Dream Come True

It may or may not have been the middle of the night. It felt like four in the morning, but my cell in the dungeon was deep underground and let in no light, so I couldn’t have known for sure. I was asleep when the door swung open and two guards grabbed me. I screamed, startled. For a moment I had no idea where I was or what was happening, and when I remembered where I was a second later, it was no comfort. I still had no idea what was going on.
　
Being dragged out of your bed--even if it's a mat in a cell--in what’s probably the middle of the night is terrifying, and I don’t remember clearly where they brought me, until I was dragged through two great doors, into the throne room.
　
Not the middle of the night, then, my muddled brain told me. The king wouldn’t be here in the middle of the night, would he? And he was there, sitting on his throne on a platform at the end of the hall, looking down at the room. The guards dragged me towards him, and stopped before the throne. “Here’s the prisoner,” one of the guards said, unnecessarily.
　
“Unhand her,” the king ordered.
　
“Your majesty, she’s a thief, she’ll just run.”
　
The king’s voice went cold. “Unhand her,” he ordered. He said to me, in a softer but no less commanding tone, “Don’t try to run.”
　
“No, majesty.” My voice trembled, and my knees trembled more. It was a miracle I didn’t collapse to the ground when the guards released me.
　
“Are you Arlica?”
　
“Y-yes, majesty.”
　
“I’m King Torenth, I’m sure you know. Arlica, have you heard the rumor that I’m mad?”
　
“No, sir. Majesty, I mean. I don’t hear much, locked up and all.”
　
“It’s an old rumor. The truth behind it is that the kings of Durthia are guided by the gods. They send us dreams, and if we are wise, we act on them.”
　
I wondered whether he was crazy after all, but of course I didn’t say anything.
　
“You must be wondering what any of this has to do with you. I just had one of the dreams.” He paused. “The gods want me to marry you.”
　
“What the hell?” I demanded. Of course I knew better than to speak to the king like that, but I was utterly shocked.
　
“That was my first reaction as well,” King Torenth admitted. “But I’ve never been misguided before, and the dream was… emphatic, and urgent. I would never force you to marry me, but if you agree you’ll be doing a great service to your country, and to me.”
　
And to myself, I thought. The king didn’t seem like a bad person, whether or not he was crazy, and being a queen would beat being stuck in a prison cell by far. “Yes.”
　
“We should be married as soon as possible. I think I mentioned the dream seemed urgent. That’s why I had you brought here at this hour, as soon as I woke up from the dream.”
　
“So it is the middle of the night!” I couldn’t help but say.
　
Torenth looked at me, probably wondering about my intelligence as much as I was worrying about his sanity. “That’s why it’s dark out.” And there were windows in this room, and it was dark outside, the room only dimly lit by torches.
　
“I’m used to it; I didn’t notice. When are we going to be married?”
　
“Is next Tuesday too soon for you? Some of the court ladies will help you arrange for your dress and… I don’t know, whatever else, and my staff will arrange the ceremony.”
　
“I don’t have any plans.”
　
Torenth had the guards escort me to an empty suite in the castle, where despite everything I slept soundly. The next week was nonstop preparations.
　
The wedding was larger than I expected, though I shouldn’t have been surprised, of course people wanted to see their king get married and get a glimpse of the mysterious bride. It was outdoors, so there was plenty of room, and apparently Torenth, or more likely, his staff, had expected such crowds, because there was more than enough food. I didn’t trip as I walked down the aisle, I didn’t fumble over my vows, and the kiss was breathtaking.
　
I was surprised at how well things were turning out. My only expectations had been that this would be better than the dungeon, but now I began to think that I could actually be happy. I still wasn’t quite sure about a man who would get married based on a dream, but everyone has their quirks.
　
Nothing in the next few months spoiled my happiness. Though my new position took a lot of getting used to, I liked being queen. Not just being free and having everything I could want, but helping rule a kingdom as well. I liked judging problems and making political decisions. I liked my husband as well. My life was a dream come true, and not just literally.
　
Torenth and I had been married for three months when I found out for sure that he wasn’t crazy, or even, as I’d thought was probably the case, seeing his inner self in the dreams.
　
I’d gone to sleep, and then there was a light, very bright but not at all blinding. Everything was very clear, not only clearer than dreams usually are, but clearer than life, even. I sensed a presence, and after trying to observe whatever it was, sensed it pushing me towards something, so I allowed it to. I looked where I was guided, and saw my bedroom. Torenth was asleep. The door swung open and two men came in, then three more, guards who had been stationed outside our room, but I couldn’t see their faces. They were all armed, and very quickly they went to the bed and killed Torenth. And then I could see outside, a dark swirl of fighting and blood and destruction and death. “No!” I screamed.
　
“No!” I woke screaming, repeating, “No!” But Torenth was next to me, alive, wakened by my screams. “It can’t happen!” Torenth tried to comfort me, but all I could see was the dream. I knew in my mind and my heart that it was no ordinary dream, that it was true, or would be, or maybe, hopefully, would be only if I couldn’t prevent it.
　
I wondered if you’d have them,” Torenth said after a while.
　
“What?”
　
“The dreams. They’re not hereditary, they come to the ruler of Durthia.”
　
“Can they… be stopped?”
　
“Sometimes.”
　
I told him what I saw. We stayed up the rest of the night, discussing how to prevent what I’d seen. Have only the most trusted guards, keep weapons at our bedside…. The best thing, we agreed, would be to find and stop the plot before it got that far.
　
We kept our eyes peeled for an hint of anything, and we found it. Nothing solid, but there was an ominous undercurrent to the normal rumors and gossip. The chaos I’d seen at the end of the dream would come, if Torenth and I couldn’t prevent it. And we’d have to be alive to prevent it.
　
We did everything we could, but there really wasn’t much we could do. And then, one night, the dream came again, or rather, the dream light came, and a voice saying urgently, “Go! Now!” and then I was awake.
　
Though everything seemed as normal, I knew that they were coming, would burst into the room with swords at any moment. Torenth must have had the same dream, because he was also awake and looking around frantically. I grabbed a knife, jumped out of bed, and ran to the darkest corner of the room. Torenth started to do the same, but just as he’d stood up the door burst open and they came in, just as in my dream. Except that in the dream he’d been laying down, so at least something had changed.
　
Queens don’t usually act as bodyguards for their husbands, but then, most queens don’t grow up fighting in the streets. I pounced, stabbing the man closest to Torenth in the back. Torenth grabbed a weapon and was fighting one, one was still in the doorway, blocked by the others, and the other two went for me. I tried to fight them with my knife, but they both had swords. Desperately, I grabbed for any thing, and came up with a vase that had been on the nightstand. I swung it over the guard’s head. He hadn’t been expecting it and fell to the ground covered in shards of broken pottery. Torenth stabbed at the other one, who spun around, giving me the chance to stab him in the back as well. And that was all of them; Torenth had gotten two while I was busy. We weren’t dead. I couldn’t muster up much more feeling than mild surprise.
　
“That’s not the end, you know,” I told Torenth.
　
“You think there’ll be more of them?”
　
I shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But that wasn’t… the main point, I guess. I’m not sure how to say it, but our lives are just… incidental. Not to me, I mean, but… you know what I mean. The whole country’s going to go up in flames, metaphorically and quite possibly physically, unless we can stop it.”
　
“Then we’ll stop it.”

Vengeance

I skulked in the darkness, listened at keyholes, prowled the secret passages in the walls. I saw and heard everything that went on in that godforsaken place. Every plot, every crime, every intrigue, every secret. What I knew could topple the kingdom and destroy those who clutched it to their cold, iron little hearts.

But I couldn’t do anything with my information. It wasn’t just my status, or lack of it—even the lowliest can wreak great havoc with that kind of knowledge, if they do it right. But I was as mistrusted as I was mistrustful. And if they knew how much I did know now, how dangerous I was, and the extents I would go to destroy them… I wouldn’t survive the night. So I stayed out of the away of those who meant me harm, but only just far enough out of the way as to see without being seen. I lived in the shadows, soaking up secrets, waiting. And when I got the chance, I would be avenged.

And finally, the chance came. Or at least, the opportunity to make a chance. I heard a whisper that a delegation from Agrivaia was to arrive, in a last ditch attempt to avoid war. And I began to plot.

The night they arrived, I stood in the shadows in the back of the hall as our king welcomed their diplomats. I watched their every movement, observed the tension between their leader and our king, picked out who each of the major players must be. The older, well dressed man was the ambassador, of course. The woman next to him had to be the princess, though she hardly looked the part—her dress was formal enough for the occasion, but not fancy, and her face was more sensible than pretty. Still, she was clearly the highest ranked among them, and the deal they hoped to make included her marriage to King Onisy. The two women—girls really—next to her were her ladies in waiting; then came a few minor nobles, and the man my plan hinged on—Taield, the Agrivaian spymaster.

I observed him carefully throughout the evening. Though I was too far to hear words, and he was of course civil to his hosts, he seemed… wary. Duly wary, to my mind, and I smiled inwardly. Perhaps I had a chance. I followed him back to his room, then snuck around into the secret passage, and watched him from there. It wasn’t particularly interesting. He wrote at the desk for a while—a report, and a personal letter, I thought—then went into the connecting bathroom and came back a bit later wearing only a towel. He blew out the lamp and went to bed. I waited long enough to be sure no one joined him, then retreated into the passageways of my own lair.

I made my move the next evening. I dressed in my most seductive outfit and used the normal hallways to get to his room. I knocked on the door, and when he opened it, said in my sultriest voice, “I have a present for you.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not interested.”

“I know; you’re happily married,” I said, pushing past him into his room. Once I was inside and out of earshot of any possibly passersby, I told him, in my normal voice, “It’s not what you’re thinking. At least hear me out.”

“Fine.” Taield shut the door and locked it, and I saw he was holding a dagger in one hand, but as he wasn’t being particularly threatening, I ignored it. I took a seat on his bed, and he turned the chair at his desk to face me and sat there. “How did you know I’m married?” he asked, true curiosity, as well as worry, in his voice. Because that wasn’t common knowledge; it was well known that he kept his private life private—a wise precaution, for someone in his line of work. I would have done the same, if I’d had a family to keep secret.

“I know everything,” I told him. He didn’t laugh at me—a point in his favor.

“Is that what this is about then?”

I pretended not to know what he meant. “Your wife?”

“Your knowledge.”

“Yes.”

He waited for me to say more. I waited for him to say anything. Finally, he did. “Is this a warning, then? Or blackmail?”

I laughed. “No, I told you. I’m here to give you a present.”

“That present being information.”

“Yes.”

“From whom?”

“From me, of course.”

He regarded me carefully.

“Who do you serve?”

“Myself.”

“Then who are you?”

“Me? That hardly matters. I’m nobody, really. Better to ask, what do I have for you?” As I spoke, I leaned back against his wall, subtly reached into the passage behind it, and withdrew a package of papers, which I hid behind my back.

“I’ll bite, what do you have?”

“Information on Onisy’s plans for conquering Agrivaia, what he means to do to Princess Aldasha, the truth about what happened to his first wife, the truth about how he took the throne in the first place, and various other tidbits you may find interesting.” I handed him the packet of papers, notes I’d carefully, dangerously, written out in preparation for this.

“Are you saying he plans to attack Agrivaia, after the treaty is signed?”

“No, no. I’m saying he’s planning for Agrivaia to attack him after the treaty is signed, and crush you in a defensive move. I’m not asking you to take my word on it; surely you have spies who can verify my information?”

He stared at me.

“I’ll give you some time to read through those and look into it. I’ll talk to you again tomorrow night.” I got up and started for the door.

He stopped me. “Wait. What’s in this for you?”

“Does it matter? Perhaps I simply enjoy watching things burn. Metaphorically speaking, of course.” I left.

When I returned the next evening, Taield was not alone. I was about to bolt when I realized the second figure was Princess Aldasha. She was sitting on the bed, where I’d been the previous evening, so I took a seat on the floor.

“As far as I’ve been able to find out, your information’s good,” Taield said.

“I know it is.”

“We mean to act on it,” Aldasha said.

“We…?

“No one else knows,” the spymaster said. “I had pieces of the information verified by my informants, but only the three of us know the whole thing. You’ve been invaluable in providing this information. Do you want to help us make our plans?”

“Yes, if you’ll have me.” I was surprised at the offer, though of course I’d planned to be involved, but I’d thought I’d have had to work from behind the scenes.

“The question is, is there any way to avoid war?”

I shook my head. “If the treaty fails, it means war. If the treaty goes ahead as planned, he kills you and starts a war.”

“What if we reveal his plan?” Taield mused.

“Reveal how? You can’t just say Aldasha won’t marry him because he’s going to kill her; he’d use an insult like that as an excuse to declare war.”

“No…. We’d have to wait and prove it, first,” Aldasha said slowly.

She exchanged a glance with Taield. “You can’t risk it,” he said gravely, and I realized what she was thinking.

“You mean, marry him? Let him try to kill you?” Aldasha nodded. “But that would still cause a war, wouldn’t it?”

“Not if I’m the only one left to wage a war against.”

We sat in silence, considering it.

“You know he won’t kill you himself,” Taield said.

“I think he will, actually,” I argued. They looked at me. “It’s just… more his style. He strangled his first wife. Of course, you still have to be open to the possibility of an assassination. What you should do is….” I outlined my plan.

We argued it over for a few more hours, working out the kinks, and of course, some changes were made to it during the following months.

But half a year later, Princess Aldasha and King Onisy were wed, and Aldasha was crowned queen. I waited in the passage outside their bedchamber. Taield guarded her during the ceremony and on the way back to the room, and just after I saw the newlyweds enter the room, he joined me. We watched in tense silence as they consummated their marriage. We had to, he could have tried to kill her at any moment, but that barely alleviated the awkwardness.

Finally, he grabbed her throat. Aldasha screamed, a gargled, choked, scream, but we hardly needed the warning. I burst into the room, holding a tiny jeweled dagger, stabbed the king, right in the heart, and disappeared back into the passage.

I watched as Aldasha grabbed the dagger, then ran to the door and screamed, “Help! Help!” Guards burst into the room, and Taield went around and followed them. I watched Aldasha tearfully explain how her husband had tried to kill her, and she’d stabbed him in self-defense, and he was d-dead! Angry red marks had appeared on her throat, and her story wasn’t questioned.

So Aldasha took the throne. As far as I saw, everyone was glad; Onisy had not been a good king. She made me her spymaster; Taield was to return to Agrivaia, and his wife.

“So, are you happy with the way things turned out?” he asked me before he left. “You never did say what your motivation was.”

“No,” I agreed. “And I never will. But I couldn’t be happier.”

The Price of Loyalty

Why me? I reflect as I wait in the darkest shadows of the dark room. Had it been anyone else who’d overheard the plot, they could have reported it and received gratitude, perhaps even a reward. To do the same, I am risking… everything. Everything I have left, anyhow. But it was once been my job to risk my life to protect Queen Iglacia, and whatever anybody thinks, my loyalties have never shifted.

Finally, the door opens and moonlight floods the room, silhouetting Andren in the doorway. He knows I am there instantly—he’s not the queen’s spymaster for nothing. A knife leaps into his hand as he orders, “Show yourself. I know you’re there.”

I step forward. Andren has always been hard to read, but I can tell he is surprised to see me. “Lilidy,” he says my name quietly, and lunges at me.

I expected it, so I dodge him, and swing onto his sofa, putting my hands in the air to show him I mean no threat. “I came here of my own will, because I have something important to tell you. Just hear me out before you do anything,” I tell him.

“Why should I listen to you?” he demands angrily, so angrily.

I want to tell him that he should listen to me because he’s always trusted me and I’ve never given him reason not to, but he wouldn’t believe it. “Because the queen’s life could depend on it.”

He hears me out, of course. I knew he would. The only question is, what will he do when I finish talking?

“I’ve been working as a maid, in Sir Bitan’s household,” I begin.

He raises an eyebrow. “Spying for who?”

I shake my head. “I am loyal to Iglacia; I wouldn’t spy for anyone else. I’m working as a maid.” Andren looks at me like I’m crazy, and I think he’s torn between not believing and not understanding. In truth, I’m not sure why I did it either. It’s not a desirable job, and I could have gotten a better one. I feel it’s my penance, but I don’t know for what. I didn’t do anything wrong. Though on the other hand, I was the one who originally suggested that the barren queen pretend Kylana’s unwanted baby was hers. If you look at it that way, it is all my fault.

I continue. “I was washing dishes. Well of course I was, as the most junior kitchen maid I was always washing dishes-” I babble when I’m nervous. You’d think that would be dangerous, but it’s actually served me pretty well—when you start babbling about dishes or your horse or whatever your terrified mind focuses on, you don’t seem much of a threat. But I would really prefer to be able to tell my story as neatly as possible, especially now, so I take a deep breath, and say, “Sorry. Anyway, I overheard Sir Bitan and another man talking. I don’t know if they didn’t notice me, or just assumed I didn’t speak Irigardian, but they spoke quite freely. Bitan was talking about whether it would be easier to have Iglacia poisoned or stabbed, and the other man laughed and said they might as well do both and arrange a fall from a horse as well, and the same to Coyld.” I reported as I had been taught to, what I had seen and heard, not how I felt about it, but I know my voice showed my disgust with their talk of murdering Iglacia and her six year old son. Well… But, no, though Kylana had born him, he was Iglacia’s son.

“Why should I believe you? You betrayed the queen once, why should I think this isn’t a trap?”

“I’ve never betrayed her. I don’t know how it got out, but I never told anyone. Andren, why would I do it? Kylana was like a sister to me, and I would give my life for the queen. How can you really think I would have betrayed them?” Logically, I understand. Only four people knew: Andren, Kylana, Queen Iglacia, and me. Kylana was the one who was killed by it, and the queen had every reason in the world to keep it a secret. So if Andren hadn’t done it, he knew it had to be me. But it wasn’t.

“I wish I could believe you.” He sounds as if he means it, but that doesn’t mean anything. “But Lilidy, I’m the one that taught you how to lie.” It was true, and if I had been lying, I’d have said much the same things I have, and just as convincingly. Maybe more so. Except…

“If I’d done it, I wouldn’t have come back.”

“Maybe you want me to think that.”

“I wouldn’t sacrifice my life to make you think well of me. The only reason I’m here is because I couldn’t stand by and do nothing while they plotted against the queen.”

I’d ran, before, when I should have been solving that crime, but if I’d stayed, I’d have been trying to solve it from prison, if I was lucky. Still, I shouldn’t have given up. I could have worked at it from a safe distance. I’d have to now, anyway. Not just to save my own skin, but because it couldn’t be a coincidence, two plots to take over the throne within as many months.

But Bitan couldn’t have been behind the first one, because how could he have known? In truth, the only person it could have been, other than me, was Andren. But despite everything, I trust him. Not the safest thing to do, in this job, but I just can’t conceive of him being involved.

I run through other possibilities in my mind. The queen’s husband, before he died? But then why wait so long. “Coyld’s real father?” I don’t even realize I’m thinking aloud. “But he, whoever he was, never even knew who Kylana really was or that she was pregnant, much less what happened afterwards. And they tricked a doctor-“

“Lilidy, do you think I haven’t gone through this a thousand times?” Andren asks me. “The only ones who knew that Coyld is Kylana’s son were you, me Kylana, and Iglacia. Iglacia had no reason to reveal that and every reason not to, and she swears she never did. Kylana wouldn’t have, and she’s the one who was killed because of it, she would have been betraying herself. I never told anyone; I don’t know whether you believe that. You say you didn’t, and I don’t know whether I believe that.”

“Well, that’s a marked improvement from practically being ready to burn me at stake.”

“What am I supposed to think?”

I shrug. “I don’t even know what I think. I do believe it wasn’t you. Why is it that the only three people who could have revealed it are the only three people in the world I trust?” I don’t expect him to answer, and he doesn’t.

“Do you think they’re related?” he asks me after a few minutes of silence. “Kylana’s death, and this plot you overheard?”

“No such thing as coincidence, of course,” he smiles at that, the words he must have told me hundreds of times, “But is it directly related, or just both about the legitimacy of her line? Kylana’s death was almost certainly an attempt on the queen, do you agree?”

“Or on the prince.”

“Either way, she wasn’t the main target. If the assassin hadn’t killed himself….”

“Which was the point, of course,” Andren reminds me.

“I know, I know. Anyhow, this could be a second attempt by the same people, and I lean towards thinking it is. On the other hand, since the truth about Coyld came out, there could be others who aren’t happy about it.”

“Either way, who would have motive?” Andren is more thinking out loud than asking me, but I’m used to this. He is, I suddenly realize, back to treating me as one of his trusted people, rather than a traitor. Whether he knows it or not, in his heart he believes me.

“Or to look at it from the other direction, what is Bitan’s motive?” I suggest.

“How far is he from the throne?” Andren muses. “No, he’s not in the royal line at all; he was only her husband’s brother.”

“Who would be next in line, if something happened to Iglacia and Coyld?”

“There’s no clear successor. It could come to civil war.”

“Would that take Coyld dying too? I’d think there’d be even more of a civil war if he was alive and one of the claimants to the throne.”

Andren shakes his head. “There’d be some people who wouldn’t want him, bit Iglacia’s well loved, and she’s made it quite clear that Coyld is her son and heir. Most of the country would rally behind him, and any war would be over quickly with Coyld as the clear victor.”

“And Bitan doesn’t have any right whatsoever? So what’s his motive?”

“Morals? Politics? Or… who was the man he was talking to? Maybe it isn’t Bitan’s plot.”

“Maybe, but that’s not the sense I got. It seemed to me as though the other man was just hired help, an assassin or a middleman.”

“We’re not getting anywhere looking at it this way, so what about this? We don’t know who revealed that Coyld is Kylana’s son, but who first found out about it?”

“Whoever hired the assassin who killed Kylana? I don’t see where you’re going.”

“The question is, what was the goal? Did they want Kylana dead, or the queen, or Coyld, or all three of them, or any two? Or either of us, we were both on the stairs as well. And we’ve been assuming it’s about Iglacia, but Kylana worked for me for over a decade; she had more than her share of enemies.”

“Does that work with how it went down though?” I relived the scene in my mind. We’d been coming down the stairs of the palace, Kylana and Andren on either side of the queen, Coyld and I a few steps behind. Suddenly Kylana fell, an arrow in her chest. Iglacia bent to help Kylana; Andren ran after the archer; I tried to shield Coyld, but he screamed for his mother and ran over. Iglacia grabbed him—

And suddenly, I see it, I understand who did what and how it all happened. I must have made a noise, because Andren looks at me sharply and asks, “What?”

“I know who revealed the secret.”

“Well?” he demands.

“Think of exactly what happened, when Kylana died.”

He gives me a look, but says, “We were coming out of the palace. Kylana fell on the steps, bleeding. You and Iglacia tried to help her, and I ran after the attacker, and Coyld screamed for his mother, and she grabbed him-“

“No,” I interrupt. “That’s your interpretation. What actually happened?”

It takes him only a second to see it then. He looks at me in awed horror. “Kylana fell and he screamed, ‘Mother!’”

“She must have told him, I think. Iglacia wouldn’t have, and…. Maybe she just wanted him to know. She loved him, of course. She couldn’t have thought…”

Andren nods. “I’m sorry, Lilidy.”

I shrug. “You didn’t know.”

“I could have trusted you.”

“You? Trust someone? I know you better than that.”

He smiles, but then his face goes grim. “I think we agree that Coyld wasn’t behind it.”

“Of course not. He’s six, and even if he could have, he loves Iglacia, and loved Kylana even without knowing she was his mother. “

“And he’s not a child to go around telling secrets just because he knows them. So the question is, who manipulated it out of him?”


“The obvious answer would be Bitan, but if so, why?”

“Fortunately, we don’t have to speculate anymore,” Andren said with a grin. “I’ll go up and invite Coyld over for some hot chocolate.”

While he was gone, I prepared the drink. About ten minutes later, Coyld flew into the room, nearly knocking my cup from my hands with his hug. “Lilidy!!! I’ve missed you! You’re back!”

I hugged him back, then gave him a glass of hot chocolate, and the three of us sat down to talk.

“Do you know why I was gone?” I began, because I couldn’t just blurt out, “Who did you tell that the queen isn’t your real mother?”

“To spy on bad people,” Coyld replied cheerfully.

“That ended up being part of it, but it was actually because your mother and Andren thought I’d told people that Kylana was your real mother.” I watched his reaction carefully.

“You knew?” he asked me, surprised and worried. “But she said nobody was supposed to know!”

“I knew before you were even born,” I told him. “But what we need to know is if you’ve told anyone.” I was careful to keep my voice light and unnacusing, but Coyld still looked a little scared.

Andren added kindly, “It might have been someone who already knew, and asked you about it?” I glanced at him. I hadn’t thought of it, but that made the most sense—that someone had suspected, or even just suspected there was some secret, and used Coyld to verify it.

“Oh, him,” said Coyld. “It was just my cousin.”

“Your cousin?”

“Imkel, my cousin,” Coyld explained.

I wanted to slap myself. “I’m an idiot!” I exclaimed loudly. “It wasn’t just some assassin, it was Bitan’s son!”

We wait to discuss it until Andren gets back from bringing Coyld home. “I told Iglacia. She sends her deepest apologies and hopes you’ll return to her service. Though, some spy you are; you worked in Bitan’s house and you didn’t even recognize his son?” He was joking, mostly.

“I wasn’t there as a spy; there’s no reason I would have. I’ll do better next time. The question is, does this change anything, besides for confirming it?”

“Does it give them a motive, you mean? I think it does. He’s not in direct line for the throne, but no one else is any closer, and as a strong young man, with a family—you know his wife’s pregnant?” I hadn’t known, but did realize that it would make him a better candidate for the throne, in most people’s eyes—they wouldn’t have to worry about dealing with another civil war when he died. Andren continued, “And he is related to the queen, even though it’s just by marriage. He’d have at least a chance of winning the throne, and that’s enough of a motive.”

He sent out several men to arrest Bitan and Imkel. They returned with their prisoners two days later. Imkel demanded a trial be combat, to the death. He lost. Bitan settled for being tried by the queen. He also lost.

Desperate Measures

The only light is the fire, and even that has burned down to embers. That is good. If anyone happens to come down from their rooms, they will see nothing. And yet, it is a fearsome thing, waiting in the dark, flinching at every sound and shadow.

He is a fool, to chose to meet here, and I’ll tell him so when he arrives. I, of course, am a greater one, to have traveled miles in the wind and rain to wait here in the dark for who knows what reason. It’s urgent, the messenger tells me, and no more but for the name of the inn I am now waiting in and the time I am to be here. I wanted to shake him in frustration, but he was but a child who knew no more of the matter than what he’d been told. But when Iaedan gets here, I really will tell him what a fool he is.

But in truth he is no fool, and that is the cause of my fear. Because I know him well, and he has a tendency to understate. If Iaedan says a matter is urgent, disaster is imminent.

I shiver. The room is growing cold, and my hair is still soaked from the rain—hair that falls past the knees does not dry easily. I try to lean my head closer to the fire to dry it, but jerk upright as the room is flooded with moonlight at the silent opening of the door. A hooded figure slips in, the door shuts noiselessly, and the blackness returns.

“You idiot,” I tell him. He makes no response, but crosses the room and sits next to me, cross-legged in front of what’s left of the fire. At the sight of his face, even in the faint light, I can tell I was wrong. Disaster is not imminent; it has already happened.

“Quaos,” Iaedan whispers my name hoarsely. “It’s all my fault.”

“Don’t give me that crap; what is it?” I ask him sharply.

“They’ve been arrested for treason. All six of them. They’re in the dungeons awaiting execution.” He is barely able to say it.

I shudder at the thought of my friends and coconspirators sitting chained in a darkness darker than this, but keep my voice matter-of-fact as I inquire, “What are we going to do?”

He shook his head. “I thought… there was a chance we could… I sent for you because…” He shook his head again. “But there’s nothing we can do. I learned they’re to be executed at dawn.”

I ignore his uncharacteristic hopelessness and jump. “Dawn! Why in hell are we just sitting here? We only have what, four hours?”

“Five, it’s only a little past one, but it would take nearly three hours just to get there.”

“Good, we have time to plan.” I grab his arm and drag him up. Realizing that resistance is useless, he snaps out of his despair as we sneak out of the room.

It’s no longer raining but the ground is wet and even icy in places. I start to say it will take even longer to get there, but I realize his estimate took the weather conditions into account.

“It will be difficult to break them out of thee dungeons,” he muses.

A typical understatement. “Try impossible. No one’s ever escaped the dungeons.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

I ignore that. “We’ll have to take a more sensible route and rescue them between the dungeons and the gallows.”

“Any plans how?”

“Nope. You?”

He shook his head and we walked in silence, thinking.

“There’ll be a crowd for the execution,” Iaedan says finally. “Maybe we could fade into it and rush at the guards as they bring them past.”

“If the guards didn’t kill us, the mob would. You know what people get like at these things.” I thought more. “Maybe if we disguise as guards, rush them before they get to the crowd…” Seeing the myriad of problems with that plan, I trailed off.

“Disguise as guards and take them from the dungeons before the real guards get there?”

“Have you seen the security in that place? Just because we’re dressed as guards- and where would we even get the uniforms- wouldn’t mean they’d let us take prisoners out.”

We thought of plan after plan and tossed them all out. After we ponder in silence for a while more—we’re perhaps two thirds of the way there—Iaedan says wearily, without much hope, “Maybe we could stop the execution somehow?”

“I don’t know how we could. They won’t stop it for weather; if the gallows burn they’ll behead them; if we’re arrested they’ll just have two more bodies to hang; the king’s magicians will be blocking anything I could try; if the executioner dies they’ll replace him; and I can’t think of a diversion big enough to—“ I stop, shocked by my idea. “We’ll kill the king,” I tell Iaedan.

He is speechless. I continue, trying to be as convincing as possible, because I can actually see this working. “That is our purpose anyway, after all, to depose that tyrant. He won’t be expecting it because he just caught the group of rebels. And his death would be enough to stop the execution, and the chaos afterwards would be enough to let us rescue them, and—”

“Quaos,” Iaedan stops me. “The reason we haven’t killed him yet is that it’s not that easy.”

“But he’ll think that he’s safe, since he just caught the rebels. It’s no riskier than anything else we could do, and we’d be killing two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

“We can’t even figure out how to perform a rescue, much less a murder. Or do you have a plan?”

I do, but I won’t tell it to him. “I’ll take care of the murder, you do the rescue. You can hide somewhere near the dungeon and when all hell breaks loose, do whatever it takes to get them out of there.”

We are nearly at the castle. Iaedan tries to press me for my plan, but I give him nothing and make him promise to do his part. “We’ll meet back at the inn, on the off chance both of us are alive to make it,” he proposes. I agree, and slip away.

The castle is guarded, but it is not hard to slip through a window unnoticed. Once inside, I make my way to the corridor outside of the king’s rooms. As a member of a group of rebels, I’d taken care to find out where he slept a while ago, though till now I’d never been able to use the information.

I peek around a corner and saw a host of guards standing in front of the door. It’s still the right room, then. I glance around to be sure I am unseen, but this part of the hall is empty. I strip off my clothes, unbind my hair, and proceed down the hall.

“Who goes there?” one of the guards demands as they ogle me.

I feign embarrassment. “His majesty asked me to come, sir,” I tell him. My heart pounds with fear and exhilaration.

Seeing that, being unclothed, I am clearly unarmed, the guards make the mistake of assuming I am not dangerous. With only a few crude comments, they let me inside.

To my surprise, the king is not asleep but sitting on the edge of his bed, fully dressed and toying with his crown. I wonder with surprise if he has enough humanity in him to worry over his responsibilities, but I dismiss the thought at seeing that his expression is one of pride. He smiles when he sees me, but says nothing. “Your majesty,” I say, curtsying slightly, and his smile broadens.

I cross the room and embrace him. It nearly sickens me to be in such close proximity to this evil excuse for a human being, but I think of my friends sitting in his dark dungeon and steel myself. He begins to grope me, and, barely managing not to shudder, I sweep my hair over his shoulder and around his neck and pull it as tight as I can. He makes a gurgling sound that would be a scream, and I am nearly too disgusted and horrified to go on. I make myself remember the evils he has done, the children I witnessed him kill, the people rotting in his squalid dungeons, including my friends. The king’s face is purple and the noises issuing from his throat grow even worse. I manage not to let go of the ends of my rope of hair until the noises stop, his breathing stops, his heart stops.

I check to be sure he is dead. He is. I go to the window—he is able to have large windows, a luxury most kings lack, as his mages have spelled them to resist arrows. They do, however, open. It is a three story drop, and I have no rope—for a moment I think of Rapunzel—after all, my hair has been put to one unsavory use already, but this is reality and anyway, my hair’s not that long. So I just jump, and use my magic to create a cushion of air to break my fall. I haven’t much training, so this is one of the few things I can do, and I’m not very good at it. But I don’t die and I don’t break any bones.

I feel uneasy, standing naked in the cold air. I make to the nearest house and sneak in a window. It would be awkward, not to mention dangerous, if the room’s occupant woke up, but she is sound asleep and snoring. I take a shift and a cloak and put both on, and just as I am about to leave I see a pair of scissors on the nightstand and take those too. I walk until I’m far from the town, perhaps halfway to the inn, then take the scissors and crop my hair as short as possible. I bury the hair and the scissors, just as a precaution in case I am at some point followed.

The sun rises perhaps half an hour later. I pray that Iaedan succeeded, that there is no execution, that they are safe. My mind fills with images of their bodies hanging from nooses. I push them away, and it fills with the image of the king’s corpse, my hair still wrapped around his neck. This shouldn’t bother me as much as it does. I wanted him dead, and I’ve spent the last year or so of my life trying to arrange it. And I am glad to end the tyranny, though it does not yet feel real. But the image of that corpse, the knowledge that I killed it, the memory of his face turning purple as I twisted my hair around his neck….

I reach the inn. It is bright and warm inside now, and I am served tea, but it is at least as bad as waiting in the dark had been last night.

It is hours before Iaedan arrives. He gawks at me as he enters and asks incredulously, “What happened to your hair???”

I ignore him, there are more important questions to be asked. “Did you rescue them?”

He nods. “When the news of the king’s murder arrived, the guards just abandoned their posts and ran into the castle. All I had to do is pick some locks. They’re all free, all okay, and I think by now most of them have left the country.”

“I’ll be doing the same.”

“I doubt you need to, if anyone saw you the loss of your hair should be enough of a disguise.”

“Maybe, maybe not, but you know we’ll all be under suspicion.”

“I know, I know. But really, Quaos, what happened to your hair? And even more importantly, how did you do it?”

“They’re really the same question,” I say, and tell him.