with one strike. It sliced and sliced through the air, thick with fear and anticipation, until it pierced right through the queen's pale little skull.