Hey guys, what's up? I for one have been stressing about not updating and feeling incredibly bad about how little writing I've done this year, so that's fun! Regular updates hopefully coming your way for a while, now that finals are over. This is a short but intense one to tide you over till Saturday.
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"Get the queen out!" Luca screamed. It was his first coherent thought as he went down, thrown away from the dais by the force of it breaking open. "Someone get the queen!"
A boot smashed his hand. All he could hear was yelling. Had anyone heard him? Was the queen dead? He pushed himself from the ground and fumbled for his sword, head swiveling in all directions. Nobles were storming every exit to the hall in their haste to leave, blocking the guards who had come running to the sounds of terror and upheaval. Where was the queen?
He twisted around, looking for the threat. How many rebels were there? How had they gotten in? Surely it wasn't possible that the one figure he had seen had caused all this. Had Morane escaped?
For a moment, in a gap in the shifting tumult of people, he caught a glimpse of Irina pulling Magali's arm over her shoulders and dragging her toward a door. It had been a while since he had been grateful for Irina's perpetually clear head, but he was grateful now. And he envied her responsibility only to the queen's needs. He needed to secure the castle.
Turning away, he found his sightlines cleared. The nobles were all fleeing from the center of the room, and for some reason the guards weren't converging on the wreckage of the dais but hovering in a circle around it, as if held back by invisible wards. The effect was that Luca could finally see the man who had emerged here as if from a demented egg, straightening himself out in jerky movements.
And he understood exactly why no guard wanted to be the first to attack.
Joshua Blaisze stumbled out of the wreckage, his tread stiff and unnatural. His skin was ashy, his hair unkempt, his captain's uniform barely recognizable. A gash of raw skin crossed his neck like a choker. Like the mark of a hanging rope.
"Joshua," Luca said. His tongue felt unwieldy, like uncooked dough, his words coming out clumsy and unformed. "You're supposed to be dead."
The former Auxiliary Captain paused and cocked his head, staring at his replacement with unfocused eyes, as if he didn't recognize who stood before him, or even where he himself stood. "I swore an oath of loyalty to Solangia."
That wasn't an answer, which only added to Luca's unease. He eased forward as slowly as possible. His heart was beating so loud he could hardly hear what might be coming out of his mouth. "That's good. I did too, now that you mention it. You don't look so good—"
"Are you loyal to Solangia?"
Luca could feel parts of his body shaking that he had not given permission to shake. He was starting to feel lightheaded. The hand he held out seemed vaguely disconnected from the rest of him. "Of course I am. Let's get you to your room, get you washed up—"
"Are you loyal to Solangia, or are you loyal to the throne?"
He licked his lips. He was almost close enough to grab Joshua's arm now. This close, his friend's eyes seemed so alive, so intent on Luca's— but his voice was so strange, his expression like he was looking at a stranger. "Joshua, they're the same thing."
His face went hard. It was the only warning Luca needed to dive, twisting as he did so to roll on landing. The silver steel of Joshua's sword came down where he had been a quarter-second before.
Joshua's head jerked to watch Luca, disconcertingly fast, as if he'd known exactly how Luca would move. "They are not."
Luca stared up at him, not looking at his fingers as they scrambled for the sword he'd dropped, as if that would keep Joshua from noticing. "Joshua. Please." His lips moved soundlessly, trying to figure out what he could say to his best friend, the man who had guided him through the last five years of his life. Always grumpily and often grudgingly, it was true, but always loyal, always honorable. "It's me," he whispered.
Joshua scrutinized him with those dead eyes for a long moment. He rotated his wrist, flicking his sword, a practiced motion Luca recognized from too many hours spent practicing together, too many casual bouts in the practice courts, too many years of knowing each other's every habit. It was what he did when he was thinking, testing the air with his blade like a snake tasting the wind with its tongue. Enemy or friend?
"I don't recognize you," he said. And faster than seemed possible, he brought his sword down.
Luca seized his sword's hilt and swung up. There was no time to get a proper grip, to put his full force behind it. The most he could hope for was to deflect a killing blow to an injuring hit. He was already flinching from anticipated pain when their swords met and his blade shattered.
Shards of steel flew through the air. Luca couldn't seem to look away. The tip of Joshua's sword was leveled an inch above his chest, held with perfect control. There was no wavering in his aim or in his vacant stare. A glittering shard had cut a long, clean red line in his cheek, but he made no sign of noticing or caring.
"I was brought back from beyond death to obey my oath to Solangia. Perhaps you will be as well."
Luca noticed with distant concern that he couldn't seem to breathe. The world was going hazy, focusing in on Joshua's face. "You're going to kill me?"
Joshua considered. "You may pledge your loyalty to Solangia now and join the Guardians in life. If not, you will join them in death."
Luca clutched the useless hilt of his sword and tried to breathe. Made a perfect kind of sense, didn't it? That the sword he had inherited from Joshua and never wielded as well had failed him when faced with the true Auxiliary Captain. Irina would hate this. Irina was going to be furious with him. At his funeral, she was going to cry over his idiocy instead of his death.
Luca Laycreek, always the disappointment. He missed being just a knight. He missed fighting at the Match House. He missed Joshua's rare smiles.
"Alright. Sure." He could be a double agent, couldn't he? He could make his family proud. "Show me the way to the Guardians. I'm loyal."
A sad smile touched Joshua's mouth. For the first time he looked alive. "You're lying."
"So are you," Luca whispered. He tried to say something more. Tried to drag in another breath to ask, if you're dead, why are you bleeding? But Joshua's blade sank into his chest as easily as a knife into butter, and Luca didn't say anything else.