Looming out of the dark skyline stood a castle that had been carved into the side of a mountain. Far below, the sprawling, snow-covered city was cradled in the castle's shadowy embrace. Most of the city’s occupants were asleep, blissfully unaware that King Sebastian Vandemark looked out from the large arched window in his office. For a moment, his eyes lingered on the green star that had appeared in the sky when Harvest had come to an end thirty-nine days ago.
It had been a long, cold day, Sebastian thought as he considered retiring to bed for the night. Turning away from the window, he yawned, his eyes drifting over the line of portraits that belonged to his predecessors. They hung in gold-gilded frames mounted on the wood-panelled wall. Each one had been carefully centred between the intricately carved stone pillars that flanked the arched windows. Outside, the darkness shrouded the market district, which hugged the side of the mountain far below.
Closest to the desk, which he had not long ago vacated, hung the portrait of King Arden Vandemark, Sebastian’s great-grandfather and the first King of Tristan. The former king was seated in a chair that had been draped with red velvet, with the ceremonial golden coronation cloak hanging around his shoulders. From beneath the gold crown, which hosted a series of black, teardrop-shaped jewels embedded in the metal, a pair of unblinking light brown eyes stared across the room at a huge tapestry that hung on the stone wall opposite.
Despite being in the forty-eighth year of his reign, Sebastian had always had the feeling that those eyes followed him around the office while he attended to his business. At times, Sebastian wondered if his father and grandfather had felt the same sensation as his eyes passed over their portraits. His eyes settled on the portrait of himself, even though it was a significantly younger version. In the painting, he was without the grey hairs, which now speckled his long blonde hair, and the neatly trimmed beard.
With another yawn, he turned his attention from the portraits to the desk before him, silently contemplating the small stack of papers that sat awaiting him. Sighing, he slumped back down onto the worn, red velvet chair. If he could finish the last of these reports quickly, he might be able to spend tomorrow away from the desk. Perhaps he would suggest a trip to the garden to Danielle, his wife, in the morning. She did enjoy the garden when it was snow-covered. It would also give him a chance to examine the mausoleum again, he thought.
Picking up the paper at the top of the pile, he glanced at it. It was a request for support for the families of two dozen men who had lost their lives when one of Tristan’s trade ships sank not far off the coast. With the red feathered quill that was resting beside the small ink pot, he scratched his signature on the paper, approving the request. After adding a note to extend his condolences to the families of the men, he slid it aside, adding it to a pile of papers he had spent the majority of the day dealing with. One way or another, they always seemed to pile up all of a sudden.
Before he could turn his eyes to the next paper, the sound of movement outside the door at the far end of the long room caught his attention. Seconds later, there was a quick knock on the big oak door. Had he not been so tired, he would have answered the door himself; instead, he settled for calling the visitor to enter.
The words had barely left his lips when the door swung open just far enough for a girl with auburn hair, which reached midway down her back, to slip inside. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she pushed the door shut.
‘I'm sorry to disturb you so late, Your Majesty,’ she apologised meekly as she crossed the room, tucking several strands of her rumpled hair behind her ear with one hand, straightening her royal blue dress with the other.
‘Do not apologise, Miss Bridwell; you are merely helping to break up the monotony of this paperwork,’ Sebastian said with a smile as he placed the quill back down beside the ink pot again. ‘Now, what can I do for you, my dear?’
‘You have a visitor, Your Majesty,’ she replied quietly, without returning the smile as she cast her eyes downward, examining the huge white rug that covered a large portion of the black stone floor.
For several silent seconds, Sebastian considered the girl before him. In the seventeen years since he first set eyes on her at an orphanage in the city, he had only ever seen her act this tentatively once. That occasion had not been all that long ago either. Emily Bridwell had always been a vibrant, curious bundle of energy. Fact.
Sebastian stood up. Moving aside the pile of papers, he rounded the desk, sitting on the edge so that he was at the same level as her. With one slender finger under her chin, he lifted her head slightly, examining her.
‘Emily, is something the matter?’ he asked her softly, watching as her blue eyes tried to avoid his. Something had not been right since that green star had appeared in the sky.
With an almost unnoticeable shake of her head, she flattened the creases in her dress again. ‘Everything's fine, Your Majesty.’
‘Remember, if there is ever something on your mind, then I would like to hear it." Besides, a problem shared is a problem halved, as they say,’ Sebastian said with a wink, smiling when he saw the corner of her mouth twitch. Mrs. Whitley told me about what happened.’
In an instant, the eyes that had been so desperate to avoid his found them, anger burning behind them as she pulled away. ‘She promised she wouldn't say anything about it!’
‘Emily, it's alright,’ Sebastian said calmly. Mrs. Whitley didn't want to betray your confidence in her. It took my order for her to tell me what happened. Do not take your anger out on her. She is only worried about you. As am I.’
‘Y-you know about t-the vision?’ she asked, stranded somewhere between anger and surprise that he knew.
Sebastian nodded solemnly.
‘What do you think?’ Emily whispered curiously.
‘My dear, I have been blessed with many more years of life than a lot of people,’ Sebastian replied. ‘It is not for myself with whom I am concerned; it is you.’
‘B-but the vision predicted your death. How can you not be concerned?’
‘Death is but one of the inevitable facts of life. If we did not have the promise of death, we might not know how to live,’ Sebastian said, reciting the words Arden Vandemark had spoken before he had led his army into the decisive battle that had ended the war that had seemed destined to destroy his kingdom. ‘Emily, have there been more of these visions?’
Barely audible, she choked out her reply. ‘No, Your Majesty.’
‘Very well,’ Sebastian said, returning to his chair after a pause. ‘Now, would you please show our guest in?’
Emily nodded, turning towards the door. As she walked away, Sebastian saw her push a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. Her hand had barely been in contact with the brass door handle long enough to open the door an inch when it crashed open, forcing her to backtrack quickly.
‘About time!’ snapped a boy as he barged in. He was just a fraction older than Emily, his short brown hair sticking out at odd angles. ‘I didn't know I had to wait so long to see my own grandfather,’ he sneered, staring Emily down until she looked away.
‘That's enough!’ Sebastian called from behind his desk. ‘It is not her fault; I was requesting that she bring us a bottle of white wine, but it seems we only have red at the moment.’
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Slowly, the boy turned away from Emily, focusing on Sebastian.
‘I'll fetch the wine,’ Emily muttered before she scurried out the door, pulling it shut behind her with a snap.
‘I don't know why you have these girls running around for you all the time,’ the boy said as he strode towards the desk.
‘The Sisters of Tristan have always been instrumental in the running of this kingdom. I see no reason why that should change because you do not understand something,’ Sebastian said calmly. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit at such a late hour, George?’
‘Some members of the family believe that you have been neglecting your duties as King of Tristan,’ George said, his eyes moving to the pile of unfinished paperwork. ‘They believe it is time that you passed the crown on to someone more...capable.’
‘Do they now?’ Sebastian asked as he raised an eyebrow. ‘Why don't you have a seat and tell me your thoughts?’
George dropped into the chair in front of the desk reluctantly, slouching under the intense gaze of his grandfather. Before Sebastian could prompt George to continue, there was a gentle knock at the door, and Emily slipped inside with a bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other. With her eyes on the floor, she silently approached the desk, setting the bottle on the surface. The bottle had barely come into contact with the wood when George snatched it towards himself.
‘Thank you, Miss Bridwell,’ Sebastian said with a smile as he looked up at her. ‘Are you retiring for the night now?’
‘Not just yet, Your Majesty,’ she replied, placing the glasses on the desk. ‘I have a couple of things to sort out for the morning.’
‘I wonder if I might trouble you with one more errand tonight,’ Sebastian requested, pulling an envelope from underneath a thin folder. ‘If you could deliver this to Mrs. Whitley, I would be most grateful.’
‘Of course, Your Majesty.’
As soon as the door swung shut behind Emily again, George looked up, the bottle of wine now open. ‘What was that?’ he demanded as he poured the wine into one of the glasses and slid it across the desk.
‘A letter to Mrs. Whitley is none of your concern,’ Sebastian said calmly before raising the glass to his lips. ‘Now, I assume it is your father who is suggesting that my reign has come to an end.’
In silence, George nodded as he watched Sebastian take a sip of the wine. ‘How is the wine grandfather?’
‘Slightly bitter,’ Sebastian commented slowly. ‘Almost as if it contains something it should not.’
‘It is in the interest of the people that the crown should pass soon,’ George said, reverting to the original subject. ‘A new leader could take the kingdom to even greater heights.’
‘You have a great interest in the progression of the crown, I see. Does your father know how keen you are to take the throne?’ Sebastian asked, setting his glass down slowly.
‘What interest is it of yours? It pains me...greatly...to admit this. We know that you are ill, no matter how you try to hide it. Would it not be best to pass the crown on while you can?’ George said, his face showing no hint of emotion at the thought of his grandfather’s death.
‘We are all dying, are we not, George?’ Sebastian asked vaguely. ‘Although I expect I will die a lot sooner than expected with the help of the poison in this wine.’
For the briefest of moments, fear flashed across George's face before it returned to its passive expression. ‘Are you accusing me of lacing the wine with poison to gain the crown?’
‘Whether I am accusing you or not, it does not matter. The crown will not fall to you,’ Sebastian said as he glanced towards the tapestry of the family tree that hung on the stone wall opposite the portraits.
‘Not immediately, but it doesn't matter. I can wait a little while,’ George said, jumping to his feet. Drawing a short knife from his belt, he strode towards the tapestry. Silently, he slashed a line through the tapestry over the name of Sebastian's eldest son and George’s uncle, Dominic. Next, he lowered the knife slightly, slashing through the name of his older brother, Vincent.
Sebastian felt a slight pang in his chest that had nothing to do with the poison inside his body as he watched George's knife slash across his own name.
‘Does your father know what you have been doing?’ Sebastian asked when George returned to his seat.
‘No.’
‘How long do I have left?’ Sebastian asked as he felt his head begin to swim slightly.
‘Not long. Perhaps an hour at the most,’ George replied as he stood up. He carefully picked up Sebastian's glass, tipping a small amount of the wine into the empty glass. ‘I don't understand, though. If you knew the wine had been poisoned, why did you continue to drink it?’
‘There are many things you are yet to understand,’ Sebastian said calmly. ‘Now, if you don't mind, I would like to use my remaining time to organise my thoughts.’
With one final look of confusion, George recognised his dismissal and turned away. Wrenching the door open, he stormed out, leaving it to swing against the wood panelling with a bang. Before his vision swam momentarily, he saw George push past Emily roughly when she stood up from behind her desk in the outer office.
Coughing violently, he recovered just in time to see George disappear. It seemed as though whoever was responsible had spared no expense when picking out the poison. Starshine pollen, he suspected.
Through watering eyes, he saw Emily slip into his office, closing the door behind her gently. Weakly, he raised a hand, beckoning her closer, the glasses falling over as he knocked them over accidentally. Emily hurried forward, grabbing the remainder of the bottle of wine before knocking it over as well.
‘No!’ Sebastian croaked, holding out his hand for the bottle.
Reluctantly, Emily gave him the bottle he was holding out his hand for. With the little strength that the poison had yet to drain from him, he drew his arm back, Emily ducking as he hurled the bottle as far as he could. With a crash, it smashed on the stone floor, its contents flooding out like blood.
‘Poisoned,’ he rasped when she straightened up, taking a careful step away from the desk. As she did so, Sebastian saw realisation dawning on her young features.
‘What do you need?’ she asked quickly.
‘Water,’ Sebastian whispered, remembering that it could slightly slow the paralysing effect of Starshine pollen.
Without waiting another second, she ran into the outer office. Dragging his eyes away from her retreating form, Sebastian turned his attention back to his desk. He didn’t have long. One by one, he pulled the drawers of his desk open, throwing the papers out of them. Buried deep inside the bottom one, he found what he was looking for. Sebastian pulled out the small, smoke-filled glass box. Tossing the box on the desk, he picked up the ornate letter opener that sat beside the ink pot.
At the sound of hurried footsteps, he looked up to see Emily returning with a glass of water. Discarding the letter opener, he took the glass from her, attempting to drink from it. Most of the water ran down his chin and onto the desk, soaking the unfinished papers. The burning in his throat subsided slightly as he collapsed back into his chair.
‘Behind...portrait of Arden...vault,’ Sebastian croaked. ‘Get...amulet.’
Nodding, Emily hurried to the portrait, lifting it off the wall carefully. From where Sebastian sat, he could see the pile of papers and sparkling items inside the vault. As he picked up the letter opener again, Sebastian pulled back his sleeve. The room lurched violently in front of him. Bringing the letter opener down, he saw it miss his wrist and strike the desk.
At the sound, Emily span around, a gold, jewel-encrusted amulet swinging from its chain in one hand. In half a dozen quick paces, she was in front of the desk again, trying to pull the letter opener away from him. ‘Need...blood,’ he muttered, pointing at the box.
‘Let me,’ she whispered quickly, dropping the amulet on the desk. Allowing her to take the letter opener from his almost paralysed hand, he watched absently as she made a short incision in his wrist with it. His head was swimming so violently now that he barely registered the pain. He let her lift his hand and place it on the box. Slowly, the glass turned transparent as the lid slid open. Inside sat two thin envelopes, along with a tiny vial of dark green liquid.
Clumsily, he stood up, staggering around the desk. ‘Don't touch...black stone unless...life-threatening...danger,’ he whispered as he placed the amulet around her neck and attempted to tuck it into the top of her dress. When it fell out for a second time, she pushed his hands away gently and tucked it in herself. ‘Take this...to Charles Hargrove...at the bakery...he will know what...to do.’
‘What about that?’ she said, pointing to the tiny vial as she picked up the envelope with Charles Hargrove's name on it.
‘This is a...cure. For poisons,’ Sebastian explained weakly.
Emily grabbed the vial, pulling the stopper out of it as she picked up the half-empty glass of water.
‘No!’ Sebastian said as fiercely as he could manage. ‘You take it.’
‘It can save you though!’ Emily whispered angrily.
‘It can’t. You must take...it. You must find Charles. The Third Era...is dawning. The future of...the kingdom is inside that envelope,’ Sebastian said desperately as he tried to push her away. ‘Go! Before anyone comes.’
‘What do I do after I find Charles Hargrove?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Get away,’ Sebastian replied quietly. ‘When they realise...that the amulet is gone, they will look...for you. Find Charles and then get as far away from Tristan as you can.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ Emily whispered.
Slowly, Sebastian smiled. ‘I am... just Sebastian now. I am no longer your...king. You are released...from your bonds to the crown. Good luck...Emily.’
Emily nodded as she tucked her hair behind her ear. Holding the letter and the vial close, she backed away to the door, her eyes never leaving him. For a second, Sebastian saw her linger in the doorway before his vision swam violently and she disappeared.
Closing his eyes, Sebastian leant against the desk as he tilted his head back slightly. ‘Good luck...Emily Bridwell,’ he whispered to the empty room.