31 The King
The King
Vaelira took a step back.
“You have to try again,” Lord Lereaux said, catching her arm to stop her retreat.
“You must,” said Queen Mairese, her voice low. It was the closest to pleading the monarch would ever get.
“Something dark lies inside him,” Vaelira said. If they knew the truth, they wouldn’t be so eager, but what if they didn’t believe her, or worse, they already knew? Is this why the Crown hadn’t interfered with the summoners, because they were the ones behind it?
“Maybe we should wait,” Elijah said, turning to the Queen. “Give her time to recover.”
“Do you want your King to die?” Queen Mairese said. “Do you want the crown so badly you’d watch your own father wither before your eyes?”
Elijah looked like he might protest but dropped his gaze. “Of course not.”
That he gave in so easily, that he had no intention of stopping this, told her everything she needed to know. He was a coward, and he disgusted her.
“Try again,” Queen Mairese said, looking past Vaelira.
Another blow struck Freya. Vaelira turned instinctively, but Freya’s voice rang out, cracked but defiant. “Don’t look, Lira. One weak link…”
Vaelira screwed her eyes shut. Freya was still fighting, still holding strong, and she had to do the same. Turning back towards the bed, Vaelira raised her palm.
She’d have to be quick. She couldn’t give them time to stop her.
A spark caught and fire engulfed her hand.
The power whirled around her palm, faster and faster, until it blurred.
She spun, hurling the flame towards the guard standing over Freya.
It flew over his shoulder, catching the edge of his cloak.
In seconds, it blazed. He dropped, thrashing and rolling, trying to smother the flames.
Freya scrambled to her feet as Vaelira lunged, grabbed her by the arm, and sprinted for the door. Someone seized her and she twisted, palm raised. It was the Queen.
For a split second, she imagined doing it, imagined burning the woman who had caused so much pain, but Freya squeezed her hand and Vaelira shoved the thought away. She swung her arm wildly, sending flame soaring past the Queen’s head into the room beyond.
Vaelira and Freya crashed to the floor in the hall.
Queen Mairese screamed.
At the far end of the room, flames crawled up the bedposts with unnatural speed, igniting the quilt and the man lying beneath.
Elijah rushed forward, as if he meant to stop it, but what power did he have against her now?
She felt her essensia there, felt its hunger to burn, to consume. She was tempted to let it, but what would it devour next?
Why do you care?
She should take Freya and run while they were all distracted. She should leave them all to their fate and let the flames deal with their sins.
Elijah flinched back from the blaze as he tried to drag his father from the bed.
His father.
She didn’t want to care. But she remembered the agonizing pain that had consumed her life at her father’s death. At Jon’s. Could she be the cause of that pain for another? Could she kill a frail man while he lay helpless in his bed?
Vaelira drew a breath, calming the voice that called to burn, and forced her will into the flames, smothering them. Smoke drifted through the room, the candles flickered weakly, trying to stay lit in the haze.
A deep rasp cut the silence.
A dying man’s last breath.
The smoke around the King darkened, curling inward, spiralling upwards from his open mouth. His body jerked violently as night poured from him, and with it, the voices returned.
No, no, no.
She raised her essensia like a shield and the voices dulled to a buzzing in her ears.
Lereaux stepped forward, one hand outstretched, as if he meant to touch the darkness. Without a second thought, she hurled fire at the shadows. Lereaux stumbled back, tripping and falling as the flame shot past him.
The shadows recoiled, scattering, then they coalesced once more, writhing like an angry beast.
She dove deep into herself, drawing up as much power as she could summon. It vibrated in her palm, humming as she willed it to focus into a single beam. The effort was almost too much without the amethyst. Then she released it, exhaustion washing over her.
This time, the shadows didn’t flinch. They dodged and shot across the room to where Elijah stood staring at his father, unaware of the danger racing for him.
Vaelira screamed, but it was too late. Freya gripped her arm, and they could only watch as the darkness pushed its way past Elijah’s lips. His head was thrown back as it streamed down his throat, his body rocking with the force of it.
A metallic taste filled Vaelira’s mouth.
No one moved.
Her limbs ached, but she tried to summon the essensia once more. It sputtered in her hands. She cursed herself for being so stubborn, for refusing to eat until the last moment. She’d let herself get weak and burned out.
Queen Mairese rushed to the bed, her hands shaking as they hovered over the King’s throat. Vaelira didn’t need to look, she knew there would be no pulse.
The King was dead.
The Queen straightened slowly, her eyes blazing with unshed tears as she turned towards her son. Elijah stood rigid, his eyes darting around the room, as if unsure of where he was.
His mother stepped towards him, blade in hand. He didn’t flinch when she sliced his cheek.
Black blood.
The air vanished.
Vaelira dropped to her knees as the voices surged again. She was too weak to fight them now. She should have run. Her vision blurred.
Rough hands grabbed her, hauling her upright. Metal clamped cold and hard around her wrists.
The voices stopped. Her breath returned.
A guard gripped her shoulders, keeping her pinned.
Elijah held a hand to his cheek, covering the wound, confusion and fear twisting his brow. Against the far wall, Lereaux was staring at him with something akin to hatred.
Elijah was King of Caerthalyn.
The thought hit her like a bucket of ice.
Queen Mairese knelt beside the burned, blackened bed. When she turned to Vaelira, soot streaked her face and tears flashed in her eyes.
“What have you done?” she spat, rising to her feet, her teeth bared. “Vaelira Tarn.” Her voice cracked like thunder. “For the crime of regicide, I sentence you to death.”
Vaelira’s breath vanished again.
No one spoke, not even Elijah. His face was unreadable, but a shadow flickered behind his eyes before he turned away.
Vaelira stared at her shackled hands, heavy with the weight of what she’d done.
When they dragged her from the King’s chambers, Freya was already gone, and this time, Vaelira wasn’t sure she’d be able to get her back.