Chapter 41:
Secrets Laid Bare
Opening the doors reveals the king’s bedroom is even more impressive than Trevus’s. To the right are flowing pools made of marble, to the left are a pair of grand four-posted canopy beds, each large enough for five people. Mirrors and basins line an alcove beside the beds, and a second door leads to a closet bigger than my room. Straight ahead stands the king, out on the balcony with his back to me.
“Laranus, the matter better be of priority to disturb my evening this late,” the king says. He’s still dressed in his regal purple oban, his silver crown seated upon his head. He has no idea that his guards are asleep, oblivious to the situation he’s about to discover.
I close the doors behind me.
King Tytius turns, and his eyes widen. I’m not who he expected.
I take measured steps towards him, my eyes never leaving his. The pendant grows hot on my chest.
“So, you are a lot of eight now?” he asks.
The pendant’s heat begins to burn. I pull it to the outside of my shirt, breaking its contact from my skin.
Tytius blinks. My illusion is shattered. “‘Tis
you
,” he spits. Of all the sorcerers of Mephia, he harbors a unique contempt for me.
I continue forward. While Versillians don’t like sorcerers, this man drives that sentiment deeper than anyone else. Now I’m hunted because of his rhetoric, blamed for a loss at Nepolis when my only contribution was saving his life.
“Laranus and Gabbius would forfeit their lives before allowing threat to mine. Am I to assume they have passed?” Tytius asks.
“They’ll wake tomorrow,” I say.
“Indeed. Your creed is to only consume the life of those who pose no threat.” His initial fright has disappeared, the confidence in his julite returning.
My eyes narrow. I once made a terrible mistake, but I have also seen the ruins of Balin. This man murders with little regard.
“Have you made an exception for my life? My end would serve you well.” His eyes jump to my left, to the bed. I notice it – a red braided cord that extends into the ceiling. It’s an alarm.
I press forward, blocking his route to the alarm cord. “Don’t ask questions for which you already know the answer,” I say. “I saved your life in Nepolis. Between us, you are the only one of rotten morals.”
Tytius’s face creases up. “You consumed my life the day you murdered Mehlia,
mit
.”
I touch the pendant on my chest, shielding my skin with my shirt. It’s hot, but not responsive enough to lead to the julite from just traversing the room. He’ll need to reveal it.
“Your confidence is misplaced,” I say. “I removed the julite from your person hours ago. You are at my mercy,
king
.”
He stiffens. His hand snaps up to his silver crown, touching the black onyx jewels mounted at the center. No – not onyx, julite. I’ve found them.
I rush towards him, leaping forward and crashing into his middle. We hit the stone floor with a heavy thud, making my shoulder ache. His large frame favors him, but my age favors me. I latch on with both arms and legs. I reach for his crown. He catches my bare hand in his, but no connection forms. I focus on the feeling of his palm against mine and push to connect.
My connection snaps closed immediately. A searing pain in my throat makes me scream. My vision blurs and my ears ring. Tytius frees himself from my hold.
I touch my neck. No cuts. No gashes. No blood. It wasn’t real. My neck is fine. Trying to force my connection with the julite on his head was a mistake. I climb up on all fours and regain my bearings.
Tytius is reaching over the bed for the red cord. I leap up after him, and my fist slams into his head. The crown goes flying, clanging off the stone floor. My hand jerks to his bare neck. The connection is formed, and Tytius is put to sleep.
The red cord sits coiled around his outstretched arm. He pulled it free from the ceiling. A bell rings high up overhead – the alarm.
The soldiers guarding the staircase must already be on their way up. I have seconds.
I grab the crown and loop it through my belt. I shove open the double doors and leap into the hallway.
A sharp pain shoots through my head. The blunt hilt of a soldier’s sword sends me to the floor, falling to my hands and knees. A long groan escapes my lips as the pain bounces around my skull.
Gleaming silver swords appear just inches from my face. Voices roar over my head. I look up – large men – soldiers. Their blades approach. “Back witch!” they shout.
I stumble away from them, back into the king’s bedroom. I try to stand. A rod hits my shoulder, and I collapse again. They’ve surrounded all sides. There are so many of them.
“Drive it back!” A gruff voice barks. “Touch it with nothing but steel!”
I raise my head. The one issuing orders is dressed in a decorated maroon oban – the Hunt Unit. His short black hair is neatly trimmed, and his brown eyes glare like they wish death upon me.
Sharp blades inch closer to my face. I stumble backwards again, the crown on my belt poking at the small of my back. The maroon soldier knows my connection requires skin-to-skin contact. He’s prepared.
Long halberds press down on my shoulders, keeping my knees on the ground. Back inside the king’s bedroom, the soldiers fan out, the tips of their blades aimed at my torso.
I still. When they straighten their arms, their steel swords will puncture my body. As a child, I cut my hand on a leatherworking knife. The pain was so sharp and overwhelming. I wanted nothing more than to escape that agony.
“The king lives!” A man calls from the bed. “Though he is without presence.”
The maroon soldier raises his sword, preparing to bring it down upon my shoulder. I can’t move without impaling myself. His weapon will be tenfold worse than the leatherworking knife. My stomach twists so tight I can’t breathe.
“No.” A soldier of the Palace Guard catches his arm. “Striking a witch with mere steel shall allow her to rise from the grave, tormenting those who put her down. We must retrieve the blade blessed by Nomier.”
The blade blessed by Nomier – I remember that weapon from the night they raided Sisarea. They’re going to execute me according to their custom.
The maroon soldier lowers his sword, pointing the tip just an inch from the bridge of my nose. “Bring the blessed blade.” His eyes don’t leave my form.
“’Tis in the second level treasury,” a soldier at my back says.
Two Palace Guards in black obans head out the door, eager to bring back the weapon.
Warm blood drips down my ear. The blow in the hallway broke my skin.
Who was I to think I could steal the julite when the task was beyond even the other sorcerers? I just couldn’t bare living with my connection anymore, to the point where I threw my own life away. Maybe I should’ve just been content to stay isolated. The first person my connection killed was Mehlia, and the second will be me.
Soon there’ll be more blood. They’re bringing a sword just to cut me. Maybe it won’t hurt like the leatherworking knife, creating a wound so visceral it takes my life before I feel its bite.
“This is the Seventh?” one soldier asks.
I’m huddled on the ground, my legs folded beside my hips. I slowly twist my head to look around. The soldiers adjust their swords, ready to thrust forward at the slightest sign of aggression. Halberds rest on my shoulders, and the soldier’s sharp metal blades remain just inches from my face, my neck and my chest.
“She matches the Seventh’s description,” another soldier says. “Laranus’s unit was set unconscious like the king.”
My cloak lays on the ground where I wrestled Tytius near the balcony. How could I have expected to get away with it? The threat of the new Hunt Unit rushed my plan, with fear motivating every decision. It wasn’t the fear of being caught, but the reality of having to flee the palace without the julite – the fear of being isolated for the rest of my life. It was a fear too big to confront. Now armed soldiers circle me, preparing to take my life according to their superstitious custom.
“Do not let its small appearance fool you,” the maroon soldier says. “It is a dangerous witch. I witnessed its sorcery at the battle of Nepolis. The face is one I shall never forget.”
Dangerous? Am I dangerous? They’re all staring down at me, their eyes wide and focused, as if I could strike at any moment. I’ve never meant these people any harm. I put a few to sleep, but they’ll wake up uninjured, and it was only to get the julite, so I could lock my cursed connection away for good.
These are my last few moments. The Nomier blade is on the second level – not far. This is my final chance to say something. Should I ask them to tell Trevus I love him? No. It’ll only draw suspicion in his direction. I’ve caused him enough trouble.
A flurry of boots storm down the passage, and four soldiers burst through the doors. One carries a long, curved sword, the same one I saw the other captain wielding at Sisarea, the one meant for me.
The maroon soldier leading the Hunt Unit takes the weapon. He raises it up over my head, preparing to strike.
I shut my eyes. I’m not here. Think of something else.
“By the blade blessed by Nomier, I banish the Seventh witch from the realm of the living,” the soldier says.
The image of sitting across from Trevus enjoying krons comes to mind. He said that having met in different circumstances, we could have been companions – and maybe more.
Steel crashes against steel, ringing loud above my head. There’s no pain. I open my eyes. Trevus stands over me, his sword stretched over my head, shielding my body from Nomier’s blade. His eyes are fixed on mine.
“Jade.” Shock is evident in his voice. Nepolis was the last time he saw my face, when he learned what I’d done to his mother, when I left him behind.
His eyes run up and down my crumpled frame, taking in my white servant’s oban, the blood running down my chin and the crown attached to my belt. My frame is no different to Raylia’s. He’s piecing it all together.
His gaze moves to Tytius, still asleep on the bed.
“The king survives,” the maroon soldier says. “The witch was intercepted. Remove your weapon so I may bring its death as His Majesty the King has commanded.”
“As the regent, ‘tis my honor to deliver judgement upon her,” Trevus says.
Judgement upon me – does that mean that at his word, I could keep my life?
The maroon soldier pulls back Nomier’s blade. “His Majesty the King’s orders are explicit. The risks of allowing it to live a moment longer are too great. It shall pass from this realm without further delay.”
Trevus looks down upon me. Pain is evident in his eyes, betraying the agony I’ve caused him. I lower my gaze to his boots, unable to face the shame any longer.
“Then ‘tis my honor to bring an end to the Seventh,” Trevus says. My stomach twists. Is he really going to be the one to do it? “Place the blade blessed by Nomier in my grip,” he says.
“Of course, Your Majesty.” The maroon soldier steps around the group of men, handing the horrible weapon to Trevus. “’Tis your honor.”
I hold one hand in the other, trying to stop the trembling. Everyone is watching, waiting for him to perform my execution. Speaking to him would only cause him more trouble.
“Grant space,” Trevus says.
The soldiers step back, most of them sheathing their weapons. The pressure on my shoulders disappears. It’s just Trevus and I in the center now. He needs space to strike.
I stay still. I can’t look at him. I didn’t think he wished for my death, but how could I ever expect him to forgive what happened to Mehlia?
Trevus whispers an order to a soldier beside him – to ‘ignite’ something.
“If your hands do not wish to bear its blood, I shall execute it on your behalf,” the maroon soldier says. The stripe across his uniform indicates he’s the captain. He’s eager to take my life – that’s why Tytius granted him the position.
“Men, escort His Royal Majesty to the medicinal chamber,” Trevus says.
Two of the soldiers lift the sleeping king to his feet, each with an arm over their shoulders. They head out the room.
“All men, escort the king,” Trevus says.
My heart flutters in my chest. He wants us alone.
“Capt-” one soldier stops himself, remembering Trevus’s new title. “Your Majesty?”
“I subdued the Seventh for weeks journeying to Nepolis. A handful more minutes is trivial,” Trevus says.
The soldiers look to each other with concern, but none dare further question the prince. They file out the door, leaving only Trevus and three men in maroon obans. Two of them move to each of my sides, and the last stands out of sight behind me, their weapons still drawn.
“Was my instruction ambiguous?” Trevus asks the remaining men.
“Our oath dictates a living witch shall not leave the sight of the Hunt Unit,” the captain says. He gestures to me, still on the ground. “We shall bear witness. Avenge Versillia. Avenge House Cerillis.”
Trevus steps forward. I meet his gaze again. Nomier’s curved blade is still gripped tight in his hand. Will he bring it down upon my shoulder, or is his heart telling him something else? What reason would he want us to be alone? Is there something he wants to say – something only my ears can hear?
Trevus’s gaze flicks between my frame and the soldiers.
He lunges forward and grabs my arm, ripping my whole body up off the ground. I yelp from the sharp pain across my muscles and scramble to find my feet. Trevus shoves my body behind his.
“Treason!” A soldier shouts. Steel clangs against steel as their blades meet.
Trevus parries the soldiers’ strikes, wielding Nomier’s blade with one hand while directing me with the other. His broad frame shields my body from their view. I can’t believe it.
Trevus’s grip on my arm leads me back through the doors. My legs move without resistance. After all that’s happened, he still puts himself between those who wish me harm. Just like with the wild men in the wilderness and the horsemen at the trade post.
Trevus leaps back into the hallway. He yanks both doors closed and crosses his sword through the handles, jamming it shut.
The soldiers shout and bang on the other side of the door. Trevus turns to me, his eyes running up and down my bruised frame. He saved my life. There’s no mission that requires my connection, no greater purpose I can serve. He simply cares.
“Trevus,” my voice is barely above a whisper.
He engulfs my shaking body in a strong hug. His nose rests in the crook of my neck. Everything is going to be okay. I don’t have to be alone anymore. My legs give in. I fall into him, and he holds my weight without flinching.
He releases the hug, keeping his hands on my sides to support my frame. “Are you capable of sprinting?”
I steady my feet on the ground. My body is sore all over, but I nod.
Trevus takes my hand and rushes down the hallway, under the golden lions and past the large stairs. His great strength pulls me along at speed, like the fierce current of the Merk rushing through the corridors.
There’s shouting throughout the palace, and alarm bells begin ringing again. Trevus leads me back down the spiral staircase and into the throne hall. He knows that I was posing as Raylia, that I stood behind his seat on the dais, that I attended his mother’s funeral, and that I caused her death.
His grip is strong. He doesn’t leave me behind, glancing back in my direction as we rush through the hallways. There’s no wrath in his blue eyes, only concern.
The Prince of Versillia leads me to the dark basement. The gold-threaded seams of his oban glitter under the torchlight. I catch only glimpses of his sharp, sculpted face behind his dark hair. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.
We reach the lower stables at the front of the palace. His hands snap to my middle, and he lifts me onto a large white horse.
He reaches for the crown on my belt. I stop his hands with my own.
“It shall harm you,” Trevus says. He knows about the julite.
“I need it,” I say, “to be normal.”
Trevus steps forward and opens the stable doors, revealing a dirt ramp and the night sky. The air carries the sound of soldiers barking orders. They must have regrouped at the gate – our only way out.
“Even with a prince at her side, no normal woman could hope to escape Lystra now,” Trevus says.
A column of thick smoke rises high into the air. A fire. I feel it. Rahlite is burning. “I don’t know if I can do it again,” I say.
He mounts a shield on his back and climbs up on the horse behind me, his large arms protecting my frame from either side. “Then let us make the most of this moment.”
At his gesture, the horse trots forward. I take the crown off my belt and twist around to see his face again. His blue eyes are on mine. There’s a smile on the corner of his lips. I love him. I nudge closer, and our lips meet. We kiss.
Our steed makes his way up the ramp, raising us out into the open. I place the crown on Trevus’s head and face forward again.
The mass of soldiers grows at the silver gates, with more men filing in by the second. They’re armed with long pointed halberds, sharp swords and shields that bear House Cerillis’s emerald stripes.
The wooden arch with mounted rahlite is ablaze – Trevus’s final order. The palace guards didn’t know the gravity of what he commanded.
The skin around my eyes begins to tingle. It’s happening again.
Trevus draws his shield, and our great white horse charges forward, straight to the gate and the army that awaits us. One man with a sword rushes to intercept. Trevus deflects his strike, knocking him off his feet. My hands grow hot.
Archers line up on the ramparts, drawing their bows in anticipation of our approach. Our horse gallops forward without fear, his heavy hooves stomping over the dirt. Trevus knocks another stray soldier back.
The flames grow taller, climbing the wooden arch. The glow around the stones turns pink. A hot burning runs down my spine and wraps around my frame. The soldiers raise their halberds as the distance between us shortens. My connection forms.
I feel them, their tense muscles, their burning anger, the weight of the shields on their arms and the bow strings in their fingers. I let their muscles relax, their focus waver and their minds ease. At my will, they sleep.
Arrows land in the dirt, and halberds are dropped to the ground. Rows of soldiers collapse before us, clearing our path under the burning arch. Trevus commands our steed to jump clear over the sleeping men. Four hooves hit the dirt with heavy thuds, and we gallop under the arch and out the silver palace gates.
The wooden arch can’t hold out anymore. It crumbles behind us, the once great flame nearly smothered in the mud. My connection breaks, and the heat in my hands dies down. It was enough. We’re past the army and free of the palace.
The road of the inner city is near empty. Our horse’s thundering hooves are the loudest noise at this time of night.
Soldiers peer out from the watchtowers at the inner-city wall, but none move to confront us. They don’t yet know what’s happened. We pass under the stone wall, continuing down the main road.
A figure in a hooded dark cloak waits up ahead. He raises up a bag as we approach. The moonlight reveals his face for a moment – Giddius.
Trevus catches the bag without stopping, and Giddius disappears back between the buildings.
Our great white stallion carries us out of Lystra. I sit snug between Trevus’s arms. We head north – to Corinth, to Mephia and to freedom.
Author’s Note:
I hope these chapters were worth the extra day’s wait! It was originally one chapter that became the length of three so I had to split it.
Really is.
My partner just said that he could tell I read a tense scene – I tensed and my heart began racing 😂 my nerves – yoh!
@Totower1 the gold could be money so I wouldn’t say it wouldn’t matter lol
I assume you take the stone out of the crown… the gold doesn’t matter.
well no you take the stone out of the crown…
Beautiful!!
😍😍this was beautiful
@rileysing Yeah that sounds better
@rileysing Thank you for letting us know!
@rileysing AND LOVERS🥰
Tha would be helpful. Thanks!
Same
Please
🙂
X2
Same
X2
Is skyrocketing
This was an amazing chapter!!!!!!!
Was thinking the same thing😂😍❤
what an amazing chapter 😍👏
This is so beautiful 😭😭😭…am dying with all the sweetness 😖😖….but you go writer!!!
loved it
That was exciting!
@blindbitch123 I’m so sorry, pure white horses are incredibly rare, since it’s albinism I promise
That’s not fun, that’s rlly sad actually 😭
fun fact, did you know there’s no such think as a white horse? they’re all grey, because any horse born pure white dies.
absolute skill of these two to ride a horse like this
I am impressed she can ride a horse bareback like this and be able to do that lol
so her power didn’t affect the horse?
well done 👏
Awwww 🥰
yaaay 😍😍
You could’ve ended it here and i would’ve been satisfied😂😭
fair point
I can’t watch 🙉🙈
NOOO
Alright, I’m extremely satisfied with these chapters😭 How far are we from the end???
IM CRYING
I’m going to cryyyyy
OH MY GOSH😭😭
I can’t do this I can’t do this
TREVUS MY BABY😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
my ANXIETY
I absolutely loved these two chapters!
YUHHHH
i hope he escapes w her
Yes, epicness!!!!
Giddius!
Wait what… did I miss something?