Chapter Eight Elician #2
They depart the suite and follow Fen wordlessly to the great hall. Adalei, Lio and Marina are already there. Lio has arranged for a veritable contingent of King’s Guard. ‘You look like you’re expecting a battle,’ Elician teases.
‘I would rather be prepared,’ Lio replies.
He tips his head to Cat, hissing a greeting that earns its obligatory reply.
Lio’s familiarity with the Reaper’s speech is one talent Elician did not expect to emerge from their time in Alerae.
But he will not begrudge it. Cat too seems pleased to be able to use it, even if Lio’s prolonged imprisonment within the Reaper cells is the only reason he knows that language, and even if Cat is too uncomfortable with that fact to ever mention it outright.
A herald announces Laure’s presence, and Elician calls for her to be led in.
The doors open, revealing her and two toadies in Alelunen colours.
Both carry boxes of varying sizes. One large and cumbersome, the other smaller but still a burden.
They do not bow to him – they are not his subjects – but she does bend her head in a show of polite deference, and he returns the gesture.
‘I thank you for the audience, King of Soleb,’ Laure says as she stands only a few paces away. ‘I come on behalf of King Gillage of Alelune.’
‘We are eager to receive such news,’ Elician replies.
Laure nods once, sharp and swift, then swings her hand back and gestures to the first man with his far larger box.
He approaches, setting the box to the ground and leaving it there for Elician to open on his own.
He does not. ‘The first order of business is in relation to the former King Anslian of Soleb,’ Laure says.
‘He was brought to justice following his surrender at the Blessedsafe for the murder of our queen. I’ve brought his effects, his raiment and valuables, to Soleb, where they belong. ’
Everything save the man himself. Elician has not dared to think of his uncle.
He has known since the moment Anslian surrendered that his life was forfeit.
Thinking of Anslian means imagining the worst, and both he and Adalei have avoided even mentioning him whenever they can.
As if speaking his name will make it real.
And yet, it has always been real. Avoiding it has not changed that truth.
Elician takes a deep breath. This box will go to her.
As soon as its contents are properly confirmed, he will give her everything of Anslian’s that he can. He only wishes he had one thing more.
‘Where is his body?’ Elician asks quietly.
‘Quartered, and displayed,’ Laure replies.
He hears his cousin gasp. He turns back to see her.
One hand is over her mouth, the other pressing against the arm of his throne.
Fen stands wide-eyed and stunned at her side, not seeming to know if she should comfort her or let her be.
Laure was not cruel in her delivery. The words were not spoken with any excess of spite.
She delivered them as fact, painful as they may be.
Elician had been irritated by songbirds in the morning, but it was carrion birds that had carried off his uncle’s flesh, pecking at the remains as they were laid out beneath the open sky as a warning and a sign of Alelune’s retribution for her murdered queen.
Why had he let such a simple thing bother him when there were so many worse fates that he could have experienced instead?
‘There are no remains to return,’ Laure says. ‘These are all we will offer you.’
‘Thank you for such care,’ Elician intones. Anslian’s belongings did not need to be returned. He doesn’t know if he is glad for it, for the closure of it all, or hurt all the more for knowing the truth.
Laure nods, then seems to steel herself for the next matter she is meant to settle.
‘King Gillage has reviewed the terms of your proposed truce. On the point of requesting a confirmation with Death to pass her judgement on your consort’s suitability to rule, our king responds that such a matter can only be undertaken amongst the living.
As a Reaper, the former Stello Alest is ineligible to stand for the throne, or undergo the challenge at all.
The confirmation ritual will not take place, and no safe passage will be offered, nor escort provided for the purpose of allowing either Alest or Your Majesty to enter Alerae for any reason. ’
Their bid for Alelune’s throne will mean war.
Elician closes his eyes. He breathes deeply. He had hoped. God how he had hoped.
It had been so simple a thought.
Too simple, it seemed. It could not merely have been as easy as asking a goddess to weigh in on the affairs of mortalkind. Even if one of those mortals was her chosen.
‘If,’ Laure continues, ‘Alest recants his claim to the throne and makes no effort to return to Alerae, King Gillage will permit him to remain in Soleb.’
‘And if I do not?’ Cat asks at Elician’s side. ‘I am no longer permitted to stay here?’
‘Then as a Reaper of Alelune it is your duty to return to your cell,’ Laure replies.
‘You will never say such a thing again,’ Lio spits out from Elician’s right, and Elician is more surprised than he ought to be.
Lio has never done anything so egregious during court before.
He has never dared interrupt proceedings with his own thoughts or opinions.
But his beloved’s father has been confirmed dead, his general, and now…
the threat of the cells has once more been raised.
He should have expected Lio to say something.
He’s ashamed to realize it hadn’t occurred to him that Lio would not be able to hold himself back.
‘And who are you to make such demands?’ Laure asks.
‘My heir’s betrothed,’ Elician replies. ‘And as such, one whose voice holds much weight in my council. And even if he wasn’t, I would repeat the same.
Alest is my husband, and Prince Consort of Soleb.
He will not return to your cells now or in the future.
Those terms were made explicit in our proposal. ’
‘They were. But your husband is a citizen of Alelune first and foremost,’ Laure refutes.
‘He is the one who wishes to be our king. And if he truly believes he has that right, then he must accept his fate under our laws. All Reapers are to report to the cells. That is where they live, until the monarchy decides otherwise.’
‘If I am to live in the cells, then I must be alive enough to take your challenge,’ Cat argues.
‘It is a turn of phrase only. As a Reaper, our king has determined you are not alive, and therefore there is no right to challenge.’
‘That is quite convenient for him.’
‘That is his decision. Will you refute your claim?’
‘I will not. The dead do not speak. I speak, therefore I am alive. I have a right to challenge for the throne, and I wish to exercise that right.’
Laure nods, as if she expected this response all along.
She motions for the second box to be brought forward.
This time, Marina intercedes. She takes it from the man before he can do more than make a vague attempt at passing it to Cat.
She holds the box between her palms. It is smaller than the first one by a large margin, only perhaps half a metre in length, width and depth.
A stack of books or perhaps something oblong could be placed inside but not much else.
Laure clears her throat. ‘It is my duty to report that my king wishes me to remind Alest of Alelune that monsters can be killed. It merely takes a long time to exhaust their ability to return.’
No. Elician’s hands spasm at his sides.
‘Open it,’ Cat murmurs. His voice is quiet. So quiet. But the room around them has been frozen in place, a diorama left listless without the will to move, a painting capturing a moment without the chaos that gives it life.
Marina hesitates, her expression grim.
‘You won’t see anything that you need to see,’ she argues.
‘I know,’ Cat tells her. ‘But I need to know who.’ Elician’s heart skips a beat.
Pain slices through his body as his pulse scrambles to find its equilibrium.
Marina takes her time. She adjusts her grip on the box.
She tucks her fingers under the lid. She waits, as if Cat or Elician or anyone will stop her, but no one says a word.
Slowly, she opens it. Just enough for Cat to peer inside, just enough for Elician to catch sight of the pale features of a woman he has only ever known to be kind.
A woman who refused to leave Alerae, because she believed with all her soul: her stello would save her.
Lio shifts. To look. To see. Elician throws a hand out to stop him, but it is too late.
Marina doesn’t close the lid in time, and the moment Lio realizes who it is he lurches forward.
Elician wraps his arms around his body, hauling him back.
‘Leave!’ he shouts at Laure. ‘Leave and tell your master that we will not recant our position. That Alest is the rightful ruler of Alelune, and if we must march through the whole of the country just to reach that damnable city – we will do so and face the gods that he is too much of a coward to meet under a banner of truce. Tell him that the only monster in Alelune is Gillage himself!’
Laure has no final words for them. She and her men flee without so much as asking for the paperwork to confirm the conversation took place exactly as described.
Lio tears himself from Elician’s grasp. Adalei runs down from the dais. She calls his name, touches his arms, tries to speak to him, and Elician is torn between his dearest friend and – his husband.