Chapter 53:
Queen
Evening is upon us, and the army has stopped to set up camp. Trevus and I are tethered to the wagon, only able to watch as soldiers unpack and raise their tents
Soon the men congregate around fires, chatting and cooking food with a delicious scent. I’m hungry, but that’s not likely to change.
I was hoping nightfall would present an opportunity to escape. While most soldiers have settled by the fires, two remain behind, staying within thirty feet and occasionally glancing in our direction. They’re assigned to watch us. Despite the more casual appearance of Ceramayans, with long hair and sleeveless outfits, they’re no less organized than Versillians.
A dozen men suddenly step out from between the fires, half of them armed with javelins, and all of them looking mean.
I nudge close to Trevus, keeping my weight on my good leg. He’s firm like a rock, standing tall without a hint of fear. Nothing less than death seems to scare him.
The men surround us, but none bark commands in our direction. Instead, they speak to each other, commenting on the journey while working to free our chains from the wagon.
To my surprise, their weapons remain sheathed on their hips. My hands are uncovered, and the chain attached to my wrist has enough slack that I could reach a few of them.
Our chains are detached from the wagon, but the shackle is left in place on my left wrist. I glance between the men. Even if I were to put the two holding my chain to sleep, we’d still be left surrounded by the other ten.
I look up to Trevus. His gaze brushes over our surroundings before finding mine. He shakes his head. Now isn’t the time to make a move.
“This way,” a middle-aged man says. He looks like the one in charge, and he’s waiting at the center of the group.
Trevus steps towards the men. I follow with a limp. My leg has healed enough that I can walk, but it’s challenging. The soldiers split to allow us through, and the ones holding our chains follow behind.
We’re led across the camp, with the men forming a group around us. We’re left untouched, and all the soldiers are within reach. This is nothing like the last time I was in captivity.
We arrive at a tent far larger than the rest, raised with three poles that stretch high up into the sky.
Trevus leans in to whisper. “Select words wisely. Our fates shall be determined here.”
I nod. Speaking to people holding my life in their hands isn’t a novel experience.
The tent curtains are drawn back, and we step inside. A myriad of candles light the room bright as day. The tent roof is dyed sky-blue, and its height approaches the throne hall in Lystra.
Soldiers and servants stand in wait around the edges, but the carpeted center is empty – reserved for us.
The middle-aged man gestures for us to continue forward alone, stepping off to the side himself. The center is the last place I want to stand. I wish we could follow him instead.
Trevus continues to the center, and I walk at his side. The other end of our wrist chains remain in the hands of two soldiers six feet behind us, the only others sharing our carpet.
We’re standing before a large platform. It raises their ruler to over twice our height. I lift my gaze to find a thin figure – a woman.
She’s wrapped in a neat, black jolcan. Her wavy dark hair frames her sharp features, and a set of javelins lie at her feet. There’s no need for personal arms with the soldiers at the edge of the tent. She must prefer to have a hand in executions. I shiver.
Her eyes don’t meet ours. Instead, her attention is on her plate of roast chicken. She rips meat off the bone, quickly devouring it.
Trevus grunts, drawing my eyes back to him. He mouths one word – Queen.
That’s the woman we’ve been presented before, the Queen of Ceramaya? While her outfit is well-made, it doesn’t boast regal adornments like the gold-threaded obans worn by Versillian royalty or the purple maroon gadins of the Mephian Six. Without the setting of her high dais and surrounding servants, she could be mistaken for a wealthy merchant.
Despite her lack of traditional dress, her sharp gaze cuts like a knife. The man that Trevus pressured into fetching water was frightened of her. I resist the urge to look away.
“They’ll be good.” She waves her hand. The soldiers immediately drop our chains and retreat, leaving Trevus and I alone in the center.
I don’t have the insight into Ceramayan politics to guess what she wants from us. She could hand us over to King Tytius to strengthen an allegiance with Versillia, use my connection for her own means like Lord Reger, or conquer Versillia and install Trevus as a puppet monarch.
The queen stands, revealing more of her tall figure from behind the table. She’s one of the few women in this camp, the only others being the servants that line the edges of the tent. Though she doesn’t have the stature of the burley men of this army, their deference to her suggests insubordination has severe consequences.
“Who are you?” the queen asks. Her eyes point the question in my direction.
Trevus stays silent, offering only a subtle nod.
“I’m Jade of Mephia,” I answer.
“Is that your only title?”
She wants to know if I’m a sorceress. The Boss would’ve told her I put a handful of his goons to sleep. With King Tytius’s reward of a thousand gold coins on my head, the Boss likely demanded a sizeable sum before handing us over to the queen. She’s verifying he was telling the truth.
The queen leans forward over her table, awaiting my answer.
Claiming I have no sorcery will likely force a test to demonstrate my connection or face a grueling fate. After which I’d either be dead or right back here with my connection exposed and my tongue branded untrustworthy. Answering honestly makes the most sense. “Some call me the Seventh,” I say.
“Some? Are you not the Seventh Grand Mage?”
“It’s not a title I desire.”
She straightens up, bearing a slight smirk. “I want to see with my own eyes.” She points to a servant at the edge of the tent. “You’ll be our volunteer.”
The other servants shift away from the thin dark-haired girl under the queen’s finger, and the girl’s brown eyes widen. The ‘volunteer’ tries to nudge to the side as if she hasn’t been picked, but two soldiers soon grab her thin arms and drag her forward. She’s tossed to the ground by my feet, falling to her hands and knees.
Her big brown eyes turn up to face me. She can’t be any older than I am. I wonder if she wanted to work for such a hard mistress, or if she was chosen outside her will.
I kneel to her level and offer a hand.
The girl recoils.
I wait, offering a smile too subtle for the queen to make out, but enough for the girl to know I mean no harm. My julite pendant still hangs under my dress.
After a moment of hesitation, she takes my hand, and I pull her up to her feet. She’s a few inches taller than I am, but her rigid frame betrays her fear. In reality, my life is in more danger than hers.
“Well, go on,” the queen says.
This isn’t the first time someone has commanded I demonstrate my connection. I’m not so easily influenced. “I can’t,” I say.
“Unleash the full extent of your magic,” the queen says. “You have my permission.”
The girl’s gaze jumps between the queen and me. For all the queen knows, my connection could end this girl’s life for the sake of her demonstration, and the queen’s not even hesitant.
“I’m unable to,” I say. I’m not using my connection on this helpless girl, especially not for the nasty queen’s benefit.
“I’ve heard you knocked out four men without landing a blow. Was I deceived?”
“It’s true that I put them to sleep, but it’s not something I can do without limit. Have you heard of rahlite?”
The queen sits again, pushing her empty plate out of the way. “Go on.”
“Burning rahlite feeds my connection. I must be in the presence of such a fire before I can show my sorcery again.”
For the first time since the conversation started, Trevus’s focus shifts from the queen to me. He knows what I’m doing. The only way the vile queen will see my connection will be the moment before she’s set to sleep.
“Don’t lie to me, girl,” the queen says.
She wasn’t even certain I had a connection before this conversation. I call her bluff, sticking to my story. “The Mephians don’t light bonfires during battle for the atmosphere. Set up a rahlite burn, and I’ll show you my connection.”
The queen rests her fingers on her chin, her gaze not leaving mine. Her soldiers didn’t force us to bend the knee when we arrived, and she hasn’t taken offense to our lack of traditional regal reverence. She’s out in the wilderness leading an army, as opposed to dwelling in palace comfort. She may be a hard woman, but she’s also pragmatic, caring only for signs of respect that matter – our cooperation. As long as I can convince her we’re cooperating, we’ll be spared from her wrath.
She waves her hand to the side. The thin girl reads it as permission to leave, and she hurries off to the corner of the tent, leaving just Trevus and I in the center again. The queen buys my story, but to my disappointment, no rahlite is brought forward.
“What about you, Prince of Cerillis – does your father want you back in good health, or not at all?” the queen asks.
She knows both who Trevus is and his family’s house. Have they met before? She’s older than him, closer to his father’s age.
Trevus pauses before answering – “You shall have to enquire from the man himself.” Not what I expected, but he’s always careful with his words. Answering ‘in good health’ may lead to the queen holding a knife to his neck to blackmail King Tytius. If he said ‘not at all’, that could end with his head on a plate to strengthen a political allegiance. There’s no safe answer without knowing the queen’s alignment.
“Don’t get cute with me, prince,” the queen says.
“I mean no disrespect. We parted under tempestuous circumstances. I can only speculate, and I assume that is of little value to you.”
The queen waits before speaking again. “We’ll see your father soon, along with the Mephian Six. All three nations will congregate at the tripoint in four days. Then we’ll see how eager he is to have you to himself and out of Mephian hands.”
My stomach tightens. Back in Tytius’s custody – Trevus may survive, but my life will certainly be forfeit. The queen considers us pawns, goods to be crushed and sold to the highest bidder for the benefit of her kingdom. The chain on my wrist is here to stay. The only question remaining in her mind is how to gain the most from us.
“That frightens you,” The queen’s gaze falls on me again. Salts. She only shared that information to gauge my reaction. Thinking she was focused on Trevus, I let my emotion slip through.
She raises a sheet of paper from her table. “Wanted alive,” she reads. It’s one of the posters King Tytius distributed with my description. “Why is Tytius so interested in you?”
Trevus is the only other person I’ve heard call the king by his first name alone. Perhaps she doesn’t respect him, or maybe she knows him personally?
“He’s not fond of sorcerers,” I say.
The queen flips the poster back to examine it again. “Tytius hasn’t issued rewards for the rest of the Mephian Six. What have you left out?”
I need to be careful. Telling her the king wants revenge for what happened to Mehlia might risk the queen completing my execution on his behalf. On the other hand, sharing how I infiltrated his palace bedroom and physically fought him will lead to the confiscation of my julite necklace.
“Conjuring up a lie?” the queen asks. I’ve been thinking too long.
“Have you heard of the battle at Nepolis?” I ask. I don’t acknowledge her accusation.
“News of Versillia’s defeat reached my ears,” the queen says.
“I was at Nepolis. I incapacitated a handful of soldiers, some Versillian. Tytius has portrayed me as a scapegoat for their defeat. My capture will serve as a symbol of his strength, a bid to consolidate power within the Versillian court.”
The queen rests her chin on her hand again. My answer both explains the poster’s thousand gold coin reward and hints that executing me herself will be of no benefit to Tytius.
She moves on to her next question – “Why are you pursuing a banished Versillian lord to a little Mephian village?”
“We have a personal vendetta,” I say. My childhood is likely of little interest to her, and I’d prefer not to share such a personal story.
Her gaze slides between the two of us. “A Versillian prince and a Mephian mage – not the couple one would expect.” She indicates to the soldiers at the back of the tent. “Secure these two a distance from one another. One won’t flee without the other.”
The soldiers step forward, snatching our chains off the ground and yanking me backward. The sudden tug forces my weight onto my injured leg, and I lose my balance.
Trevus grabs my hand and keeps me upright. Once I’m steady, he jerks towards the soldiers and raises his knee into the stomach of the one holding my chain. The young, long-haired man groans and coughs, dropping the chain and cradling his stomach.
“Mind your strength, boy,” Trevus growls.
The soldiers step closer, making sure Trevus can’t go any further. Many are within my reach. The queen’s eyes are still on us, but she shows little care for Trevus’s aggression. Though we’re about to be separated, this isn’t the right moment to use my connection.
The middle-aged soldier picks up my chain. He glances at the man Trevus struck, then turns to the tent exit. “Let’s go,” he says.
They guide us out of the tent before splitting into two groups, leading me left and Trevus right. Trevus offers a reassuring look with a nod, one last comforting gesture before we part.
Author’s Note:
Sorry for the late chapter. I’m traveling, and it’s difficult to keep the same schedule.
This is so well written and captivating. Thanks for another great chapter.
😂😂
Noooooo, don’t separate our babies!!!
they always choose the weak, defenseless people 🙄 😒
Smart, she’s too smart to be manipulated
Of the story that is
You really threw us a curveball in this one. Making us think they were being taken to either Tytius or Arasus but then you add a new character. And a powerful female leader at that
You good, I’m just enjoying the drama!
Boy, damn that’s an insult
I don’t think she cares about that
Another good question, you’re full of those
Not wrong but not the full picture
A battle of wills!
Oh just murdered his beloved many years ago
But it’s not a big deal aye?
Or maybe they have a history… like an arranged marriage one or the other called off. I imagine Tytius being interested in Mehlia decided not to marry the person he was supposed to
But who knows
Good question…
You really know nothing of the situation aye
Guess it just show how slow word travels in a society like this
Oh she’s good at reading people too I see. I can’t tell what she thinks of her emotion from just this though
Forcing a negotiation aye
She’s smart
Whenever Trevus doesnt speak for a bit I forget how formal his speech is lol
She called his bluff lol
It’s interesting seeing a outsiders pov lol
I have thoughts on thud women and how sne relates to other characters
But what about the guards?
Convenient lies, and half truths
Damn she’s bold to defy the queen lol
Like kill her?
She thinks she’s going to have magic used on her…
Yeah, I’m sire Jade can empathize with her being treated that way too
Wait…
She doesnt know???
Just the sheer confidence of that statement
Which is sad…
Your talking to the women who manipulated and turned your men against each other. She knows how to play a situation (well sometimes)
Lmao
Oh I had a feeling by the title these would be Ceramayans
Tis leads to seperation anxiety my lady lmao
seperation anxiety my last lmao
Royalty should know royalty my dear
Poor girl
Bet he’s afraid of cockroaches