Beads of light collected in the droplets of wine splashed across the surface of the table, the cup tipped on it's side, a current red river flowing into Abrigel's lap. Red was everywhere; like the scene of a massacre, the victim her highness's patience. The temper tantrum befitting a child had plunged the room into near silence, the only sound the rustling of Dansin's coat, as he wiped specks of wine from his forehead and cheek. The queen sat like rigid stone, staring down the red-haired girl with icy animosity.
"I think perhaps it would be best for all of us to retire." The interruption finally came from Crispin, his clear, steady voice penetrating the tension with a much needed air of calm sincerity.
"Agreed..." The king's voice, neither steady, nor calm, broke from the doorway, where he stood watching the room with passive authority. The blue in his eyes, deep, darkened by anger, was fixed on his wife, who shrunk some in her seat beneath the stare.
Chairs scraped against stone and the brunt of King Ordin's children rose, leaving Abrigel on her own, staring helplessly at the puddle of wine as it pooled on her skirts and onto the floor beneath her slippered feet. With some small measure of apprehension, Crispin held a scrap of fabric, a napkin out to her. Slowly, the others filed out, past their father and into the hall. Pausing along the way, Dansin plucked up the glass bottle that had fallen from the table in the fray, "No sense in wasting--" He mused, lips snapping in a cocky smile. But with a glance from his father, he set the bottle down, the smirk dissolving as he disappeared from the room.
All that remained now were Ordin, Aimera and Abrigel.
"You're dismissed..." Ordin muttered coldly to the queen. Her eyes twitched to her husband, her hands knotting into fists, but without argument she stood, following in her children's wake. When she had gone, Ordin's gaze shifted to Abrigel, who looked up from the puddle to meet her father's eyes.
"I'm sorry..." She started, but he held up a hand, the lilt of his voice shifting to a tone all too familiar. A reminder of the burden that she placed on him, every day.
"Don't. I saw what happened." Moving to the table, Ordin pulled out a chair and sank down into it, "I should apologize. No... she should. Time and again I have told her that sort of behavior is out of line. You don't deserve to be treated that way, and it's certainly not appropriate..."
"I baited her. It was my fault... It's just..." Frowning, Abrigel's eyes fell to her lap again, "I can't understand why she's so angry with me. What I've done..."
"It's not what you've done, Abrigel. It's what I've done."
"It's been so long..."
"Anger has no sense of time, Dear Heart. And however misplaced hers is... it isn't entirely wrong." A sigh escaped and Ordin pinched his brow, "I've done terrible things. Unforgivable things..."
"Papa..."
Holding his hand up again, Ordin smiled faintly, "You'll understand, someday, sweet girl. You are a light in on my darkened path, that I do not deserve... My sins are great and I will answer for them some--"
Ordin paused as the door to the dining hall opened and a small, timid mouse of a man stepped inside. He might've been handsome, were it not for the strange scrap of hair across his upperlip, which he idly scratched at with long, thin fingers, "Your Majesty... I beg pardon. It's just, you told me to inform you if any news came from Thornwild..."
Rising, Ordin's expression fell oddly stoic, "Go on, Amblin?"
"The King, Your Majesty... He's dead."
The basket was only half filled, and most of it scraps, but even when the best she could do were crumbs collected from the ashes of the fireplace, Abrigel would bring them. And without fail, no matter the bounty, the people were gracious and welcoming. For over two years now, Abrigel had come when she could, bringing what she could scrape together - food and clothes, blankets... even medicine, though the apothecary at the palace was a painfully suspicious man and she daren't take anything without his say so.
She had seen little change in their way of life, in their declining health or their living arrangements, but their spirits, certainly seemed lifted. And after the dinner she'd had, that was all she needed to see. Perhaps it was a touch selfish, and she could acknowledge as much, even if it hardly made her feel good, but she needed to do something... anything worthwhile just to banish the queen's hateful words from her mind.
She'd been dismissed as soon as the news came of King Baronthorn's death, and it hardly came as a surprise. Her father was a good man to her, whatever he said about sins and darkness, but even Abrigel, with little understanding of political matters, could comprehend the importance of the Thornwild king's passing. Cain'loren was a successful kingdom, but to gain control of Thornwild was to gain control of Ellemar... In the hands of another kingdom, that would be a disastrous outcome.
She understood then, why it was so important to her father. But she didn't necessarily enjoy the political intrigue that was sure to come of it. So she had packed what she could from the kitchen scraps, thrown them into her basket and donned her cloak, making the journey from the palace to the Western District as the sun cut along the horizon, bathing the city's white walls in a blaze of orange light. She reached Micha's home as shadows stretched out into blocks and the sky overhead darkened to a muted violet.
"Princess!" Micha greeted her with a kiss to her cheek and a toothless smile, his grizzled hands clapped around her own, warm from a fever he'd been fighting since the rain storm two weeks prior, "You've come! Oh, I had hoped you might. Greta's about to set the table... Have you eaten?"
"Ah. That's sweet of you, Micha, but we've talked about this... Besides, I've just had supper. ."
"That my food is for my family. You're as good as family to me, Abrigel. None of that nonsense."
Smiling delicately, Abrigel shook her head, holding out the basket, "I haven't got much. I'm sorry. There's a few more blankets, and some bits of meat and bread. I managed to grab a bottle of wine for you and Greta. I'd feel bad taking it, except I'm certain Dansin would have gone back for it if I hadn't."
"Well! That's exciting, indeed. You'll at least have some wine, then. Celebrate?"
Her smile folding away, Abrigel looked down at her skirts, still stained from the wine at dinner, "I've had a bit more than I rather cared to, tonight. But thank you, Micha. You'll give Greta my love?"
"Of course, child. Be safe..."
"You, too."
Handing over the basket, Abrigel turned back in the direction she'd come. The first signs of starlight sparked across indigo and glancing up, Abrigel released a soft sigh into the silent evening. It was her only hope that if Cain'loren was to assume the Thornwild throne that things in the Western District would improve, but sometimes it felt as if she was fooling herself in thinking there would ever be resolution for the people who made their home there. Still... where she could help, she would... as long as she was able.
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The bastard had lied. It wasn't the first time, and certainly it wouldn't be the last. Ordin was a man of many faces, and so few of them were honest. But this? This was beyond any predilection the man had covered up before. Devon Cordain wasn't much of a soldier, but he was a damn good man. Losing him had been a blow. Now nearly two years later, the scars of the skirmish in the Nimue pass finally healing, news came that Calin had not been expecting.
The missive, signed by the king himself, to set Devon at the front, to all but ensure the young man didn't come home. And why? The message didn't say, but Calin wasn't stupid. Raenna had hardly been discreet in her affections for the young man. Their decision to elope and the timing of the missive were entirely too coincidental. It was at least the second time Ordin had meddled in such affairs. The first time, it had cost Ordin a trusted friend and a pinky finger... this time would be considerably worse.
"You're sure?" He asked, glancing up from the parchment.
"I watched him write it myself. When I asked him about it, he told me it wasn't any business of mine. Not the first time he's kept something from me. I had to assume that it had something to do with another one of his whores..." Calin's fingers tightened around the missive, but he bit his tongue, looking away from the fair haired woman, who continued, "So when he retired to bed, I read it."
"You're lucky you weren't caught. He could've had your head for that."
"He's done much worse than I have. King or not..."
"Does Raenna know?"
"No. I haven't the heart to tell her. Not after... not after all that happened. Losing her child... and then that foul man discarding her, as if she were nothing."
"Sounds familiar." Calin muttered, beneath his breath before glancing up, "Say nothing of this to anyone, Aimera. We must be wise in our actions. Even to meet this way, it could be seen as treason. We must play our roles with caution. In time, we'll reconcile all of this. Understand?"
"Yes. Thank you, Cal…"
"Indeed. Goodnight, Aimera."
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"Aren't you excited, M'lady? I hear it's like a whole 'nother world, down there. Like a fairytale." As Nadine mused, she tightened the leather thong around Raenna's braid, tying it tightly. Raenna smiled at the words, giving a small shake of her head.
"It's hardly another world, Nadine. But I am excited. Though I doubt I'll have much time to explore properly. I'm to meet with the queen as soon as we arrive, and I imagine it will take some time to negotiate my father's terms."
"You'll simply have to insist the queen show you around! OH, I've heard it's so beautiful… And the men…"
Frowning softly, Raenna shifted, cutting off Nadine's girlish giggle with a curt note of disapproval, "It's a diplomatic mission, Nadine."
"Right, of course. Sorry, M'lady." Straightening, Nadine set the brush down on the mantel and with a tight smile, bowed her head, "I'll leave to rest, Princess. Good luck, tomorrow." Nadine retreated and with a sigh, Raenna leaned back in her chair, her index finger brushing across her neck. She'd stopped wearing the necklace at her father's insistence, but sometimes she could still feel it there, pressed against her throat. It was all she had left of Devon…
Brushing a hand across her cheek she rose and moving to her bed, sank down beneath the covers. Tomorrow she and Dansin left for Bastillos. They would meet a man who hailed from the underground city at the border and he would guide them the rest of the way. She wasn't escaping life in Cain'loren. She knew that, but whatever she told Nadine, the change would be nice. It was welcome. It was needed…
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"But I don't understand… Why do you have to go? Why can't she go on her own?"
Tying the strings on his trousers, Dansin glanced back over his shoulder at the young brunette camped out on her stomach, across the edge of his bed. She was a pretty young thing, dark blue eyes, lashes that curled up towards eyebrows a little too thick. He liked her, even if he couldn't remember for the life of him what the poor creature's name was.
"My father doesn't deem it appropriate for any of my sisters to travel on their own with a male guide. Normally he insists on Crispin going, but well… I guess brother dear has other plans. But I'll be back in a few days…" Moving to the bed, he bent down and pressed a kiss to the girl's temple, before straightening upright.
"And you promise to tell me? The minute you return?"
"Of course." He lied, his smile brilliant, "But if I'm going to be any useful sort of guardian to my sister, I should get some rest. Come on, up with you."
Giggling, the girl straightened, rising to her feet, "If I don't hear from you, I'll be awfully sore. The minute you return."
"You have my word." She bent and kissed him and was off like a feather in the wind, tightening the laces of her bodice as she went. Rolling his eyes, Dansin bounced back off the bed and made for the door at the back of his chamber, pulling it open. A few seconds passed, before a petite young blonde appeared around the corner, smiling coyly at him with a wave of her delicate hand.
Grinning, Dansin stepped back, holding the door opened for her.
Margo. He was pretty sure this one's name was Margo…
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His mother's outburst at dinner was greatly disturbing… It was hardly the first time that something had happened along those lines, and with tension only increasing in the palace, it wasn't likely to be the last time. Abrigel's betrothal to Eifion Valerys had come as a shock to all of them, but none more than Abrigel. The man, for all his intelligence and social graces seemed hardly the sort to tolerate her occasional well meaning willfulness, a penchant for aiding those in need, and for someone so soft and delicate as his sister, it was little wonder she'd taken the news poorly.
But his mother's attempts at moving up their marriage, and announcing it at dinner the way she had…? Rarely did Crispin find himself so disappointed in someone. And perhaps Abrigel's reaction had been less than proper, but to hurl a goblet of wine at the poor girl? This, decidedly, was why a king lacking in certain upstanding virtues was a danger. His father was a decent leader, a fair and just ruler, but his inability to remain faithful to his wife had proven, time and time again, detrimental to the family.
His mother would never accept Abrigel… She was a reminder of her husband's infidelities, and whether or not that was fair to Abrigel, she was the only one that his mother would dare to blame. At least out loud. Things over the years had gone from bad to worse and they were guaranteed to escalate. He'd need to speak to his father, as soon as possible.
"M'lord…?" The door opened slowly and Crispin glanced up from his desk to see a familiar face in the frame.
"Douglas. Come in, please."
"Ah. I don't want to interrupt, sir. It's just… a letter has arrived." Moving into the room, Douglas held the missive out and Crispin took hold of it with a small nod.
"Right. Thank you…" As Douglas turned to leave, Crispin pried the letter open and pulled out the parchment from without, a small frown forming as he read over the words, color brightening his pale cheeks.
"That woman…" He muttered, setting the letter down, but as he did, the faintest smile turned at the corner of his lips, and pulling out a quill and parchment of his own, he got to work composing a reply.
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It was getting worse. With every passing day, her chest grew tighter, the weight pressing against her lungs with ferocity. She'd tried her best to keep it hidden, but the cough wasn't improving and it had been only a matter of time before her father noticed.
Naxis. She was being sent away to Naxis - piled into a carriage, the missive sent to the shore kingdom with absolute urgency. Her first venture from the palace, and undoubtedly, she would see nothing of value, cooped up in the walls of Castle Fall.
Across from her Keira's fingers were busy working embroidery stitches onto a skirt, Rosleigh cleared her throat and the young woman looked up, "Alright, Princesss?"
"Do… do you think I'll die there?"
Straightening, Keira set down her stitching, brow quirked, "M'lady?"
"Naxis. Do you think that's where I'll die?"
"Good heavens, Princess! What sort of talk is this? Of course not… Why on earth would you…"
"It's just… I was so angry. With father… For sending me away. I… I'm afraid I said some terrible things. If… if this is the end…?"
Reaching forward, Keira rested her hand against Rosleigh's, "Oh, sweetheart. You'll be fine… Your father… he understands. You love him, and he loves you dearly. Trust me, a little sea air, some time to relax and you'll be good as new."
Turning her hands over, Rosleigh clasped Keira's her eyes fogging with tears, "Thank you. I've been awful to everyone."
"You're scared… It's perfectly reasonable." A sigh escaped the young servant girl and sinking back, she plucked up her stitching again, "I've heard it's lovely, Nasix. At the foot of the waterfalls, and right near the coast, overlooking the Eastern sea… I think it will be good for you, little one."
"...Perhaps you're right. Perhaps it will be good to get away for a bit…"
"You should rest, Dear Princess. We'll be there in a few hours, yet. I'll wake you, when we've arrived."
Nodding, Rosleigh turned away, leaning up against the side of the carriage. In but a few minutes, she was asleep...
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The little girl was a problem. She had never been a factor, never been a part of the plan, but she had seen something, and while the word of a servant and a child was hardly binding, if even one miserable creature believed her… She'd been dealt with, but it was sloppy and crude, and they'd had to reveal the nature of Baronthorn's death. Murder wouldn't sit well with most members of the council, and some were likely to hold suspicion. He'd bought time… but there was much work to do.
Still, two elements had fallen. Only three remained. The brat of a ward… that damnable Prince of the People… and the council. The latter would be easy enough to sway, and the ward posed little trouble, but the Prince character. He would need to be handled aggressively.
But Irin had a gift for planning. He'd find a way. Pin everything on the fool of a vigilante and break down his invisible kingdom before he had a chance to ruin all of the hard work Irin had put into his grand scheme. Things would be changing in Thornwild… soon enough.
First, the council. They would need to trust him and in order for that to happen, he needed to ensure them he was the right man for the throne. His lack of royal blood would prove little problem if all came to order. What he needed was an advocate. Someone to put their faith in him, and by proxy instill faith in the council as well. Already he has pieces in play, people in the proper positions. He'd considered all the angles.
No one would surprise him again. The servant girl's unfortunate discovery was a mistake, and it would be the last. Of that, he was deadly certain.
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Aeona sat before the throne, her knees curled beneath her, tears rolling down her cheeks, leaving little pools of dampness in the folds of her skirts. He was gone. Arden. Taken by trusted hands, stolen from Thornwild, leaving her behind. Her broken family now gone completely. First her parents, then Jorad and Arden… it was cruel. Bitterly cruel.
Footsteps sounded behind her and rising swiftly, she spun round to find a familiar face watching her. Without a word, she ran to the cloaked figure, arms looping round his waist with a sob. With hesitation, Jace Ore caught hold of her, a hand on her back, one cupped behind her head, as she burrowed into his chest, a kiss pressed into her hair, "I'm here… Shh… I'm here. I'm sorry I took so long. Oh, Aeona, my treasure… I'm so sorry."
Pulling away, wiping vainly at her cheeks, Aeona's lips fell in a frown, "I don't understand, Jace… I don't understand why anyone would do this."
"Because we're close, Beloved. We're so close. I promised you we'd find whoever was responsible for Jorad's death… and I haven't forgotten that. We're uncovering something someone wants hidden, and it cost Arden his life. Aeona, listen… I'm afraid for you. Whoever is doing this… I think they're after more than just the throne. And I'm afraid they might assume you'll be another obstacle in their way. I want to take you away from here… somewhere safe. But first there's something I need to tell you."
"I already know, Jace… who you are. I've suspected for some time, now. Since Arden took you into his confidence. I… I imagine it's why he never minded the way I… How I felt about you."
Brushing a thumb across her jaw, Jace shook his head, a crack of a smile forming, "I must be slipping for you to have rooted me out so quickly."
"I'm not the only one who loves you, Jace. And very few people love this kingdom the way you do. It was easy for me to see you behind so important a position. Not to mention your disappearing all those times. When mysteriously the People's Prince would be seen? I put a few things together."
"Clever girl. But if you know, than you understand the danger? Not only that I face, but that I've put you in? You understand why I need to take you away from here?"
"I do. And I'll go. But Jace… Oh, Jace." Her arms looped around him again, pulling herself tightly to him, "You're all I have left. If… if something happened to you…"
"If anything happens to me, it will be because I've the duty that was put upon me by the people of this land." Feeling her tense beneath his gentle embrace, his smile softened and easing her back, he grasped her hands, bringing her knuckles to his lips, "But I'll be safe, my love. I swear it. And when this is over… you and I will finally be married, just as I promised."
"We were only children when you made that promise. And if I recall it was shortly after you'd put mud down the back of my gown and pulled my hair. I'd threatened to tell Jorad you were bullying me…"
"Aye. You called me a stupid boy and I told you that I only did it because I loved you…"
"And I said if you loved me, you'd best marry me."
"So I gave you my word that I would.." Tenderly tugging her forward, Jace kissed her, and as he pulled away he twisted a lock of hair around his finger with a coy smile, "I did, you know? Love you. Even then…"
"Well, I would hope so." Aeona replied, breathlessly, "I couldn't stand you…"
Laughing, he kissed her again for quite some time. When he released her, it was with a solemn expression, a shake of his head, "I'll come back for you, tonight. After your maid leaves… Be ready?"
"...I will. Be safe, Jace."
"I will." With a kiss to her forehead he turned and looking back at her, he disappeared from the throne room, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
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The king was dead. The king was dead and he was a fairy princess if that pitiful servant girl had anything to do with it. No. There was no doubt in his mind that two acts of murder had taken place - and somehow, someway, he was going to get to the bottom of it all. Irin had his suspicions, of course - a wild accusation against the People's Prince - but one not entirely without merit.
The man was a vigilante, and while he most typically dealt with those outside of Thornwild's best interests, he nevertheless held some disregard for the king's authority. If he thought the king ought to be removed… forcibly?
But no… Though Rigor had never met him, he'd seen the man's work and privately, he'd admired it - he'd seen the control the man had, to ensure no one innocent was harmed in his quest to see the city safeguarded. But he was nevertheless capable of great atrocities… and murdering the king to ensure the best for Thornwild didn't seem entirely a stretch. Poisoning an innocent girl to play the scapegoat, though? That was where Irin lost Rigor. That, and the despicable way the man referred to the poor dead girl as 'that miserable creature' left a terrible taste in his mouth.
Rigor was a man who believe in law and order within the kingdom, and he would do his duty to bring the Prince to justice if that was what he was called to do… but often what was right and what felt right were not always to coincide.
"It's true then?" The voice interrupting his thoughts belonged to his brother, unmistakeable in it's familiarity. Balmir, for all of Rigor's sense of solemnity and command, carried a certain quality of freedom his elder brother could only dream of. Balmir had wanted desperately to escape family duty, but it had been Rigor that had eventually convinced him to enlist in Baronthorn's patrol. Now, day by day he watched the light in his brother's eyes fade a little more. Today, it seemed almost entirely gone.
"Bal… I was just coming to find you."
"The king? Is he really dead?"
"...Aye. Last night. I… I assume you've heard the whole of it?"
"Murdered. By a servant girl? I can't believe it." Frowning, Rigor watched his brother's expression shifting, noted the look of actual disbelief.
"...It does seem a bit odd, indeed."
"Rig… Look… I never wanted this job. You know that. You know it and father knew it as well. But I took it, because it felt like the right thing to do. Because you convinced me it was the right thing to do. Well, I've a chance now to make something of myself and I'd like to take that chance. I want to investigate what happened. I want to find the truth out for myself. With your permission, of course."
The frown twisted, and as a brow lifted, Rigor smiled faintly, "...That's not entirely the speech I'd prepared myself to hear. You're sure you want to take this on?"
"The man had faults… but he was a good king, and I stand by the oath I took, whether I stood by the desire to give it or not."
"Very well. But Bal... Tread carefully. Keep your eyes opened and trust no one but me. I fear this is a greater threat than we can anticipate."
"You've my word." Nodding, Balmir headed for the door again and watching him leave, Rigor sighed. Their father would have been proud, though whether or not Rigor was pleased with that notion, only time would tell.
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