Vish stared at the woman in the mirror, and she came to the sudden realization that she grew old. When she squinted, she could see the crow’s feet at the corner of her eyes. Those eyes, they lacked that glistening that was ever-present back then when she wed Lorne. Her skin was not smooth and shiny anymore, it felt loose, became wrinkled, and was weathered by the persistent passing of time.
She was aware she was exaggerating, but the recognition that her sands were running out struck her with the force of a sledgehammer.
Her handmaiden Fayle was brushing her hair, the once-blonde hair that now was flecked with grey. She certainly did not need a handmaiden for a trifling matter such as doing her hair—even if she did have royal blood flowing in her veins. No, she kept the young woman close to her for reasons she had not disclosed to anyone.
‘I must presume the banquet has not been a success, Milady.’
Vish blinked.
‘How so?’
‘You haven’t told me about a particular someone suffering … injuries.’
‘Oh. Yes. Plans took an unexpected turn.’
‘But a welcome one, I see?’
‘Only time will tell.’ Vish sighed. ‘I’m afraid I simply let the chance slip out of my hands.’
‘It wasn’t you who had to hold the knife.’
‘And that makes me a coward.’
‘And that makes you wise.’
‘I’m constantly questioning myself, my friend. I have no proof against her.’
‘Her behaviour is proof enough,’ Fayle argued. She began to braid Vish’s hair. ‘It’s an open secret that she had been acting weird since her trip to Neraki Isle.’
‘So what? How could we possibly grab at the words needed to frame our thoughts? I don’t even know what I think. Do you?’
‘I do.’
‘Care to share?’ Vish grunted with annoyance. Her handmaiden smiled bitterly.
‘Those thoughts had better remain concealed.’
‘Try me.’
‘I have seen things during my time in Lendvale. The behemoths harness powers none have ever seen before. Make what you want of this information.’
‘You know what? You are right. Your thoughts really should remain concealed.’
Fayle finished with the second braid.
‘Sandro looked unhappy.’
‘I like the man,’ Vish shook her head, which led to Fayle dropping the next braid halfway, inducing a deploring grunt from the woman. ‘But I swear, he seems to be stern and brooding all the time. It may be soon he gives up this land and returns to the Mainland with his knights.’
‘He has the kind of tiredness sleep won’t fix,’ the handmaiden nodded. ‘Soon, the Emerald Order is to see hard days.’
‘He’s not that old.’
‘Yet he’s had enough from life. His is a thankless job.’
The handmaiden began to make a bun of all the braids.
‘Have you seen Lorne today?’
‘He’d been up before dawn. Went outside with the Twins. Probably to talk about grapes and wine.’
It was not the first time Vish thanked the Gods that his husband could easily entertain nearly anyone. She smiled at the thought of letting him spend an hour with Sandro.
‘Done.’
Vish watched as Fayle straightened and tucked a rampant lock of hers back among the braids. The handmaiden’s eyes were fixed on Vish’s hair, her lips silently moving, as if she wanted to say something.
‘What now?’
‘I do know I am in no position of giving you … unwelcome advice. But I will, nonetheless.’
‘You know I listen to you. You are the only person in my life who can give me unbiased advice.’
Fayle met her gaze in the mirror. She still looked reluctant.
‘Just don’t get mad. Yesterday, I saw Rovina around Lorne more times than what I could possibly count.’
‘So what?’ asked Vish, truly surprised. ‘You want me to question Lorne’s loyalty?’
‘No. He is as loyal as a pup, I have no doubts about that. But he’s also a man, and as such, he has his needs. He enjoyed being around the countess. I see what I see, Vish. You might want to stop neglecting him.’
‘I’m not—’
‘Please. What was the last time you two slept in the same bed?’
Vish smothered her reply. Fayle got a point.
‘I just … it’s too much, you know? Whispers hold that rebels snuck into Grospan. Bryne hasn’t held court in weeks, Medh seemingly wants to push Amrith into chaos, and on top of that, even the Ghatra has erupted.’
‘I know it’s hard,’ the handmaiden put a hand on Vish’s shoulder, ‘but you don’t need excuses. You need solutions. Don’t let yourself lose Lorne, please. It is easy to let romance fall behind on the list of priorities. But try to rekindle the spark.’
Vish took a deep breath. She felt uncomfortable.
‘Fine. But let’s drop the topic already.’
‘As you wish. I need to attend to other matters anyway.’
‘Any news from the Shadow?’
‘None.’ Fayle walked across the room and took her coat. ‘I’m also going to search for the onyx you told me about again. If you ask me, the man left right after you two went back inside. Snatched his gemstone and woosh.’
Fayle turned back from the doorway. ‘Good luck with the Seat today.’
Vish rose after the door creaked upon closing and went to her bed. The bed they shared with Lorne. True, oftentimes, they would sleep in different rooms. Recently, Vish had been sleeping wherever exhaustion found her. It just somehow … happened, but there were not any thorns between them.
Were there?
She let go of the problem for now. The Seat was about to begin soon. She glanced at the mirror one last time, slid into a huge thick robe, then left her room and went downstairs at the back of the building and through the gardens. She immersed in the morning’s odours, the chill breeze, the blinding sunlight peeking above the peaks of the rocky Elms in the east, glistening on the dew clung to spider silk.
The Morbane estate had a small round building for a place to hold meetings, calling it quite simply the Meeting Hall. After the banquet the day before, many of the guests left either during the night or in the early hours of the dawn, Sandro, and some lesser nobleborn. But the people with the most power remained. The Seat was to be held that morning, the very reason the whole banquet took place. A meeting of nobleborn in times of need, especially if the King’s behaviour demanded such actions. And since Bryne had not done his duty for weeks, Vish saw fit to organise a Seat.
A somewhat large group of people stood before the entrance of the Meeting Hall. The chill of the morning reigned still, thus many of the nobleborn wore coats or robes, adorned by extravagant materials. Although the doors were wide open, it was customary to wait until the Seat’s host arrived who then shall lead everyone inside.
Upon her arrival, the group fell silent. They stared at her expectantly.
‘Greetings, you all.’ She stopped by them for a moment. ‘I hope you had a pleasant night. Let’s not waste any more time. If you would be so kind as to follow me …’
She slowly walked onto the stone-cold corridor; her breath was clearly visible inside the building. She ignored the nervous whispers behind her back.
The Meeting Hall was a simple construction, with a short corridor leading to its single, large crescent-shaped room. The windowless hall was lit and heated by a tremendous fireplace against the room’s flat wall, already giving home to playfully dancing flames. In front of it stood an ornate chair, padded with the pelt of a bloodwolf. Opposite that, rows of benches rested on a small, amphitheatrical podium, staring at the chair as judges, a blanket on each of them.
Vish headed to the lonely chair without a word and stood by it. She waited until everyone found a seat for themselves. A little more than a dozen pairs of eyes stared at her. The crackling fire behind began to burn her back in moments.
‘Thank you all for honouring my request.’ Vish kept a clear, loud voice, even though the hall was relatively small—if she were to throw a pebble across the room, she could manage with ease. ‘Considering current affairs in regard to our kingdom, I suggest we try and deal with ordeals of the utmost importance. You must know and have seen it by now: the Ghatra has erupted. We need to take care of the people involved in the incident. Furthermore, the prolonged skirmishes between the Royalists and the Islanders seem to worsen our economic stability with each passing day, and His Majesty King Bryne’s neglection of his duties certainly does not help the case. I hereby declare the Seat open.’
Vish sat and breathed deeply, realising it required a real exertion to maintain a neutral expression. Her gaze was constantly getting back among the middle rows where Medh sat. Vish proved unable to read the girl’s face. It was one of those rare moments when she was not smiling.
One of the Twins, the young Laemar rose in the same instant Vish finished her sentence.
‘Dire times, indeed. Since our lady host also kept it brief and terse, I shall follow suit. I don’t think we can assess the situation with the Ghatra in accordance with its real threat. That is to say, if it poses any threat.’
‘I don’t think it was worth standing up for that, Larkhadan,’ smiled Jhalin ugly a row behind the Twin. The dark-skinned man had been baron in the south-western regions of Andoriel—of the land which more-or-less neighboured the hills and lakes of Larkhadan. ‘Care to enlighten us as to why you think there is no threat in a burning mountain that vomits fire down its slopes?’
Laemar took up the gauntlet. ‘I find little surprise in the fact that you give credence to such folly as the Ghatra waking up from its slumber.’
‘Are you blind, boy? Or simply an idiot? Did mountain air impair your vision or brain perhaps?’
‘How far is the Ghatra from here, roughly? Sixty miles? Eighty?’ the Twin asked Jhalin as he turned around to face him. ‘Whatever we saw last night, might not be more than … an illusion, a mirage.’
‘If that is your final argument, you may as well sit back to your butt, boy. Let the grownups do the talk.’
Laemar reddened, his fists clenched.
‘Laemar has a point,’ spoke Rovina Ahlenvaar, Countess of Eastern Amrith. Vish calmly breathed out, trying to avoid thinking about her conversation with Fayle. ‘We lack the necessary resources for rushing there blind. Settlements are scarce around the Ghatra. I wager the people of Amrith have the wits not to let smouldering lava burn them. I propose we send a scouting group before all.’
‘That would prolong their demise,’ observed Inara, a young redheaded woman with eyes as blue as sapphires.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
‘Their presumed demise.’
‘I’d love to hear our host’s Lady Morbane’s take on the events. After all it was she who brought up the issue.’
One would think it evident that the Seat’s host held much control over the meeting. In fact, they had little power over the flow of the discourse aside from introducing the main points and setting the focus back to its course in case of divergence.
How so Andorieli a custom.
Before she made to rise, Medhraine’s voice resounded across the hall.
‘Are the most honoured nobleborn here trying to tell me they are truly in doubt whether an erupted volcano could mean danger to people?’ She remained seated, her face a mask of disbelief and disgust. Vish frowned.
What is she up to?
The nobleborn fell silent.
‘So what does the Royal Envoy suggest?’ asked Jhalin.
‘The threat is evident. We need an escort route to either Grospan or Ithlien. With the battles dragging on against the Islanders, we may be able to deploy only so many soldiers to guard the refugees. Afterall, bloodwolves, nightsprigs, and basilisks roam our lands despite the Emerald Order’s efforts. I humbly offer the servitude of my Roses to the cause of Amrith.’
General murmuring followed the girl’s words. Some of the nobleborn seemed torn, but most of them were nodding.
Vish blinked. She felt perplexed. We, our, us. Medhraine Brygard was not part of the Council of Amrith despite her being present at the Seat. She had no jurisdiction over any Amrithean citizens, and especially had no power to tell nobleborn what shall and shall not be done. She should not ever refer anything connected to Amrith as us or our. And to willingly leave themselves at the mercy of Roses …
‘So,’ rose Khora, a tall, bald man. His olive skin was shining in the firelight. ‘Thanks for your insights, Lady Medhraine. Now, let us steer back to Lady Morbane as we were to before this little interruption.’
Vish’s brows raced to her hairline. The man certainly had guts. She swiftly dismissed the expression, regained her composure, then cleared her throat.
‘As Countess Rovina has also pointed it out, we lack resources in regard to manpower. An escort route is not a devilish idea, but there is no way we could spare our soldiers to guard the trail.’
‘So, your suggestion is?’ Vish could not recognise whose voice it was, but she answered, nonetheless.
‘Shipping the Roses to Amrith would take tremendous time and we must act at once. Grandmaster Sandro resides at baron Davryn at present, I believe he and his knights would gladly help us in the light of an … adequate compensation.’
‘That seems like an appropriate measure,’ nodded Rovina, and others were eager to agree.
Vish took a deep breath. ‘We also must not forget that King Bryne seems to fail to remember his duties. The Council has not been assembled in weeks. At times like these, we need to remind him that the kingdom cannot rule over itself.’
‘Good luck with that,’ sighed Inara. ‘He hasn’t been seen in court for several days now.’
‘What about Queen Alysia? How long she is to stay in Temdath?’
‘Last time I heard about her was eight days ago. Even if the queen left Temdath that day, it might be weeks until she arrives.’
‘Then we need to act ourselves.’
Laemar Larkhadan harrumphed and stood again.
‘Regardless of what King Bryne and Queen Alysia are dealing with, I’d say we leave the ruling of Amrith to them. Or have the Morbane family got overly ambitious in recent years?’
Vish was shocked beyond words. Is he really trying to accuse me with treason?
‘Please, Larkhadan, explain, for this time you have surmounted yourself in spitting follies.’ Khora leaned in, resting his arms on the back of the bench in front of him. Laemar whirled about so he could encompass all the hall with his gesture.
‘You all know about the Morbanes’ infamous deeds in Andoriel and how they—’
‘I, for one,’ cut Khora in with apparent annoyance, ‘do not. And I, for one, do not give a flying fuck about what happened in Andoriel years ago. This is the kingdom of Amrith.’
‘I understand, Lord Khora, yet I ask you to hear me out. Her Royal Highness here—’
‘Her Royal Highness,’ Khora’s voice a thunder, ‘is present merely as an envoy.’ He glanced at the black-haired girl. ‘And hence, with all due respect, has no right whatsoever to have a say in our kingdom’s politics. If you lack the ability to add any helpful remarks to this cause, I suggest you keep your incoherently rambling mouth shut before it starts spitting more trash.’
Laemar’s twin, Liara, mumbled something Vish could not hear due to the distance between them.
Khora, it seemed, did hear it though.
‘Yet you are not in Larkhadan anymore. Should you not be able to understand this little fact, I would certainly show you both how we take care of unwelcome matters in Anlorn.’
Laemar coloured for the second time and was spinning around, looking for allies. Alas, none would meet his gaze. He then stared at Vish, ire in his eyes which rooted much deeper than Vish could have ever imagined. The young man sat down without uttering a single word.
‘I’ll see to assemble a scouting group and write Knightlord Sandro,’ Rovina broke the awkward silence seeping into the hall.
‘I’ll be able to ask around how many refugees we can shelter by tomorrow,’ Inara added.
And thus, they began discussing what sorts of roles they may assume in the upcoming rescue of the people from the Ghatra’s region. Vish did not speak unless she was spoken to or was asked a question. Medhraine remained completely silent, and the Twins were reluctant to say anything.
Vish observed her former friend. She seemed bored, her indifference to the discourse around her sat visibly on her face. The lips were telling, though; slightly pressed together, annoyance screaming on her face.
Then Vish’s gaze wandered to the girl’s neck, where she saw a thin but long reddish line marring her skin. She frowned. What happened? It was this moment when Medh’s gaze met hers. The Royal Envoy’s lips curved in a smile, and her hands, seemingly unconscious, stroke one of her curls.
The lock now hid the thing Vish thought was a scar.
She quickly broke eye contact, watching and listening to the discussion about the amount of goods with which the nobleborn may provide the refugees.
But later Vish would see that every now and then when she glimpsed at Medh, with an everlasting smile and eyes glistening with contemplation, the girl was watching her.
----------------------------------------
After long hours of exhausting negotiations and debates, the Seat was over. By that time, the sun started to sink towards the horizon. Vish was quite content with how the Seat turned out. An assorted delegation of soldiers from various nobleborn’s personal houseguards were already on their way to baron Davryn, to Sandro and the knights of the Emerald Order.
As there was little reason to stay at the Morbane estate after the meeting, the nobleborn set out for their homes, accompanied by their servants and wardens. Most of them expressed their gratitude and appreciation for the banquet and for undertaking the burden of organising a Seat. The Twins, though, left without saying a word.
And Medh, Medh was exceptionally weird.
‘Thank you for your troubles, Vish,’ she had said to her in the doors of the estate’s hall, just before she left for her carriage guarded by a considerable number of Andoriel’s Roses. ‘I am truly sorry that we could not spend more time to heal our friendship. I’ve been a bit nervous as of late. Sometimes I even see shadows moving in my room,’ she laughed carelessly, then placed her hands on Vish’s shoulders. The woman winced—because of the touch, the girl’s proximity, or Medh’s genuine voice, she did not know. ‘It’s a pity Nael and Fella couldn’t be here, I saw them ages ago. I’ll visit them if I find the time.’ Medh leaned in and kissed her cheeks. ‘I really missed you. I know you don’t believe it, but I did.’
Vish was blinking, struggling with the words. ‘I … also miss the time we used to spend together.’
‘Maybe we can attend to each other more often in the future,’ smiled Medh. ‘So long, Vish.’
Vish shook her head now in her room. She stood at the window, gazing out in the night. The sun had already given way to darkness. The candlelit place behind her looked rather warm and welcoming. Sounds of the night were filling the air through open shutters—crickets were chirping, dogs howling, and the gentle breeze were rattling the leaves of the trees. It touched Vish’s naked ankle, a shiver of cold shook her body. She pulled her gown tighter.
Clatter at the door made her turn around. The door wing opened, and Lorne stepped inside the room. He was visibly taken aback by finding Vish in their bedroom in the evening.
‘Hey,’ Vish smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed.
‘Hey.’ Lorne stood there for a moment then gestured toward the door. ‘I didn’t know you’d be here. I can leave if I—’
‘No,’ hurried Vish to interrupt. ‘Please, stay.’
‘Oh. Oh, all right.’
Her husband slowly walked to his wardrobe, opened it and started to unbutton his shirt. A mirror was gleaming on the wardrobe’s door from the inside, in which Vish could feast her eyes on Lorne’s shape.
Naturally, the man had got old just as well as her. He took care of his body, but his belly, which once was flat and muscular and looked as if it was carved from marble was now bloated a bit, his skin looser, his movements slower. His broad shoulders still gave him a look of authority, though, and he did not lose from his height.
He took down his shirt, untied his bun, unbounding his fair hair. He ran his fingers through it, rubbed her temples, and sighed heavily when looked in the mirror.
‘It’s terrible.’
‘Worse and worse with every passing day,’ Vish agreed light-heartedly, knowing her husband was talking about his receding hairline.
‘Thanks, I certainly do not feel better.’
‘I help wherever I can,’ smiled the woman. Then, a sudden wave of regret and pity, an inexplicable mixture of sorrow and shame washed over her. The sheer amount seemed enough to drive the air out of her body, her shoulders slumped. She felt a tear appearing in the corner of the eye. She quickly blinked it away.
‘I might just cut all of it, you know? Be bald.’
‘That’s inevitable, love,’ she chuckled, hoping her husband would not notice the snuffle hid in there.
‘Yeah, I’m afraid.’
Of course he would not notice.
Vish breathed deeply in, then let out a sigh. She felt vulnerable and exhausted. She stood, walked behind her husband, and embraced him from behind. She was around the height of her chest. She leant her head against his back.
‘Hey …’
Lorne gently took her hands down from her belly and turned around. Even in candlelight, his blue eyes were piercing through her soul.
‘What’s wrong?’
Vish raised herself on tiptoe and pressed her lips against Lorne’s. The kiss was short but passionate, determined. When they separated with a smack, Lorne seemed puzzled.
‘Why have I got this?’ he whispered.
‘Because you’ve earned it,’ Vish whispered back. ‘And so much more I can’t even name. I’m sorry I’ve neglected you for all this time.’
‘But you haven’t—’
‘Please,’ she stepped closer. ‘We both know the truth. Don’t ruin the moment.’
Vish leant in for another kiss, this time Lorne was not reluctant. She felt the man’s lip widening, as if he was grinning. She had to smile on that thought. She tilted her head back. The bastard was truly grinning.
‘I love you,’ he gasped.
‘Good.’
Vish grabbed his belt and dragged him closer while she moved back towards the bed. Lorne’s fingers ran through her waist, up her sides and back, until they found the laces of her nightgown and quickly untied them. He broke the kiss and started to go down on her neck, her collarbones, between her breasts. Vish sighed while fiddling with the belt until it loosened, then pulled it down, feeling quite a bulge with her hands. Lorne grunted, his one hand firmly grabbed at the back of Vish’s thigh, while the other slipped between her legs. She moaned quietly.
Vish grabbed Lorne’s head, and with growing excitement and impatience, she dragged him onto herself while letting both of them fall onto the bed. Vish immediately groaned in pain she felt in her back—something solid was beneath the bedsheets.
Lorne lifted himself up, still gasping.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘There’s something here …’
Lorne rolled to the sides and kneeled on the bed. Vish fumbled under the sheets and found something paper-like. She pulled it, holding up in the candlelight. An oversized envelope. It was heavy.
‘Is it yours?’
‘No,’ Lorne shook his head. Vish felt the envelope again. It dawned on her with growing fear that the object inside felt like a knife.
Without a word she tore the envelope open and let it contents fall onto the bed.
Indeed, it was a dagger.
The Shadow’s dagger.
Vish felt her heart pounding in her throat. How is it possible? How could it be here? Did someone break into our room?
‘Vish, what’s this?’ Lorne’s voice was unnervingly calm and firm.
She did not answer, only shook her head. She had already started to believe that Fayle brought the package, when she saw a folded piece of paper by the dagger. While she reached for it, she was flipping through possible explanations in her head for Lorne about Fayle’s identity which would not disclose the handmaiden’s true role in the Morbane family.
Her worry proved unnecessary.
Instead, another, much larger fear began to shake her body.
The letter was written with what she first thought was red ink. A closer look would reveal how so wrong she was.
Dear Vish,
Thank you for your gift. I was truly touched by your generosity. To show you I am not ungrateful, I also prepared a little present for you which you will find beneath the bed in a little box. I’m afraid I could give you only so much—the rest of it I’m keeping as a plaything.
I’ll give your regards to the kids. I hope I’ll find them in great health.
‘Vish? What’s going on?’
She handed the letter to Lorne. There was no signature at the end, but she did not need it to know who the sender of this letter was.
She took her nightgown on and covered herself in one of the blankets, for she suddenly felt too cold. She bent down by the bed, stretched one arm, and pulled the box forth.
‘I’ll give your regards to the kids?’ Lorne sprang to his feet. ‘What’s this? Who sent us this?’
‘I’m pretty sure it’s a she and it was meant for me,’ Vish whispered. She lifted the box—some things shifted and rolled inside—and went to the table with it. She took a glance at the dagger before, looking for the onyx in the pommel. As she presumed, it was gone.
Lorne stood next to her while she removed the lid. She instantly bent over and gagged as she smelled the stench. Lorne growled in disgust and disbelief.
Inside, frozen in blood, lay ten severed fingers.