Chapter 20: Chapter Nineteen

The towering golden doors to the throne were open when they arrived. Ambris stopped just outside them and had a whispered discussion with the guard there. He had half a dozen white knots on his shoulders, so Del assumed he must be in charge. They could hear Christof’s voice coming from inside. Ambris and the guard came to an agreement and he nodded to the other guard before waving them on.

The throne room of Wranbanise Castle was as grand as the city around it. Gold and silver glinted in every corner, and the white marble shone under the light from delicate windows. The tall ceilings made the room feel even bigger than it was and made the sound echo off the walls.

“We come before you today, humbled,” Christof was saying. He stood at the front of the room, below the tall throne. On the throne itself sat a handsome man of middle years who looked ready to murder someone.

“We have made a grave error,” Christof continued. “In hoping to secure the peace and prosperity of our great land, we acted rashly. But I am here to correct that error. You see before you the true heir to the Wranbanise throne.” He pointed dramatically to Wymar, who looked surprisingly uncomfortable now that he was the center of attention. “It was he that the Velli tried to tell us of, and it is he who must now take the throne.”

“I will have your head for this Christof,” the man on the throne roared. “Yours and this puppet.” Wymar looked even more uncomfortable.

“Do you deny you are not of the blood, Gisemere?”

“I am a Wranbanise, as you well know!”

“Yes,” Christof nodded, “but you do not have the blood.” He turned to address the room. “And we knew this when we elected to make you king. We did not know there was one who could truly lead us.” He gave Wymar an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

“This is all moot without the ring, Christof,” a wizened old man in the front row said.

“You can not deny the facts, Bernal. Lord Entoris said there was a true heir. And here he is. He will confirm this lineage himself. We knew Gisemere was not of the blood. We have admitted this. And all can see what has happened since he was crowned. The crops fail, livestock die, the land withers. And none of that began until this pretender sat on the throne.”

“That’s not entirely true though, is it, Christof?” Del said from the back of the room. Every head turned toward her. Wymar looked up in shock.

“You can not believe a word this woman says,” Wymar began, but Del reached him before he could finish.

“Oh, shut up. Without us, you’d still be crying over tea in a hovel in Daybridge. And as thanks, you tried to kill me. Twice.”

“Enough of this farce,” Gisemere said. “Guards, arrest them all. Now.” None of the guards stationed around the room moved.

“That isn’t going to happen, Gisemere,” Ambris said as she joined Del. “Seems the guard is as tired of your poor leadership as the rest of us.” She turned to Del and motioned her to continue.

“My name is Evandella Wranbanise,” she said to the room. “Illegitimate daughter of King Emindel.” The crown erupted in murmurs. “It is true Wymar is a Wranbanise by blood, an illegitimate child just like myself. It is also true Gisemere is not of the blood, but what Christof got wrong is why the magic of the land is failing.”

“You lie,” Christof said. “Even the Lord of the Velli said this is the cause.”

“Yes,” Del agreed. “He told me the same. He is mistaken.” The room grew louder.

“You think you know more of magic than the Velli?”

“No, but the Vinteran do,” she said. “Shorgus,” the mage looked very pleased to be called upon. “Why did you say there was an assembly of mages in the capital?”

“To fix the weakening magic defense.” He said.

“More specifically, to discuss the contract to fix said defenses, yes.”

“Correct.”

“And who penned that contract?”

“The…old king,” he said. “Ahh! So the magic was weakening before this fellow ever got the crown.”

“Exactly. And Albaran,” she noticed he was still wearing the kaffa and motioned for him to remove it. A few of the mages assembled giggled when he did. “This is Albaran, a ranger of Bellon. Albaran, when did you first notice the weakening of the magic in Bellon Forest?”

“Lord Entoris…” he began.

“No. Not Entoris,” she gave him a meaningful look. “You. You are a ranger. When we first met, you slew a gorval inside the borders of Bellon, but its presence there didn’t surprise you. How long had the magic been weakening?”

“Six seasons at least,” he said hesitantly. “Maybe more.”

“But the corps,” Davos said, shuffling to the front of the crowd. “The crops are dying in the fields.”

“And how were the harvests last year? Or the year before that?”

“They were less than expected, true. But this year is by far the worst.”

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“I do not see what this has to do with placing the rightful king on the throne,” Christof said angrily.

“It has everything to do with it.” Del said. “Entoris was right, not having a true Wranbanise on the throne is destroying the magic, but the decline started years ago.”

“But the last king was of the blood,” someone in the crowd shouted.

“Yes, he was. But it is not blood that makes a true Wranbanise. It was not blood that made the Velli tie themselves to us. And it was not blood that made us the defenders of Orvesa.”

“What are you trying to say, my lady?” Ambris asked.

“You said it yourself. My father cared, and deeply. And he was the last to do so and each king since has moved farther away from what being a Wranbanise means.”

The room was silent for a heartbeat before the murmurs started again.

“Then we still have a chance to correct our course,” Christof said. “Wymar is a true Wranbanise and a fine young man,” he gestured grandly to the crowd.

Del heard Maug snort, and she tried hard not to roll her eyes.

“I don’t think you and Wymar plotting to kill me and two council members is a great start to showing love.” There were angry mutters from the crowd.

"How dare you…," Christof said. But before he could finish his sentence, his head fell sideways, nearly severed from his neck. Gisemere stood behind him, holding a blood-soaked blade. The room erupted and screams that echoed off the walls, and people pushed for the exit. Everything was chaos around them.

"I will not allow you to ignore me. You will not take it from me," he growled and raised the sword above his head.

Wymar screamed as Del lunged forward. Her sapphire sword met Gisemere’s, pushing him back. She shoved Wymar to the ground and stood over him.

“Drop it, Gisemere.”

“I will kill you all. I will grow my kingdom with your blood.” He raised the sword and Del barely deflected another blow aimed at Wymar. “The throne belongs to me.” Spittle flew from his mouth as he lunged again, this time at Del, who awkwardly tried to counter. She had no experience handling a sword. From the way he moved, it was obvious he did. She couldn't match him like this.

Gisemere laughed as he sliced down at her. She ducked under the blow, stumbling to one side. Before she could regain her balance, he swung again, making her drop onto the steps and roll away. His sword clanged loudly against the marble by her head, making her roll again, but when she came to a stop, he was standing over her. She raised her sword, but he kicked out, and she felt the bones in her wrist break. Yelling, she struggled to pull a dagger with her other hand, but it was too late. He raised the sword, and it fell from his hand and clattered to the bottom of the steps. Gisemere looked surprised as he collapsed, falling to the foot of the stairs to join his fallen sword. Albaran was now standing over her, holding a bloody dagger.

“What…” she felt dazed. People were still yelling, but far away now. The ranger offered her a hand, and she took it gratefully.

“My job is to protect the rightful ruler,” he said when she was back on her feet. “That has always been you, Evandella Wranbanise.” The ranger gave her the barest hint of a smile.

“He is right,” Ambris said, coming to stand beside her. The woman looked disheveled but calm, as if she’d been caught in the panic but refused to share in it herself. “If what you say is true, there is no other choice but you.”

“I know,” Del said. She had known for sometime, maybe since she had left Bellon for the last time. She just didn’t want to admit it.

“Del?” Maug and Shorgus came to join the small crowd around her. They, too, looked like they had been through a riot and come out the other side. Tafa hooted at her happily from the shoulder of the mage's torn cloak. Maug still had a dagger in his hand. He took another step toward her.

“Is this what you want?” He asked.

“No. But it is what’s right. I think we both know that.”

“Well,” he said, looking around the ruined throne room. “This isn’t how I expected the day to end.”

“Stay with me,” Del said and then quickly added, “All of you. I wouldn’t be here without you.” She looked at Shorgus and Albaran. “I don’t want to do this without you. Will you stay and help me?”

“I would be delighted to accept your offer, your majesty,” Shorgus grinned and bowed deeply while trying to see if any of the assembly was still in the room to see.

“I will be here as long as I am needed,” Albaran said in his usual flat tone.

“Thank you. Both of you.” She turned back to Maug.

“You want me to help you,” he said slowly, “rule Orvesa.”

“Yes. I want that very much.”

“Have you met me?” She gave him a wry smile. “Seriously, Del. I’m a Larchpaw and this isn’t the type of gig where we can hide it. No one will accept me.”

“I will.”

“They will hate you for it.”

“I don’t care. These people need to learn that they are not better than you.”

“I don’t think the first step should necessarily be putting me in charge, though. Bit much for starting out.”

“Whoa, now. I’m still going to be Queen. You’re just, you know, advising…”

“Right, right, but we all know who does the actual work in our group,” he grinned.

“Maug,” she said soberly, “I will understand if it’s not something you want. I mean it. I know this is not at all what you had planned for your future. You don’t have to do this just because I asked.”

“Oh, I don’t know, this probably beats whatever I had going to be honest. But,” he looked serious suddenly and her heart sank a little. “I need to know something first. It’s important, and I don’t think I can do this job without it.”

“Name it.”

“You remember that blue velvet coat you made me bury?” Del laughed and pulled him into a hug.

“And what about me?” Wymar said. He was sitting dejectedly on the floor at the foot of the steps. Del had forgotten about him. She walked over to stand by him.

“I think a lot of people who did not have your best interest in mind led you to some poor decisions, Wymar.” He continued to pout. “And that is not entirely your fault. So, I will offer you my first royal pardon, cousin.” He looked up at her, surprised. “But there is a condition. You will go to Bellon and stay with the Velli. Perhaps you can help each other understand the world a little better.”

“Your majesty,” Davos came running from the back of the room. He didn’t look the least bit disheveled, and she wondered where he had been hiding during the commotion.

“Your majesty,” he said again a bit breathlessly. “Now the unpleasantries are out of the way,” Del looked back at the bloody bodies still laying at the foot of the throne but Davos didn’t seem to notice. “I must ask that you address the food shortages. If we don't take action soon, our stores will not last the winter.”

“Yes, I…,” she began.

“We must also talk about the royal accounts,” Ambris stepped forward. “Gisemere nearly drained them hiring mercenaries. Something will have to be done if the guard is to be paid.”

“Right. I will look…”

“Hhem,” a tall man in aqua robes seemed to appear from nowhere. “I would also like to point out that the contract for replacing magical defenses is still not settled.”

Del sighed.

Maug leaned closer to her. “There’s still time to run.”