Thieves of Fate

Prologue

The storm rages on; lightning cracks in the sky, while thunder booms. There will be no sleep tonight, but what does she care? She gave up sleep long ago. The Queen sits in the empty, dark throne room, tapping her nails against the stone armrest.

Tap, tap, tap. The sounds echo against the stone walls.

Another crack of lightning lights up the room in flashes.

Tap, tap, tap. She sits there, still as could be, mulling over her options.

What choice does she have? The seer’s words repeat in her head, reminding her of the time that was running out.

The throne doors open slightly, allowing a dark man to enter the room. He marches in, quietly. Kneeling at her feet, he looks up at her.

“My queen,” he rasps. Sleep lingers in his voice. The Queen fights the shivers that shoot up her spine. The delicious, subservient man in front of her, on his knees like the fool he was. She revels in the sight.

“Arran,” she greets him. “It’s time.”

“Time, my Queen?” He asks.

“The babe must go.”

“But your Majesty,” he croaks. Uneasiness wavers in his voice. She stares down at the coward beneath her.

“Don’t be a fool, Arran. We agreed to this.” She snaps. Her mind flashes to the time they’ve spent in a bed, going over plans and contingencies. Now he would get cold feet? Anger burns in her gut.

“But yo-yo-your grace,” he stammers. “My Queen. He’s just a boy. Just a wee babe, barely over the age of one. He’s the prince.”

Before she can stop herself, she stands up. The Queen takes two silent steps down towards the man on his knee. She grips his jaw; her nails digging into his cheeks. “I know who he is.”

“The, the Ki-ki-king,” Arran stutters again, ignoring the pain from her nails. “He’ll know it was us.”

“The King is tied up in his royal affairs. He’s hunting.

” She spits. “He’ll be gone for several more days, wooing the king of Oculus.

If we don't do this now, we won’t have another opportunity.

You do this, or you die with him. Make your choice.

” The Queen turns her back on the man and returns to her cold throne. Arran nods his head.

“What shall I do?”

“Take the boy out to Coarann Grove. Let the bears eat him for all I care, but get rid of him. Leave no trace. You’ll leave tonight. I will meet you in the stable with the boy.”

Arran opens his mouth to argue but quickly shuts it at the Queen’s cold glare.

“The four-day ride should be enough. King Marcas will be heading here from the East. He’ll never see you. Send word when it’s done.”

With that, Arran leaves The Queen with a swift bow, and he’s back out the door. A cold smile creeps across her face as thunder rocks the castle.

The skies might be angry tonight, but she wouldn’t let that deter her. Fate be damned.

She walks quietly into the nursery, praying his nursemaid won’t wake. The toddler lay sound asleep in his bed. The Queen gently picks him up. What a sweet innocent little boy, wrapped up in a game of trickery and deceit. She brushes her fingers against the child’s face gently.

A startled gasp sounds behind her, causing her to squeeze her eyes shut.

“Oh, my Queen.” The nursemaid whispers. “I’m so sorry. I heard something. I didn’t realize it was you. Is he waking? Would you like me to take him?”

“No. It’s fine. I am his stepmother after all.” She says quietly. “I should be able to take care of him just fine.”

“Of course, my Queen. I’ll leave you to it.”

Pity, the Queen thinks. One more will die tonight. She wraps the sleeping toddler a little tighter and takes off out the door.

Twenty minutes later, she greets Arran, who is waiting for her at the stables. His horse is saddled and pacing anxiously in the storm.

“Are you ready?” She asks him.

“Yes, my Queen.” He nods, reaching for the sleeping child in her arms.

“Go and go swiftly. Don’t stop until you’re deep in the grove. Get rid of him.”

“What will you do here?” He asks.

“That’s none of your concern.”

Arran mounts the horse with the child nestled in his left arm.

He spurs the horse on and they gallop off through the gates.

The Queen waits until he disappears from her sights before sneaking back into the castle.

Little flutters in her womb have her pausing before stepping into the secret entrance.

She grips her stomach. A smile creeps across her face again, just as the tempestuous storm riots around her.

Fate be damned.