Fantasy of Frost (The Tainted Accords Book 1) (11 page)

He gestures at some guards behind him and speaks a quiet command to them. They approach and I feel the group around me hesitate.

Disobedience from his men will surely rile the King’s temper and his threat of Malir and Rhone still weighs on my mind. I step forward and squeeze Malir’s hand, then Adnan’s.

“Thank you.” I nod at the others who then surprise me by bowing down one by one.

Except of course for Blaine. I stop in front of him

“Did that go how you expected?” I ask, he takes a step towards me, fury contorting his face.

I laugh quietly and do not resist as the guards push me out of the room.

The King’s voice sounds behind me. “Roscoe. Find Ashawn and send him to my quarters.”

I’m led through the palace.

The layout is straightforward, unlike the twisting halls of the two palaces I grew up in. I’m prodded up some more large steps to a small wooden door. It opens into a massive, very cold room.

My teeth chatter in the frigid air. It is obvious no one has been in here for a long time. I can smell the air is stale even with my cold nose. If this is their dungeon though, it’s not so bad.

I wrap my arms around myself and shiver. If being cold means my life, I will gladly take it. The guards surprise me though when one stoops to light a fire in an area built into the wall. Once this is lit they leave the room, closing and locking the door behind them. I listen for their fading steps, but they stay outside the door.

It looks as though I am to be watched.

I approach the fire with my hands outstretched. I move my head closer in confusion. Where is the wood? Instead of wood there is a heap of small, round beads somehow keeping the fire alight. Kedrick had never mentioned these. I go down onto my knees, getting as close as possible.

I stay by the fascinating fire until I’m warm and my eyes are heavy. I look towards the bed which must easily be double the size of my bed on Osolis. The surrounding drapes are pulled back and tied to four large stone columns at each corner of the bed. A heaped mass of furry blankets, similar to my coat, are piled on the bed.

I think longingly of a bath as I walk with bone-weary steps to the bed and wrap myself in a fur. However, I think the guards will more likely laugh at this request than allow it. I lay down in the soft bed, remembering I have not slept in a bed for many weeks.

I expect to spend the night tense and waiting for attack, but my exhaustion has other plans. I’m out once my head touches the pillow.

My eyelids crack open for at least the tenth time the next day. This time I’m able to keep them from closing. I sit up, trying to shake off the remnants of my deep sleep. There had been no nightmares of Kedrick’s murder. It may have been the best sleep I’d ever had.

I look around the room with blurry eyes and blink at the sight of a small pile of clothing on the long seat at the end of the bed. 

“Oops,” I say into the empty room. Aquin would make me train all day if he knew someone had crept up on me.

The fire still burns and the room is a comfortable temperature, though the stone is still cold under my bare feet. Wrapped in the fur, I walk over to the window to gauge the time. A wall of swirling white snow is the answer to my inquiry. I cannot see anything.

Returning to the bed, I pick up the clothing and measure it against my chest. It must be children’s clothing because it is a close fit. There are also trousers and boots.

On the table next to the door is a bowl of water and a cloth, much like what we use on Osolis. It looks like my longing for a bath will go unsatisfied today, but clean clothes were more than I expected. I wonder how often Bruma wash. If I believed the court rumours back on Osolis, I would think never. The delegates had certainly not seemed bothered by their lack of cleanliness during our ascent. Though, in their defence, there had not been anything to wash with. We had all been covered in grime. The basin wash does not give anywhere near the clean feeling which submerging myself in water would do. However, I am able to get a layer or two of grime off and wash my broken wrist. I will have to ask someone to put the splint back on for me. The water is black when I’m done.

Afterwards I’m more optimistic about my situation, but this slowly fades when no one comes to collect me all day. Later attempts at opening the door are unsuccessful. Occasionally, the guards murmur and someone pushes food under the door twice. They wouldn’t lock me in here forever would they?

To take up time, I look around the room for ways to get out. I can think of only two ways to escape. Neither effective with my injuries. I run through various scenarios of what the King may ask and what I would like to say. Then, in danger of going out of my mind, I rifle through my pack. I shake my head at my useless robes, I might need them though if I’m able to escape after killing Kedrick’s assassin. I take the fletching out of the pocket of my robes, looking at it, remembering why I’m here. I push it down the side of my new boots. Despite being in Kedrick’s home, I have never felt more distant from his memory.

The bolt of the door slides back with a clang. I jump, whipping my hand up as I straighten. A guard stands in the doorway. He has a sword sheathed at his side and holds a spear in his right hand.

“The King wants you in the meeting chamber,” he says.

I’m almost excited as I leave the room.

Torches have been lit since last night and I see there are no other rooms up this stairway. The guards direct me down the staircase and back into the main hallway. I get my first real look at the palace and its occupants.

Bruma line the walls, staring at me with undisguised hostility. They don’t seem to be doing anything in particular in the hall, except waiting for me to pass so they can show how much they dislike the child-like Solati in their midst. I wonder if it was like this for the delegates when they first arrived on Osolis. It is a strange feeling to know you are disliked just for being born on another world.

One of the Bruma goes as far to spit at my boots. My nose scrunches in revulsion, but I make no outward acknowledgement of his action.

The Bruma are tall. I am able to tell the females and males apart here. The females all wear their hair loose down their backs. There are no fancy hair styles at all. The trousers and tunics the men and women wear are of better quality than the villagers we passed on our way in, which is to be expected of the people closest to the King. There is fur, leather and the same fur-lined cloth I am wearing, which I don’t know the name of.

The woman’s clothing is tighter than the males and the necklines of their tunics are lower. Some extremely so. One woman has trousers which lace up the side, but she has let skin show down each side. They all have one thing in common, though. The glares on their faces. I do not feel welcome for one moment, but I remember my vow not to appear weak and keep my head high. A guard swings a door open before me and I walk into the meeting chamber.

I look across the room and stumble in shock.

Kedrick is in the room.

A prod in the back pushes me forward. My heart drops as I see this version of Kedrick is too young. I shake my head. It must be Ashawn. He looks nearly identical to him. He has the same lighter brown hair and blue eyes, the same intelligent face and, if the situation were different, I imagine his smile would be the same.

I look at Kedrick’s younger brother, my heart breaking. He stares at me also, but with a different expression. I recognise his rage. It is like the fury simmering deep within my body. He makes to move over to me, but the King grabs his arm and talks quietly to him. The younger brother responds, gesturing wildly, before standing at Jovan’s reply and storming out of the room.

No one comments on his departure. King Jovan’s face does not change.

The air in here is colder than my room. The Bruma in attendance seem comfortable, most of them in short-sleeved tunics. I shiver and curse at forgetting my coat.

The room is stone, in keeping with the rest of the Glacium palace. A large table also made of stone, circles most of the room.

A single chair sits vacant in the middle of this stone ring.

I look around at the Bruma sitting around the outside of the table. My delegates are already here. They all look exhausted. I wonder if they had been in meetings ever since our arrival.  I note, with envy, their hair is washed and their faces are free of grime.

The guard at my back pushes me into the middle, towards the vacant seat. I fix my jaw at his manhandling and decide to be defiant, stopping as we reach the area where most of the delegates sit.

“I hope the reunions with your families went well,” I say. The guard prods me in the back again.

Most of them just smile and nod back at me, darting looks at the King. Sanjay, of course, goes the extra step.

“I had several reunions with Fiona,” he says with a grin, resting back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. Rhone snorts and several of the other delegates muffle their laughter. The guard pushes more forcefully. I turn to look at him. He glares back. The delegates continue to joke behind me.

“It would’ve taken more than one reunion to make it worth her while, after a year of being without a woman,” Roman says from the other side of the ring.

“I take it poor Jacqueline was not satisfied the first time,” Sanjay returns. Several Bruma laugh. I wonder at how appropriate this subject is given the situation, but no one seems bothered.

The guard pushes me roughly. I stumble forward and grab my still un-splinted wrist. An angry murmur starts behind me and I hear a couple of the delegates push their chairs back. But I have reached the end of my patience. I spin around and point a finger in the guard’s face.

“Push me one more time, and you and I are going to have a problem,” I say in a dark voice. My threat is not satisfying in the slightest, but during my morning in isolation I had decided it best to continue keeping my ability to fight to myself. It would hardly count in my favour if I displayed the skill which would have been necessary to kill Kedrick. Ironically though, shooting arrows was the one thing I was unable to do with my veil on. But they didn’t need to know how impaired my sight was, either.

Most of the room snorts, laughing at my words and the sight of a ‘child’ standing up to a big guard. The guard himself laughs until Malir barks an order at him. He falls back, his laughter dying, leaving me to stroll to the judgement chair unmolested.

I ignore the still laughing men around the room. My gaze lifts to meet the King’s. My temper had just gotten the better of me. I hope its loss was seen as strength, not an angry disposition. His gaze is furious, though surprisingly, it’s not directed at me and instead is on the guard behind me. I hear the guard fidgeting under his attention. The King shifts his gaze to me and the guard lets out a small squeaking sound.

“This meeting has been called to collect the Tatuma’s account of what befell Prince Kedrick and then to decide her fate accordingly,” the King states, not raising his voice at all, though the room is large.

“I have spoken in length to all of the delegates and their accounts have been...interesting.”

I realise then the King Jovan I saw last night was uncontrolled. The distant interest he gives off now is terrifying and I have not missed the thinly veiled threat in his words just now. He would not hesitate to kill me if I am uncooperative.

“Why was my brother with you that night?” he starts, his eyes on my hands in my lap. He cannot see my face so he is watching for other signs.

I swallow and shift my eyes to look behind him, his eyes are too intense.

Should I tell the truth? I have a feeling lies are going to end with more of my bones broken. Kedrick had always spoken highly of his brother. I think he would want me to tell him, to reassure him in his grief. I could see this now, though I could not have a week prior. And who knew what information I could glean from this meeting by giving up some of my own.

A few people shift as I take my time answering.

I decide on the truth. “Kedrick and I met several times at night during his time on Osolis. This particular time was because he was due to leave the day after. We wished to be alone together,” I say.

Many of the gathered Bruma mutter, some shy back in disgust.

There is a moment where I wonder what was wrong with what I said, my brow clears as I remember. I keep forgetting how relationships between our races are viewed. Any qualms I had initially had about this myself, had disappeared almost a year ago.

The King looks a little amazed by my answer, though he was informed of our relationship last night. “There was nothing different about this night from the others?” he asks, leaning slightly forward for my answer, one large finger across his lips.

There is no way I’m going to tell him we had planned to remove my veil.

“We met in the forest instead of the meadow.”

“Why?” a blonde-haired man asks from my left. I do not like his watery blue eyes.

“We did not want to be caught. The forest is more private than the meadow.” A few men snort at this. I look down, realising what they thought Kedrick and I had been doing. One of my hand fists. There is a growling behind me from the delegates and the others shut up.

“What next?” the King asks, his hand moves in a jerky gesture. Kedrick used to do the same thing.

I have replayed what happened next over in my mind so many hundreds of times I do not need to think before I answer. “I was facing Kedrick.” I swallow as everyone leans closer. “He was looking at me, but must have seen or heard something in the forest behind me because he peered over my head. I saw his face change at the moment he must have realised there was an archer there.”

I swallow hard, taking a few moments to collect myself. I focus on the pain in my wrist. On the arrow in my boot. I had debated, while locked in in my room, over whether I should share the next information with the King. But not acknowledging Kedrick’s selfless action is too cowardly. I take a deep breath.

“The archer was behind me. Kedrick threw me aside. When I looked up the arrow had struck him here.” I bring a trembling hand to the area where he had been hit. “It is where my head had been. If he had not thrown me aside, the arrow would have gone through my head,” I say in a wooden tone.

The King makes as though he is going to stand, but stops himself.

A couple of the others in the room gasp at my words. The rest do not understand the implication of what I have just said.

“I believe I was the intended target,” I say, guilt drips off every word. Now everyone in the room knows it was my fault. Not for the first time, I wish the arrow had reached its intended destination.

My words leave the room empty. No one speaks, no one moves. Everyone takes a moment to digest what I have said. My chest starts to feel tight at being surrounded in the ring. I take rapid breaths.

“After he got hit?” the King asks, his voice angry.

This is the part I have dreaded retelling. I squeeze my eyes shut and talk quickly. “I helped him to the ground. I could hear footsteps crashing away. It must have been the assassin, but I did not think to give chase. And I don’t know why they ran. I was so focused on Kedrick, not thinking clearly. I only remembered the footsteps afterwards.”

I take a shuddering breath which catches on the rising lump on my throat. When my voice sounds, it is hoarse. “I did not know what to do to help him, we were so far from the palace. I don’t think he could have been-” my voice catches on the word ‘saved’.

I clear my throat and try again.

“I held his hand as-” I can’t bear it. I stand up and pace in jerky patterns, focusing on the feel of my boot striking the stone, the throbbing in my wrist. I grasp at the fury I know lies in wait. It rises up at my call and burns back the tears threatening to fall. I resume my seat, reverting back to my wooden voice. “It was many hours later before Malir and Rhone found us.”