Seize the Crown Page 2

  Halfreda was a good friend to me, especially after my parents both died. She always looked out for me and imparted all her knowledge to me. I will use her knowledge now, her wisdom, for a cause of my own.

  Millard’s wish has come true; I crowned him King of the Realm. Now, he sees me as an ally and I will gain his trust and abuse it. Willingly.

  I take the drink and smile at him. It’s not hard to smile at his handsome face. It’s not hard to pretend to like him. He pleases my eye certainly, even though his touch repulses me. As his fingers brush mine when he gives me the goblet I contain a shiver through pure mental control.

  He cannot know what I think when I see him or how much he upsets me. This monster must believe that I am only here for him.

  “So,” he says, his eyes soft and seemingly tender. “Quite a day...”

  He lets his words hang in the air and I am unsure how to respond to him. “Indeed,” I say, noncommittal, but hoping he doesn’t mind. If he minds, I am all too aware, I may die.

  “Do you think ill of me?”

  Again, what would he have me say?

  I take a deep breath. If I am to work with him, convince him of my worth and loyalty, I need to speak to him, engage with him, push away my fears and commit to this path I’ve chosen.

  “Your Grace. I am a witch, but a simple one. I have lived my whole life long in a small square house, just two rooms, with my parents. After they died, I lived alone. I wash in the river; I sweep my own floors. I eat what I can, when I can, but some nights I go to bed with a pain in my stomach from hunger. I cannot imagine the life of a prince, the call to power and leadership. I aimed to serve and help in the village and it’s all I can try to do now. I am not clever or learned or wise like Halfreda, I am a simple witch but if you let me stay I will put my mind to helping you, serving you.”

  Is it enough? I worried about mentioning Halfreda’s name, but I wanted to speak plainly. I have let him think I am more naïve than I probably am. But I don’t think there’s any harm in it. I look him in the eye, no fear, well plenty of it, but hopefully well hidden.

  A beautiful smile breaks out over his face, and he looks genuinely relieved. “Power and leadership,” he says, nodding at me. Happy with my answer. “Exactly. Only those raised to be Kings could understand. Thank you Ginata. I feel better. You make me feel better.”

  I smile at him. I am relieved and pleased. I do not want to die any time soon.

  “And now for your rooms. Halfreda had rooms in here but also outside. They weren’t the best, or the fanciest but I think you should live inside. I will have the old King’s rooms made up for you, fit for my closest advisor.”

  I do not want to sleep in a dead man’s bed, but I cannot show my repulsion or fear. If this man wants me close and that’s what it takes to stay alive and win the crown for Everleigh, then it’s what I will do.

  “I would be delighted,” I lie.

  “One other matter, before I let you rest. I am sure you are tired out. It’s been a busy day. And still the feast later.”

  I nod my agreement but stay quiet.

  “I want another coronation. A proper one. Today was a farce, really. It should have been Everleigh’s death day, then Macsen’s coronation and then finally mine. I want a day that’s just about me.”

  I am literally speechless. This King murdered his brother without flinching, killed his life-long mother figure without hesitation and then stabbed the man his sister was in love with, all without missing a beat and now he worries about having a day to himself without the attention on anyone else.

  It hits me then; this King is still a child. A spoiled little boy. He wants to be the star, the main attraction, all eyes on him.

  I am nodding so he will not know what I’m thinking. “I think that’s a sensible idea. A coronation should be a grand affair, something people will remember for the right reasons.”

  He grins at me, so pleased with what I’ve said. The key to winning over this man is to always be on his side, or at least let him believe you are. And, actually, this self-involved madness might help us, might give us a chance to get Everleigh her crown back. Halfreda’s words echo in my mind: you can only have a coronation with witnesses of more than a hundred, or any mad man could have himself crowned. Well a madman has had himself crowned, and we will help Everleigh take his crown away.

  “I will get it arranged and you can crown me properly.”

  I nod along. I have a feeling I will be doing a lot of that.

  2

  GINATA WALKS QUICKLY through the castle corridors, heading outside to Halfreda’s rooms. She is only guessing but it’s the only logical place she can think of for Everleigh to be hiding. But she won’t be safe there for long.

  The door is locked when she pushes it, so she knocks. “Everleigh, Will? Lanorie?”

  Will rushes from Everleigh’s side and opens the door, and Ginata slips inside. Being inside Halfreda’s room, away from Millard’s side, she finally breaks down. Will leads her to a chair, and she sobs with her head in her hands.

  Will is quiet next to her, Everleigh doesn’t even look up. She hasn’t drunk any of the potion yet; he cannot get her to snap out of the fog she’s in. Maybe once Ginata is all cried out, they can help her together. He is sure Lanorie will come back once she’s fed Addyson and together they can come up with a plan.

  He pats Ginata’s shoulder as she cries, managing to keep himself calm by wondering what they will do next. He may only be a fool in the making but it doesn’t take a genius to work out that life has changed for all of them. Irrevocably.

  Ginata takes a deep breath and wipes her face. She smiles up at Will. “I needed that. I’ve been with Millard. The King.”

  It was treasonous the way she was thinking; that she would help someone steal the King’s crown and take his place. If her mind could be read, she’d be hung for what she was planning to do. She was safe enough in Halfreda’s old rooms, but everywhere else she would have to watch what she said, how she said things, her reaction to what others said, even. This man did not need good and proper reasons to end people’s lives. He was quick to the temper and slow to regret.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Yes. Well...he expects me to take over from Halfreda, which I knew. He’s moving me in to the King’s old rooms – that I didn’t expect. Or like.” She shrugs. What choice do any of them have. “How is she?” Ginata nods her head towards Everleigh who hasn’t moved for more than an hour.

  “Not good and I don’t think she’s safe. Did Millard say anything about her.”

  “No, but he wants another coronation next week. He wants one without all the other stuff detracting from him.”

  Will laughs, although it is not funny. Not really. But he can’t help it. “Really?”

  Ginata nods. “Really.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I agreed with everything he said. I am not willing to die, no matter how much I want to help Everleigh. Halfreda believed she should be Queen; that’s enough for me. But I won’t die for her. I think another coronation is perfect, it will let us crown her this time, plan it all properly, do it right. And I will help but I don’t want to die for my trouble.”

  Will couldn’t argue with her. He would die for Everleigh; he almost had. But they had been friends their whole life long. She was more than a friend to him; she was family.

  “She hasn’t moved for ages. I tried to give her one of Halfreda’s drinks, but she won’t take it. What can we do?”

  Will is glad Ginata has come back. She’ll know how to help Everleigh. They must get her to wake up, focus, move. They need to get her to safety.

  “I can help her,” Ginata says, moving over to Everleigh’s side.

  “Where will we put her? Where can she go? She’s not safe if Millard wants another coronation. He won’t want her turning up again and spoiling things.”

  “I was thinking about my cottage.” Ginata takes hold of Everleigh’s hand. “I don’t think M
illard would ever think of going there. I’m not sure if he even knows where it is.”

  “Brilliant.” For the first time since they walked away from the massacre, Will feels himself relax. He’s not solely responsible anymore. They will work it out together. He sits on one of Halfreda’s comfy chairs and lets Ginata take over.

  “Everleigh.” Ginata’s voice is loud, but Everleigh doesn’t move. “Everleigh!” Louder again, accompanied by a shake of her shoulders. Everleigh looks at her, smiles faintly, turns her gaze back to the fire. Ginata shakes her again. “No, Everleigh. Stay with me.” She takes hold of Everleigh’s chin and turns her head, holds her face in both hands. Everleigh tries to turn away but Ginata won’t let her. Her grip is too firm.

  “Everleigh.”

  “Yes?”

  Will moves to the edge of his chair. That’s only the second time she’s spoken, but she sounds more like herself.

  “Everleigh. We need to get you out of here. You’re not safe. You need to snap out of it.”

  Everleigh nods, but her gaze is vacant again.

  “Everleigh.” Ginata’s voice is harsh this time, sharp and loud. “Everleigh. Your brother is dead. Halfreda is dead. Archer is dead.” Everleigh lets out a cry. “Archer. Is. Dead. Sorry Everleigh, but he is. But Addyson is safe. She’s locked up. She needs you. The Realm needs you. You need to snap out of this fog. We need to move you.”

  Everleigh’s eyes focus on Ginata. “He killed them all.”

  “Not Addyson. Not me. Not Will. Not Lanorie. And not you. You are alive Everleigh. We need you.”

  “Why didn’t I save him?”

  Ginata shakes her head. Everleigh discovered that she was the Kingmaker who would live, written in a prophecy, the day she made the river rise. It was the test to prove if she would die or rule. A ruler, a true King or Queen could command mother nature. Everleigh was even more special. She could move things. Inanimate objects. She had moved an arrow to stop it hitting a deer and she had moved Millard’s sword when he was fighting Archer.

  But she hadn’t moved it on the final fateful blow.

  “I’ll never forgive myself.”

  “Everleigh. Your magic, your power is new to you. You don’t have control of it yet. You cannot blame yourself. You can’t.”

  Everleigh shakes her head but shifts her position, stretches out her arms and then her legs, then stands. Will jumps up, hugs her. Ginata passes her the drink Will found earlier. “Drink.” She holds it up to Everleigh’s lips, not allowing her to refuse.

  Everleigh drinks, wipes her tears away. “What do I do? One of you tell me. Please.”

  “First thing’s first. You’re not safe. We must move you. To my cottage.”

  “Then we need to rescue Addyson. Millard might turn on her any minute,” Will says.

  “Then we need to get the crown on your head,” Ginata finishes.

  Everleigh shakes her head. “I don’t even care about being Queen anymore. I just want to be safe. Just me and Addyson.”

  Will and Ginata exchange a quick glance. Will takes her hand; he knows her the best. “Everleigh. If you don’t take your crown, why did your father die? Or your brother? Or Halfreda? Or Archer?”

  At his name Everleigh’s eyes flood over with tears again.

  “You can’t let their deaths be for nothing. Be pointless.”

  “Where are they?”

  “On the island, by now. Waiting for us to send them out.”

  “We need to do that today. We can’t leave them there in the cold. Can you do the ceremony Ginata? Do you have time?”

  Ginata nods, she’s not sure what Millard is planning to do for the rest of the day with his newfound Kingship, but she expects she can sneak off for an hour or so.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Shall we wait for Lanorie?” Lanorie is never far from Will’s thoughts. He has been half in love with her for years and the only good thing he can think of that has come from today is their sudden affinity. As the two people left who are closest to Everleigh they have a bond; they both look after her in their own way and they both want the best for her, and they have taken some comfort from each other these past few hours.

  “Where is she? Addyson?” Everleigh is coming fully around, becoming more aware of her surroundings and what’s going on. The look of panic on her face is growing as she thinks about her sister. “You said we have to rescue her. Where is she?” Completely lucid suddenly, Everleigh is full of agitation, upset marring her face.

  “She’s in the tower.”

  “The tower. She’s not dead?”

  “Not yet.”

  Will glares at Ginata. “Not at all. He never wanted to hurt her, he said so.”

  “He hurt everyone else,” Everleigh says, her voice tinged with anger.

  “Not you or Addyson.”

  “I wonder why...”

  “We can’t hope to understand him.” Ginata takes her hand. “We just need to get you to safety, rescue Addyson and get you crowned as our Queen. You can choose to question him or kill him then, as you prefer.”

  “Kill him.” Everleigh’s voice is hard with anger.

  Ceryn

  I DROP A DEAD RABBIT on the chair and then I pull off my mask – a swatch of leather with ties, that I never leave home without – and throw it on the table. The fire is low, so I pile more logs on, satisfied when the flames lick higher.

  Something is wrong. I don’t go for all that magic claptrap they love to bang on about in this Realm, but I know my friend and I know something is wrong.

  I am waiting for Weaver and I reckon he’ll agree with me, or else I’ll make him. There’s ale in the jug so I slosh some in a mug and down it in one go. I’ve had a busy morning and I’m thirsty.

  I prepare the rabbit while I wait for him, skinning it and then gutting it. I throw the head out for the dogs. I don’t have any dogs myself but there’s plenty of them around here and I’m happy to chuck out my scraps for them.

  I stab the body onto a fork and start roasting it over the fire. Weaver will be hungry too and he’ll be glad not to wait. He might have some spoils from his morning too. We’ll have a feast and decide what to do about Archer.

  Ah, Archer. We are a band of brothers, us three, despite my unfortunate gender, and we roam the Realm together, hunting our feed and helping the common man. We give our extra meat and fish to the poorest families, we make sure the King’s men are being just, by keeping our eye on them and what they’re up to. Only last week they had three young boys in the square, all lined up to some end, waiting to punish them in some cruel way, when Weaver shot his arrow straight through one of their bags of gold, collected from some poor farmer or other. The coins streamed out, and in the pandemonium of half the square fighting over the money, the boys ran off. They’ll not catch them again; one urchin in this Realm looks pretty much the same as another.

  The King’s men. All utter hooligans, they are. They reckon they serve the greater good, the ruler of the Realm; mostly they serve themselves. Well, we three wage war on them, best we’re able.

  Well, we did until last week.

  Archer’s kin Halfreda came to visit; she’s the King’s wise woman, lives at the castle, doling out her mumbo jumbo. He reckons he’d had some dream of a Queen. Poor Archer, he’s the softest of us three. Likes to dream, and imagine a different world to the one we live in. Just because he can fight and beds down in a fancier place than mine or Weaver’s, he can’t see the bad in the world. But he wins his jousts and he dishes out most of what he wins; it’s a good contribution to our cause. We keep a little pot that we all chip in to – I’m a good hunter and once we’ve given away what we can, we sell some of the best cuts to the people who can pay for it. Weaver can sew like an old woman, so he mends things for free for the people who can’t pay and charges those who can.

  We try our best to make our little corner of the Realm better. But Archer’s been gone a week. And I don’t know why.

  He was all a bit hush-hush wh
en he left, reckoned he was just visiting his kin. But in the week leading up to the Kingmaker’s death, I don’t reckon it’s a coincidence.

  I taste some rabbit. Tender and rare, just how I like it. I tear strips off, burning my fingers, and cram them straight in my mouth, pour more ale and eat and drink my fill. I leave plenty for Weaver and close my eyes while I wait for him.

  I must have drifted off, a nice snooze after dinner, as Weaver slamming the door wakes me. The rabbit is cold, but I pull off a bone and suck on it.

  “You’ve been ages.” Most of what I say to Weaver comes out as a complaint. I’m not known for my cheery disposition, but I’m a happy grouch. I won’t whinge about the hand I was dealt by fate or any of that crap. I had a rubbish start to life but I’m doing alright.

  “A bit of fighting in the square, couple of men drunk in the morning, taking swings at anyone who came too close. They’re snoring in a ditch now. Nice rabbit?”

  “Lovely. I think there’s something wrong with Archer.”

  He places two rabbits on the table: show off. His eyes narrow. I don’t think he’ll dismiss me; I’m not one to worry or become hysterical.

  “He didn’t say when he’d be back...”

  “True. But it won’t hurt to take a ride up to the castle.”

  Weaver chews on some rabbit, grease dribbling down his chin. “It’ll take a few days.”

  “True.” Stating facts isn’t meant to dissuade me. He likes to mull things over, Weaver, make sure he knows what’s going on, reach the right decision.

  A knock at the door makes us both jump. Weaver waits for me to pull on my mask before opening the door. One of my neighbours: “Thought I smelled rabbit. Brought you some ale.”

  We happily swap our wares and he heads away, eating as he goes. I start skinning another rabbit. If we eat our fill before we go, we won’t have to waste too much time on the road hunting down our dinner.