Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Sylvi
The toll of the courtyard bells echoed outside my chamber, announcing the commencement of the queen’s address.
I scrambled to find something to drape over myself.
My belongings hadn’t yet arrived from home, but I prayed the previous captain who had occupied these chambers before me had left something behind.
Blessedly, Ren had.
The wardrobe creaked open to reveal an array of garments, nothing belonging to a female, of course, but I found a deep blue cloak lined with sable fur, its shoulders broad and the hem grazing the floor.
It would have to do. I draped it over my frame and fastened the clasp before striding toward the balcony.
The doors loomed in the corner, their tall glass panes veiled in heavy velvet. I swept the curtain aside, unlatched the handle, and stepped into the bite of the midafternoon gale.
A part of me wasn’t sure if I even wanted to listen to the queen’s speech. She’d flex her power, twist lies into truths, then force the city into submission through fear. But like Jack, I felt responsible for the fourth person who’d died.
An innocent had been caught in the crosshairs because of us, yet Jack would have to face the mob alone when he’d only unleashed the full wrath of his magic to protect me.
It should’ve been me down there, not him.
I should’ve at least been standing beside him, shoulder to shoulder, facing the consequences of our actions together.
Despite what those individuals had tried to do to me, if I could’ve stopped Jack from using the full power of his magic, I would have, if only to prevent the death of that youth and the hate spewed at Jack right now.
But it was too late.
The least I could do was bear witness and offer my solidarity from the shadows.
The chill slapped against my cheeks like a scorned lover. Despite being born in a land of perpetual frost, my body would never adjust to the pin-needling sensation of these Arctic winds. My face burned, but I was able to partially cover the lower part of my face with the cloak’s high collar.
Below, the courtyard stretched wide, a slate canvas beneath a sky bruised in silver.
The sun had vanished behind snow-heavy clouds, and flurries swirled like ash from a pyre.
Banners snapped from their poles on the parapets.
The crowd had gathered in a crescent arc around the central platform, their murmurs hushed but tense as they waited for the queen to climb the raised platform from where she planned to deliver her speech.
A gust of wind tore back my hood, and I nearly stumbled as it shoved against me. I pressed closer to the stone balustrade, fingers curling around its snow-dusted edge as I scanned the scene.
Clad in a flowing gown of onyx velvet, the Queen of Skadgard stood on the raised dais like a pillar of ancient granite carved by the fury of the elements and untouched by time.
Her white hair rested coiled in its signature braid beneath her glittering crown of jagged, spear-shaped diamonds.
Flanking her were her personal guard, a phalanx of silver-armored soldiers, each gripping a leash tethered to a muscled snow leopard nearly the size of an elk.
The beasts prowled in patient silence, their breath misting the frigid air, their eyes glinting, white fur shimmering with a dusting of snow.
Lord Kaelven stood beside her, his mouth curled in an insidious smile and arms folded inside the sleeves of his robes. Even from my vantage point, the satisfaction gleaming in his narrowed eyes was unmistakable.
Bastard was looking forward to this, but why?
I scanned the courtyard and found my family, not among the commoners, but off to the side, where members of the court had gathered on a tiered gallery.
Mother clutched Lyra’s shoulders protectively, and Aldric stood a little apart, arms crossed, jaw clenched.
He was angry—at me, at the queen, at the world… at everything.
Finally, my eyes landed on Jack. He stood behind his mother, his royal cloak draping over his shoulders.
Wind swept through his silvery hair, but his body remained unmovable, a lighthouse tempering a raging, stormy sea, ready to face whatever destruction its slashing rains wanted to level against him.
My heart thundered. I wanted to be there…
needed to be there…should’ve been there.
As captain, it would’ve been my job to ensure his safety.
But it was more than duty. I yearned to hold his hand, to brace the city’s wrath with him, no matter what came.
Instead, he was poised to face them alone, while I was sequestered on this balcony, shielded from harm, as if I wasn’t the other culpable half of this debacle.
A deafening hush fell as the queen stepped forward. “Citizens of Isenheim, I come before you not as monarch,” she began, her voice amplified by the sheer force of her presence, “but as the keeper of Skadgard’s peace. As mother to this realm.”
She paused, and the wind seemed to shift. Somewhere, a baby whimpered and was quickly silenced.
“I have reviewed the evidence surrounding the deaths of four Isenheim citizens during an incident that occurred in the Warrens last night. And I declare this truth to the people: three of those individuals were known dissenters. They bore the mark of rebellion, and they acted without provocation against the captain of my guard, intending to take her life. My son, Prince Jokullson Drakmyr, defended the crown. He doled out just punishment for their heinous crimes in accordance with our laws.”
Murmurs stirred through the crowd.
“That wasn’t just punishment!” someone blurted out from the crowd.
“He butchered them!” said another.
“Butcher! Butcher! Butcher!” the crowd chanted.
“Silence!” the queen commanded.
Sweat dripped down my back, and I wanted to throw the cloak off my shoulders despite the cold. Every time the crowd shouted butcher, splinters shot through my heart. That wasn’t who Jack was. He wasn’t a cold, hard killer.
Was I making excuses for him because of what he meant to me? Or would I, too, be in that crowd, demanding blood if the prince had killed one of my own? I didn’t know. And right now, I didn’t care.
“Those dissenters sought to send me a message,” the queen continued.
“They wanted to drive fear into the heart of the crown. Well…” Her gaze sliced through the assembly like a scythe.
“The message was received. But know this, citizens of Isenheim. I will not allow dissent to poison my people. I will not permit rebellion to fracture our walls when the Isogrim gather on the northern borders. Skadgard stands united, or it falls divided.”
She lifted a hand, her metal-tipped fingers catching what little light bled through the clouds. “If you sympathize with traitors, then you shall meet a traitor’s end. The crown will show no mercy, not when my captain lies on her deathbed.”
I flinched.
“She lives by the grace of the Gods,” the queen continued, her gaze sweeping upward toward the clouds. “Let that be your omen. Blessed Náldrún, God of the Underworld, has shown his favor.”
“What of the fourth?” a voice shouted.
More voices rose. A chorus of outrage. A female cried out, “He was my son! He didn’t even carry a blade. He didn’t deserve to die!”
“What of your failed campaign, Queen?” another called out. “We never asked for war with the Christmas realm! You’ve brought this disgrace upon our people. And now you want us to stand down while the crown murders innocents?”
The queen lifted a single finger, and the courtyard erupted into motion. The snow leopards padded into the crowd, silent and lethal. Their handlers followed, and a guard seized a man from the crowd by the collar. He screamed, kicked, but was dragged into the palace’s shadowed interior.
Lord Kaelven approached the queen, whispering something in her ear.
Her gaze slid toward Jack, though he kept his face stoic, eyes fully focused on the crowd.
Then she nodded and took her position on the podium again.
“I understand your grief. I know that among the fallen was an innocent male—a young fellow who died by exposure to magic not meant for him.”
I froze, my ribs bruising from the inside at the fierceness of my pounding heart.
Lord Kaelven leaned toward Varik, whispering in his ear, clearly giving him a directive, and something about the malefic gleam in Varik’s eyes made all my insides tumble.
I wanted to vomit.
“My son acted in defense of the crown. His magic killed dissenters. But the fourth’s death, while unintentional, will not be without consequence.”
She pivoted toward Jack. “Step forward, Prince.”
Jack broke from the line of guards, but for the first time since this whole charade began, emotion cracked through his facade. Confusion plagued his eyes, as if he’d not been made aware of this part of the script. His chest rose in hearty breaths, the air around him misting.
My breath clouded and disappeared as I leaned in further against the balustrade, fingers digging harder into the stone.
“Accidental or not, his death must be answered for. To show my kingdom that the crown is not above the law, to show that justice is not blind but balanced, my son shall endure the punishment prescribed for an accidental murder. Blood for blood.”
Varik stepped forward, two guards with him escorting the royal scourgemaster who dragged his notorious Soulstripper behind him—a long leather whip with multiple tails woven with metal and bone shards at the tips meant to rip through flesh upon contact.
Those tips scraped against the cobblestones, their rattling sound grating against my ears as the massive male made his way to the whipping post at the center of the courtyard.
I wanted to scream but terror stole the sound from my lungs.
That was her son…
I looked to Lord Kaelven, to the twitching grin on his lips. That sniveling worm. He’d done this. He’d planned for this gruesome show.