King Callie: Callie's Saga, Book One (14 page)

After a time, the physician spoke. “The king is dead,” he announced with remorse.

The priest rang his bell three times, and offered final words. “Guide him down the path, holy spirits… take his soul to the next life, that he may sit in his ageless throne, for such is the reward for a goodly king and a ruler of men.” He traced the Ring on his forehead, and said, solemnly, “The end without end.”

She kissed Rionn’s cooling lips, one last time, before standing to her feet and making the sign of the Circle. “The end without end,” she said. She felt her daughters’ arms around her shoulder and sides, and leaned into them; Sophine saw Caliandra’s eyes filling with tears, and -

THUNK.
Something heavy fell to the floor in the periphery of her vision. Sophine turned to see, but she already knew what it was. Peacebringer had split in two, and fallen to the ground.

“It’s broken,” Caliandra said, marveling at the sight. “Peacebringer’s broken.” She moved towards it, away from Sophine, but Marrol stopped her with a gentle hand.

“No, Princess -
Lady
Caliandra. The pieces must be taken to the vault, and held until the Fitting. You mustn’t touch them,” he said, moving towards the broken Axe. Marrol took up the pieces, one in each in hand, and strained with the effort; Sophine had forgotten how easily her husband had lifted them while he was alive. That was the truest mark of Peacebringer’s chosen King - if they were able to lift the Axe as though it were nothing. Marrol summoned two guards, and grunted as he handed each a piece; one, the head. The other, the haft. “Take them to the vault,” he said. “Keep them safe, for the next King’s sake.”

The guards departed immediately, and Marrol turned back to Sophine. “I am sorry, Duchess. He was a good King, and a better friend,” he said. Sophine reached out and hugged him. Marrol let her stay there, and she was thankful for it; in that moment, she felt as if she were a cracking vase that had finally broken. Sophine was afraid to let go, because she did not know how she might pick up the pieces again - losing a son was agony beyond measure, but bearable, if she had Rionn and her daughters. To lose both Rionn and Valric was… to call it devastating didn’t do the feeling justice. It was as if parts of her had been carved out, and her soul had numbed itself to staunch the pain.

Eventually, she let go, and returned to her daughters, embracing them. “We are all that’s left of the Feors, now,” Sophine said, choking out the words. “Only us.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Sophine returned to her chambers feeling as if everything had been pulled out of her – like a lake sucked dry. She had tried to prepare herself for Rionn’s passing, but it was… it was worse than she expected. Losing Rionn meant she lost another part of her soul, and more – a shoulder she leaned on. A heartbeat she listened to. A smile that made her blush. Dead and gone, never to be again.

How long would it take to wake up without this feeling?
She wondered.
Weeks? Months? Years, even? When would it all fade?

Eife, her maid, approached her immediately with great tenderness. “I only just heard,” she said, as Sophine held out her arms to the sides, and allowed Eife to undress her. She felt like a doll, being undressed – for years, she’d never minded it, but there was a strangeness that came with it now. And a demotion. Sophine was no longer Queen; she was a widowed Duchess. She doubted she would ever get past it. Even now, she only wanted to cling tighter to his memory while it was still fresh in her mind.

“Eife,” Sophine asked, “Could you fetch one of the King’s shirts from his room?”

“I don’t know,” Eife said, her voice tinged with doubt and fear. “He’s still in there, you know. They haven’t moved him yet.” Eife was scared, of course; anyone would be when it came to the dead.

“Maybe he has some elsewhere?” Sophine asked, offering a compromise.

“I’ll go check.” Eife left Sophine in her night gown, and went off for several minutes. The Duchess was left alone – worn-out, tired, and liable to fall asleep before the bed had been heated. She stared out the windows at the night sky, where the waning crescent shined in the darkness. Eife returned some time later, with a bundle of clothing in hand.

“His majesty’s former servants send their condolences. And,” she said, producing sweet-cakes from underneath the shirt. “They said you’d be needing these more than they would.”

Sophine mustered a faint smile; it was the best she could manage. “That’s very kind of them,” she said, quietly. “I’ll thank them properly tomorrow.” She took one, and half-heartedly chewed at it. On any other day, it would’ve been delicious, the flavors dancing on her tongue, with just the right mix of sweet and spice; yet without Rionn, the flavor had gone out of everything. Eife placed the remaining cakes on the night table, next to Sophine’s bed.

“Does it get easier?” Sophine said out loud, not expecting an answer. Hoping for one from Yom, perhaps.

“Over time,” Eife replied. “It’s been some time since my brother died, and… it still hurts to think of, but he’s in a better place, now. There’s no balm for the heart but time.”

“Wine would help,” Sophine mused. “It would help a lot.” Her mind had narrowed in focus, and her body craved the immediate relief drink could bring.

Eife hesitated. “I don’t think it’s wise, your Grace.”

“Please,” Sophine said, interrupting her maid, “Fetch me wine. I’ll ask no more of you this night.”

“The pain’ll still be there in the morning, and worse still,” her maid cautioned.

“Fetch it.” Her words had a tired harshness to them, but Eife obeyed, and left to find some wine. Sophine took the shirts with her to her bed, and inhaled deep breaths of her husband’s lingering scent, mixed with the faint odor of sweet-cakes. She remembered their younger days – even after the children – when she could still smell his musk; the way the sweat brought it out, and how it made her crave his touch. Some of it seemed woven into his shirts, as much a part of them as their myriad threads. She hoped that was the case. Eife returned a short while later, with the round bottle in hand, the bottom covered in a fitted straw basket. Sophine hadn’t been distracted by her soft entrance; it was only when Eife approached her with the wine that she was aware of her servant’s return.

“It’s a Vizzini red, from Poletto,” Eife said, uncorking it. “From your last trip. A gift from the Emperor.”

“Open it and leave it,” Sophine said.

“It’s a large bottle,” Eife replied, “Let me pour you a glass, and-”

“Open it and leave the bottle with me,” Sophine said, sharply. “That will be all, Eife.”

Eife seemed surprised, but nodded in acknowledgement. “Understood, Your Grace,” she said, as she uncorked it. Eife left the bottle on Sophine’s nightstand, and closed the door behind her.

As Sophine put the bottle to her lips, and allowed the savory bitterness to wind its way down her throat, she found herself dwelling on her husband’s last, cryptic words.
A
shining crown, the red banner, the little bear…

“What the hell does it mean?” she asked herself, before taking long gulps, and willing the numbness. She remembered the urgency in his voice; it was important to him. Enough to spend his dying words on – a last gift of wisdom. And as she swallowed the wine, and felt that gentle burn, she felt it kindle something deep inside – a want to find out what it meant. It was a welcome change from the misery and agony that had begun to cover her life like creeping moss, or thick snow in winter. She thought of the one man who would know what Rionn’s words meant, and the one place she did not want to see again.

Sophine left the half-empty bottle on the nightstand.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Royth awoke to rattling on his cell doors, in the middle of the night. Sophine stood there in her nightgown, a drunken, swaying phantom. She looked almost terrifying by torchlight; the guard sat at the bottom of the stairs, spear close at hand.

“Good evening, my Queen,” he groused. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I have questions for you,” she said. “About visions.” As she spoke, she slightly slurred her words; not enough to be falling-down drunk, but enough that she was impaired.

“You’ve been drinking,” Royth said, noting the obvious. Sophine doubled over with immoderate laughter. Immediately, it put Royth on edge.

“How clever,” she said, “The great Royal Seer knows…that I’ve been drinking. But can he guess the reasons?” As she spoke, she squinted, trying to narrow her eyes and intimidate, but overdoing it by half, with a mocking smile.”

“You’ve lost your son. The king is dying...”

“The king is dead,” she said, cutting him off. A sizable silence followed as the words weighed on Royth’s heart. Finally, the King had passed. A sadness came with that news; though Royth was sure the King had come to hate him in his final days, Royth felt no bitterness towards him. Only a sense of loss.

“I’m sorry,” Royth replied, apologetic. “Rionn was a good man.”

“He was indeed.” To Royth’s ears, she seemed scornful, and distant - to his eyes, he saw a woman whose eyes held nothing but utter contempt for him. There was no masking it anymore; it was naked before him. He chose instead not to speak. With Rionn dead, and a belly full of wine, nothing he said would change her mind; he only stood a better risk of touching a raw nerve. “He said many things as he was dying,” Sophine said. “I want you to tell me what they meant.”

“Very well,” Royth said.

She scoffed. “What? No bargaining?” she asked. “Have we broken you so badly, Seer?”

“No,” Royth said. “I do this for the harm I’ve caused you, that nothing will ever mend.” He watched her face twist with anger. “What were the symbols?” he asked.

Stubbornly, she began to talk. “A shining crown in the sky, above the land… a red banner -”

“- And a little bear, saving a man in the forest.” He said, finishing her sentence. She was shocked. As was he.

“How…?” she asked. “You can’t have heard him. You were -”

“I had the same vision of a golden crown, high above our castle; a young bear guiding a man through the forest; and a red banner bearing Barra’s crest.” His words were sure; but he worried about the reaction they might create.

She moved closer to the bars. “What does it mean? Our banner is not red.”

“It means,” he said. ”That we know who will make Peacebringer whole, and become the next king.”

“Who?” she asked. “Marrol?”

“The answer will make things very, very difficult for you, in the coming days.” he said, wary of the words he needed to speak. “And for that, I am sorry.”

“Out with it,” she said, “Who is our next King?”

He waiting a beat before speaking the name, with dread seriousness. “It’s Caliandra.”

Sophine was shocked and offended. “You bastard,” she said. “Don’t joke with me.”

“It’s no joke,” Royth replied. “The bear spoke to me with her voice. She will be the next King. Your husband entered a trance. You heard his vision. What reason do I have to lie?”

“Because that means my husband and my son have died, so my daughter can rule a kingdom.” Sophine was incredulous. “No,” she said. “You’re lying. You must be lying.”

“I am not,” Royth said, simply. Sophine clenched her jaw, and began to pace outside the cell.

“You killed him to make this happen, didn’t you?” she said, accusing him with a jabbing finger. “You knew this would happen.”

“He would have ruined us,” Royth said. “You and your daughters were in danger, and the kingdom would have suffered. I had to act, but I regret that I needed to.”

“No,” Sophine said. “He didn’t ruin us.
You
ruined us. You ruined
everything
!”

“I
saved
everything!” Royth shouted back. “Only a mother’s love could be so blind to what he would become. I do not know why Peacebringer would have chosen him, but I could not risk that.”

“So you killed him yourself,” Sophine said, her voice dripping with anger. “And now you tell me my
daughter
has to take the throne. My Caliandra? Why her?” The anger was slipping; the sadness came behind it. Royth picked his words carefully; he regretted lashing out.

“I did not choose her,” Royth said. “I am telling you what is to be. Caliandra will restore this kingdom to its glory, just as your son would have destroyed it. You must prepare her for it.” He stopped, and added, “If she needs my guidance, I would be glad to give it.”

Sophine slammed her palm against the cell bars. “There it is!” she shouted. “You want me to free you, after what you’ve done?”

“I did not ask to walk free,” Royth said, “Only to live. And with so few true Seers in the world, I would be of more use to you alive.” He could tell by the look of recognition in her eyes that what he said had found purchase; she was entertaining the suggestion. “Let me live out my days here,” he said. He said nothing of how he could have escaped, and made no other boasts. That time had passed, and he had stayed out of guilt. This was his penance.

“I will consider it,” she huffed. Royth gently smiled.

“Thank you,” he replied. “Duchess.”