Arc 3: Chapter 28: The Headsman and The Queen

Arc 3: Chapter 28: The Headsman and The Queen

Rosanna didn’t reply at once. I couldn’t read her, couldn’t tell what emotion turned the well-ordered gears behind those gem green eyes.

When we’d been young, when I’d been a novice fighter pretending to be a bastard noble and she a runaway princess fleeing her family’s killers, I hadn’t realized just how calculating she could be, how ambitious.

I knew then, in that fortress by the sea, in that quiet study where we stood together for the first time in seven years.

Had this all been her? Had it been her will behind Lias all along, pulling me back into this world of intrigue and conspiracy?

I opened my mouth to speak, then shut it. I felt the anger, long swallowed, boil up. I should have known this would be another of Rosanna’s schemes. I was to be a pawn again, another piece on her board. Resentment and unspoken words stored up through long, bloody years filled my insides like buzzing flies and I tried to work myself up to spill it all into that silent space between us.

I’d held onto it all too long. It crammed in my throat, all that hurt, and wouldn’t come out. I thought I might choke on it.

Then she did something I did not expect and never after forgot. That queen, that empress, that wellspring of strength and royal will, stepped forward with tears in her eyes and threw her arms around me.

I didn’t return the embrace at first. Stunned, I just stood there dumbly, stiff as a tree and unsure what to do with my arms. Rosanna’s nose barely came above my lower ribs as she buried her face in my chest. No matter that she was dressed in enough rich finery to buy a small realm, and I hadn’t washed or changed clothes in weeks. I probably smelled like a sty.

She held me tightly anyway, and might have been trembling.

“Alken,” she said, voice tight with emotion. Not disdain or anger as I’d expected, but warmth colored by grief.

I did return the embrace then, though not without awkwardness. I didn’t know what else to do. All my bitter words fled me, all that time I’d spent alone and believing my friends of old didn’t care whether I lived or died forgotten.

“Aren’t you married now?” I said quietly, no better quip coming to mind.

Rosanna pulled away from me, moving her hands to grip my arms. She studied me, eyes damp with unfallen tears. Her nose wrinkled, something of the haughty girl I’d once known returning to that austere, regal countenance.

“You stink,” she said. “And you grew a beard.”

“The Inquisition’s been providing me free room and board since I came to your city,” I said. “I might have asked for a razor, but I didn’t want to impose.”

Rosanna seemed almost dazed, as though she couldn’t quite believe I stood there in front of her. “I know. I only learned two weeks ago. It took me time to discover where you were being held and plan your escape. What were you thinking? Breaking into a Priory sanctuary?”

I pulled away from her then, folding my arms so she couldn’t keep a hold on them or go for another hug. “I was trying to rescue someone,” I admitted. “And get more information. I ran into someone who recognized me.”

The Empress pursed her lips. I recognized the expression. She suppressed the smile with all the noblesse with which she’d been born, but it was in her eyes. “Well, you were always brazen. And thoughtless. And—”

“All muscle, no brains,” I finished, remembering the old adage. I almost smiled, felt my lips start to twitch into the expression.

But the horror of the past three weeks remained too fresh. The smile died before it could truly be born.

Rosanna seemed to sense my unease, because she pulled back and glided over to a small table set with a beautifully made decanter and two cups. “Wine?” She asked. “I have water too.”

“I’ll take the wine,” I said, without hesitation. Fuck sobriety. I needed it just then.

The Empress of the Accorded Realms poured me wine, and even filled a glass for herself. I noticed something else then, which must have shown on my face. I’d felt it when she’d embraced me, but my mind hadn’t quite registered it.

She caught my look and nodded, placing a hand to her stomach. Her regal clothes had made it less obvious, but I could just make out the roundness there. “My third,” she said. “The seers tell me it will be another boy.”

Third. “You’re a mother,” I said dumbly, my thoughts fleeing at the realization. Rosanna being a leader of nations seemed only natural. Her having children was like learning Nath had a secret fondness for puppies.

“Yes,” Rosanna said archly, handing me the cup of wine. “That’s what happens when one gets married. The realms needs heirs, after all. Still, it’s not quite so bad as I once imagined. My sons, Malcom and Darsus, are seven and four now, but you’d think they were both seven-and-forty. Take after their father.”

I tried to imagine miniature versions of the Emperor and Empress, recalling my memory of Markham Forger. It was a disturbing image. Two dour children brooding in their machinations, conquering this enormous castle one hall at a time. I had to suppress a shudder.

After I’d taken the drink and wet my parched throat Rosanna said, “I won’t lie to you, Alken. You’ve placed me in something of a knot. It won’t take much for the Presider to figure out someone in the palace helped you escape. I trust my people, but that wolf Oraise is the most canny hunter I’ve ever encountered, perhaps discounting Lias.”

The mention of Lias ripped me back into the present. “Did he tell you I was in the city?” I asked. “That I’d been captured?”

Rosanna frowned, which struck me as strange. “No. I learned that from Lisette. She’s one of mine.”

I felt very cold then, despite the warmth of the blazing hearth. “I’m here because of him,” I said. “He asked me to come back, to help both of you solve the murders in the city, clean up some messes.”

Rosanna’s expression darkened. “Did he, now?”

“Have you seen him recently?” I asked. Had he even tried to find me when I went missing?

“I have not seen Lias in over a year,” Rosanna said icily, lifting the cup to her lips without taking a sip, her eyes going to the window. “He’s been banished from Garihelm by the order of my lord husband.”

I blinked. “What?”

“We quarreled,” she stated. “We have been for some time now, honestly, but that’s a long story.” She sighed and placed her fingertips to one temple, massaging it. “Damn wizards. They’re always a headache.”

I could agree with that. I sipped from my cup, mostly to give myself time to think.

Damn it, Lias.

“You’ve been gone a long time,” Rosanna said quietly, almost speaking to the air and not to me. Her lips were pressed tight, her eyes averted from mine. “There’s so much you’ve missed.”

A shadow of the anger I’d felt when I’d entered that room fell on me. “Not by choice.”

“Of course it was by choice.” Rosanna said, startling me with the emotion in her voice. “Alken…” her eyes were pained, caught between frustration and regret. “You didn’t have to vanish into the wilderness, or throw yourself at the mercy of the Bough at the end of the war. They wanted to crucify someone, and you practically begged them for it. We could have protected you.”

Her voice became smaller, taking on a bitter edge to match mine. “I could have protected you.”

“So that’s what this is all about?” I asked, gesturing at the palace around us. “You wanted to remind me just how mighty you are, Your Grace? Prove a point?”

The pain in Rosanna’s expression fled, driven out by a shadow of steel. “Is that really what you think of me after all we’ve been through?”

I met her eyes for a long moment. I couldn’t say how long. I matched my resentment against her royal iron.

Iron won out, and I averted my gaze.

An uncomfortable silence fell. We both stood apart with years of unspoken words, mistakes, and disappointments hanging between us like the lashing waters of the bay outside.

“You still resent me for it, don’t you?” Rosanna’s voice was small, uncharacteristically fragile. That disturbed me more than anything else, I think. Knowing my anger broke that aegis of will with which she’d survived years as a wanted outlaw, a House war, the Fall, and the long years of uncertainty and chaos after.

I suspected I knew what she meant, but I asked anyway. “For what?”

“For placing you with the Table.”

Even as she said the words I realized they were true. It had been Rosanna, restored as the Lady of High House Silvering and Queen of the Karledale, a peer to the rulers of Urn, who’d claimed me a seat on the Alder Table. Only the named champions of the rulers of Urnic realms were granted such a nomination. I’d never have made it in, not as a lowborn soldier.

Worse than all that, it hadn’t truly been a reward for my efforts in helping reclaim her throne. It had been half Rose’s idea and half her council of bureaucrats. They’d wanted to elevate their own little kingdom, get a man among the mighty circle of peers the Table represented.

I’d never earned it, not really.

I chewed on my feelings for several minutes before I spoke. “Yes.” I saw Rosanna’s shoulders stiffen and added, “But I’m an idiot.”

I tried for a smile then, knowing what I said next to also be true. “I was an angry brat who wanted everything, but couldn’t stomach the thought of someone else passing me the plate. I wanted to be with the Alder.”

I sighed, thumping my head back against the wall and setting the cup of wine down on a side table. “I just couldn’t get it out of my head that it wasn’t me, wasn’t because of what I accomplished, but this gift-wrapped status I’d gotten lucky enough to cheat my way into. I didn’t think I was worthy of the honor.”

I showed her the palms of my empty hands. “No matter we went through hell and back before and after.”

To my relief, Rosanna smiled. “You always were impossible. How many times did we nearly strangle one another after we met?”

I snorted. “You’d never have managed to strangle me. Not with those tiny hands.”

Rosanna sniffed, the highborn lady reasserting herself as she always did when I’d managed to offend her. But it was such a familiar expression. I did smile, then.

A lot of pain I’d held onto for more than a decade, like some kind of banner I thought needed waving, fled in that moment. Drawn out like the venom it was. But it couldn’t all go, not that easily. Rosanna was still Empress, and I was still the Headsman of Seydis. We’d both hurt one another and been hurt by the world.

A single conversation wouldn’t fix that, not even if all the magic in Onsolem were in that room.

“What now?” I asked again.

Rosanna placed her cup of wine down and walked to the window, looking out over the night-dark waters of the bay. She placed her hand on her stomach, an almost defensive gesture.

“Now? That’s up to you. If you wish to leave…” I noted a pause there, though it was brief. “I can help secure you a way out of the city. You never have to return if you don’t want to. I swear to you that I did not save you to put you in my debt. You are my friend, Alken, like my own brother. You always will be.”

Funny, how joy or relief can feel so much like pain, especially when it takes you by surprise. Good thing her back was turned just then. I didn’t want her to see my face.

Unaware of how her words had impacted me, the Empress continued. “Or you could stay and help me.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

She turned and I managed to school my features in time. “I do need help. I know that might sound ridiculous coming from me, but Al…” she drew in a sharp breath.

“It’s alright,” I said, seeing her hesitation. “Tell me.”

After she’d saved me from further torment, humiliation, and death, the least I could do was hear her out.

Rosanna nodded. “The Accord is unstable,” she began. “Its edges are being chewed apart by famine and the threat of House war. The Sidhe have been… odd, ever since King Tuvon died, and it’s gotten worse of late. Some have even started to see them as the monsters at the edge of the woods, a threat to be quelled. There are still lords who remain Recusant. We opened trade with Edaea to try to undo some of the damage the war caused, to feed people and rebuild, but it’s just not enough. Now there’s this trouble with the Church.”

“The Church is part of the Accord, isn’t it?” I asked. I didn’t mention the potential ramifications of her other admission, that she’d been part of the decision to open trade with the continent. Did she know what sort of door she and her fellow monarchs had opened, the dark realms now spreading their influence through the land?

I didn’t think so. The land hadn’t been united by any power like the Accord since the days the God-Queen had graced Urn with Her own golden feet. The world changed, and no one could predict how drastic those changes might become.

Rosanna smiled bitterly. “The Church has always been a nation unto itself. Half in the world, half out, it’s said. Perhaps that was the intent. Still, the Priory has gained power and with it they’ve revived the Inquisition. They want us to drive the Eld out of our lands, hunt down the demoniacs and Recusants still at large, stamp out the Briar.”

Rosanna took a sip from her ornate cup. “They want to subdue the use of magic unsanctioned by the clergy. To hear some of the clericons speak, they don’t want anyone practicing Auratic Art who isn’t ordained.”

I nearly laughed aloud. “That’s insane. Every living thing has the potential. You can’t control when or if you awaken your aura.”

“The Priory believes it can,” Rosanna said. “People are scared, Al. People are hungry, and this bickering among the lords, the loss of faith in the nobility since the war…”

She shook her head, and I noted again the prominent shadows under her eyes that even well-applied kohl couldn’t quite conceal. “People are losing faith in us, so they’re turning instead to the Faith. And that’s allowed men like Presider Oraise to come into power. The Church gave my husband little choice in appointing him to his court.”

Her husband. It took me a moment to register that she was referring to the Emperor, Highlord Markham Forger himself, the most powerful man in the Accorded Realms.

“They left King Forger little choice?” I asked, trying for an amused smile. “You make it sound like he works for the priests.”

Rosanna pursed her lips. “It’s not entirely untrue in a way. The Clericon College holds the power to crown one of the high lords of Urn as emperor, and Markham is the first in nearly two centuries to hold the office. His position is not stable, and some are wondering if there even needs to be an emperor. If the clergy decide to withdraw their support, then I doubt the Accord would keep my husband as their leader for long in its present state.”

A lingering, weighty silence followed that pronouncement. Seeming to realize what she’d just said, the gravity of it, Rosanna blinked and fixed me with a stern glare. “You understand that to repeat any of these words outside of this room is a treason punishable by death?”

I shrugged. “Hey, I’ve kept bigger secrets.”

Rosanna flashed a wistful smile. “I suppose that’s true.”

I scratched at my head. I itched terribly and desperately wanted a bath. “Still, you haven’t told me how I can help with any of this. Half the Accord wants my head, Rose. I’m an excommunicate and…” I hesitated, feeling a surge of trepidation. “I’ve done things. It could bring more trouble on you if I stick around.”

“That’s another matter I needed to ask about.” She took a deep breath, as though steeling herself, then placed her cup down on the desk by the window. “Alken…”

Her green eyes fixed on me. “Are you the Headsman of Seydis?”

Outside, rain drummed and waves broke across the isle.

Should I bow my head in shame, I wondered? Should I look contrite, or defiant, or proud? Should I try to justify it, defend myself?

But when I opened my mouth, all I could say was, “Yes.”

Rosanna closed her eyes. “I thought so. Lias was convinced, and angry when I discounted the rumors. I never truly discounted them, only…”

“Rose,” I said, knowing I was one of only a handful of people in all the world who could call her that and keep my head. “The things I’ve done…” I took a deep breath. “The position of Doomsman is lawful among the Sidhe, but I know things aren’t the same where the laws of Men are concerned. If I tell you about these past years, it could implicate you. I tell you, and you don’t have me arrested, you become complicit. Even still…”

At my pause, she met my eyes and blinked once. I clenched my right hand into a fist.

“If you order it, I’ll tell you everything and accept your judgment. I swore oaths to you before anyone else. That still matters, to me at least.”

Some time passed before she answered. When she did, her voice was firm.

“Best to not tell me any of it, then.”

The words stung, but not as badly as I’d expected. I bowed my head, accepting it and keeping the darkness of the past seven years inside. Better to leave it there, rather than let it shadow that reunion.

“I don’t think there’s much I can do to help you,” I admitted, returning to the previous topic. “Not with the politics, anyway.”

Rosanna stepped close to me, looking intently up into my eyes. “You helped me win back a kingdom Alken, from practically nothing. Don’t discount yourself.”

I shifted, uncomfortable. “This isn’t quite the same as fighting your cousins. What do you want me to do, kill this inquisitor?”

Even as I said it I thought perhaps that was exactly what she wanted from me.

“Not quite,” Rosanna said. Something in her expression changed. Softened. “There is something, though. If you’re willing to stay, to hear me out.” She placed her hand on my arm again. “Your choice.”

Rosanna was a leader of nations. She’d led councils of war, and survived the death of her house. She could have ordered my death in that room, or commanded me to serve her, and had all the tradition and laws of men to bind me. She had once been my liege, and I’d sworn a vow of lifelong service to her.

And she asked me. She didn’t command, or beg, or coerce. Just asked.

“What do you need?” I asked, meeting her eyes.

Rosanna closed her eyes a moment. I think I’d just surprised her as much as she’d surprised me before. I recognized much of what I saw beneath her queenly mask. Loneliness. Exhaustion. Determination. The past eleven years had been hard on her as well.

“We’ll have time to talk,” she said. Then she wrinkled her nose and said, with a strained edge, “But I think it best to let you clean up first. I’ve had about as much as I can take.”

I laughed, more easily than I had in years. “Fair enough.”

“I’ll see to it you get a bath, fresh clothes, and food. We will dine together tonight, you and I. It’s been too long since we did that.”

Rosanna moved to the door. She rapped on the door, and I heard movement outside.

“There’s one more thing,” I said. Rose turned to me, arching a well-plucked eyebrow. I met her emerald eyes with my gold ones.

“Where is my apprentice?”

***

Ser Kaia, who I learned was Rosanna’s personal protector, led me deeper into the fortress until we came to a less ostentatious door than the first time. Only a single guard stood outside, this one in palace livery rather than the tabard of Rosanna’s own household. He eyed me warily, but opened the door at the knight’s command.

I’d realized, at some point, that I recognized Ser Kaia. I hadn’t known from where at first, but it had clicked as I’d followed her through the winding recesses of the Fulgurkeep.

She’d been at Rhan Harrower’s execution, as the leader of the fellowship who’d captured the Recusant general. I recalled a warrior clad in bronzed steel and hide, the hero of the day.

From adventurer to honored knight and Empress’s keeper. I wasn’t sure if I should pity her.

Did she recognize me? She hadn’t shown any reaction or particular sign of recognition. I’d been in my black Sidhe armor and Briar cloak then, my face masked by witch light and the gathering’s dour ceremony. Now, I looked like a bedraggled wretch with long hair and tattered cloth.

Even still, it was possible.

I focused on the chamber she ushered me into, tearing my thoughts away from distractions. A familiar voice barked out as soon as the door swung open.

“Is that you, Kaia? If you are not here to tell me it is time to ride out into the city, I swear I will hurl the next servant who brings me food out the window, and then myself. How would your liege enjoy that, hm? How shall you explain that little—”

The hawk-eyed young woman in the guest bedroom fell silent as she caught sight of me entering, instead of the royal champion. Her mouth popped open, as though to speak, but only hung agape as she stared at my grime-matted face.

“You…” Emma took a step forward, and for a moment I thought she might embrace me as Rosanna had.

She lunged forward and drove a fist into my chin instead. Oraeka and I had taught her well — it was a good punch, quick and with all her weight behind it. Though she was smaller than me and didn’t weigh nearly as much, she used leverage and speed with a swordsman’s precision. I grunted, stumbling back into the knight. Ser Kaia caught me by the arms.

“Do we need to restrain her?” The Empress’s Knight muttered into my ear.

“Not right now,” I mumbled, rubbing at my jaw and grimacing. “Just give us some privacy.”

The knight left, shutting the door behind her. Emma and I regarded one another, one of the alchemical lamps and a crackling fireplace lighting our reunion.

“You fucking bastard,” Emma snarled at me, her sharp features livid. “You absolute ingrate.”

I nodded slowly, wincing as I rubbed at my jaw. I tasted blood. “That’s fair.”

“Buffoon,” Emma continued, eyebrows lifting. She enunciated each syllable of her next words carefully, as though teaching them to me. “Imbecile. Wantwit. Dullard. Dolt. Block-headed, moon touched, cheese-skulled, mouth breathing ass.” She thought a moment and added, “Cunt.”

I lowered my hand. “Alright.”

She jabbed a finger at me, near trembling with rage. “You left me!”

“I did,” I said. No point denying it.

“I could have helped you,” she hissed, amber eyes blazing. “We could have fought together, or come up with a different plan, or… anything else.”

“If I’d taken you,” I said calmly, “we’d both have been killed or captured.”

“Yes, perhaps!” Emma came near to shouting. “But we would have gone down together.”

She swiped a hand to one side. “I would have fought with you to the bitter end. Even had I died in the doing, that would have at least been honorable. Instead, I’ve spent these last three weeks believing you were dead, and that I was alone!”

Suddenly, to my shock, her eyes welled with tears. I had never seen her cry, and it took me off guard as much as Rosanna’s display of emotion had. Emma Orley, once Carreon, had always seemed on the cusp of villainy, the very picture of the fell, vain aristocrat, or the wicked warlock. A shallow part of me had never imagined her capable of tears.

Only then did I truly feel ashamed.

She pointed at me again, and her words came out choked. “You dishonored me. You made me feel useless, and wretched. You made me feel like I was not worthy of fighting by your side.”

Silence reigned in the wake of those words, broken only by the fire and a gust of wind shuddering across the window. Emma’s shoulders shook, and her nostrils flared, but she didn’t break eye contact.

I drew in a deep breath, then stepped forward. Emma lifted her chin up, more to meet my eyes than in defiance, though her stubborn noblesse was there. I spoke quietly, but poured every ounce of sincerity I could into my next words.

“You are right,” I told her. “I treated you like a burden to be kept safe, rather than as a comrade. I treated you like a ward, and not as my squire.”

Squires fight with their knights. That has always been the Urnic way.

“Forgive me,” I said. “I will not make the same mistake again.”

Emma glared at me with eyes crystalline with tears, and for a moment I thought she’d punch me again. She drew in a shuddering breath, then rubbed at her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

“Look at you,” she sniffed. “You’re a bloody mess.”

I laughed quietly. “Yes. You look well, at least.”

She wore new clothes, likely from the palace. Gone were the rough traveling clothes, the yellow scarf and long leather coat. She dressed like a royal valet now, in an androgynous uniform of black and maroon trimmed with silver, the Silvering Sun stitched onto one arm. The outfit had a high collar, layered sleeves decorated with stripes, and tight fitting leggings tucked into pointed shoes.

I noted the hint of chain mail beneath her collar. She still wore Caim’s armor.

“I’ve been in the palace nearly two weeks,” she said. “A lot’s happened.”

I nodded. “Tell me.”

***

Lias had known I’d gone into Rose Malin the moment I’d done it. He’d had eyes on me. Familiars, according to Emma. Gregori, Lias’s manservant, had been one. I’d suspected the little man hadn’t been human, and my squire confirmed it.

“Some kind of doll,” she said. “An automaton. Lias keeps several of them.”

Marions. More continental sorcery, long held as taboo in the subcontinent.

For two days, Lias had refused to tell Emma anything, only that “Everything is under control.” She’d grown suspicious.

As it had turned out, the changelings from the slum had been watching me as well, wanting to know if I’d betray them or back up my promise to free their elder. They’d watched me go into Rose Malin, and not come back out. They had found Emma when she’d snuck away from the wizard, and told her everything.

She’d tried to break into the church that same night to free me. Brave, foolish girl. Kross had probably been expecting a rescue attempt, because he’d been waiting for her. She’d nearly gotten herself captured by the priorguard, but Ser Kaia had intervened. The knight had been investigating after Lisette, one of Rosanna’s spies, had reported my capture. There had been a confrontation.

“I’ve not seen anyone fight like that,” Emma said, “besides you and my great-grandfather. She was a monster.”

She said this with an almost adoring affection, her eyes sparkling with excitement. I quickly reassessed the Empress’s Knight — first Rhan Harrower, and now Renuart Kross. Kaia was one to be wary of.

The royal champion had been investigating the Priory, suspecting them of kidnapping individuals in the city and incarcerating them in a secret location. She’d discovered, with the help of Rose’s spy network, that those prisoners weren’t being held beneath the priorguard’s base in the Bell Ward, but in hidden locations elsewhere where the Accord and the College were less likely to search.

Rosanna had wanted to know why the Inquisition was taking people. Most of those they captured were members of the city’s renaissance movement, artists and scholars mostly, who’d exhibited “dangerous ideas.” The veiled Priory thugs had taken them under the pretense of investigating the Carmine Killings, but the Empress had suspected a deeper motive.

Emma had told Ser Kaia that she’d only been in the city recently, not revealing our full identities but saying enough for Rosanna to see the strangeness. We didn’t match the Presider’s usual targets, strangers to the city as we were. She’d had Emma brought to her, and questioned her.

Emma, for all her haughty spunk, hadn’t stood a chance. Rosanna had gotten the full story from her, or close enough to it. She’d realized who lay in the Presider’s clutches, between Emma’s account and Lisette’s.

Of course, Emma hadn’t known I had any connection to the Empress. When details about me had started emerging during these interviews, Rose had put two and two together.

She’d always been smarter than me, my queen. Smarter than most, really.

So a scheme had been hatched, a plant from Rosanna’s own entourage ordered to free me from Oraise’s dungeons. Emma had been forced to stay away, stay safe, and wait. Her least favorite combination of things to do.

“I still can’t believe you know the Empress!” Emma and I sat together in front of the fire in her guest room. “That you were her…” she trailed off, her brow furrowing.

“Her First Sword,” I said. “Before she was Empress. She was Princess of the Karledale back then, and then queen of it after we won her throne back. She made me a knight, before I ever got wrapped up with gods, elves, and demons.”

“You really need to tell me your full story sometime,” Emma muttered, narrowing her eyes at me.

I didn't answer immediately, straying into my own thoughts. I thought of Lias, and why he'd not come to my aid. I could think of many reasons, not all of them disagreeable. I'd been a fool, and I hadn't acted expecting him to bail me out in any case. Even still, it stung.

“Maybe one day,” I said, standing. “For now, I need to get cleaned up. I have a dinner with royalty.”