Chapter Ten- The Longest Night #2
He already has a family he knows torturing and using him. Now, he learns he has a little brother who wants him dead for a crown that he didn’t even know he had the right to.
I’m about to speak when three deep gongs sound through the palace. They are loud enough to be felt in my ribcage. Thorne’s head snaps up, we both jump to our feet.
The Death Bells.
Astoundingly, when I stumble, Thorne reaches out and prevents me from falling. Our marked arms touch and we both inhale sharply as the bells ring again.
The Death Bells are enchanted to reach every corner of Netherhelm, to alert everyone that someone within the royal family is dead. I pull back Thorne’s curtains and watch small lights flicker to life in the village below as people are stirred awake.
The ball ended hours ago and morning is approaching, light threatening to illuminate the sky. When I look at Thorne, I don’t believe he has it in him to handle any more devastation. Maybe it was Aleksander, then he can feel relief.
I’m on his heels as he tears out of his room and I nearly collide with Asterin, wrapped in a silk robe with wide eyes.
“You’re okay,” she’s panting as she inspects Thorne.
“As are you, sister,” his gloved hand gently rests on the nape of her neck and he nods.
She eyes me.
“I don’t even want to know. Let’s go,” she grunts and we follow her down the dimly lit corridor. She no doubt assumes her brother was hooking up with a royal knight. Asterin’s flowing black hair catches the wind as though the fingers of ghosts can’t help but to touch it.
“Before we get to the stateroom, why is there blood in your hair?” She calls over her shoulder to Thorne.
“We caught a wyvern on the eastern wall,” I spare Thorne having to lie.
“Bloody things,” he feigns annoyance. “They refuse to die,” he gives me a pointed look. His voice is more gruff and deep than usual and goosebumps crawl up my arms.
We turn down corridor after corridor. Servants, courtiers, and nobility make room as Julien and Julius come running in from the statuary.
Thorne and Asterin sigh in relief at the same time. The boys both have foliage in their hair, their clothes from the ball covered in dirt.
“We fell asleep outside,” Julien pants. “What’s going on?”
“Don’t let me find out you two were at the Stygian Lakes again!” Asterin wags a finger at her brothers. The twins like to hunt for Starcaller Wraiths at night, which has landed them injured or in trouble many times.
“Well…” Julius starts, but Julien slaps him.
“We don’t know yet,” Thorne answers their question.
“They don’t ring those bells for Lords or Dukes, right?” I ask.
“No,” Asterin is the one who answers me.
The siblings of King Dreven and Queen Ivy have varying roles in the kingdom but no Death Bells will ring for them. The severity of the situation settles in my chest when Reese storms into the stateroom just ahead of us.
With the four siblings eyeing each other there’s a sobering realization that either Queen Ivy, King Dreven, or Prince Aleksander is dead.
I just hope it’s Dreven or Aleksander, personally. There’s no empathy in my heart for the wicked tyrant or his wretched heir.
We push through the carved wooden doors where we are greeted by the sounds of nobles whispering amongst themselves, people dressed in varying types of overnight clothes. The Titan’s sand is still in many of their eyes from sleep.
Heads turn in our direction, a mix of shock and relief as four of the five royal children enter the grand space. Realization of who is among the possible deceased causes chatter to pick up as I take the lead, just a knight seeing that the royal children are accounted for.
Reese falls into step beside me. He’s not wearing armor either, which makes me feel better about my state of informal dress.
“We’ve been ordered to the King’s bed chambers after the announcement,” he quietly informs me. I nod.
My eyes scan the stateroom, designed not to offer warmth but to warn of the King’s power, the shadows which lurk in our kingdom, the inevitability of Xeusis’s will.
Black marble veined with crimson stretches across the floor as if Netherhelm’s enemies bled for it.
Julien and Julius are staring down blankly at it as the reality of the situation becomes apparent.
Long dead Shadowfalls are carved into the walls, their eyes tracking us.
I can only imagine which one will be carved next to watch over the space.
Wrought iron chandeliers hang over our heads, repurposed from cages in the dungeons where people went to die.
None of the lights from them give heat, just a detached glow.
The throne dais is the object of Asterin’s blank stare as we wait.
The King’s throne is carved from onyx, the kingdom’s crest etched into the back.
The moon upon the hand of the Titan Xeusis, given wings.
It bleeds and drips through the elegantly carved fingers, as if real.
It’s the same design I’ve worn for two years upon my chest.
The air hangs heavy as the Death Bells ring a final time. This time everyone in the room kneels. The stained glass windows catch no light, the sun not having graced us just yet. The air is heavy as heads bow, listening to that final fateful gong.
In accordance with tradition, everyone, still on one knee, pivots to the back of the room and places a hand over their heart. Now facing the Xeusis statue, everyone recites:
“May the shadows herald your return. May this soul guide you home.”
We stay in position for a moment, until boots sound through the hall from the direction of the dais.
This is the moment. The person on that dais can only be one of three people.
The entire room turns on their knees back towards the throne in perfect synchronization, as if given by magic.
We stand as one to see Prince Aleksander appear, looking sullen beside his father’s empty throne.
My heart lurches in hope that the King is dead, while despair consumes me that he may not be.
Once he’s sure that he holds the room’s attention, he folds his hands in front of him, looking every bit the heir to the throne.
“Queen Ivy is dead,” he announces.
Voices erupt behind us. Thorne’s resolve weakens, and he leans against me. Asterin grips the twins’ shoulders as a sob escapes her lips. Someone wails behind us, most likely the Queen’s sister.
What chills me to the core isn’t the wailing or despair around me. No, it’s the smug indifference that Aleksander wears proudly. Giving the illusion of an unshakable, immoveable force. The urge to carve off his perfect skin as one might skin a rabbit overtakes me.
“Silence!” Aleksander booms. In waves, the room stills.
“King Dreven is sick with grief and asks that you give us time to process this as a family before asking questions. All I can say at this time is that foul play is not suspected,” Aleksander informs the court.
He gestures for his siblings to join him on the dais. They do so, the twins in shock, Asterin sobbing, and Thorne reminded with a firm gesture to remain at the foot of the dais. I watch his carefully restrained sneer.
A servant lights incense, sending its scent over the room. This marks the beginning of time for the court to line up and offer their condolences to the royal family. It’s halfhearted and slow as each person murmurs their sympathies or bows their heads before moving on.
Reese grabs my arm after we bow to each royal child and drags me out of the exit behind the dais.
“What is going on?” I ask him. Everything in me wants to go to Thorne. I feel almost angry at being pulled away from him.
“The Corpsewrights must see that Queen Ivy’s sigils are stitched before her blood runs cold. King Dreven will not allow them to take her,” he grits his teeth.
“So what? We’re supposed to go in there and rip a grieving man off of his wife?” I ask, indignant.
I know firsthand how little he cared for Ivy after the affair, so what is he so torn up about?
“She must be given to Xeusis or she will become a Nightwalker. You know this, surely,” Reese raises his eyebrows.
“I’m just saying I think the high Prince could reason with him. We can’t force the King to do anything,” I throw my hands up, exasperated.
“The high Prince has ordered us to do what we must to ensure the Corpsewrights can stitch her sigils,” Reese is becoming annoyed at my combativeness.
“Fine.”
I follow him through the hallway towards the royal bedchambers.