I open my eyes to dawn’s pinkish rays slithering into the bedroom. I feel no warmth beside me, so I sit up, my muscles screaming. I groan, putting my middle fingers on my temples, circling the tender skin to calm the headache. I desperately need a bath and whatever hot beverage this house has in store.
I slide my feet on the cold wooden planks and tiptoe to the bathroom, where I turn on the faucet. I wonder how they managed to put pipes here, in the middle of nowhere. The water is crystal clear, as if brought directly from the mountains. The mirror above the sink is steamy, and I settle inside the elongated ceramic bath.
Today is the day when we finish what the revolution started so many weeks ago. I’ve lost count of days I’ve spent traveling. Until yesterday night I’ve been in denial over the things that now appear clearer than day. There can be no peace without a war. The thought of killing people to take the throne doesn’t scare me anymore.
I lie in the bath, cleaning my skin, sliding my fingers against the bruises, applying oil to my wet hair, legs and arms. I wash away all the grim, desperate to make myself look presentable for the grand finale.
When I get out of the tub, I wipe the steam off the mirror and look at the clear reflection. My face has lost all of its natural fat, my cheekbones are as pronounced as my mother’s. My basil eyes compliment my black, slightly wavy hair. I used to find myself beautiful, but it was always the clothes, the hairstyles, the gold. Now, I see a battered woman, tainted with months of fighting and storms. My skin lost its glow a long time ago, but it seems to heal over time. My fingers are burned from the firebird spell I used yesterday.
I pinch my cheeks to give them natural redness and wipe my face. Closing my eyes, I imagine my collection of make-up, the one the servants used to paint me with. I see it clear as day in my mind’s eye, and when I open my eyes, it floats in front of me. I grab the malachite box and put it on the sink’s edge, getting all the materials I need. Brushes, eye liner, powders, eye-shadows, crayons and lipsticks. I might make something of myself, if I try hard enough.
I get to work. Wrinkling my eyes, I concentrate on my eyebrows. I shape them, cut the bushes I’ve let grow for so long. I curl my lashes with the mechanism my mother bought from Kurna. I draw a strong line at the base of my eyes, encircling them. I draw arrows at the edges, marking my gaze. I want to look menacing. I want to represent what I’m fighting for. It will be a lie if I said I didn’t want the money and privilege that comes with the crown. I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to be beautiful, in every way.
Bare and trembling from the cold, I return to the bedroom, where I go through the wardrobe. I need to wear something regal, if this cottage even has something like that. Or I could try to conjure an outfit I’ve bought, from the palace - but there is always a chance my magic thins out and I find myself in my undergarments in the middle of a battlefield. I always wondered how come the effect of conjuring is effective and steady, while the conjured object returns to its place after a while.
It’s best to wear something from here, even if the choice is not immense. I move hanger after hanger, sliding clothes to the right, in search of the perfect combination of comfortable and lavish. I stumble upon a white blouse of my size, with balloon sleeves. Underneath, black leggings, reflecting the dawn’s light. I decide to stick to this, and dress myself. I find a leather belt inside a drawer, and put it around my hips. I see a completely different woman in the reflection. I brush my hair, untangling the awful bits. It’s too long to be left free for combat. I braid it, feeling its weight on my scalp. Mother always complimented my hair, because it was just as thick and healthy as hers. She was always a creature of narcissism, and naturally, she transmitted some of it to me.
I go down the stairs, jumping on one foot, putting on a high sock. It smells of fresh meat and coffee. I didn’t think people here had the beans, or even the machine. Abrayams sold beans, but not to excess, keeping most of it in their homeland. I hear clanking in the kitchen and I lean on the doorframe, watching the scene.
Kaytus, already dressed for battle, with leather straps around his legs and waist, stands facing the oven, his back to me. He must have not heard me. I scan his body for any sign of fatigue, but find none. He seems to be energetic and his magic fully restored (if it was even depleted at some point). He moves the pan in the air, turning over whatever he is cooking. It does smell like eggs and bacon, though.
He turns around and there is no surprise on his features at first. Then his eyes meet mine and his eyebrows fly up. Then he slides his gaze down to my outfit and lets out a hum of approval.
“Morning, princess,”
“Morning, spy,” I retort and approach the working space. Indeed, eggs and bacon, accompanied by two cups of black coffee waiting to be consumed.
When we settle at the table and start eating, he suggests a plan. I munch, listening intently. His voice is steady, as he explains our arrival in Argenis.
“We’ll use Pey’se, my steed, to gain time. Then we’ll have to find a way to publicly announce the passage of the crown. I have a few ideas, but I’d like to hear yours first.” He jerks his chin and the metal fork disappears in his mouth. He gulps, waiting for my answer.
“We could find a book on magical transmissions, but that will take time that we don’t have. Once we enter the city we’ll be everyone’s target. Guards and the revolution, if anyone is left. Maybe the Academy will finally join the battle - that means we have three enemies.”
“Exactly. I was thinking we could use the Academy’s magic to broadcast the images, as they are happening.”
I grab my chin and weigh our options. “That could work, only if the Academy decides to join us instead of fighting for the crown.”
“I have a proposition. A letter to the queen of the Isles. We both know the Academy is ruled by the Fae, glamoured to look human. We must use something against her, as leverage, to make her pull them out of the game.”
“The treaty, easy.” I clap my hands. “I’ll send her an official letter, with the royal stamp, threatening to show it to everyone if she doesn’t comply with our demands.”
“Too risky, though,” he remarks. “What if she thinks we’re bluffing? Showing the treaty is the same as starting a world war.”
“It’s our only way to manipulate her into obeying. She cares for her people, that I know. West told me she pulled everyone out of Malachite as soon as she realized a civil war was starting,” I chew the last bite and push the plate away. “She will prefer saving most of the Fae stranded in the Academy, rather than taking a chance and losing them.”
“Also, what do you know about the Fae’s position here? Do they own some power? Do they control something?” I shake my head, thinking. “Anything, like trade routes, covens, use of magic?”
“I don’t think they have any valuable position here. I consider the Academy like an embassy, a link between our nations. But no, they don’t control anything. They help people like me to control the gift.”
“Sickness, more like. Alright, I see,” he finishes his meal and sips from the cup. “If our leverage works on the queen, we might use the Fae to broadcast the scene. So your subjects see the revolution, the king, and the Academy as evil. We’ll turn the tides to our side, and in the end, we’ll have the people’s loyalty.”
“That easy?” I ask. “People are simplistic, undisciplined. They might think of me as a terrorist, killing everything in my path to have the crown.”
“You’ll talk. You’ll promise them safety and equality, and everything you told us back at the base.” He scans my face. “You will be heard across Malachite. Choose your words wisely.”
I nod, crossing my arms and leaning back on the chair. “I’m going to show how a true monarch should protect what is hers. I’ll use my magic as an example of peacemaking, and not additional warfare. Every offensive spell will be blamed on the Academy. That will badly reverberate on the Fae people, but everything is negotiable.”
“You will change people’s minds, and if there must be racism, then you will punish it like any leader should.” I agree. Wartime will be over, it will be a brand new beginning. There will be no place for hate in the kingdom I will build from ash.
My backpack is done. I’m not bringing any food, just water and potions. Kaytus tightens my leather straps around my shoulders and waist. He looks at me, putting the knives into the scabbards. I move my hands around, to check my agility. I notice a bruise on his exposed neck and smirk. I trace my finger on top of the reddened skin. He catches my hand and keeps it there. We share a look and I say, “We must go.”
He nods. “Ready?”
“No,” I dare. No, I can never be ready for such things. I’ll be the one destroying everything I’ve fought for before I was exiled. If Father is indeed alive, and recovering, I hope he doesn’t learn what I have done. I hope Mother closes her eyes too, letting me settle scores.
“Are you afraid?”
“Yes,” I mutter, taking a step back.
“Me too.” His nose wrinkles as he slides his palm against my cheek.
“I am here. I’ll protect you.” I try to smile, without looking dumb.
He snickers, letting his hand fall to his side. “I’ll protect you too.”
----------------------------------------
Kaytus summons a spectral bird, to which I pass the note, destined to Astral in person. Nobody else can open or read the letter. Kaytus made sure of that. His spells are magicks I’ve never seen in action. Fae are older, wiser. I need to keep them as friends, restore whatever relationship that was lost. But that is tomorrow’s issue.
Our ride to Argenis is quick. In barely fifteen minutes we are at the gates. Dark coats and hoods hide our faces and bodies. I snuggle closer to the spy, as he leads his spectral horse to the entrance. Two guards shout for us to turn away, as the city is closed off.
Kaytus gets off his horse, helping me to the ground afterward. We walk to the high golden gates, assessing the situation. We must mark our arrival, there is no point in hiding now.
“You will let us pass, if not, there will be consequences,” Kaytus announces, his voice thundering.
The guards laugh. I groan and summon vines, to keep their feet in place. They start to scream. My oaths have been discarded long ago. There is no going back. I hope Nature understands I’m doing this for the greater good.
“Open the gates, or she will make it hurt.”
One of the guards cried out in pain and nodded desperately. I let go of the vine, as he turned the wheel, opening the heavy gates. Kaytus clicks his tongue and the horse is by our side, kneeling a bit, so I can get on. He follows, touching my thigh. I understand he is checking if I’m doing alright. I put my hand on top of his, as Pey’se leads us further inside. There is a gathering of people, demanding something. I realize the broadcast might be old news. Even nobles in Argenis are angry at the government.
We listen in, and I hear what they’re rioting against. “Our children are sent away from the Academy! This is nonsense, we pay for the course! Let our children control their magic!” Oh, this is just perfect. I tap Kaytus’s shoulder, he turns around, and his eyes are gleaming.
“Spirits may be on our side,” I say, smiling. He nods, swinging the reins, making the horse move faster. We pass through the crowd, going further up, to the main street. There, very soon, we’ll be at the grand avenue, linking the castle and the Academy’s towers. We are so very close to the goal, my heart is beating.
I’m anxious about Astral’s answer. I play with Kaytus’s vest, trying to concentrate on the positive. Even without her we’ll make it through, but help is necessary for us to get out alive. We’ll end up crippled or lethally hurt if we must fight every force in the kingdom at the same time. It would be funny if Peregrine showed up too, demanding to be put in power. If that happens, I'll give up my crown, grab Kaytus by the collar and leave to the south.
I notice a man in the middle of a clearing, shouting to the approaching crowd.
“The king has hidden in his palace, leaving us at the mages’ mercy! We will not stand for that! We will fight for our children’s rights!” The crowd cheers and I shudder. There is no time - everything is crumbling. Nobody pays attention to us, we hide in the buildings’ shadows, moving swiftly towards the royal home.
Some of the stores have broken windows and doors, the windows are shut, and the streets are dirty with cartons and left-over food. The city is in shambles, and if we fail, it will get even worse. I cling to Kaytus, and he caresses my thigh, thus calming my rising nerves. I am angry. Angry at Father, at Rigel, at everyone in power who made the people so desperate they had to leave the safety of their homes and riot on the streets.
The royal guard tries to contain the advancing crowd, but to no avail. They walk in the same direction as us. We must get there first. Kaytus hurries the horse and soon we’re riding with the speed of a magically induced vehicle. We pass by riots, scared noblewomen trying to get their kids home, dogs barking at the guards, protecting their masters.
Even the weather, understanding the impending doom, turns stormy. The late autumn sky hides behind purple clouds, as the wind whistles threats in my ears. I hear them all too well.
You are going to pay the price today.
Everything you did was for nothing.
The Fae Queen won’t help you, you are alone against three armies.
You broke the oath, your magic has become a weapon of destruction and everyone shall soon pay the price, even Him.
I try to shake these thoughts away, concentrating on what’s ahead. I feel a tingling on my arms, pushing the fluff up. The magicians are readying their own strike. It must mean that someone has already taken over the castle, be it the Seagraves or the disgraced commander. The Fulminare promised they would attack to stop the bloodshed when it suits their agenda.
I will not stand such treason. No Fae shall rule over my kingdom while I’m still breathing. Malachite has to be cleansed. They will either abide by my rule, or perish by my wrathful hand. I feel Kaytus’s energies bottle up, similar to mine. He is impatient - he must have felt the presence of the sorcerers too.
We come to a full stop, seeing what is left of the revolution surrounding the castle. There is no soul here, the avenue is empty and dark. The only light sources are the street lamps and torches around the main gates. I get off the horse, shaking my hands. Kaytus follows suit and makes his steed disappear.
They haven’t seen us yet. We hide behind a line of thick bushes, checking for foes. I keep my heart steady, as my breathing. Kaytus’s shoulder is next to mine, as we wait. Astral has to respond now. If not, it will be too late. The magicians are preparing their attack, I can feel it in the air. It’s going to be big, so I must create a calamity so much worse.
Then, I hear the chirping of birds. An arctic tern flies to us and settles on the ground. On its leg is a small scroll. It smells of honey. I open it and there is only one word.
Fine.
“It worked!” I show the paper to Kaytus, who smiles, our goal clear. We leave our hiding spot and head straight to the gates, out in the open.
August’s agents see us, and unsheath their swords. One of them has a rifle. I note that I’ll have to deal with the fire weapons trading too. I take off my cloak, revealing my face. I exhale and speak, “There will be no mercy for those who betray the crown!”
My words echo around the silent avenue. Kaytus grabs two swords from his scabbard and swings them as a threat. No revolutionary moves, looking at us, their weapons at the ready. Little do they know that’s exactly what I need. I take a huge breath and put my hands in the air, conjuring an electric board, with spells I’ve prepared at the ready. The board glows, and some agents take a step back.
I’ve listed everything I needed back at the cottage, as we were preparing to leave. I’ve gathered energies and put them inside this encyclopedia spell. Now I have a book at my disposal. It will end up consuming all of my magic, but I have potions and Kaytus. I won’t fail this time. Never again shall I be a slave of my own incompetence.
“No mercy for any of you!” I shout and slide my finger on one of the neon spheres. The sky opens up, letting the sunlight in. From above, dozens of ice particles fall onto the ground, crushing several men. They run towards us, shouting a war cry, calling for their strengths and courage. I nod at Kaytus, keeping the board lit up. Without letting go of his swords, he puts his hands up, whispering a chant. A barrier surrounds me - now I am untouchable. It smells of lavender, he used the same spell when we were riding from the revolution. They must not have gotten the message we had sent. They still bear no fear facing us.
Kaytus whistles so loud my ears ring and two groups of Fae soldiers appear on both of our sides. They’re as tall as my spy, armored and armed to the teeth. Some of them do not have any weapons, making them the most dangerous of them all. Because it means their sole weapon is magic, and Fae trained in offensive magicks are the most powerful of all.
Kaytus runs into the advancing agents, swinging his swords, crashing some of the men instantly. I slide another circle, and another set of ice particles fall onto the small army. Arrows fly from above the wall, some revolutionaries hiding in the trees. The barrier holds on, but I feel its magic dissipate with every passing second. Then, bullets are being fired. The rifle is slow, difficult to recharge.
It’s time for step two. Kaytus feels the barrier weakening and sends a wave of wind, pushing the archers from the trees. I don’t need to hear a grunt to know they’ve fallen from high enough to break their necks. The lavender barrier dissipates and I’m out in the open.
I pronounce the words Kaytus provided to use, if ever Astral accepted the deal. How he knows of them, I have no clue and no interest in knowing for now. “Seth am’in ra!” My side of the soldiers create a barrier, which I feel but do not see. It feels stronger, and I have to keep my balance. I spread my legs and stand steady, concentrating on the ice, crushing some of the men. It’s time I changed tactics.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Meanwhile, Kaytus’s group of Fae soldiers run towards the Academy tower. There, magicians are at work. Soon, they’ll have a mean surprise. I slide a finger against the third circle and a smaller firebird leaps out of the board. It flies to a group of agents circling Kaytus, and burns their clothes. They take several steps back, panicking. Their screams of pain grant me more power. I feel I’m ready for the last spell on the board. I let out a guttural cry and vines crack the pavement, growing upwards, pushing open the gates. They pound hard, until the gates crack under their weight.
I close the board and conjure my own sword, while Kaytus sways his. The left side of Fae soldiers wait, as they are ordered to. Now, everything must go according to plan. There’s no set backs, and no second chances. It’s now or never.
The weather becomes worse. Rain starts splattering against the ground, wetting my hair and clothes. My eye makeup must be running. Kaytus jerks his head back, moving away the bangs to see better. I swing my light sword and slice a woman’s arm in half, while she’s busy helping her colleague get up. Agents come running from inside the castle, to help their comrades in need. They shout and strike, but Fae’s magic doesn’t let them come close. Their bubble pushes the revolutionaries out of our way, while I walk straight ahead, slicing anyone who comes too close.
I hear an unnaturally loud thunder and look up. Magicians started their attack. They really do want to burn my palace to the ground. I see huge boulders coming right for us, piercing the air at high speed. Kaytus doesn’t blink, as he puts his hands up, letting go of the swords, and an electric tree traps the immense boulders. The stones fall to the side, harming no one. We continue walking, as I stab an agent in the neck. Blood splatters on my face and I spit it out.
We arrive at the main entrance. No one is guarding it anymore, August’s forces were all outside, and currently are fighting the Academy’s magicians, whose screams I can hear from here. This is a game where there can be no true winner. The revolution must choose their foe wisely, and they decide they have better chances to fight Fulminare, rather than us. Two fronts, and none will bear victory for them. So, I let them kill each other while my side of Fae soldiers is safe, untouchable, waiting for further orders.
Kaytus checks on me, his hand finding mine. I squeeze it, pressuring us to move forward. It’s not too late, he had said, you can still leave it all behind. I laughed in his face then. We’ve been fighting each other for so long, and for what? To escape? No, we will finish the job, even if one of us dies, the other will make things right again. For the people.
The front door opens, and from the dark, August appears. He is holding Rigel close, a knife to his throat. If looks could kill, I’d be long dead instantly. Kaytus shouted the signal in Fae and the sky suddenly closed, becoming dark again. It was the signal for the Fae soldiers to finish the leader magician off. Boulders were helpful in annihilating what was left of the revolution.
“I’ll kill him! Right here, right now! This has gone too far!” His voice is the one of a beggar. He acts as if he still has an upper hand. But he is cornered, and I trust Kaytus to do the right thing. Because if he does it, I will never doubt him again.
“You wanted civil war, here it is,” I show what’s around me: the burnt trees, the broken walls, the fountains with no water in them. Everything is desolate, the gardens have died, the animals have left their homes. People are advancing, despite the rain and the screams. Nobles are known for their cunning and fearlessness. Curiosity, as well. They will not let this chance pass, not when the kingdom’s future is being decided in these walls. “Do not blame me.” I look at him, avoiding Rigel’s begging gaze.
Kaytus whispers a spell under his breath, as I continue staring at August. He knows he has lost, and yet he continues to try and try. Somehow, he reminds me of myself. Maybe, in another life we could have been friendly acquaintances, but life has been cruel to both of us. Unfortunately for him, he ended up on the losing team. There were four players in this deadly game, only one shall have absolute power.
“Does winning mean more than your brother’s life?” August shouts, putting the knife closer to the exposed neck of Rigel. I keep my posture straight. And it will be me.
“It’s not enough to win. Others must fail.” I sneer, cracking my neck. “If you don’t kill him now, I will kill him myself later.”
August chuckles, not believing my words, while Rigel opens his mouth in shock. Kaytus takes a step forward. “You lost, August. Let him go.”
“You,” August smiles sardonically. “I trusted you, Kaytus. I thought we had something. And here you are, helping the exiled princess to take back her crown. How does it feel to betray your loved ones? Or was her pussy so good she made you forget who you belonged to?”
I cringe and glance at Kaytus. Oh, now I am afraid of him. Now his face reminds me of when he killed West, when he was everywhere at once, listening to everything, controlling the king. This is the stone-cold face of a killer machine, and I unwillingly step away. August was mine to kill, but I will not be standing between this apex predator and his prey.
“I do not belong to anyone!” He roars. “You betrayed me first. You betrayed the people you fought for. You wanted petty revenge, not democracy!” Kaytus takes a step closer to the commander. “You knew the Academy would hold the power once the monarchy fell. You didn’t care that the mages would control the lives of normal humans because the only thing you ever wanted was blood.” He stops for a second. “And no, August, we didn’t have something. I was valuable to your revenge plan.”
Something clicks and guilt creeps up to me, and I don’t know why. I look at Kaytus, then at August, still avoiding Rigel. Poor brother, he must listen to the old couple’s fight.
“Now. Will you give up, or does she have to kill you publicly?” I come forth, blocking Kaytus’s white rage. August pushes the knife closer, nearly slicing Rigel’s neck.
“You’re bluffing! You’ll never let your family be harmed,” He says, confidence audible in his tone. A smile tugs my lips.
“You know jackshit about me, August.” I sneer and take a step forward. He starts cutting the skin on my brother’s neck. Kaytus continues to whisper under his breath.
“Please, Norella, the crown is yours, please, take it, just… just let me live.” My brother’s gaze is full of fear.
“Oh? You weren’t so open minded about it when we dueled. And when Spica stabbed me to protect you?” I scoff. August’s eyes dart from left to right, weighing his options.
“I was wrong, please! I’m your family! Your blood!” I have never heard him beg. It feels good. My magic is restoring just by listening to this sweetness. I catch myself losing my composure, so I straighten my posture again and raise my chin.
“You are nothing to me, Rigel.” I say and throw a wind wave, pushing both men off their feet.
I whistle and three hunt dogs appear out of thin air. They’re snarling and barking at the men. I click my tongue and the invisible leash holding them vanishes. They jump August, biting his leg. Rigel uses this chance to move out of the way, hiding behind the castle’s doors.
I glance at Kaytus, who’s staring at the bloody scene. August fights the hounds well, slicing one in half. It disappears, leaving no trace that it was here. He cries out, getting up. He swings his sword and that’s when Kaytus steps back.
“He is yours,” I nod and swing my weapon. Our gazes meet. I do not wait a second more and run to him, our metals meeting. Sparks fly in front of our eyes, as we stare each other down. The dogs continue chopping his leg, and yet he stands. His face is of utter rage.
I turn, blocking his every attack. I’m out of breath, when I strike true. I slice his shoulder, blood dripping to the dead grass under us. I cannot hold any longer - he is too skilled. I try to summon a fire wave, but he cuts my wrist. I cry out in pain and take a step back. He advances, pushing the hounds out of the way.
Another blade joins the fight. Kaytus’s skilled hands cut August’s healthy leg, causing him to fall on the ground. I shout and stab his chopped leg. He screams in pain. I order the two hounds to continue attacking. They growl, lacerating and ripping out his sleeves. Their sharp teeth sink into his bare skin.
I wait for him to beg to be killed. I wish he had prayed for it. But I only see hatred of my bloodline in his eyes, nothing else. So, I swing my blade and crush his skull. It pierces his bones, as I turn it around, making sure he is dead.
I let the sword disappear from my grasp as I fell on my knees. I force myself to look at what I have done. Rigel leaves his hiding spot, shakily, his eyes teary.
“Thank you! Thank you, sister.”
I cannot fail now. So, I get up, my hands bloody. Kaytus throws me a sword and I catch it without looking, grasping it tighter. I apply all the strength I have left in the grip. I push strands of my hair back. Behind me the magic bottled up with every chant. Kaytus stops whispering, looking straight at Rigel, revulsion burning his eyes. There is no mercy to be had.
“Do you repent?”
“For what sins, Norella?” he asks, putting his collar in place, wiping off the blood from his neck with his palm.
“Public executions. The murdered servants. Those were your ideas.”
He hesitates. He looks around, and after making sure we were alone, he nods. “Yes, I do not regret it, however. Those revolutionaries destroyed us from the inside. They took everything from us. They have even taken you.” He snarls at Kaytus. The man scoffs, taking a step forward, settling beside me.
I hold back a scream, and ask, “You burned buildings searching for their headquarters.”
“I did. Those people knew, my sources said so.”
“You and Father knew the Academy was ruling itself for years, and yet, you let it continue.”
“Ugh, why so many questions? Let’s just finish this war and go back to how it was… with Father as king for the time being. You will be queen, as he had promised years ago.”
Father is alive? I knew it. I feel happy for a second, but then the reality of it settles in. I know it changes nothing. He has to disappear too.
“Answer my damn question, Rigel!” My arms start to shake.
“Yes, Father did let it go on. The relationship with the Otherworld is already hard. He didn’t want any problems.”
“One final question, and you’ll be free,” I tug on a tight smile. “Peregrine. Human trafficking. Father never did anything against it. Why?”
“Why do you think I know?”
“You were always his favorite. He told you a lot of things he never mentioned to me,” I shrug as carelessly as I can.
“He… He had an agreement with them. It’s complicated, but they paid good money, added to the treasury, if he let them do business in far corners of Malachite. If they never touch Argenis, Salen, or Mar, that is.”
“That’s all I needed to know, thank you.”
There’s silence, and I feel electric waves surround everything around us. They have been here for some time, I was too busy with Rigel to sense them fully.
One one swift motion I lift my sword, and slice Rigel’s head off. It falls on the ground with a soft thud. His body crumbles and I stare at those unblinking eyes that never anticipated such an end.
“Everyone saw it.” Kaytus says, putting his hand on my shoulder. He squeezes it and I let the sword fall. It starts raining harder. The drops fall on my lashes and slide on my lips. I open my mouth, breathing through it. The Fae helped with the broadcast. Now every man and woman in Malachite has seen what happened in their mind’s eye. It was no easy feat, but it is done.
“He left me to die in the cell,” I whisper, looking at the blood flowing from the neck. I see muscles, I see bones. I see it all and I don’t cry. “I think Norella did die there.”
Kaytus says nothing, walking into the palace. I grab Rigel’s head by the damp hair. I feel nothing. I feel no sorrow, I feel no pain. Kaytus opens the throne room, where we see the rest of my family, surrounded by August’s agents. They are the last left.
I really did die in the dungeons. Whoever throws the head of her brother on the marble floors is not Norella Melione Seagrave. The head rolls towards my family’s feet. Revolution agents holding them hostage take a step back, their eyes wide open at the gore. They see Kaytus and look at each other.
Behind us, the bloodhounds tug August’s disfigured body. His legs are nothing but meat and bones. The dogs leave him in the middle of the room, as we walk closer. The dogs stand at our side. One, by me, the other at Kaytus’s.
Father inhales, in shock, while Mother kneels, sobbing. Spica stands, her face pale. I take a look around, and remember how I used to dine here. I remember the tasty meals, the exotic wine… I feel no hunger or thirst, and yet I want to taste it all again. But it will never be the same. The chandeliers will never look so bright, the floors never as clear. The meat will be too hard to chew and the wine will bring no comfort in the late evenings. The gardens will never bring me solace, and the trees will never speak to me again. I see innocence fly through the shut window, never to return.
“It is over.” I state and the agents take a step back. They throw their weapons on the ground, and kneel, hands behind their heads.
“What have you done…?” Father’s voice is breaking. He looks healthy. They have hidden his recovery very well. “Daughter…” his last word is small. He whispers it with so much sorrow, as if he doesn’t recognize me. I wouldn’t have recognized myself either.
“Whatever was necessary for peace,” I say and tears appear in my eyes. I let them sit there until they dry.
“Kaytus,” I jerk my chin.
“They are watching,” He nods
“For your crimes against the people of Malachite, I exile you, Calen and Falke Seagrave and strip you of your titles.” Both open their mouths in shock. “I will not grant you death, but no one will trust you again. It is a prophecy. Just like the one you hid, Father.”
I keep my voice steady. I do not smile this time. Seeing Mother sob twitches something inside. It has a hold on me. I cannot let it go. It hurts me from within, imploding, damaging what is left of me.
“Spica Seagrave. You will be sent to Abrayam and spend your youth studying their arts and ways. You will be accepted to come back to Malachite once you repent.”
“But she’s a child! You cannot exile her! I must take her with me!” Mother screams.
“I can do whatever I want,” I say, not breaking Spica’s eye contact. “Because I am queen. And you are nothing.” The words burn my lips, my tongue, my eyes. It has to be done. It has to go this way. The people need justice, people demand retribution. I always carried burdens, so I shall carry this one too. May I burn in hell for all the things I’ve done today. May I burn for all eternity.
At least my people are safe and content.
Kaytus whistles and a group of Fae soldiers appear behind us. They grab Father and Mother and lead them out. Father looks at me, his eyes full of anguish. He still has fight in him, I know it - maybe it will make their life easier in exile. Maybe they will want revenge. There are no true winners in war. The one who is victorious, wins only temporarily, until the loser works their revenge. Maybe my demise will be by their hand. Maybe not. Would someone kill their child? Even if the child killed another?
“What punishment will fit Falke, then? She never killed anyone, she didn’t know about the prophecy. What is her crime?”
“She never did anything wrong, yes, she was a bystander. She wanted power, but never did anything good.” I said. “She will pay the biggest price.”
“Which is?” Kaytus asked, tilting his head.
“She’ll lose all her children on the same day.”
Mother is dragged away from Spica, who sits on the ground, by Rigel’s head, hysterically crying. Mother looks at me, and there is so much sorrow, so much pain behind those basil eyes. I want to hug her, I want to tell her it’s alright. Even if I hate her. Even if I wish she knew how much she hurt me.
They leave the room, and I still can hear her whimpers. She must hate me as much as I hate her. I take a good look at Spica. “Take her away too.” A Fae soldier grabs my sister and forcefully drags her away from Rigel’s decapitated head. Her shrieks echo through the halls, until there is no sound, but the ragged breaths of the agents on their knees.
I look at them. All of them at my mercy, all that is left of the revolution. They were August’s puppets. I don’t know their stories, but I think I know the reasons. They hate me, even though they’re cowering. I feel their auras, I know some would kill me if they had a chance. Some might have fled, if given a chance.
“Execute them.” I ordered the Fae. I do not turn away. I take a good look at the agents’ horrified expressions. I take it all in, engraving these images in my mental maze. I must remember what the malachite crown cost me.
The Fae approach the whimpering men and women, and with a quick movement of phantom hands, their necks break. The Fae come closer and grab the bodies, dragging them one by one out of the throne room. The air is cold. The palace was not heated for days, it seems.
Kaytus notifies a Fae to bring the exiled Seagraves to a safe place for the time being. Until I can organize their departure to their respective places. The Fae soldier nods and looks at me. He bows and leaves the throne room.
Kaytus says nothing to me. He knows it all already. He knew from the start. It was never supposed to be easy. There was no peace without war. He knew it before, and he knows it now. We walk outside in silence. I hold back my screams, my cries, all of my sorrow, I push it down. I force my feet to bring me out of this place I once called home.
Only outside, when I see the bloody grass, the dead branches, where the silence is overwhelming, it all hits me. I let a tear come down my cheek. I look at the clearing sky and feel the sun’s rays on my skin. I crumble on my knees and let myself cry. My cries are ugly. I wipe away the snot, hiding my face in my hands, shaking uncontrollably.
I hear people shouting at the gates. A Fae soldier approaches me and points to the avenue.
“Your subjects are waiting,” I look up in his electric blue eyes and sob. Kaytus helps me up, his touch is gentle. He passes me a piece of cloth and I hold it to my nose, as we move to the street. The golden gates are broken, as we pass through.
People slowly stop shouting. A woman in the first row, dressed in a long winter dress asks, “Are they dead? Is it true? The revolution and the Fae mages are no more?”
Kaytus holds me close, as I approach the crowd.
“Yes, it is over.”
“The king is dead, long live the queen!” Someone shouts. I sob, trying to smile. It is for the best. The crowd cheers for me. They clap their hands and whistle, calling out my name.
“Those who betrayed the people of Malachite and made their lives difficult have paid the price,” I say, tears still running down my face. They might see it as tears of happiness, the symbol of the end of an era. But Kaytus and I both know these are the tears of someone who destroyed everything she ever loved. “I wish to restore what has been lost. If my country accepts me, I shall work for the rest of my days to make it all better.”
An ever louder applause takes over the avenue. People shout they accept me, that they are glad the violence is over. Kaytus’s hand is at my lower back, keeping me grounded. There are no Fae soldiers in sight.
“I’ll redo the Academy. Not every mage has been executed, but everyone who followed orders of destruction will be judged accordingly.” I announce, trying to keep my voice steady, but it breaks.
A group of king’s guard run towards me, aware of what has happened. They look at Kaytus, then at me. They kneel, bowing their heads. “Your Majesty,”
“Stand up, soldiers. You’ve fought bravely. But you are dismissed.”
“What?”
“I will temporarily close the palace. I need to make preparations. I will hire you back once everything has settled.”
“But, your Majesty, you need protection!” A guard comes closer, his hand on the scabbard. I flinch and he lets his hand slide off the grip. “Majesty…”
“He is right. You cannot stay there alone,” Kaytus whispers in my ear. I look down at my boots. They’re muddy and worn. I sigh, nodding.
“Alright. Gather anyone from the guards and knights left alive, and make sure to pass on the word that war is no more.”
“Will do, Your Majesty.”
The crowd is being pushed away from the castle by a dozen guards. My guards now. My subjects cheer still, even when they accept to go home. I watch them leave and take Kaytus’s hand. Our fingers interlace and I breathe out.
“You were never a tool to me,” I lie through my teeth, because I cannot face any more dirty truths. The man’s face softens, and something flickers in those eerie eyes of his.
“We both were each other’s tools - and it’s okay. Because it’s all over now.”
His head turns to face me, squeezing my hand. Why does it feel like a goodbye?
“Are you leaving?” I ask, it comes out a squeal. My eyes beg him to stay. My grip tightens on his hand.
“No,” He says, embracing me tightly. I breathe in his scent and lose myself in it. I try to forget everything that I’ve done. I try to erase my victims’ faces from my memory. It still lingers, like an old wound, the pain pounds through me.
I have become what I was most afraid of.
I hug the spy back, sobbing into his chest.
“No, of course, I’m not leaving,” He kisses the top of my head. “I won’t let you be there all alone. Ever.”
I try to laugh, but end up crying even harder. His arms bring the heat I’ve lost back. My bloody hands seem cleaner after the storm has passed. The weight I’m carrying, he will carry all the same. And knowing we’re both to carry these deaths on our consciousness makes it a bit easier to digest. I close my eyes, as we hug, unable to let go.
“We’ve done it,” I cry. “We made it, Kay…”
“We did. You made it, Norella,”
I want to say ‘Nor’, I want to urge him to call me by my shortened name. Something tugs on my heart. Maybe it’s guilt, maybe it’s remorse, but I cannot push the words out. They’re stuck in my mouth like a bitter pill.
“I trust you,” I end up saying, looking at him through the tears. He wipes them away with his thumbs.
“I trust you too.”