Chapter 82
Aedlin
The Night of Dother’s Death
Hardwood creaked beneath the royal blue runner, a whiny gasp slipping between the cracks at the press of Aedlin’s bare feet, as if they were calling out to the guards.
Aedlin did her best to keep her breathing steady.
Quiet. Half considering blowing out the flames flickering in the wall sconces, killing the shadows stretching along the walls.
Their long, wispy arms reaching for her.
Silence wafted through the halls, the Gods themselves clenching their teeth and holding their breaths.
Watching as Aedlin slowly made her way toward Dother’s rooms. The weight of Eris’s dagger pulled on the brown cloak she’d borrowed from Rosemary—Aedlin was too aware of the weapon, her fingers dipping into her pocket to caress the hilt whenever her heart jumped.
If they entered her room, they’d find Rosemary in her bed, dressed in Aedlin’s nightclothes, her light brown hair strewn over the pillow. The shade close enough to convince anyone who checked that Aedlin rested there.
If they saw the queen, however, with Rosemary’s fur-lined hood draped over her head, would they assume it was the lady-in-waiting? How close to the king’s chambers could she get before they’d ask questions? Or—Aedlin swallowed—looked closer and discovered her ruse.
Quickening her movement, Aedlin cringed when her feet slapped against the floor. This had to be a trick. She’d round the corner and find a guard waiting for her, Dother by his side. That smug fucking grin on his face.
Remember this moment next time you consider betraying me.
Aedlin shuddered at the memory of his voice.
It had been months since she’d seen him—Dother sent his guards to collect his son when he wanted him, Aedlin a forgotten thing since he’d locked her away.
What he wanted, what he’d planned, she didn’t know, but she knew his vision didn’t include her as his queen—if this night ended poorly, Aedlin wouldn’t survive it.
The press of her ribs against her lungs was too much, her heart shuddering between them.
Urgency made her careless. Overwhelmed her until she found herself running to the end of the final hall, turning the corner without carefully checking first. The royal blue runner gathered under her foot, catching on the hardwood, and Aedlin tripped, hands slapping against the wall in time to steady herself.
She held her breath, eyes darting toward Dother’s rooms. As promised, no one stood guard.
A tall, wooden door lorded over Aedlin, the polish gleaming as if it were new.
A dark stain painted the wood, something odd carved into its surface.
She moved closer, her breathing shallow, as if Dother might be listening from the other side.
Waiting for her to open the door he’d carved with a similar tree to her own. That bastard.
Aedlin traced the grooves in the wood, following its roots until she reached a crown cinching around the tree trunk. There was a single daisy trapped behind it, its petals tucked between the crown’s sharp edges. Gold-painted drops tumbling from the flower.
Aedlin recognized the crown for what it was. A cage. A declaration of ownership. But what, exactly, did Dother covet?
She schooled her features and wrapped her hand around the doorknob, steadying her breath as she clutched the cold metal and turned her wrist.
It moved with her.
“He didn’t lie,” Aedlin whispered, pushing the door open just enough to slip in.
Darkness swallowed her whole, a sour, vinegary scent forcing its way into her lungs.
Her nose curled, stomach churning. Something soft squished beneath her toes and Aedlin jumped, slapping her hand over her lips to quiet her gasp.
When she looked down, she found egg smeared beneath her feet, pickled yolk and brine strewn over the floor.
She scraped what she could off her foot and crept toward the low orange glow seeping under the bedroom door.
The cries of the townsfolk crawled up the castle walls, amassing into a chorus of madness, their rage so visceral it hardly mattered that their words were indiscernible.
Aedlin moved closer to the window, hissing when her knees connected with something firm.
She nearly toppled over, hands landing on a soft cushion, and...
Aedlin ran her fingers over parchment until she found a hard corner, enveloped by supple leather.
Dother’s gods damned journal.
Apart from the night they wed, Aedlin had never seen him without it, the red book hanging from his belt no matter how much it clashed with his outfit.
What secrets are you hiding? she wondered, careful not to make a sound when she closed it and shoved it into her cloak’s deep pockets.
She spared one look out the window, the outer gatehouse barely visible through the smoke billowing from one of the towers.
Dear gods, they were under siege, a crowd pushing through to the castle grounds, the inner gatehouse their one obstacle.
Dead lined the grass, slayed by King’s Guards’ arrows and swords, but it hadn’t stopped them all.
And there were more in the distance, torches flickering in Moldenna’s streets.
Lining the roads like a mass of colliding stars.
Aedlin backed away, her breathing turned harsh, her heart a frightened bird in her chest.
This was the end. Castle Berwick would fall.
She refused to fall with it.
Gripping Eris’s dagger, Aedlin inched closer to Dother’s bedroom, a panicked muttering waiting on the other side of the door.
She couldn’t make out the words, but, whatever they were, they repeated, over and over again, splashing into Aedlin’s ears like rain on a tin roof.
It grew louder as she approached the door, until the sound was all Aedlin knew.
The voice was quiet, but one she’d recognize anywhere.
“He’s dead.”
Aedlin’s heart stuttered, the pressure in her throat nearly unbearable.
“He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead.”
The door creaked when Aedlin pushed it open, a sickening blend of citrus and copper spilling free. And there, huddled on the bed, was Mora.
Tears brimmed in Aedlin’s eyes, clawing their way free to slip down her cheeks. She pulled the dagger free from her pocket, searching for Dother.
“He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead,” Mora murmured to herself, staring at something in her hand, tremors possessing her limbs.
Whatever it was, it moved, fluttering in her grip. Red liquid dribbling down her forearm.
Aedlin pushed the door open further and Mora startled, her fist clenching. There was a sickening squelch, more liquid—no, blood, so much blood—spilling over her skin.
Amber eyes clashed, though Mora’s glowed in the darkness, like gems of honeyed gold. Like a creature from another world glared at Aedlin through that stare, taunting her in the shape of her child.
They were powerful.
Monstrous.
Haunted.
Was it truly her? Or was this a dream? Would Aedlin wake to Darius’s screams, curled in the sheets on Kalyan’s side of the bed, trapped in her room and praying to see her daughter again?
Sanguine dripped from Mora’s curls, slithering down her bloodstained cheeks to plunge in her lap. She was soaked in death. Coated in red, barely an inch of her skin uncovered. Dother lay beneath her, his body unmoving. Death painting him and his sheets as well.
For a moment, Aedlin’s muscles eased, the crushing grip on her ribcage loosening for the first time in ages.
“Mora?” Aedlin said quietly.
Mora’s lips parted, but her voice never came. Obsidian burst through her flesh, a black, glittering smoke spilling out of Mora and joining the blood on the bed. Aedlin stood frozen while darkness devoured her daughter, piece by piece, blood and bone, until nothing remained.
A mass of onyx with glints of gold hovered in the air, tendrils stretching toward Aedlin as if they yearned to touch her. Then, they gathered together and rushed away, to the shadowed corner of the bed.
The dagger clattered on the floor. Blood pulsed through Aedlin’s ears, so loud she hadn’t realized she’d been screaming, the horrific sound stabbing through the darkness and bleeding into the halls.
She clamped her teeth together, swallowing her horror.
Eyes locked on the gaping hole in Dother’s chest...
and the crushed mass of muscle lying beside him.
His fucking heart.
Aedlin screamed again, running from the room, her feet slapping against the tile, the need for quiet forgotten. She couldn’t find it in herself to care who heard—let them believe whatever stories Dother spun about her fraying sanity.
He may very well have been right.
Whatever Aedlin saw, it wasn’t her daughter. Wishful thinking muddled her mind, her exhausted, isolated brain conjuring demons to haunt her.
The king was dead. Mora was gone. And Aedlin...
Aedlin had gone mad.
Throwing the door open, she raced to her room, shrieking Rosemary’s name.
The lady-in-waiting spun to face Aedlin, Darius cradled in her arms. “Did you find her?” Her green eyes slipped over Aedlin’s shoulder, searching.
Aedlin hesitated, a tremor rattling her jaw. Wisps of endless black smoke haunted her mind, citrus and copper clinging to her clothes. And... embers? Was that what burned in her nostrils?
“No.” She shook her head. No Halfling could turn to smoke...
What she’d seen was impossible, a figment woven by her troubled mind.
“The king is dead, and the people breached the first gate. We need to leave. Now. Or it will be our heads in the morning.” She sank onto a sitting chair they’d pushed against the wall, the edge of Rosemary’s bed nearly brushing her knees.
“If Mora lives, I will find her, but I can’t do that if I’m locked in this room... or dead.”
Rosemary’s face paled, her throat bobbing. “What if Mora’s still in the castle?”
What if...?
Should she stay and continue her search for her daughter, hoping to find her before the rebels broke through? Or was it best to leave? Eris had told her to find her daughter and end this, but what she found couldn’t be real. It couldn’t...
Aedlin scrubbed a hand down her face, glowing amber burning behind her eyelids. She shuddered.
Darius whimpered, feet kicking beneath his cotton swaddle, entirely focused on his mother.
She pushed loose strands of brown hair away from her face, staring while Rosemary rocked him gently in her arms. He was an heir to the throne—if the castle were breached, his life would be on the line as well.
The babe was innocent—how he came into this world, and his mother’s disdain, no fault of his own. He deserved to be saved.
“Gods fucking damn it.” Aedlin gave herself one more panicked breath. One more moment to wallow in a pit of fear and despair. Then, she forced herself to stand and marched to her bedroom. “We need to leave, Rosemary. For Darius’s sake, and Mora’s.”
The lady-in-waiting crossed the room to place Darius in his cradle. “I’ll pack some things,” she said, making her way to the armoire. Rosemary threw the doors open and reached inside, tossing a bundle of fabric Aedlin’s way. “I hope you’re a fast learner, Your Majesty.”
“What is this?” Aedlin asked, slipping her fingers over the off-white cloth.
“A sling for your travels with Darius. I’ll teach you how to tie it, but I don’t imagine we have much time.”
“Aren’t you coming with me?”
“No,” Rosemary said, a slight quiver to her voice.
“If I remain in your clothes, the guards may think you’re still here if they check in.
In the morning, I’ll change and make my way out; hopefully, they’ll leave the door unlocked.
Even if the castle is breached, I doubt they’ll kill a simple lady-in-waiting, and...
” Rosemary’s voice wavered, her head bowing, light brown hair curtaining her cheeks.
“One of us should stay, in case Mora’s here and she finds her way back to us. ”
Aedlin squeezed her eyes shut, clutching the sling tighter to stop her hands from trembling. She might be as unsafe outside the castle as she was within it, and... gods knew if she’d ever see Mora again.
At least someone who loved her remained behind, just in case.
Aedlin pulled Rosemary into her arms and hugged her tightly, knowing they might never see one another again. “Thank you,” she whispered. The hollow words weren’t enough—could never be enough—but it was all she had to offer.