Chapter 14 #3
Oh no you don’t, you old snake.
Her crimes had not been committed on sacred ground but within the halls of his palace. Batea belonged to him as long as she remained within those halls. And he had no intention of ever handing her over, hotheaded bloody fool that she was.
After all, it wasn’t that long ago that Flora had kept him and Aurora hostage within her palace walls, denying paladins of Justice from entering despite the queen’s people committing crimes on sacred ground.
If Orithyia allowed her pet monarch to be so shameless without a hint of censure, there was no reason he couldn’t do the same.
“She killed your paladins to prevent them from executing Dia, and she did so within the halls of my palace. As you say, she did so out of misplaced loyalty for an old tutor. Batea will pay restitution to the temple for their deaths, but there is no way for you to prove she meant to kill you. And before she arranges suitable compensation to the temple, she will answer for her failure to follow my orders.”
Thwarted, Orithyia could only stew. Theron might have enjoyed having the upper hand if his throne room wasn’t covered in gore.
Crimson painted the chipped columns and pooled over the mosaic floors, seeping in where the fighting had torn them up.
Limbs, chunks of flesh, and half-eaten bodies littered the space, and amongst it all, tattered black robes wet with viscera and blood.
“So be it. But do not expect me to be lenient with what her restitution will cost,” Orithyia replied, admirably calm after the carnage. Her paladins, pale with ragged breaths and wide, unfocused eyes, were not nearly so composed.
“Only a fool would expect leniency from the High Priestess of Knowledge,” Theron replied.
With that, Orithyia stormed from the palace, her living paladins limping after her.
A slap echoed in the grisly hall.
Myrina had struck her daughter. She gripped Batea’s tunic in her hands and shook her.
“You thoughtless, wicked girl! Look at what you’ve done!
These men and women were Aurean, the same as you!
Their siblings serve in the palace! Their parents own stalls in the marketplace!
Their friends pass you on the street every day, and you fed them to your beasts!
They were not your enemies; they were your neighbours! ”
Theron touched his aunt’s shoulder. Tears streaked down her cheeks.
“That’s enough, Aunty. Return to the temple. I’ll have the bodies sent to you for the death rites. It’s going to be a long night.”
“Yes. Yes, you’re right. Excuse me, Your Majesty.”
Myrina all but fled from the throne room, her sandals soaked in blood by the time she reached the doors.
“Lock Dia in a guest room and have her guarded day and night. If she wakes, then I’ll question her.”
The guards rushed to obey his orders, picking up the frail old woman and carting her off to a room where she would probably spend the rest of her days.
“Not the dungeon?” Canthus asked.
“No. That’s where Orithyia will expect her to be. And if anyone breaks into the dungeons in an attempt to silence Dia before I have my answers, that in itself will tell me something.”
“And Batea?” Polydorus asked. “She defied your commands in front of witnesses, Your Majesty. Word of her actions will reach the nobles before court tomorrow. They will question her loyalty and your strength. Given the recent rumours, some may even be convinced her rebellion is proof your soul is that of another or that she is a heretic.”
He looked over at her then, but Batea would not meet his gaze. His heart broke anew. Bloody fool. How could she betray him like this?
“Batea is to be confined to quarters here in the main palace,” Theron pronounced.
“Your Majesty, she must be punished publicly for her defiance. You cannot afford to look weak right now,” Polydorus insisted.
Theron pinched the bridge of his nose as a headache threatened.
“He’s right, Your Majesty. This was beyond mere defiance, even for her,” Nireus added.
“I can’t deny it. Nor can I forget that she lied to me about only having a single beast in Drakon’s mould,” Theron said, directing his ire at his cousin, who at least had the decency to look away in shame. “Canthus? What say you?”
His general rubbed the back of his neck, scowling fiercely at Batea’s bound legs.
“Batea may not be popular amongst the nobles, but the people adore her. If she must be punished, then take her position as sword bearer. Give her the chance to earn it back through deeds that show the whole of Aureum how loyal and brave she is. Then, when this has blown over and she is back in your good graces, allow her to bear your sword once more.”
Polydorus sighed.
“You have always been too soft on her, Canthus. But I will admit, the people love a tale of redemption. Though I don’t believe she will be able to regain the position of sword bearer for some time, if ever. But if Your Majesty wishes, I will find a way to spin this…mess to that end.”
“Do it. And have the throne room cleaned up. It wouldn’t do to have viscera sticking out between the mosaics when I next hold court.”
As the guards dragged Batea off, Theron refused to watch.
She had betrayed him today. Defied him in public.
She was merely lucky he’d stopped her before she’d harmed the high priestess or there would have been no saving her from her foolhardiness.
And now he would have to dismiss her from his side when he needed her most.
“Bloody fool,” he cursed.
“When next will you be holding court, Your Highness? It will take at least a full day to clean the throne room and another to repair all the damage,” Polydorus said.
“Three days from now. Any longer and it will appear as though I’m hiding from my courtiers.”
“As you wish.”
In half a daze, Theron left the throne room and wandered the halls of his palace until he reached his garden. There, he sat on a bench and put his head in his hands. Afternoon light warmed his back and birds sang amongst the trees, a mockery of what he’d just experienced.
His wife was mad. His cousin had openly defied him. His treasured tutor had been revealed as a heretic. His court was one incident away from open rebellion. His kingdom was on the brink of succumbing wholesale to an implacable blight.
And a cycle of chaos was upon them.
If the Triad were indeed merciful, he could really use a sliver of that benevolent aid right about now.
But over the next two days, that mercy was little in evidence.
His cousin refused to speak to him, preferring to sulk in her quarters.
Dia lay unconscious in bed. His wife avoided him, preferring instead the company of ledgers and legal transcripts.
The only words she’d spoken to him were through a messenger requesting permission to visit the city proper, a request he’d granted in the hopes of potentially catching any who thought to use her.
Perhaps mercy had been bestowed on him in the form of two days without another calamity.
Though he sorely needed the reprieve to begin setting his kingdom to rights, it felt less like a sign of his luck changing than the calm before a storm.
On the dawn of the third day as Theron readied himself to attend court, he mentally prepared himself for the veritable shitstorm heading his way the moment his courtiers burst through the doors of his throne room.
He would have to answer questions about that day.
About allowing Dia to live, about Batea’s actions and her punishment, and he would have to do it all without looking weak or allowing suspicions about his soul to fester.
He already had a plan to turn his courtiers against each other and vie for his favour.
After all, with Batea under guard, he would need a new sword bearer.
Any noble craving power and prestige would be salivating at the opportunity.
But it was only one they could attain if they sided with him against his detractors.
Hopefully, throwing that particularly juicy bone into their midst would keep them occupied long enough for him to regain his footing.