Night had fallen but the city was awash with lights. A large crowd poured out into the streets holding fires covered in dyed clothes so that they displayed dull red, blue, green, and yellow colors. The crowd trooped to the castle outside which was the open ground for the celebrations. Within the crowd moved a body with a black oversized cloak around its bony shoulders, covering its frayed trousers. He kept his head down and held on to the satchel on his waist as he weaved his way through the crowd. He was of average height and build, quick and light on his feet.
By the time he got to the clearing where tents were pitched and different festive dances were going on around fires, he raised his hand to pull the hood of his cloak back slightly and gazed at the king’s castle with bright brown eyes. Huge, intimidating, and foreboding in sight and size. For a moment the boy knew a moment’s panic but in the next breath, he frowned, squared his shoulders, and continued to make his way. Behind the castle was the door he knew would be open and out of this came servants carrying buckets and baskets to and from the castle. They paid him no heed.
Even if he was stopped and questioned tonight he already had an answer, “I have a message for the king."
No one would question a message from the king.
Moving stealthily up the stairs he barely made contact with anyone until he ran headlong into one of the king’s soldiers dressed in Arlankis uniform of a chainmail covered by a surcoat with the royal emblem of a serpent wound around a castle.
“Pardon me, sire,” the boy said in a husky voice. Surprisingly deep for his size.
He started to walk by. Before he could move, the guard's hand shot out and grabbed him. “Where are you going?”
The boy had his answer ready. “To deliver this to the king. It is a personal message for him.”
The guard held out his other hand for the boy to drop said message.
“It is a personal message,” the boy insisted. “It contains words of those Baryns worms.”
The guard’s frown cleared and he withdrew his hand. “You should have said. Very well then, be on your way.”
As the guard continued down the hall Mare smiled to herself.
Easy.
Veren hadn’t believed it would work but here she was now on her way to the king’s room dressed as a boy. Tonight his head would be delivered in her hands. On the day of the dragons, she will finally fulfill her aim. She could see herself carried on the shoulders of Baryns as they chanted her name and a smile spread her cheeks.
Veren and Llod should be having equal success sneaking into the palace. Veren held the bag in which she would put the king’s head.
Mare touched the satchel at her waist to make sure the dagger was secure. It was a cruelly made dagger but it would do the job. Her steps were light as she reached the flight of stairs that would take her to the king's royal chambers. She bowed her head as servants exited the room carrying loads of royal robes and linens.
On the stone wall curtains of purple and red were draped and huge paintings made from dye and animal fat of the king and past kings before him hung on the wall. Mare’s eyes caught the king’s family portrait. With him was his wife, a sullen-faced golden-haired woman dressed in expensive royal regalia, her hands were crossed in her laps and her golden hair hung in a braid over one shoulder. Standing beside her was a staunch-faced boy with golden hair and bright blue eyes, his hands held firmly beside him and he stood like a soldier under the command of his commander. The girl on the opposite side of the queen held a bored expression but with a slight tilt to her lips that gave a look of superiority and condescension.
The last person in the painting, the one that caught Mare’s attention the most was the king. Vallezarii Keryghan.
His dark hair was slicked back so that his undeserved crown rested on his head. His dark eyes, tiny cruel beads that they were, stared down at her as if they knew what she planned.
She paused for a second before the painting and curled her lips.
“Today you die by my hands and leave your children orphans,” she swore before making her way further down the stone hallway.
She reached the great door of the king’s room surprised to see that no one stood guard in front of it. Well, given how busy everyone was with the celebration downstairs it made sense.
With her hand on the brass knob, she hooked her bony shoulder on the door and pushed with all her might. The door groaned open and a few heartbeats later she was standing in the doorway looking into the lavishly furnished room. Heavy white curtains trimmed in gold lined the walls, more paintings of past kings, there was a display of swords and medals and the last thing in the room was Mare’s major target. The bed.
It was wide and on it was a lump under the covers. She closed the door, doing her best to make as little noise as possible.
There were clean royal robes draped over the back of a chair before the huge dressing table, no doubt hung there for when Vallezarii was ready to get out of bed to attend to his duties in the castle front.
Well, he would not be attending any duties today as long as Mare was concerned.
Her feet made no sounds as she approached the bed and slipped the dagger from the satchel on her waist. She reached the side of the bed and the lump moved letting out a pig-like snore.
She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“Never will you see the new dawn Vallezarii Keryghan,” she vowed as she raised the dagger over her head with one hand and with the other she pulled back the covers ready to strike.
And froze.
There was no king in the bed. There were five pigs tied from end to end in his place.
Before she could realize what was happening shadows moved and jumped out to throw her on the floor. Suddenly the door burst open and heavy boots thudded on the stone floor as soldiers filled the room. Mare’s heart thudded as she raised her head in fear to see what was happening.
Veren and Llod were held roughly by soldiers and soon they too were thrown on the ground like her.
“We found the others.”
Veren grunted. “They found us, they know about our plan,” he grunted as one soldier roughly dug his heels into his back.
Mare wanted to cry. Her dagger had been taken from her hands by the soldier who pushed her on the floor. On the bed the pigs squeaked, fighting to get loose of their ropes.
“How?!” she cried. “How did they discover our plan?”
“I told the king,” came a familiar voice.
Right then the king walked in. A tall hulking man - far bigger than the painting depicted - dressed in a scarlet robe with a gold crown on his head. He grinned wickedly.
“Better men have plotted my death and failed. Three children are not enough to take my life.”
From behind him came a tall dark figure.
Polen.
“I heard your plan and told my father about it and he told the king," he wickedly explained.
“And for that, you will be rewarded, your loyalty has once again been put to the test.” Vallezarii turned to the soldiers. “Throw them in the dungeon. Their fate will be decided after the celebration.”
“I don’t want to die!” Llod cried shamelessly. “This is all your fault, Mare.”
Mare ground her teeth together to keep from crying out. As the guards dragged her past the king and Polen she realized she didn’t feel sorry because she was going to die, she felt sorry because she had brought this dreadful end to her friends.
“It’s all my fault. If I had gone alone, if I had planned all this alone I would have succeeded.” Llod drew in the fluid running down his nose in one long sniff. Wiping his grimy wrist under his nose he cast Mare an accusing glare, “Yes it is all your fault.” They sat in darkness bound in chains on the cold dungeon floor. “If I had been more careful. I should have snuck in better.” “If you had not involved me in this I would have a small sack of roasted nuts in my hands now, dancing around a fire celebrating with everyone else.” Llod could almost taste the nuts he spoke of. He sniffed again and wiped his eyes, smearing the grim from the dirty floor on his dark cheeks. “You are right, Llod,” Mare said without a hint of her usual fire. She was not defeated because she did not have the king’s head, she was defeated because the sounds of Llod’s cries as the guards beat them mercilessly still rang out in her ears. Her back hurt from the beatings, and Veren’s eyes were swollen but it wa
Silence like death came upon everyone in the inner bailey and outside the castle. Llod’s pitiful weeping broke the silence as they waited for the king’s order to have the soldiers lead them to the city gates to the blocks where they would lay their heads and be executed. “Better, stronger men - and the fucking gods have tried to strike me dead. What they could not achieve do you think three young, scrawny boys would?! You Baryns cannot grasp your place as slaves in my kingdom. Perhaps,” Vallezarii said as he hooked his thumb and index finger under his chin to assume a thinking expression. “I have been too merciful in my dealings with you. Letting you live was my mistake.” A ripple of fear went through the Baryns as every remnant of joy that had been etched in their faces while they danced just a few moments earlier was replaced with fear. “Tonight,” Vallezarii raised his hands and bellowed. “Death to all Baryns tonight.” Wails immediately rang through the air as the judgment fell
The king’s concubine.In her honored naked state, the rest of the festivities passed Mare in a blur. Every event, the flowing wine, the never-ending platter of food, the never-ending beat of the drums, and the sound of the horns. She remembered standing beside the king’s seat looking out as the days bled into days.She remembered the king’s command to his eunuchs to get her started on a beauty treatment. She remembered fighting off the courtesan beautician, a eunuch named Hegi. She remembered the feel of his flesh under her nails when she scratched his face, the warmth of his blood on her hand. She remembered the sting of the king’s hand across her cheek and the cold press of a sword on her neck for her defiance.“Break her if you must but when the beauty treatment is done I want a sublime concubine, not this wild cat!” Vallezarii commanded the eunuch who, glaring at Mare, grabbed her and shoved her roughly through the place halls to the West wing of the castle where she would be kept
Mare’s head snapped forward at the weight of the collar. Dazed and confused yet she didn't miss the line of chains that was attached to the back of the metal collar and when he pulled, her head snapped back until she was looking into his cruel face. His eyes were cruel icy blue slits, his nose broad and though the lower half of his face was half hidden by his light brown beard she could see the mean slit of his lips, lips that turned up at the corners into a cruel smile as he tugged at the chains.Rows of blunt ridges lined the inside of the collar, pressing against the delicate flesh of her neck.She coughed and choked. The metal collar was so tight she could barely breathe.Vallezarii’s hot breath fell heavily on her face as his eyes took in the sudden fear in her eyes. No matter how much she tried she couldn’t conceal the fear. She had not expected that he was going to put her in chains.He laughed. “You did not think for a moment that I would not consider your hotheadedness? These
An anguished cry tore out of her throat as pain seared the lower part of her belly. Her maidenhead gave way with a burning sensation. He is going to kill me, she thought. Hegi had taught her all that the king would do once she officially became his concubine. As someone with no experience in the matter at all, he had only informed her based on the stories he heard from the knights when they boasted about their sexual conquests. What little he could garner from the women serving as servants made him offer her conflicting lessons about the act of sexual relations. But none of the stories he told her warned her of the immense pain. Vallezarii didn’t seem to notice her discomfort. Even if he did, Mare did not delude herself into thinking that he would stop for her sake and ask if she found comfort in it. If anything he would seek to hurt her more and she would not give him that satisfaction of knowing that his intrusion into her body ached like hell's fork in her back. So she bit her b
Dymas Milelot. He pledged his loyalty to his king and for his king, he slit numerous throats. He was known for his mighty conquests before the age of thirty but before then…he couldn’t remember his less-than-stellar childhood. He chose to forget a past when he had been a weakling. All that Veren knew about his new master was that he commanded the Arlankis army with an iron fist. It was one of the reasons he was so respected and also one of the reasons he was so feared and hated by the other soldiers. Even by the king’s court. No one understood him, no one spoke to him unless absolutely necessary. He was a man of few words. Large, tall and muscled. But he had not always been so. Dymas had been born a weak, scrawny child with feminine beauty. He had a head of dark blonde hair, pale blue eyes, and the face of what his mother called an angel. She always said he should have been born a girl and so did his father but the latter was not an endearing statement. His predicament was made even
Mare stared up at the ceiling thoughtlessly.Whatever balm Hegi used was effective indeed. She could barely feel a thing in her loins. When she drew her legs close to peer at the damage done her brows furrowed at the injuries that marred the top and bottom of her thighs. The inner part of her thighs had purple bruises and stitches. Sighing she drew her legs down and covered herself with the bed covers, laying there for a few moments more until the early dawn aged into a clear, sunny day.As the rays of sun seeped through the curtains, she instinctively followed said rays with her gaze until she was looking at the doors of her chamber. It was open a crack.“Someone stood there last night,” she muttered to herself.She hadn’t expected anyone to be in the room with her but when a voice suddenly said, “Who?” she nearly jumped out of her skin.Hegi came round the side of her bed as she lifted herself on her elbow to frown at him. She had thought he left her the night before. Was he the one
Even the servant squeaked on her behalf. The full force of anger on Perci’s face…Mare silently cursed her tongue but her pride would not lead her to admit her hasty speaking. Instead, she assumed a false expression of defiance while her heart secretly thudded with the fear that her tongue or her head would be demanded for penitence.“Hand me my sword.”It was the sudden depth of his voice that made Mare actually squeak. Was he going to chop her up then?His servant was taking it out of its sheath with trembling fingers casting her a look caught between fear and amusement. The former was the most prominent.“What are you going to do with it?” she squeaked. The cheese slice she was holding slipped from her fingers missing the platter and landing on her dress. She didn’t notice this.“Slay insolent pests.”Pushing back the chair, she rose shakily from her head to her toes. “I am the king’s concubine!” she protested.“It is a title you take great pride in," he said, disgust coating his w