“It’s hardly practical to leave live enemies behind me now, is it?” she answered switching her attention to the queen. “I wonder what he thought I’d do with you.”
“You will force me into exile with my daughters and the body of my dead husband and we will live out our lives torn from the country we love.” She wiped her eyes and straightened her shoulders. “It’s what is done.”
“Really? The upholstery on the throne-it’s expensive is it?”
Fleya looked up at the embroidered gold velvet under her husband and back at Arrabel, confused. “Yes but-”
“Hard to keep clean?”
“I expect so but-”
“General Palatat.”
“Majesty.”
“There’s no reason to make things more difficult than we have to for the staff. Have King Giorge’s body dragged down to the floor then behead him.”
The queen and the dark-haired princess screamed out versions of, “You can’t!”
The second princess said nothing at all.
When Giorge’s head came off enough blood gushed from the stump of his neck to partially obscure an impressive mosaic map of the kingdom set into the throne-room floor. Released by the soldier who held her, Queen Fleya ran to her husband’s side.
Danyel said, “But Mother, he was already dead.”
“Dead men don’t bleed like that, Danyel.” Arrabel stepped back as the blood spread. “The poison only feigned death. After the three of them reached exile it would wear off and Giorge would rise from his supposed grave to seek vengeance.”
“But how did you know?”
“It’s what I would have done, dear. Wallace.”
“Majesty?”
“Make sure he’s cremated.”
“Nooooooooooooo!” Fleya’s wailed protest drew everyone’s attention. Sitting on the floor, her silk skirts soaking up the king’s blood, she held his headless body clasped tight in her arms. “You will not take him from me! I will not go into exile without my Giorge!”
Arrabel sighed. “Of course you won’t.” She raised her hand. Because of the late king’s body, four of the arrows went into Fleya’s upper torso, the other two went one into each eye. “All right, who risked the eye shots?” When two of the archers admitted as much, she smiled at them and pointed a teasing finger. “There’s no need to show off, I know how good you are. Now then…” Lifting her skirts, she walked around the growing puddle. “This is taking far too long. You.” The same finger pointed at the dark-haired princess, held struggling between two Tabards. “You’ll marry my son, giving his claim to rule this kingdom validity.”
“Never!”
She raised a hand. “I expected as much,” she sighed as the body hit the floor and pointed at the second princess. “You’ll marry my son and give his claim to rule this kingdom validity.”
The girl stared into Arrabel face for a moment then shrugged. “All right.”
“Don’t shrug, dear. It’s common.” A slight frown as recognition dawned. “That was your voice at the door.”
“Yes.”
“The poison was your plan.”
“Yes.”
“And your brothers’ attempt?”
“My plan.”
“Really? What’s your name?”
“Mailynne.”
“How old are you, Mailynne?”
“Seventeen.”
“I imagine you have some ideas about how the kingdom should be run.”
Mailynne’s gray eyes narrowed. “Yes.”
“Good.”
“Mother, I don’t want to be married.” Danyel reached to grab her arm, noticed the gouge on his vanbrace and thought better of it.
Arrabel and Mailynne turned together. “That’s not really relevant, dear.”
“But…” He paused, mouth open. “Wait. I’m to rule this kingdom?”
“Under my guidance.”
“But you’ll be at home?”
“Yes.”
Dark brows drew in. “And I’ll be here?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” His smile showed perfect teeth and an enchanting dimple. “Well, that’s different then.”
His mother placed her hand in the center of the princess’ back and gently pushed her forward. The girl was wearing some kind of harness under her sweater that probably held at least one weapon. “You will rule Mecada with Mailynne at your side.”
“As you say, Mother.” Danyel bent and kissed the princess’ hand. “I want an enormous wedding,” he announced when he straightened.
“Don’t be ridiculous, dear. You don’t bankrupt a county that’s recently lost a war just so you can have a party. Wallace.”
“Majesty?”
“We’ll need someplace central with good security but high visibility.”
“And somewhere we can release a hundred white doves!”
“Doves aren’t really relevant right now, Danyel.”
“The surviving nobility that served my father should be there,” Mailynne suggested as her future husband pouted.
Arrabel turned a maternal smile on the girl. “That’s not really relevant either, dear.”
The wedding was short but beautiful. As a wedding present, Arrabel left a regiment of the Queen’s Tabards in Mecada to help keep the peace. Her new daughter-in-law narrowed her eyes but accepted the gift graciously.
Because there was correspondence to go over, Wallace rode with her in the carriage on the way home.
“Wallace?”
“Yes, Majesty?”
“How long do you figure Danyel will last?”
“Majesty?”
“I expect she’ll keep him around until she has an heir. And I expect that will happen as soon as possible.”
“But Majesty…”
“As much as he adored me, he was becoming a distraction. Mother this and Mother that and eventually he’d distract me at a bad time. This girl was a good choice, Wallace, I won’t live forever and I’d like to think-on that very distant day-that I was leaving my people in good hands. Hands that wouldn’t undo all the work I’ve done.”
“She does remind me a little of you, Majesty.”
“Yes.” Arrabel picked up the wrapped slice of wedding cake from the seat beside her and tossed it out the window. “She does, doesn’t she?”
TO SIT IN DARKNESS HERE, HATCHING VAIN EMPIRES by Steven A. Roman
I poisoned my niece today.
Just turned six, and still wondering why her mother-my younger sister, Sienna-never comes to see her anymore. Desperately seeking assurance from me that it’s not because Mommy stopped loving her; that it wasn’t something she did wrong that made Mommy go away.
It’s heartrending to watch a child try to come to terms with something they may never understand, try to find the logic in an illogical situation. They’ll work on the problem, attempt to examine it from every angle, rack their brains trying to recall the precise moment, the one event, when everything in their young life started to come apart. And finally, when no answer presents itself, they reach the only conclusion their young minds can comprehend: Something bad happened, and it was all their fault.
What, exactly, that “bad thing” might be they can’t put into words because, really, they don’t know themselves. But experience has taught them that adults can be rude and angry and abusive; that adults don’t always have a logical reason to be mad at someone; that adults can often take out their frustrations on their children. And if an adult, especially a parent, stops talking to you, stops coming to see you, then you must have done something so unbelievably terrible that they never want to see you again.
But now she won’t have to trouble herself with such thoughts. Gillian is, as the old saying goes, in a far better place than this… although considering the state of the world today, that really isn’t saying much. Heaven, hell, purgatory, the void-any place would be better than here. All I sought to do was end her suffering (well, hers and mine). And if I were the type who believed in God, I might be able to console myself with the image of a mother and her daughter reunited for eternity in the afterlife.