Chapter eleven
the man with death on his lips
Elwyn
T he Queen floated through the stone hallways of the mountain. I trailed her, several paces behind.
“My Queen, why must we do this?”
The Queen shook her head. I couldn’t see, but I knew she rolled her eyes, as she often did when I spoke. “To find you a suitable companion,” she spat.
“But!” I started. “Darragh would be a perfect companion for me! He’s powerful, he knows the kingdom…”
I love him .
The Queen heard the words I hadn’t said loud and clear. She whirled on me, growing tall, until her head craned against the rocky ceiling. Her eyes darkened and her mouth drooped open, frighteningly enormous. A sudden choking pressure wrapped my throat. “Hhh!” My knees hit the rocky floor.
“You will never ssspeak of, or act on, that intention!” the Queen hissed the words, as if some furious serpent had suddenly seized control of her tongue. She cried, “Do you underssstand me?!”
No!
The Queen did her best to compose herself, but the grip on my throat tightened. “Everything I do is to ensure we”—the Queen paused and considered her words—“ you stay in power. Everything I do is for you.” Looming above, the Queen’s eyes bore into me. “Why are you so ungrateful?” The wispy, shredded fabric of her dress swirled in an impossible wind. “Where would you be without me?” Inky shadows reached for me, and I cowered. The pain they imparted on my skin was unbearable—I stopped struggling against the pressure on my throat. Slowly, it lessened. When it disappeared completely, I stood. The Queen’s shadows receded, and as they did, she shrunk back into her normal, cadaverous form. She floated away.
“One more thing.” The Queen glanced over her shoulder and flicked her wrist. The shadows tore themselves from the floor, taking the form of many hands. They gripped me and pried my mouth open. An invisible cloth slid down my throat. I wretched and tried to throw it up, but the cloth wrapped around something inside me. I coughed and sputtered as a tightness spread through my chest.
I’d never been gagged before. Who would dare gag the daughter of the queen? Though I could still speak, I’d never be able to tell Darragh how I felt about him; I’d choke on the words. The Queen floated down the path to the great hall.
There are only two ways to remove a gag. The person who placed it willingly removes it, or they die, and the gag dies with them.
I wiped tears from my cheeks.
A smile tugged my lip as I followed the Queen.
As bleak as the rest of the mountain, only a handful of torches provided dim light in the great hall, and much of the exquisite architecture was lost. It was just as well, thick layers of dust and cobwebs blanketed the faces of the previous queens, all intricately carved into the stone. The faint light cast their mouths in shadows, leaving them wide open and dark, frozen in permanent screams.
How I longed for our other homes. Growing up, we’d split our time between many places. My favourite, our forest home, was surrounded by rivers and waterfalls. As the Queen fell to paranoia, she forced us to live here, in the dark.
In this prison.
At the far end of the great hall, the Queen ascended the stairs and sat on her throne. She’d built the throne—a showpiece of polished onyx—and in doing so, she’d broken the tradition of queen’s sitting amongst the people. I ascended the steps of the platform and took my place, one step behind and to the left of the Queen. Beside me, to the Queen’s right, stood another woman. While all the Queen’s guardians wore black, the Queen’s Truth wore bright, vibrant colours.
An odd choice for a spy.
The Truth wore an enormous hat, with a wide brim and pointy top. A thick leather band surrounded the hat, into which the Truth tucked various feathers and scraps. Her most recent addition was a tuft of white hair, and I was fairly certain it belonged to the Queen. The Truth wiped a speck of dust from her robe; giant beaded necklaces and gaudy bangles clacked together. I despised the jewelry, if only because it reminded me of her. I’d taken many beatings because of the Truth’s whispers.
A row of eager suitors lined the wall before us. “Let us begin my daughter’s courtship,” the Queen began. Invisible fingers pulled my lips into a smile. I resisted the urge to spit when they let go. “Whoever I choose as my daughter’s companion will help her rule the kingdom. In ruling a kingdom, you will garner power and respect. But to rule a kingdom is to put yourself in danger every day.” The Queen pointed to the first suitor. “You!”
A stunning, raven-haired woman draped in yards of flowing white fabric and golden chains stepped forward. My gaze lingered on her bare midriff, an uncommon style in this region.
It wouldn’t be the first time two queens reigned. Before Queen Ever could take the throne, the people offered their own choice, a powerful woman named Yve. They did not duel—no, they did something the people did not expect.
They fell in love.
Ever and Yve offered the people a compromise: two queens. Successful rulers, they cleared the Aeonian Woods and expanded our territory to the east. After Yve and Ever’s tremendous accomplishments, it wasn’t uncommon for queens to share the title.
When the woman and I made eye contact, her lip drew up in a confident smirk. My cheeks heated, and I looked away.
A quiet part of me hoped she performed well.
The woman said, “My name is Lyra—”
“I don’t care,” the Queen snapped. “Show me what you can do.” The large doors to the hall swung open. Audra, a sweet but less useful guardian entered. Looking uncharacteristically solemn in her flowing black gown, Audra ushered in a young girl. The girl’s boots scuffed the floor as she walked timidly to the centre of the room and stood beside Lyra.
“How far will you go to protect my daughter?” the Queen questioned the room. “How far will you go to protect the kingdom?”
What’s going on?
Usually, suitors displayed their power before the Queen, and she excused them. The Queen pointed one frail finger at the little girl. “The person before you is a criminal. ” She growled the word, relishing it on her tongue. “They’ve broken into your bedchamber during the night. They’re trying to kill my daughter. React accordingly.”
The girl bolted, and Lyra threw her arms up. A mist of ice sprayed from her fingertips, surrounding the girls’ feet. Ice travelled up her legs and froze her to the ground mid-step.
Lyra bowed.
“That’s it?” the Queen snarled. “This creature has snuck into your bedchamber to kill you and your beloved.”
Lyra examined the girl. “Please, I didn’t do anything,” she begged. Tears streaked her face as she clawed at her frozen shackles.
Understanding dawned on Lyra’s face.
“Yes, there it is,” the Queen snapped. “Kill her!”
Lyra’s nose scrunched, and her lips formed a tight, straight line. She bowed and rejoined the line of suitors, where she crossed her arms and scowled. Fear needled my stomach. The Queen punished suitors for lesser offenses than that. Perhaps excited for the approaching bloodshed, the Queen was in a gracious mood. She left Lyra unharmed…for now.
“Will none of you protect my daughter?” the Queen shouted.
A man, three suitors in, stepped forward. He looked ordinary enough. Strawberry-blonde hair, and a child’s face. I wouldn’t have thought much of him…except I’d heard whispers, rumours of his powers. Perhaps the gossip was false. If he possessed what people said, it was a rare and terrible power.
The Queen couldn’t resist it.
The man approached the girl and she struggled, her feet still frozen in place. He held her cheeks in a calming, paternal gesture.
“Sh, sh, sh,” the man soothed.
The girl relaxed.
Sssnap!
Her head twisted round in the man’s hands. Her lips contorted into a painful, ‘O!’ as her neck broke. She fell back and two more snaps, like the sound of breaking wood, rang out as her legs broke against the ice.
The Queen gave a bored nod.
The man muttered, “Get up.” The girl’s lifeless body twitched. A spasm rippled through her, and she squirmed like a beetle caught on its back. With a snarl and a hiss, the corpse pulled itself upright.
Don’t run . I told myself. Don’t look weak .
Out of the corner of my eye, the Queen smiled.
The corpse screeched and tried to run, its feet still rooted. Goosebumps prickled my flesh as its nails scraped ice. Arms swinging frantically, it fell again. Sinew and flesh stretched and ripped as the corpse tore itself from its own frozen feet. Shouts rose from the suitors as the corpse crawled toward them. It went straight for Lyra. Without hesitation, she sent forth a sharp spray of ice. The corpse froze, and Lyra swung her leg, connecting with its head. Ice shards exploded across the hall like fluffy, white snow.
Lyra looked the man up and down, her chest heaving. He grinned and gave her a finger-wiggling wave.
The Queen rose and clapped.
Each booming clap pierced me like an arrow.
“A necromancer! Lovely. Just lovely!”
Bile rose in my throat.
It wasn’t always rare, necromancy. A thousand years ago there were many. But the ability to control the dead was…unnatural. Fearing necromancers, we’d hunted them to extinction.
We missed one.
“What’s your name?” the Queen asked.
With a bow, the man said, “Ophyr.”
“Magnificent,” the Queen muttered. “Just wonderful.” She waved at the remaining suitors. “We’re done. Get out. ”
Ophyr met my eyes. He grinned, and his lips pouted into a kiss.
My stomach turned.
***
After scouring the mountain for my father, I finally found him talking with a healer. Father laughed obnoxiously, a large goblet in hand. It wasn’t the first time I’d found him here, chatting with that healer. A young, blonde woman whose name I hadn’t bothered learning. “Yes, dinner tonight was delicious,” Father blubbered. I didn’t acknowledge the healer as I grabbed my father’s elbow.
“I won’t have him, Father.”
“Elle, my dear, what are you talking about?”
“The necromancer.”
“Ohhhh.” Father took a long sip. Outraged, I knocked the goblet from his grasp. Only mildly inconvenienced, he waved, and the goblet froze in mid-air. He beckoned, and the goblet floated lazily back, gathering burgundy droplets from the air as it did. He continued, “Maybe the Queen won’t choose him.”
The Queen’s delighted voice replayed in my mind, ‘A necromancer! Lovely. Just lovely! ’ I lowered my voice. “We need to leave.”
My father threw up his hands in an exaggerated, drunken gesture. “I can’t leave her.”
“Please,” I begged. “I’m afraid of him, and I’m afraid of her. I know you are too.”
“And where would we go?” My father spoke with a severity I’d never heard before. “What makes you think she wouldn’t find us?”
I was taken aback; never had my father voiced his concerns about leaving the Queen. “We’ll figure it out—” I stopped. The echoes of our voices sounded different as they bounced off the walls. I peered around my father; a shadow lurked at the end of the hall.
“Who’s there?”
Brightly coloured robes crept from the shadows. The Truth glanced between me and my father.
Her smile faded as she slunk into the dark.