“I am tasking you with finding my son! Keep it quiet like you have been trained to do. No one must know. I trust I don’t need to tell you what happens if people find out?” Isabella hated how her voice sounded like a screech when she was in this state. The only scenario where she was currently bordering on hysteria. Isabella resolved to KILL the person that had taken her son. She would not rest until he was found and safely within the palace's walls once more.
The four guards that stood before her were her best stealth operatives. She trained them personally, and they could move among the shadows like one of them. Garwid Barchan, a large man, broad and deceptively fast when the situation called for it, was a specialist with those axes bound in an X shape to his back. Able to draw and hack in the same motion.
Isodel Sessan, her protégé and the strongest candidate to inherit the network she had cultivated over the years, was her second in command. A shadow soldier so accomplished, she had infiltrated the Mad King's chambers at the height of his paranoia and been responsible for his downfall with Isabella herself. No one but she knew that, of course. That was just how they operated. Her hooked nose was also an excellent distraction from the rest of her face, making people miss the details.
Lekkar Twill is a balding middle-aged man, round of belly and strong for it. He looked like a jolly innkeeper that would bring you your supper until he slit your throat. Hidden in plain sight, he was perfect for having a fun conversation or sending in to murder a family in their sleep.
The only member of her four elites that was not human, it had taken a lot for her to win over the loyalty of Balin Dwoor. Only she and the Dwarf knew what had transpired between them to gain said loyalty, and she would keep it that way until her dying breath. Even Borowyn did not realise and knew better than to ask. His loyalty was to her, not the crown or Darf. But for all purposes, it was the same thing. Gvartrill, the greatsword he wielded, was one of the eight great treasures of the Dwarven race, the most auspicious of their forged weapons. He was only permitted to continue carrying it because his clan had not been given a choice. Once the weapons chose their wielder, no other could use them until that owner died.
…or was killed.
That way, trying to take Gvartrill from him had not gone well for the warriors that chased after him and his family. Now they stayed here with him. Isabella ensured his loyalty by keeping them safe while he fought for her. Isabella knew there were more secrets to the weapon, but she did not know them, and Balin would not tell her. Still, as long as that weapon served her, she would accept it.
“Understood, Queen Isabella!” Balin’s brassy rumble always sounded like he was chewing gravel.
“Yes, my Queen,” Isodel replied in her usual raspy whisper with a pointed glance at Balin, resulting from an accident at a young age. It angered her that Balin never called Isabella his Queen. A slight quirk of Isabella's lips was all she would allow, showing her amusement.
Lekkar chuckled openly before responding with his usual jolly tone. “Of course, my queen! Leave it to us! We’ll find him, never fear.” Isabella gritted her teeth at the relaxed tone. They should know how serious this was. She took a soft breath and reminded herself that this was his manner. He was always like this; the more grave the situation, the more frivolously he acted. Isabella estimated this was an eight on his scale.
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Garwid, now the focus of the rest’s attention, simply grunted. That was his style, and the Queen readily accepted if it would get them on their way.
“Off you go! Come on!” Isabella said, growing tired of this conversation already. She wanted to be out herself looking for her son, but that would cause a massive uproar in the city. So, it would have to be a last resort. Since Boren had only been noticed missing for a few minutes, she had to use stealth for now.
Perhaps I could arrange an impromptu trip out into the city? No, no, that won’t work. They are simply too tricky to spontaneously organise, and anyone we visit would not be prepared and take offence. Urgh, the idiosyncrasies of politics make me want to vomit sometimes! Borowyn is so much better at that side than I am. The public face of the nation.
“Sweetheart, is everything alright?” She had stepped out of the chamber and closed the door behind her. The Shadows knew what to do, and they would find Boren without creating a fuss. That’s what a precision tool was for. “What is the matter? You seem even more angry than usual!” He chuckled, trying to lighten her mood. She loved him dearly for trying but now was not the time for light-heartedness.
“Dear, it is Boren. He missed his afternoon training session. He was acting oddly the whole morning, distracted and sloppy, very unlike him. I’m worried because now he is nowhere to be found. I don’t think we can take this lightly.”
Borowyn smiled, and Isabella melted a little. It was hard to remember that she was a queen when he did that with his face. The warmth and acceptance there was overwhelming; he accepted every part of her. In Borowyn’s glow, she felt the panic and fear in her heart slowly begin to melt. She gasped with some relief and smiled minutely at the man that was her heart. “Isabel, I am sure he is fine. You know how we were at that age. I might never have met you if I hadn’t been exploring somewhere I should not, and if anything should happen, we will know it well in advance, right? Your…friends in the city would tell us if anything were amiss, right?” He smiled again and put his one large arm across her shoulders, pulling her into him.
Isabella, queen of Darf and one of the most notorious assassins on the continents, allowed a few precious tears to slip free in her husband’s embrace. It was the only place she allowed herself any show of concern or worry. Her quiet sobs were heard by only that one person. She had no choice but to show the hard exterior. She had been taught that to show weakness was the most heinous of crimes from a young age. Showing weakness only encouraged exploitation. She would not allow that in her home and not against her family. Borowyn smoothed his wife’s hair, allowing her to make sense of the storm within. His mind kept an eye on anything moving in the vicinity. It wouldn’t do for his brave wife and protector to be seen by others in such a state. He would hold that sanctuary for her if it was the last thing he did.
Fully ten minutes passed with them both in that position. None disturbed them, for the King could keep control in his domain. He could not see the whole of the city, but he had seen a small boy climbing the palace wall a few hours prior. A smile crossed his lips as the memory. He had first met his Isabella when he was about Boren’s age, in very similar circumstances. He had been of noble birth, not monarchy then, but similar experiences. There was a lot to be learned from exploration. Boren continued to caress his wife’s locks as they finally settled.
“Don’t worry, Boren will be fine. If anything were to happen, you had better believe I would get personally involved.” The last words were said in a deathly whisper, and even though they were not directed at Isabella, she shivered at the implication of the phrase. Then she too smiled a full, uninhibited smile. There was nothing to worry about if Borowyn said he would get involved. She had been concerned that he might not be able to for political reasons, but she should have known better. This was their son, their youngest. Of course, he would take care of things if they escalated.
“I’m glad. I love you, Borowyn.”
“And I, you. Also, try not to be too stern with the staff, hmm? You can be very scary at times.”
Isabella laughed, “That is the persona I have spent years cultivating. I want people to see it. Only you get to see this side, maybe the children a little. One of us needs to be stern to get things done, or the whole Kingdom will collapse! How do you always know when I am at the brink?”
“How many centuries have we been together, my heart? I know you, and I know when you are not you.” He gave her another reassuring squeeze before letting her go and then walking out of the room. “I am needed back in the throne room, some idiot merchants again. It seems those merchants are never done with me! This tournament had better be worth the number of peddlers I have to meet.” Isabella smiled at her husband’s retreating back. It felt like she was smiling for the first time in quite a while.
His voice continued to float through the ajar doors. “…and we need someone stern because then I get to be the chipper fun one!”
She intended to savour the feeling. She wouldn’t recall the Shadows, but she felt better than she had in quite a while. Perhaps it was time to bring the rest of the children home. Boren had been alone far too long enough.