Chapter 47
Alaric
The banging on the door of the crypt ceases the moment we open it.
The body of the dead king staggers out. He looks worse for his weeks in the crypt.
Though his body was cleaned and embalmed, it is showing the wear of decay, his cheeks hollow, his skin too tight and dry.
His mouth hangs open in an awful grimace that makes him look as if he is in pain.
I hope he doesn’t suffer. I have to believe what I’ve always taken to be true—the soul of the things I inhabit left long since.
With a whispered prayer, I shut my eyes and reach for the vessel. There’s an impediment in the way. He’s empty. I can sense that, but a shining power surrounds him, cutting me off from entering. Guin’s power. The familiar thread spreads from the corpse back along the corridor toward her.
I concentrate, pushing against the barrier. “Let me in, princess.”
There’s a wobble, a movement, and then I’m in, opening the king’s eyes, blinking around at the worried faces of Corvin and Raban and my own lifeless body.
I hope to the gods this works, because if it doesn’t, I may never break free of this vessel. Guin’s power is too strong.
With an awkward shuffling step, I direct the king toward the stairs and the queen’s solar. Raban and Corvin follow behind and we leave me—my body at least—in the corridor outside the crypt.
It’s no less agonizing to see Guin in this state through the lens of her father’s body.
My only pleasure in this is the horrified look and the muffled cry that tears from Melantha when she looks up to see her dead husband ambling toward her.
Her eyes widen, and she struggles against her bonds, but she can’t break free.
If I thought it was worth the waste of time, I would stop now and torment her further, but the princess is more important. There’s no time to spare.
I move to the bed and force the stiff joints to bend until I’m sitting beside her. I place the king’s hand over hers. His throat is dry. The muscles do not wish to cooperate.
I force the sound out anyway. “Guinny, can you hear me?”
Her eyelids flutter, and I think for a moment she’s about to open them.
Raban and Corvin rush over and we all hold our breath.
There’s a long pause. When nothing else happens, I try again. “Guinny, there is something I have to say, but I do not have long. It is time for me to say goodbye.”
This time her eyes open, but the rest of her is still frozen. Taking this for a positive sign, I continue. “You have to let me go. You have to let all of them go. Can you do that, Guin?”
She doesn’t move.
I forge on, not knowing if this is doing any good. “Let them go, Guin. I love you, but it is time to say goodbye.”
A low sound escapes her and her eyes close again. I wait, unable to bear the tension, but there’s nothing more.
Then suddenly I’m forced from the body of the king and flung back into my own below the keep. I blink my eyes open in the dim light and stagger to my feet. Has it worked?
I run up the stairs and nearly collide with a serving maid in the corridor. She screams, but I’ve no time to stop and apologize. I run on until I’m back at the queen’s solar. Inside the room I stop, looking for movement, for change.
Raban, Corvin, and évandre sit frozen in their positions around the bed, their warmth transformed into stone as the dawn light invades through the open window.
I curse.
Guin lies as still as ever with the body of the dead king collapsed on top of her. I sigh. Gently, I lift the king and carry him back to rest inside the crypt. At least he’s at peace now. He was a good king. He never deserved any of this.
I return to Guin’s bedside to keep vigil over my lovers. From her chair, the queen stares at me with baleful eyes, but she’s a cat with no claws now that she no longer has my heart. The silver box rests beside Guin on the bed, and I smile to see it there.
I’ve spent so many years dreaming of the day I could take it back, of opening the box to take it and hold it in my hand and command my own destiny. Now that thought is far from my mind. Because it means nothing if she’s not here to hold it for me.
I watch over her as the sun passes across the sky outside and the gargoyles watch with me, even if they can’t move. I’m glad they’re here. Without them this would feel lonely.
At midday a wide-eyed maid comes to the door and knocks timidly. “Sir Alaric, should I bring food for the queen?”
I shake my head. “Which queen might that be? The one imprisoned is no longer a queen. She never should have been—” I ignore Melantha’s icy glare. “And the rightful queen has no need for food.”
She retreats and I’m left to wait out the remaining daylight hours, watching for any sign of change in Guin.
As the light fades, I don’t bother lighting candles, but in the pinkish light, it appears as if her lips move. Leaning closer, I watch intently.
Yes, they have definitely parted. She breathes in a sharp intake of breath. Then her eyes open and I almost miss the gargoyles stirring.
Raban gasps and dives in to press his face against her chest and holds her close.
Corvin drops to his knees beside the bed. “Princess.”
Guin lifts a shaky hand to place on his head.
évandre gathers close and the four of them form a tableau of love and gratitude. My eyes sting with tears.
Then she reaches for me. “And you, Alaric. I see you there. Come here. You belong with us.”
I go to her, and she finds a place for me in her arms. I couldn’t be more happy there, nestled against her and Raban.
“We thought we had lost you. Again.”
She laughs at the reprimand in my tone and strokes my hair, and all my worry melts away.
“I am sorry to have worried you.”
We lay like that for a long time. Until my chest starts to feel less empty again.
Finally she releases us and sits, looking down at her ruined clothes.
“What a mess I am. And we are not done.” She looks beyond us to where Melantha is still bound to the chair, forgotten, but still a blight on the scene.
Her face has already lost much of the unearthly beauty of the spell.
The skin at her jowls sags, and wrinkles around her eyes and mouth form firm lines.
There are dark patches beneath her eyes.
Guin stands and crosses the room to look more closely. “The deception will not last forever and soon everyone will see your true face.”
Melantha speaks around the gag stuffed in her mouth. “Wha wi you do wi me?”
Guin laughs. “What will we do with you? What would you do to me if our situations were reversed?”
Melantha doesn’t answer.
“Kill her.” There’s a definite gleam in Corvin’s eyes when he says this. I grin at him.
Guin hesitates for just long enough to make Melantha’s eyes snap to hers. “I think she must have a fair trial first.”
“Jus do it.” Melantha says in disgust.
Guin only smiles. “The lords can decide. They will have to learn how to govern themselves after all.”
Raban tips his head to one side. “Why, princess? Will you not rule them?”
She shakes her head. “I cannot.”
She cuts me off when I try to question her.
Rather than argue with her after her ordeal, I shelve the question for later and leave to check on the guards.
There is a dungeon beneath the keep where Melantha could be kept until the trial.
I fetch the steward and instruct him to have a basic meal and some water brought to Melantha, though I would rather leave her to starve.
Then I ride out to the wall. On my way I encounter the fallen bodies of the ghouls summoned by Guin’s distress.
They lie unmoving in the fields, another task for weary townsfolk before Blackthorn is restored to rights.
At the wall I find tired guards who I relieve for a shift.
When the next watch arrives they are fresh, and I leave them with the task of clearing the bodies around the gate.
At the western tower there’s a breach to the wall where the tree giant broke through. Fortunately my hunters stopped him and his body lies a mere ten feet from the nearest dwelling.
There is so much to do. But I have faith that it can be done. In the meantime I return to the inner keep and send out extra guards to watch the broken wall until it can be repaired.
Then I return to the solar.