Chapter fifteen
a passing shadow
Elwyn
T he rich aroma of roasted meat struck me as I entered the dining chamber. My stomach growled, and I cursed the saliva that swelled around my tongue. I sat across from my father; a drink was already perched in his hand. It was a relief to sit down. I’d felt lightheaded and foggy all day. I gazed longingly at the apples on the table. I’d never really noticed the fruit before. I thought it was just decoration. Now I couldn’t stop thinking about biting into the crisp, juicy flesh…
I hadn’t eaten since my visit with Ophyr.
Audra’s death replayed in my head, over and over. I looked at the food, and all I saw was poison.
My father looked upon me, eyes touched with concern. “Are you alright, Elle?” The door to the chamber blew open and the Queen stormed in. Shadows swirled and darkened the room as the Queen took her spot at the head of the table. Once seated, she smiled. My father and I exchanged quick glances .
“How was your evening with Ophyr?” the Queen inquired sweetly.
This table was not made for small talk. It took me a moment to overcome the shock that the Queen had spoken to me. “He killed Audra,” I spat.
Like the sudden cacophony of disturbed crows, the Queen threw her head back and cackled. “Oh no! Not Audra!” she cried, voice laden with mock concern. She laughed again, so hard her breath came in short wheezes. Between chuckles, the Queen asked, “How did he do it?”
Sickened by her reaction, I stared at my plate. “He poisoned her—”
“AH, HA, HA!” The Queen slammed her brittle fist on the table. Father and I sat in silence as the Queen’s laughter bounced off us. She composed herself, but before she could say anything, she broke into another fit of laughter. Finally, the Queen took a deep breath and wiped away a tear. “Oh, poor Audra.” She chuckled. “She’ll probably be more useful now.” She bit down another laugh. Every few seconds, she smiled and looked as if she might burst into laughter once more.
Knock-knock-knock.
“Oh, splendid.” The Queen perked up and curled a finger at the door. It swung inward and Ophyr strode in.
He grinned. “What are we laughing about?”
I rounded on the Queen. “What’s he doing here?”
The Queen ignored me. “Elwyn was just recounting an amusing tale.” The chair next to the Queen slid out. “Sit, my child.” Ophyr bowed and accepted the seat. “We’re so glad you could join us this evening,” the Queen doted. Invisible hands piled Ophyr’s plate high with food.
He touched his chest. “It’s my honour.”
The Queen sat comfortably back in her chair. “I was just asking Elwyn how your date went?”
“I think it went well.” Ophyr tore a piece of meat with his teeth.
The Queen nodded happily; a spoon brought food to her lips. “ You’ll have to excuse my excitement. It’s not everyday you meet a necromancer. You must tell us more; I find it fascinating.” She paused, giddy. “Was everyone in your family so capable?”
“My grandmother had the gift, but she was killed when I was young.”
The Queen muttered a shallow, “Such a shame,” and continued eating.
“My mother has it as well, and my sister. Though they both pretend they’re basic, to avoid detection.”
“What a dreadful shame!” the Queen cried.
A grumble carried from my stomach, drawing the Queen’s frightening gaze to me. “Elwyn, eat. You’re beginning to look like a corpse.”
Over the Queen’s shoulder, Ophyr winked.
Vomit gurgled in my throat as I pushed food around my plate. “I’m not feeling well. I’d like to be excused.” I rose, but invisible hands gripped my shoulders. My knees buckled and I slammed back into my seat.
The Queen’s inhuman eyes bore into me, wide and unblinking. “Don’t be rude to our guest, Elwyn.” My body leaned away, anticipating the pain. A bead of sweat dripped down my father’s temple. The rosiness gone from his cheeks, he was a ghost in his seat. He mouthed the word, ‘ Eat .’ My hands trembled, and the tines of my fork clinked against my plate. I brought a piece of meat to my lips, sniffed it, and took a small bite.
It tasted wrong.
I took another bite.
That tasted wrong too.
My fork clattered to the table as I gagged.
“Elle sweetie, are you okay?” My father’s voice echoed from far away. “Perhaps she should be excused?”
“Go!” the Queen shouted. I pushed away from the table and lurched for the door. My father must have tried to follow me because the Queen shouted, “Not you!”
I bounded through the halls to my room, barely making it to the adjoining privy before I threw up. My stomach was empty, and acid scorched my throat. I dry heaved until my sides hurt. Exhausted, I crawled into bed and wrapped myself in blankets. Sweat poured from me, it dampened the sheets and left me feeling colder than before.
A knock sounded on the door. The guardian regularly stationed outside my room popped her head in and asked, “Are you alright?”
“Leave me be!” I pulled the blankets tighter and fought the urge to run to the privy again. Someone had poisoned my food; I was sure of it. But if Ophyr had poisoned me, I’d already be dead.
So…who was it?
***
High-pitched squeals jarred me awake. I bolted upright and squinted against the sunlight streaming in the window.
I’d slept through the night.
Leshy squealed again, leaping onto the bed. “What? What?” I pushed him away. My stomach ached, and Leshy trodding all over it didn’t help. Unphased by my annoyance, Leshy crawled back up. He held something in his arms, something he desperately wanted me to have. “What’s this?” I took the item from Leshy’s paws. Though scuffed and scratched, I still recognized the familiar, ornately carved griffin. I placed my fingers in the ridges behind the griffin’s shoulders. It fit neatly in my grip. The perfect handle for a cane.
My father’s cane.
I ran to the privy. My body managed to be sick again. Leshy sat outside the room, his paws covering his face as I wretched. When I finished, I leaned against the cool rock. I ran shaky fingers over the griffin. A sickening energy coursed through it. It pulsed through me too, mirroring my quick, terrified heartbeat. I pressed the griffin against my chest and closed my eyes.
My father knelt on his knees before the Queen. The doors to the great hall creaked open. The Truth entered, followed by the healer who treated my father, the one I often found him chatting with in the late hours of the night.
“Kneel,” the Truth spat. The healer knelt beside my father. Tense silence pressed in on the room.
Finally, the Queen asked, “I’m curious, after you abandoned me, where did you plan on going?”
My father’s mouth dropped open. “What are you talking about, my Queen?”
“I know of your plan!” The Queen pointed at the healer. “Was she coming with you?”
Father looked on helplessly. “Sloane? No! I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Sloane’s body slammed forward so suddenly she didn’t have time to pull her arms up. Her face smashed against the rock. The Queen lifted her hand, and Sloane pulled back into a kneeling position. Her nose broken, blood dripped down her chest. Sloane smashed against the ground again. This time, her skull cracked. It made the same noise as a piece of wood broken over a knee. Again, the Queen lifted Sloane to her knees. Sloane’s eyes fluttered, one eyeball wonky in its socket. The third time Sloane went down, her head exploded like a melon during target practice. Human shrapnel sprayed the room.
“Ugh!” The Truth straightened and picked a tooth from the crook of her crossed arms. She dabbed at the blood stain now marring a yellow stripe of her robe. Her lips pouted, and she turned a scowling gaze back to my father.
Father turned a horrified, blood-spattered face back to the Queen. “What was her crime?!”
“Her crime was the same as yours. Treason.”
Father looked to the Queen’s Truth. He pointed to his temple and cried, “Surely you can see! Sloane did nothing, and I never meant to leave!”
The Truth looked away.
The Queen flourished a hand and hissed, “Silence!” Shadows crept across the floor. They climbed my father, circling his throat.
My father choked out, “Please, Briar—”
The shadows paused.
Suddenly, one hundred years melted from the Queen’s face. Sitting on the throne was my mother. Not a horrible old crone—my mother!
Eyes wide and shocked, my mother stared at her shaking hands. I couldn’t help the feeling that she was as helpless a bystander as me. My mother winced and blood seeped from the corners of her mouth.
She’d bitten her tongue.
A cough sputtered from her lips, spraying droplets of blood down her chest. My mother writhed, trying to resist whatever evil consumed her. A cackle exploded from her throat, and the aged, hateful Queen returned. With renewed fury, the Queen’s gaze fell on my father. She spit a mouthful of blood beside the throne.
The Truth sneered and yanked her leg away.
Shadowy hands gripped my father’s throat. I felt the tightness as they squeezed. Father tried to draw breath.
He couldn’t.
Despite the pain and terror, I stayed with him until the end.
As my father stopped struggling, relief shuddered through the memory. His life flashed through his mind. The day he met my mother, so beautiful and kind. Interrupted by the screams of a baby, the day I was born. Finally, my own face, smiling up at him, just the night before.
The room re-appeared around me as the memory faded .
His last thought was of me.
After all that, the last thing my father felt was guilt. Disappointment that he couldn’t protect me, that he’d let me down. Leshy rested his head against my leg, quivering. I gathered him in my arms and stroked the back of his neck while silent tears fell from my cheeks.
“I’ll kill her,” I whispered to Leshy. “I’ll choke the life from her eyes.”