“No…” the word came out of my mouth like a whispered breath of wind. No, it couldn’t be true. I glanced back at Imelda who was grinning at me triumphantly. No, this was just a cruel trick of hers. In a moment this Claude would vanish – just a wicked creation of hers – and then she would crumble to her feet, dead. But as I reached out and touched Claude’s face I knew with horror it was true, “No…” I cried, “Please, no! I didn’t… I wouldn’t… what have I done?” No, no, no!
“Irene… please…” Claude whispered, holding out his hand, “Take this.” He shoved a scrap of torn paper in my hand. I curled my fingers around it as he coughed violently. When his hand came away from his mouth red, he groaned. I placed a hand on his forehead – he was burning up violently.
His eyes fluttered closed and he went limp, falling onto the ground. His arms were trapped beneath his body awkwardly.
“Claude?” I asked, turning him over, “Claude?!” I shook him roughly, his head lolling on his neck loosely. When he didn’t react I pressed my ear to his chest, listening for a heart-beat. I hugged him tight to my body as I felt a quiet, slow thump-thump.
“Claude, don’t leave me.” I whispered, “Please don’t…” I felt hot tears pour down my face. Imelda chuckled, moving to stand beside me.
“Oh don’t worry; you will soon be reunited with him, Cousin.” She laughed cruelly, but I felt a bubble of confusion. If Claude was dying so quickly… why wasn’t i? Surely I would have lost consciousness by now? I looked up at Imelda angrily. I wouldn’t give her that satisfaction. Never.
“No, no I won’t.” I stood and faced her, anger causing my limbs to tremble. The hot pain I had felt before was already dissipating – I only felt hatred and a fury I had never before experienced. Imelda gave me a shocked glance but soon smoothed her expression over to a mask of nonchalance.
“So the poison isn’t working yet,” she smirked, “Before you know it you will be lying in a shallow grave next to that magician.” I shook my head, colour sparking across my vision. Imelda’s green eyes flashed brightly and suddenly I could see everything with colour again. Behind me I heard Claude utter a soft sigh, almost silent.
“In a few moments he will be dead…” Imelda smiled sweetly, “And then you will die…” she seemed victorious, happy and proud. I balled my hands into fists, fresh blood pouring from the cut in my hand. Pain flared up – I ignored it, shutting it down.
“You’re wrong.” I snarled, “You can’t kill me.”
“Oh can’t i?” Imelda asked, raising her eyebrows. She drew a blade from within her skirts and pressed the point of it gently against my skin – almost tenderly. As I breathed slowly, carefully, she moved the blade down over my chest until it was right next to my heart.
“You seem very certain.” She breathed in my ear, “How?” I just stared blankly at her as Abbadon’s words echoed in my head.
“It will have you stay halfway between Life and Death. You cannot be killed through physical means unless I decide I wish to end it…” she smirked and drew the blade back slightly. Its tip gleamed darkly and flashed silver as it plunged its way deep into my chest. I couldn’t tell if it had hit anything vital, if I actually would die – but I could feel icy, burning pain where the blade had sunk through my skin. My heart was racing in my chest, but beside the pain I felt not swift change in my body. I didn’t even feel unsteady on my feet. It was an odd and surreal sensation, to have a knife embedded in my chest and yet not be in immediate danger. Imelda gasped and pulled the blade back out with an awful sucking sound. Ruby droplets of blood clung to the steel. I put effort into my face to keep it smooth. If I gave away I could feel pain I feared to know what she would do.
“Impossible!” she cried, dropping the blade, “No one is impervious to such wounds… no one living…” she trailed off.
“Halfway between Life and Death…” I growled quoting Abbadon. I reached up into my quiver and in a movement quicker than a snake striking I had plunged the glass arrow deep into Imelda’s shoulder. She cried out in pain and pulled it out, throwing it at the ground. I half expected the glad to shatter against the stone but it remained intact, tinkling lightly to a stop beside Claude.
Imelda began cackling.
“You think an arrow is going to hurt me?” she snapped her head back in laughter and placed her hand over the wound in her shoulder. After a second she paused and glanced down at her shoulder which was still bleeding, “Why isn’t it healing?” she hissed, waving her hand over it again. She snapped her eyes up to meet mine and glared, “What did you do?” she asked.
“Enchanted arrow,” I smirked, “You’re powerless.”
“I will kill you Cousin,” Imelda snarled, “With or without magic.” She drew her sword and I laughed cruelly.
“You have already tried that, dear cousin.” She raised her lip in a snarl and pointed the sword at me angrily.
“If I behead you, I doubt there is much you can do…” she spat. I thought about it for a second but let it pass.
“I can’t be killed by physical means,” I snapped, “Beheading me will just result in the same thing as stabbing me.” Imelda dropped her sword, the fear plain on her face now.
“No, this is not possible!” she screamed, “You can’t!”
“You killed Claude…” I whispered angrily, “have killed countless innocents… hunted the wolf-people to almost extinction… and you have tried to kill me… I can and I will.” I advanced on her, picking up the sword she had dropped. She backed away into a corner before dashing for the door.
Without evening thinking I flicked my free hand out towards it and the lock slammed shut loudly. I remembered that the arrow now gave me Imelda’s power. Grinning I curled my hand into a fist and watched with delight as Imelda began choking and was picked off her feet. I closed my fist tighter and she began to go blue, clawing at an invisible force that was holding her. It seemed, that not only did I gain the power; I gained the knowledge on how to use it.
And then I heard a small voice in my head whisper: it isn’t worth it. I let her drop back to the ground and cast her a disgusted look before I fell down beside Claude. He wasn’t breathing, and as I felt for his pulse I found nothing but a dark silence. He was gone… Claude was dead. Anger flared up inside me, so hot and red that I turned on Imelda, no longer capable of reasoning with myself. She gave me a horrified look as I slapped my hand out towards her and she went flying. She crumpled against the wall and slid the ground, blood trickling from a gash on the back of her head.
I fell over Claude, crying and spluttering. It was like watching Cedric die all over again… but I had no hope of bringing Claude back. I looked down at his face, peaceful and soft with no trace of the sarcastic rudeness he so often guarded himself with. I stroked his soft black hair off his face with a sad smile, and looked down at his pale face. His straight features, his slightly crooked nose which I remembered breaking only a the day before. I almost grinned, but I just couldn’t. He was gone. I picked up the glass arrow beside and put it back in my quiver.
I uncurled the piece of paper he had given me, ignoring the creases and looked for the writing he was sure to have put on it. I didn’t know what I was expecting. Maybe a long message… maybe something witty or sarcastic. But what I found was something far sweeter… and I began crying all over again.
“I hope Cedric will always love you the way I did.” The writing was messy, as if he had written it hastily and on a soft surface. But I hugged the piece of paper to my chest. This was the only thing Claude had ever truly given me. And I would treasure it forever.
Guards had arrived at some point and found Claude lying dead and Imelda unconscious. I had just looked up at them, eyes empty as they carried away the queen. They picked up Claude and walked him out of the room. I followed after them, head heavy and my heart just as much. I felt like my body was made of lead… as if it was just too much effort to raise my lips in a smile, to move my feet any faster than was necessary… I didn’t even speak.
The people of Thalandor, though I wasn’t actually queen, looked up to me with respect as I walked past and I knew then, that Imelda’s fate would be decided by the people. I wouldn’t become a murderer, a tool to be used and to kill with. I suddenly held up my hand and the guards carrying the two bodies halted. Imelda was now awake and angrily cursing everyone around her.
“My dear people…” I began, slowly and mournfully, “I hold you queen here before you. A woman who I despise and am ashamed to call family. She has threatened, hurt, killed, lied, cheated and made a bloody rise to power.
“But now I have her here, at the mercy of your choice. I refuse to be a murderer and to kill her in cold blood. But I will gladly be the one to behead her, if that is what you decide.” The crowds began murmuring, talking amongst themselves. The guards glanced between them, Imelda and me, some uncertain, others merely bored looking.
“How do we know she won’t kill us all?” a man’s voice called out, “She has magic.”
“No longer.” I cried, “I have stolen her magic. She is no stronger than you or i.” there was an appreciative murmur.
“Who agrees to execute the queen?” I cried. There was silence for a few moments before one by one, everybody present; including the guards raised their hands.
“I will burn you all!” Imelda shouted, “Every single one of you shall die! And your children? I will turn them into slugs and squash them under my boots!” I snapped my fingers and she fell silent, a furious look spreading across her face. She opened her mouth to give me a piece of her mind but only silence came out. The crowds cheered and she was led away towards the dungeons.
“And now if you will,” I asked, holding my hands up. The people fell silent and looked at me expectantly, “A moment of silence for my friend… a man who gave his life bringing the queen down.” Claude’s body was laid on the steps of the castle for all to see. I expected them to stand in silence, show that they were thankful for his sacrifice.
And suddenly, in a huge wave, everyone present knelt down in a swift movement, as if they didn’t need to think about it twice. I felt tears spring to my eyes and I did the same, kneeling before my friend. He would’ve loved this, loved everyone showing him such respect.
And I didn’t doubt for a second, that the first words out his mouth would have been something rude, sarcastic and witty.
And we all would have laughed.
As I watched Imelda being taken to the guillotine, hand knotted behind her back I felt an odd feeling build up inside me. We had won… Imelda would die…
But it didn’t feel like a victory. Not entirely. I had lost Claude… and though I knew he would have been proud of his actions and of what we had accomplished, I couldn’t help but feel, that to a certain extent, Imelda had won too.