XXXIV | SHE RISES AND FALLS
The rumble of frantic footsteps filled the cold, salty air, and Celvene's legs moved by themselves as she backed up.
"Why?" she shouted into the night's air, a pale cloud erupting from her mouth. The temperatures had dropped significantly since she'd been gone—how long had she stayed in Noriya?
The few days had blurred together, becoming a droning series of motions, and she hadn't kept track of just how long she'd been trapped there. It had to have been only a few two or three nightfalls. Had winter already fallen—and Aizasea with it? Why else would they be trying to detain her?
She received no response to her question. The mere seconds she'd had to react were gone, and now a hand clasped onto her shoulder, then her biceps, torso, and legs.
Her instincts screamed at her to kick, to punch, to fight, but her mind told her otherwise. They had no reason to arrest her. This had to be another one of Aleksandr's tricks. If she resisted, she'd land herself in deeper trouble, and realistically, she'd never win this fight.
Despite her racing heart and flushed body, she did her best to relax.
Metal slid against her skin, and her hands were thrown together with an unnecessary amount of force.
When she tried to move them, they went nowhere.
They'd handcuffed her. She heard a hiss as one hand touched her fingers, and a set of footsteps jumped backward.
She bit back a mixture of a sigh and a growl, tossing her hair back. Two guards held her arms, fingers digging into her muscles, and she could hear a few more behind her. Ahead were three guards, pointing their weapons at a few passersby who had stopped to ogle.
The guards had never been this aggressive—had Aleksandr gotten to them, whether by threats or bribes? Or did they believe she'd truly done something wrong?
"Keep your mouth shut, traitor," the guard to her right hissed.
Traitor? Was being abducted from your kingdom and thrown into the enemy's prison considered a betrayal to your city now?
The guard was tall, with a broad face. Helmets were required for most in the city's guard to avoid sneak attacks from thieves and bandits, yet this woman was bare-faced.
Celvene frowned. Was she more than just a guard, or was there something more sinister at play—had Aleksandr's rule grown more lax?
The castle was nestled far within the city, near the pier, to avoid giving an enemy easy access to the heart of Aizasea. Virion had said if they wanted to overtake the city, they were going to have to work for it.
Apparently, Celvene was going to have to work for it as well; though she'd done a lot of walking in the past few weeks, she hadn't had a chance to rest, and this was a fact reflected well as her legs ached.
First she lost Melantha, then she returned to the place she considered home and was branded a traitor before she could even enter the city. How had things gone south so quickly?
Tears pricked at her eyes, but she blinked them away. She needed to be strong.
The tips of the castle soon came into view, followed by the weathered exterior. As Celvene approached, the heavy scent of seawater grew more potent, and the air felt slightly warmer. She sniffed, and one of the guards pushed into her with an aggrieved shove.
"Shut up," they snarled.
What lies did Aleksandr feed them?
The front gates opened without delay, and she was ushered inside with a few quick jabs to her back. Unlike Noriya's castle, you could see the ruler's throne from the entrance of Aizasea's palace. Even from far away, Celvene could see the hulking, cloaked figure of Aleksandr sitting in her throne.
Her throne. She'd had doubts about it before—why should she rule a kingdom? What qualifications could a street rat that had bounced from kingdom to kingdom around Fellstride possess? Were there not at least twenty more qualified people who could take on the role?
But Oriel was right. She'd pulled out the sword for a reason.
She'd watched countless men try—and fail—to wield the sword, and she'd done it with ease.
The sword was magically enchanted, and if she wasn't worthy, she wouldn't be standing in Aizasea's grand castle.
She'd gone to hell and back to prove herself enough.
The mixture of silver waves and intricate branches sitting atop Aleksandr's messy hair told Celvene everything she needed to know—he was wearing a crown. He wasn't supposed to wear one until he'd been branded king, an official title.
Was she too late? She didn't know. But what she did know was that he didn't deserve to have that crown lay atop his head.
And looking at Aleksandr, something within her hungered for the crown. Something ravenous.
"Long time no see..." Aleksandr trailed off, his pale gaze floating skywards.
The hall was silent save for the clink of armor and footsteps from the guards.
He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
A small, sly smile warped his lips. "I apologize, but I seem to forget your name.
You've been gone for quite a while, and I tend to only remember the faces of traitors. "
"We both know that's a lie, Aleksandr. Get to the point: why am I here? I did nothing wrong. It was your lackluster security that led to me being kidnapped. I did not leave willingly."
"Kidnapped?" Aleksandr's eyes widened, and a breathy chuckle escaped his thin lips. "Kidnapped. That is endearing, Celvene, and quite hilarious."
"So you do remember my name," she said coldly.
"Of course I do. I wish I didn't." He stood from the throne, a velvet cape falling from his shoulder to the ground in one graceful swoop.
"You are no longer welcome on these lands.
You're nothing more than a traitor. A betrayer.
A wraith of a girl, much less queen. Why return to the lands you shunned? "
Celvene was silent for a moment. Then hot rage flooded her body, and her eyes narrowed.
"Did you set that up? Is that why you had the ball?
So the Noriya Brigade could ambush us—no, me, and take me back to Noriya, so you could say I left the city to be with the enemy?
Is that it? You wanted to deflect the fact that you defied Virion's tradition and elected yourself as a false king, and having Noriya ambush the ball and whisk me away to never see me again would provide you with a clear path to the throne. Well, unluckily for you, I came back."
She practically hissed the last words out, tightening her hand into a fist. Aleksandr was lucky that she wasn't brave—or stupid—enough to attack him where he stood.
Outside of those who would benefit with a biased coward, such as the elites and the guard, no one in Aizasea seemed to believe Aleksandr had any legitimacy to the throne.
While Celvene lacked experience, she had a right to the throne, and in a sense, just as much experience as Aleksandr had. Perhaps the citizens knew he was going to drive the city into the ground, whereas Celvene wanted to protect most of its people.
The guards swarming her exchanged tentative glances with one another, and a few mumbles filled the quiet air. For just a moment, Aleksandr's expression darkened, but it was gone even quicker than it came.
"No," said Aleksandr, his voice tight. "You're foolish, child. Playing into your own delusions so strongly that you believe them with your whole heart."
"Are they delusions or truth, Aleksandr? Because with you, they seem to be one in the same. Thank your gods that I have no means of fighting you right now."
If it came down to it, maybe she could convince Oriel or Khamisi to help her fight Aleksandr. At the rate things were going, he was not going to go down without being struck down.
Aleskandr forced a smile, which shook at the edges.
"What lies did they feed you in Noriya? I sincerely hope you're not working with the enemy, Celvene.
Leaving us for them is forgivable, I suppose, if you're that discontent with working for the castle in your.
.. position. Working with Noriya is not forgivable, however. "
Celvene inhaled, willing herself to keep her temper under check. She didn't know what Aleksandr could use against her, especially if he tried to put her on trial for gods know what. "I didn't do anything wrong. None of this was by choice. You know that."
"I find that hard to believe, unfortunately. You may be small, and weak, and frail," Aleksandr said, smirking, "but I know you have some brains. Very few, but they're there."
"Did you know an armas can kill prey ten times its size?"
For just a moment, Aleksandr was quiet. Then his eyes crinkled into slits. "What are you saying, girl? My patience runs thin."
"I'm advising you not to test me, Aleksandr. I don't care how big your muscles are, or how powerful you think you are.
I will take you down," she said in a hiss.
She was done with his theatrics. She was done with his games.
She was done with him. "So stop testing me. Let me go. I have done nothing wrong."
"Unfortunately, it's the king who delivers justice. Not a street rat who is lucky she amuses me enough to not be exiled from Aizasea or slain by my blade."
"In my old home, my king was a fair, honest man.
He provided food to the poor and healing to the sick.
He repaired homes damaged from wind storms and allowed those without shelter to stay in the castle.
What have you done for Aizasea, Aleksandr?
What kind of a king have you been? Worthless and empty, in my eyes.
Certainly not a ruler this kingdom deserves. "
"Adorable. This is not Vosalon, Celvene.
We are in my city. I have entertained your games for long enough, and now, I grow tired.
You were amusing before, but you are nothing more than an insolent pest now.
" Aleksandr knelt down so they were nose to nose, the depths of his eyes drilling into her soul.
"And what makes you think you'd be able to lay a finger on me?
Convince me that I am anywhere except exactly where I should be, magicmonger," he spat, and Celvene almost winced as she was hit by the drops of spit that flew from his mouth.
"I will crush your bones into a fine powder if you so much as touch me.
And if I fail? Well, I have an entire army behind my back.
So pick your poison, child: live to see another day in Aizasea's prisons, never seeing light again, or fall from my blade. "
"Your daughter would hate to see the monster her father has become. If you were ever normal, that is. She didn't have anything particularly pleasant to say about you when I saw her in Noriya."
Aleksandr's demeanor before had been polished, perfected. He'd stared at her with a respectable level of calmness, even when Celvene's jabs had affected him. But now his facade cracked, and his eyes widened a smidge. His jaw locked. "Impossible. She is dead."
The words made Celvene's heart ache; for all she knew, Melantha was dead.
She hadn't seen her body herself, but it would make far more sense for her to have lost her life trying to help Celvene.
But Aleksandr knew nothing of Noriya's army—her escape had been not long ago, and even if Aleksandr had a way of knowing what had happened, word likely would not have reached the castle so quickly. So he believed Melantha was dead. Why?
"My daughter is dead," he repeated, as though he was trying to convince himself of the fact, too. "Your tricks won't work on me."
"Oh, she's alive, and living in the city trying to destroy Aizasea. Working against you."
"You know nothing of my daughter. She died as a child." Though his voice was calm, his eye twitched, and Celvene bit back a smirk. She was getting on his nerves.
Good.
"I know enough to tell you that she thinks you're a failure of a father."
She saw Aleksandr's strike coming before he even made a move.
She stilled, letting him hit her. A slap to her cheek, sharp-knuckled and hard, certainly forceful enough to break teeth if she hadn't turned her head with the power of the blow.
The hot taste of iron blood filled her mouth, sticky and burning.
He lowered his hand, glowering at her with the fury of a disgraced man.
"Quiet, girl," he said, voice a rumble of deep thunder, "or there will be more where that came from. Do not ever act as though you know me or my family."
She could have dodged his slap. She could have saved Aleksandr the embarrassment of lashing out at a girl half his size.
But she hadn't. She could have struck back now, but she didn't. Instead, she curled her hand into a fist, breathing deeply.
"Imagine if King Virion hadn't disbanded the Royal Council.
They'd be thrilled to learn of the child taking the king's place. "
"Unfortunately, though this child has not become king yet, he still has the power of one. And that includes sentencing traitors to death. You will be executed come moonrise, branded a traitor of Aizasea. Bringing my daughter into this has pushed my grace past its limits."
Against her will, her eyes widened and her body went rigid. Aleksandr grinned, a ravenous display of malice. He was enjoying this.
"Guards, take her away," he said, flourishing his hand and standing. With his other hand he grabbed his cape, wrapping it around his broad chest in what Celvene imagined he thought was a show of indigence. He turned away, and Celvene was left wordless as she stared at the false king.