Chapter 22 #3
The Holy Mother lets out a sharp, frustrated breath and looks to Nouis who is practically trembling with fury.
“I thought you said she would be open to saving the lives of her people. That it was her top priority! Instead your Soulmate”—I choke on my wine hearing those words—“seems rude, undeferential and stubbornly set on this war.”
“She’s emotional, aunt, and had a trying journey. The Red Root will still be in her blood. Please allow me a few moments with her alone.” Nouis practically grinds out the words, his entire body almost twitching with energy. “I can explain it in a way that will convince her, I know I can.”
The Holy Mother seems doubtful and shakes her head.
“The only reason I even entertained this ludicrous idea is because she’s your Fated, and I want you to be happy, nephew, I really do. But she’s entirely unrepentant and determined on bloodshed—”
“You’re as delusional as your nephew if you think I want this war to happen,” I say. “I want nothing more than to part in peace.” Both heads whip around to look at me.
“You started the aggressions with the murder of all but two of our Electi,” I remind her.
“I would have made peace with you many times over by now, swept the past away for the good of many and let my personal grievances remain unavenged. But instead, you chose to raise tensions. Occupying the Argenti Strait, excommunication, spies and assassins sent to our domain.”
“Because you were readying for a counter strike!” the Holy Mother argues. “That’s why we took the strait.”
“Who told you such nonsense?” I ask, frowning.
“That’s why we patrolled the strait, so you couldn’t move explosives into our territory. You were planning on killing me in revenge, a leader for a leader!” hisses the Holy Mother. I shake my head slowly as my shoulders drop.
“No. I tell you honestly, I have never planned any attack against your person or your people.”
The Holy Mother stands up and leans over the table as though the winds have just changed entirely. She takes a deep breath.
“You say you’ve never planned such an attack?”
“Never,” I swear, getting to my feet and meeting her at her eye level. “Nor have any knowledge of such plans ever existing.”
“What of the plans to entirely destroy the presence of the Church and Holy Faith on this continent? Using the terrible events at the Halician Grand Temple, slaughtering the devout faithful, in a test run to attack me?”
“I swear to you, by the grace of Fate, I know of no such plan. Ever. Before or after the Great Rebellion.” I say every word slowly and honestly, looking her dead in the eye. The Holy Mother narrows her eyes dangerously.
“But you have a new church now, this blasphemous new faith.”
“We have one priestess who can’t reconcile her faith with the violence and destruction pouring from your church unprovoked against innocent people,” I counter. “No more than that, not to mention that priestess would eagerly return to your fold should you choose a path of peace.”
The Holy Mother’s face falls entirely flat as she takes another deep breath, anger simmering just below the surface. She’s been fed a story, manipulated. And it doesn’t take me long to work out who did all this work. One more push will be enough, and perhaps we can stop this war before it starts.
“Also, important point of order, that traitorous, lecherous creep you call nephew is not my Soulmate,” I say firmly, pointing at Nouis but refusing the look at him. I let my disgust pool in my tone. “He’s crazy, obsessive and quite frankly terrifyingly, violently delusional.”
“He’s not your Soulmate?” repeats the Holy Mother sharply. I shake my head.
“You’re lying!” snarls Nouis, face red and contorted with undiluted rage. He can’t contain himself; he’s shaking all over.
“You are not my Soulmate!” I shout back at him, slamming my hand on the table. “You’re just the monster that murdered my father!”
“Liar! Stupid bitch liar!” Nouis screams, charging towards me. “Traitorous whore!”
“No!” roars the Holy Mother as Nouis wraps his hands around my neck and squeezes tightly. I scramble at his vicious grip, my vision turning red as he shakes me like a rag doll.
“You stupid slut! You wretched evil beast! You’ve ruined everything! Everything!” he screams as I scramble for any semblance of air.
“Guards! Arrest him! Stop him!” shouts the Holy Mother.
Nouis’s manic gaze snaps to his aunt. He throws me aside.
I land on all fours, gasping for breath and choking, looking around in shock to see Nouis draw his sword.
I want to scream in shock. The three Holy Guards move like lightning but they are too late.
Nouis drives his blade through the Holy Mother’s chest. She drops to the floor next to me.
I crawl over to her and press my hand to her gushing wound, her blood spraying through my fingers as I try to hold to her together.
No. No. We were so close! No!
Nouis wastes no time engaging the next three guards that come upon him, trying to cut him down.
I hear hurried steps and the whipping of canvas as the exiled guard from the other room bursts into the room.
He sees me on the floor, clutching the gaping wound in the Holy Mother’s chest as she takes her last breath.
Her blood slips through my fingers, her face going still and her eyes glazing over.
Nouis drops the last guard and wheels around panting, fury-ready to rage against him.
The exiled guard grabs hold of my arm and hauls me to my feet behind him. Nouis twitches, his jealous, loathsome rage turning his skin bright red.
“You killed the Holy Mother!” snarls the exiled Holy Guard.
“No, you did,” Nouis sneers, pointing his red blade at the guard, before taking a deep breath.
Oh shit, I see his play. Because it’s our word – the exiled guard and the prisoner – against his, the Rizaro heir and her beloved nephew. Who will they believe?
“Run!” I shout at the guard, turning on my feet and sprinting away as Nouis starts screaming.
“Guards! Guards! They’ve killed her! They killed the Holy Mother! Guards!”
The guard bolts forwards, knocking Nouis’s blade from his hand with swift efficiency and smashing his elbow into his face. Nouis crumbles forwards. Two more Holy Guards march into the tent, see the massacre and turn their blades to the exiled guard.
Who takes after me.
I sprint to the back of the tent, dropping and rolling under the gap at the bottom. I break free on the other side, the guard right behind me.
“This way,” he says, beckoning me, and in a snap decision I follow. He races around the corner to a post where a horse is tied up. He swings up, black armour gleaming in the light as he reaches down for me, swinging me behind him like I weigh absolutely nothing.
Then we’re away, the horse galloping like the wind through the camp, through the throng of tents and towards the forest. My arms are wrapped firmly around the strong, armoured torso of the guard, the speed of the horse threatening to throw me off if I’m not careful.
We break through the edge of the settlement and into the thick trees of the forest, the hooves thudding over fallen leaves and twigs as we weave in and out of the brown and green forestry. My pulse is screaming in my ears; my hands are still covered in the Holy Mother’s blood.
That’s it. All hope for peace died with the Holy Mother. This war will happen, no matter what.
I have to get back home and fight with my people, for our freedom.
No matter what.