Chapter 5
Ihadn’t eaten for two days. My callous father told the cooks to refuse me. I could have gone into Perth and fed myself, but I found more comfort in solitude than I ever had before. No maids entered my room; Regulas hadn’t been perched outside of my door. I was alone. And content. Though the hunger pains had started this morning.
War was imminent regardless, but there was nothing I could say to my father now that would make him see that it wasn’t my fault. Death’s Maiden, true enemy to all.
Standing before the filagree-trimmed mirror, I called Ro once more, but she still didn’t answer. Not unlike her, but disheartening. She was the only one in the whole world who made me feel worth my death. The only person that didn’t seem to fear me.
My entire life was a compilation of patience. I waited for my father’s summons. I waited for the Maestro to order my capture by his henchmen. I waited for Death’s visits to my dreams. I waited for the magic to consume me on a repeated cycle, and these days, even after I’d killed a king and turned the world upside down, were no different. I’d never contribute a thing to this plagued realm of two cities. Instead, I’d always take. Lives and love and happiness.
Three knocks on my bedroom door shattered the respite I’d found in my coveted isolation. “Princess Deyanira, your father summons you to the council chambers. You’re to leave all weapons behind.”
Whoever’d been charged to deliver my father’s message hadn’t bothered to open the door. And, as the small footsteps hurried down the hallway, it was clear I was not to be escorted. Which was likely better. I’m surprised he hadn’t posted a full guard outside my doors, just to keep me in, as it were. I didn’t go anywhere without Chaos, and his order wouldn’t change that. Especially when he was so angry with me.
I walked the buzzing halls lined with paintings, keeping my chin high, all the same. Listening to the court whisper. The fallout of killing a king was never going to be peaceful silence.
“Ah, the king slayer, war bringer,” Regulas said from his seat at the lengthy table when I entered. “I see you didn’t bother dressing up for the occasion. Join us, won’t you?” A hint of glee sparkled in his typically dull eyes.
I glanced at my black leather pants and collared shirt hidden mostly by an expensive green jacket with golden stitched vines. Not improper, but also not a dress, though it was likely the blade on my thigh that bothered him and not the casual attire.
No one rose. No one bowed. Instead, the other council members kept their eyes down, focusing on the polished marble floor with their mouths shut. Whatever was about to happen could not be good.
I raised an eyebrow. “How’s the shoulder, Reg?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” he said through a forced smile.
“The old memory starting to fade? How close are you to your one-hundredth?”
My father cleared his throat. “Deyanira…”
I curtsied. “My king.”
The doors behind me creaked open, and a line of servants entered, the scent of freshly broiled pork and roasted vegetables hammering me before I could rise.
“I hope you don’t mind, Princess Deyanira,” Regulas fucking chirped. “We’ve worked up quite an appetite.”
I blinked slowly, rising. “Why would I mind?”
My blood boiled. Not because of Regulas, but my father’s silence as he watched me, waiting to see how I would respond. He would never be a shield for me, and his council knew that. His silence taught me to be stronger. And alone. To never need a person’s approval or defense. But it also taught them to allow their resentment to show.
He’d been icy my entire life, staring down the murderer of his beloved, a woman he kept so private all portraits were removed so I could never look upon her face and see my own.
“Thought I heard your stomach growling.” Regulas’s ugly face twisted when I glared at him.
The rest of the council said nothing, and no one moved. My father’s appointed hand was nothing if not predictable, but though I usually kept my composure, which was why he felt at liberty to speak to me this way, today was not the fucking day.
I sauntered forward, circling the table as I closed the distance between us. Fear shone in his eyes as he realized he’d pushed too far.
“Deyanira,” my father warned.
But I did not listen. The pull of my dagger and the lethal smile on my face was accompanied by the sound of piss dripping from Regulas’s seat.
I leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Once again, you forget yourself.” In a quick motion, I spun the knife in my hand, grazing his ear before stabbing the meat in the center of the table. Aside from my father, the room collectively jumped. Sinking my teeth into the pork and letting the juices slide down my chin, I used Regulas’s jacket to wipe Chaos clean. “I think you’ve wet yourself, councilman.” My father cleared his throat, forcing my eyes to him. “Did you need something from me, my king? Or have I been summoned to watch you dine?”
He pushed himself away from the table, the scowl enough to make a lesser man cower. “Silbath crowns their new king in three days.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“In one hour, you will join us in the throne room with your mouth shut and your weapons in your room. You will not disobey that order again, do you understand?”
I considered the presence of his council for half a second before responding. “There’s nothing you could say to convince me to abandon this blade. You can try to lock me in your dungeons, tie me up, chain me down, whatever you’d like, but I won’t be left unarmed. Ever.”
“You would disobey your king?” one of the elder councilmen asked. “On the brink of war?”
I made eye contact with my father before continuing. “Shall I answer that honestly, my king?”
“Please,” he answered, lifting a goblet full of wine and sinking back into his chair as if this show was merely an inconvenience.
“I could kill any of you in this room with my bare hands before you knew it was happening. I don’t need a weapon to be Death’s Maiden. But my father knows me well enough to know that’s the one order I will not obey. He’s asking me only to placate you all. And I’m simply telling you it’s not going to happen.”
“You’ve heard my demand of her,” the king said, casually biting into a potato. “It was requested that she be unarmed. What she chooses to do beyond that command is her will alone.”
“Who requested?” I asked, shifting toward him.
“Sit. Eat.”
“You realize Regulas just pissed himself three feet from where you’re dining, don’t you?”
My heart raced, wondering what the great secret was. He wasn’t letting me leave this room, and there was a reason. I’d never been invited to a meal with my father in my life.
“Then stand there and deny yourself. It makes no difference to me.”
Out of sheer stubbornness, I locked my hands behind my back and waited, ignoring the food covering the table, the pig-like sounds the council made as they dined, and even the maids who eventually emptied the table.
“Let us visit with our guests,” my father said, gesturing toward the door.
The council went first. The second they exited the room, the king gripped my shoulder so hard that if I hadn’t been conditioned to his tactics, I might have winced. “Whatever the outcome of this meeting, you will do as you are told. You openly defied me in front of my council, which I allowed. It will not happen again. For once in your life, Deyanira, be useful.”
I dipped low, wondering why his brow twisted as if he were worried. “Yes, my king.”
We stood outside the doors of the throne room for several minutes. I tried not to fidget or let my mind wander, but there was really only one man who could shake my father. But why would the Maestro be here? Sticking his nose into royal politics wasn’t like him. He’d come to court on occasion, just to rile my father for the theatrics. He’d once bound one of my father’s court members during a ball, right in the middle of the ballroom. Then made the man circle the room, singing off-key for an hour before my father simply closed down the event and sent everyone home. It was a pissing match more than anything, Drexel Vanhoff reminding the city that he was a servant to no kingdom.
My father adjusted the golden crown on his gray hair and smoothed the front of his royal purple jacket, avoiding the brass buttons before nodding to the guards. When the doors opened and we entered, all eyes fell upon us, watching every step as if they all held their breath. I followed my father through the hall, past each of the obsidian pillars, up every single step of his towering dais, and stood silently beside him without scanning the anxious crowd. If Drexel Vanhoff was there, I would not give him the satisfaction of my curiosity. But when a line of familiar faces stepped forward, the edges of their boots kicking the dais, I realized the true reason for my father’s feelings.
“Councilmen,” my father said by way of greeting, ignoring the gathered court that came to gawk.
They bowed collectively before the one with a round belly, wearing the official green sash of Silbath decorated in several metal pins, spoke. “We agreed that she would not be armed.”
“No,” my father answered coolly. “We agreed that she would be asked to leave her weapons behind. My council can attest that she was instructed to do so and disobeyed.”
They shared wary glances before a man with long white hair, save the massive bald spot on his shining head, spoke. “Princess Deyanira Hark, Death Maiden and heir to the throne of Perth, you are hereby charged with high treason and the murder of our beloved king, His Royal Highness, Bram Ellis, may he rest in peace.”
“May he rest in peace,” the gathered repeated, including my father.
“What say you?”
A thousand-pound weight dropped into my stomach as my ears began to ring.
“Speak,” my father commanded.
I curtsied to him to buy myself time, dragging in a steady breath. “It is unfortunate that Death delivered the name of your king, but as Maiden, it is my obligation to fulfill the demand of Death, even above my own father’s rule. A Maiden cannot be held responsible for the whims of Death. That is the law.”
“And why should we believe you were not acting on your father’s behalf?” one of the councilmen asked.
“Have you not asked him yourself?”
The man’s voice remained dull, as if he read from a script. “We have.”
I gripped the hilt of my dagger to keep myself calm and rational. This was merely protocol. They would have their answer and be on their way. “And are you calling him a liar?”
Several of my father’s court shifted in their chairs, sharing glances and whispers as the question hung in the air.
“I am calling you a murderer.”
“Because I am,” I said, mimicking my father’s cool tone. “I recognize your voice. You spoke in the halls outside your former king’s council chambers and said, ‘The king is ready for war, and I say more power to him. Why should we fear Perth?’”
“I certainly did not.”
I could feel my father’s razor-sharp glare on the back of my neck. I’d withheld that information. “So, you’re calling me a liar? In my father’s kingdom? As you accuse him and me of conspiring to kill your king. Does that sum it up?”
“In a thousand years, since our kingdom’s fate was saved by Death, he’s never ordered the life of a king to end. Ironic now, that the first time a royal is chosen as Maiden, and as the unrest between our kingdoms is nearly at a boiling point, our king should be murdered. Is it not?”
“No.”
“Elaborate.”
I walked forward, taking several steps down the stairs to make sure my voice was heard all the way to the back of the room.
“I don’t pretend to know what Death’s motive is for a single name that’s burned into my palm. It’s not my business, and it isn’t yours. But aside from one terrible tragedy, I’ve never taken a life that was not ordered. However, the only people that push for war work within the walls of a castle. The people, councilman, those you speak for, want far simpler things. Like food, shelter, and warmth. Your kingdom is being taken over by a crime lord running a burlesque show with too much power, and it’s allowed because you get a cut of the profit. They do not call him the Maestro for nothing. Eventually, he will silence you, and your kingdom will be the one to pay.”
“I have every guard in our kingdom standing at your borders, ready to attack. Do you threaten me, Princess?”
I moved until I stood three steps above him. “I am not threatening you. I am speaking for the people of your kingdom because you will not. If you’re so concerned for the well-being of this gods-abandoned world, maybe you should find something more worthy to occupy your time.”
The man adjusted his collar and shifted around me to look up at my father. “Have you considered our proposal?”
“We have, and we agree to the terms.”
“And does the princess agree?”
“She does.”
His quick answer sent chills down my spine. They couldn’t lock me away. I’d threatened to let him try, but the outcome would be disastrous. Death’s magic would consume me.
I straightened, letting the world spin around me as my mouth fell open. What had he done?
“You have five days.”
My world faded to dark, curdling screams from my past drowning everything around me. Panic set it. I couldn’t drag a single breath into my lungs. I couldn’t grip Chaos tight enough to ground me to the steps. I could not hear beyond my own thundering heartbeat.
The room was empty when I finally regained enough composure to turn, facing the man who’d just damned me.
“I cannot be imprisoned,” I whispered. “You know what will happen.”
He’d been lost in thought, hand resting on his chin as he stared out the stained-glass window, casting the room in a marbled, vibrant glow.
“You will not be imprisoned, Deyanira. You will be married.”