Chapter Thirty-Six Vina #2
“Of course,” said the Queen. “We are the Queen. The monarch. The Isle is us, and we are the Isle. You should understand that. We know you freed the Eternal Prince, Witch. But you will see that he is far more the dread leader than we are. He is glory and he is war; he is death. You sought your freedom when you released him, but we are both two sides of the same coin, and each side wears the same crown.”
She walked serenely down from her throne, to where the head archivist stood, head bowed, eyes full of unshed tears.
“You have served us well, dear Apollonius,” she said. “But you will serve a new master soon. Go.”
“Your Majesty,” he said tearily. “If there is anything else I can do for your great self…”
“Nothing. Unless,” she said, “you would face battle alongside us? Fight by our side?”
Apollonius stared at her, trembling.
“M-Majesty,” he said. “I… I’m no soldier. I cannot—”
The Queen laughed cruelly.
“No matter,” she said. “Return to your archives. You’re dismissed, with our thanks. We shall not forget your service or your loyalty.”
He bowed, and turned to leave. Vina watched him scurry away with nothing but distaste in her heart. He had hurt countless people, but he was just one in a long line of archivists who had done so. Soon this would end, one way or another—and if the archives did fall, that would be justice enough.
The walls began to shudder, groaning from some unseen force. The candles guttered, then relit. With an exhale, the Queen tilted back her head. Her face transformed—ancient, tired. A rictus of bones. Then her flesh bloomed, and returned.
“He is here,” she whispered. She lowered her head. “You will be locked here, incarnates, in our hall, until you are needed.” Her gaze swept over them. “Gems,” she murmured. “Carved by our own hands.”
Her maids swarmed her, helping her don gold-plated armor, a golden helm that left her hair loose as a blazing flag.
Gone were her gentle silks, her jewels. Even the gold of her armor was a tarnished facade, cracked and scoured to show the true iron of the armor beneath.
Her face wavered before Vina’s eyes once more, lined and severe, a warrior’s face—a queen for a different time, for the blood of battle.
It was the Spymaster who entered then. He bowed to the Queen, then stood before her.
He was changed—his dark robes replaced with longer robes of gray that seemed faintly luminous.
His hair had grown somehow whiter. Magic loomed around him, a mantle of it.
He’d never possessed such a gift before.
Just as the Queen seemed to be peeling one skin away, transforming into something renewed and strange, the Spymaster was changing his colors.
Not a master of spies any longer, but a magician of ancient strength.
“Already you’re beginning to become his creature,” the Queen said, sorrow in her voice.
“The tale demands it, Your Majesty,” the Spymaster said. “To you, I was a courtier, a spymaster, a politician. To him, I will be all I am to you, but also magic itself. We have done well together, Your Majesty. Countless centuries. A true sea of time, between us. But your time has come.”
“It may be the end,” the Queen said. “It may not.” Despite her bravado, there was resignation in her face. “We will meet once more,” she said. “Our tale will return us.”
“I am sure we will indeed see each other again, Your Majesty,” he replied softly.
The ladies-in-waiting were weeping, muffled. The Queen departed, golden and rose-haired, heading to her death.
In dribs and drabs, her maids trailed from the room until only the Spymaster remained.
“Witch,” he said. “Knight.”
He faced them. Calm again.
“Will you not die with your mistress?” Simran asked viperously. “Why stay and bother us?”
“I will not die with her,” he said. “There are always men like me, in every place where power resides. The Eternal Prince requires his keeper of spies, his confidant—and a mentor. I will guide him through his reign. They will say I am his wizard, a demon’s child, a kingmaker of cunning and craft alike. That is my tale, as long as he lives.”
She’d never considered what he was, or how he could be so eternal, as long-lived and long-lasting as the Eternal Queen herself. But now that they were alone, now that his features were blurring before her, spilled ink, she realized he was a child of the Isle’s magic. Just like her.
She wondered what had created him, and what he was capable of.
“Watch them, Sir Matthias, if you require a duty to distract you,” said the Spymaster. “The Queen will not have need for you anymore. Best to live, if you can, rather than die for her sake.”
“Sir,” said Matthias, face bone white. Vina wasn’t sure if it was protest or agreement.
The Spymaster met Vina’s eyes. There was something she could not stand in his gaze—a portentous knowing. A thin smile tugged his mouth.
“Your old horse is long dead, but their fine bloodline continues,” he said, casually. “A destrier is prepared for you. You’ll recognize him, I’m sure.”
He bowed his head again, at the room of people, then left.
Matthias soon began to pace. Vina tugged vaguely at her cuffed hands. No good.
“Matthias,” she said. He ignored her.
“Witch,” the golden-haired woman said. “What will become of us when the Eternal Prince takes his throne?”
“It’s no use asking me, Emmeline,” said Simran. “I’m no soothsayer.”
“And yet everyone talks to you and your knight as if you are,” she said.
“You could let us go, Matthias,” said Vina, more loudly this time. “I don’t think these incarnates are going to cause any harm, and the Queen’s not going to be around much longer.”
“I’m sorry, knight,” said Matthias, not looking at her.
His gaze was fixed on the single far window.
From here, Vina could not see through it, and she knew Matthias could not either.
But he was imagining exactly what she was: the Eternal Prince beyond on Palace grounds.
The Queen going to face him, in her pale armor, her hair aflame behind her.
“Vina,” she said. “My name’s Vina.”
“Vina died.”
“My parents gave me the same name,” she said. “Just to keep it simple, I suppose. And because I am the same, Matthias. I’m just… Vina after a long sleep.” She leaned forward. “Matthias, please,” she entreated. “Look at me.”
Matthias wouldn’t.
“You should look at her,” the old woman said. Her voice was a rasp—a sound like stone against stone, chisel to rock. “It will be better for you if you do.” She paused, then said, “But perhaps it’s already too late.”
There was a clang as a door opened distantly. Footsteps. Then the door of the Court smashed open, bouncing against the wall, and Edmund strode in with all the subtlety of a bull.
“Edmund!” Matthias’s hand went for his sword, grasping the hilt. His eyes were startled. “You’re a traitor. You—you shouldn’t be here. How are you here?”
“I snuck in,” said Edmund. “Don’t be an idiot. I grew up in this Palace, same as you did. If I want to go somewhere, I won’t be kept out. Stop clutching your sword, Matthias; do you really think you’re going to fight me?”
“I was ordered,” said Matthias. “By the Queen herself.”
“The Queen’s going to be dead soon,” Edmund said with a shrug.
That made Matthias straighten, jaw firm.
“As long as she lives, my duty is to her,” said Matthias. “And your duty is to her, even if you’ve forsaken it. Please go. I won’t tell anyone you were here.”
Edmund looked around pointedly.
“Anyone? Who’d you tell, apart from a few sad incarnates? You’re alone. There’s no one here at your side still serving her. There’s just you.” His voice lost its edge. He took a step forward. “Matthias. Come on. She doesn’t need her toys any longer. Let them all go.”
“I… I can’t.” Matthias looked awfully sad. “Eddie, you know our duty. We serve the Crown, and the Eternal Queen is our monarch, our leader. I won’t betray my honor.”
“I know all about honor and service,” Vina said, fighting her cuffs hard enough to bruise. “And I’ve seen what it costs. Please listen to him, Matthias,” she begged. “We can all leave here together.”
“This isn’t your concern, knight,” said Matthias.
“Stop acting like you don’t know her,” snapped Edmund.
“We’re old friends, the three of us. You were always the nice one, the peacemaker.
What’s got you here, huh? Imprisoning Vina, turning your sword on me?
Don’t lie to yourself. You know that’s her.
You can feel it. I knew it the moment I saw her. You see it too.”
“I—fine. Vina,” Matthias began. Swallowed. “When the Eternal Prince comes, I’m sure he’ll set you free.”
A hacking sound made them all turn. The old woman was laughing hard enough to reduce herself to coughs.
“Mrs. Bell,” said Simran. “What’s wrong?”
“All these questions and worries and ideas being thrown to and fro, and none of you think to ask me?” She tutted. “I may not have magic or strength or fine golden hair—”
“I’m also very good at mathematics,” muttered the golden-haired Emmeline.