The Outcast, page 3
part #2 of A Knight's Journey Series
“Get out!” Eliza yelled, her cry startling the maid and causing her to drop the tray. It clattered to the floor, spilling its contents and shattering one of the plates.
Tilly dropped to the ground and began gathering the pieces of the shattered plate, avoiding Eliza’s gaze. She cleaned as much of the spilled food as she could, made sure that no pieces of the plate had been missed, and then rose to leave.
“I will have food and drink sent to you, Your Highness,” the maid said as she went.
Eliza watched her go, noting the guards outside her door. Once the door was shut and Tilly had left, she allowed herself to cry. She had not meant to yell at the maid. The girl had always been kind to Eliza, and she was one of the very few people that Eliza had contact with. But Eliza couldn’t face the thought of the funeral. It was a looming deadline that gave a sense of undeniable finality to her loss. It would mean confronting things that she was not ready for.
Eliza allowed herself to sob for a few moments more. It was strange, but languishing in her grief gave her a kind of comfort. And she needed that right now.
Tilly was right, of course. The funeral for her father could not be pushed back indefinitely. It had already been several weeks, and the people had no idea that she was still alive. To keep her safe, Gannon had insisted on keeping her hidden and her presence a secret. Eliza had deferred to his judgment. She was in no fit state to make decisions, and could not bring herself to care about anything. But she did have a duty, and she could not hide away forever.
Eliza wiped her eyes and turned towards the window. The sky outside was filled with dreary grey clouds, hiding the sun. Even so, what little light there was caused her head to ache. If she wished to rest, she would need to pull the curtains closed again.
Annoyed, Eliza rose from her bed and crossed the room on unsteady legs. The previous weeks had been spent almost entirely abed due to sickness and sadness, leaving her weak. Fatigued from a lack of sleep and food, she found it difficult to cross the room.
She leaned against the windowsill for support, placing her brow against the cool glass. Her head was swimming and she felt dizzy.
Outside, the ground was covered by patches of white. It had snowed recently, signaling the start of the winter season. Estoria would not see much snow now, but soon travel would come to a halt and the weather would be unfavorable.
Eliza looked beyond the castle grounds, out towards the city. It looked different than it had before. There were fewer people walking the streets, and everywhere there were patrols of guards.
How can they just go about their lives? What will happen without my father to lead the way?
Eliza’s thoughts were interrupted by the opening of her door. Heavy footsteps entered the room, followed by others.
“You should not be up, young princess. You need to rest in order to keep your health.”
Eliza turned towards Gannon. He watched her with hard eyes, as he always did. It made her feel cold.
“I only wished to close the curtains. The light hurts my eyes.” Eliza pulled the curtains closed as she spoke, darkening the room. She took a step back towards her bed, intending to sit, but her legs gave out on her. She sank pitifully to the ground and sat there for a moment, dazed.
“Byron, help her.”
A hand grasped Eliza and pulled her to her feet, keeping her steady and leading her to the bed. Eliza’s vision had gone momentarily white, and it was several moments before she felt better.
“You should call for help the next time that you need assistance with something. That is what the maids are for,” Gannon said sternly.
“I am well enough to cross my own room,” Eliza replied, though she did not feel it. She did not wish to appear weak in front of Gannon. She had already been confined to her rooms. Any further restrictions would be intolerable.
She pulled away from Byron, who had led her to the bed, and looked towards Gannon, meeting his gaze and daring him to challenge her. Gannon frowned.
“How has your health been?” Gannon asked after a moment. He was often asking after her health.
“I am fine,” Eliza responded weakly. Her throat still hurt from screaming.
“Do not lie, Princess. You will only make things worse by being stubborn. You will need your rest for the coming days.”
Something about Gannon’s sentence gave Eliza pause.
“Why will I need to be well-rested?”
Gannon’s silence did not bode well. It meant that he wished to speak of something that would upset her.
“What has brought you here?” she asked, knowing full well what Gannon had come to discuss.
“We must discuss your father’s funeral.”
Eliza said nothing. She had made it clear that she did not wish to speak of that.
“It cannot wait any longer. I have made the necessary preparations already, and the date is set. It will take place tomorrow.”
Eliza stiffened. So soon? She could not face this. She wasn’t ready.
“I understand that you are still unwell, but you must be present tomorrow,” Gannon said. “I have taken your father’s place for now, but I cannot hold power without your backing. The people must know that you are alive so that I can continue to act in your stead.”
Eliza shook her head absently.
“You must be present, Princess. My guards will keep you safe, and I will ensure that you are prepared and presentable. When it is over, you will return here and enter a period of mourning.”
“I am already in mourning!” Eliza yelled. The effort left her feeling unwell, but she did her best to hide it. “I am not ready for this. It should not have been scheduled without my consent. Delay it.”
“You cannot—”
Byron began to speak but was immediately silenced by Gannon. The Lord Commander stared coldly at the boy until he retreated and bowed in submission. He turned back towards Eliza and stepped forward, placing a rough hand on her shoulder. It may have been her weakness, but his grip felt overly strong, squeezing her shoulder almost painfully. With his other hand, Gannon guided Eliza’s face so that her gaze met his own and she could not look away.
“The funeral will not wait, Princess. You will be ready tomorrow, you will play your part, and then it will be over. I will make sure that you are kept safe, and that afterwards, you remain undisturbed. Your day will be difficult enough without having to entertain people.”
Eliza nodded mutely. She wished to protest, but could not find her voice. The will to fight drained away and she sagged in resignation. Tomorrow, she would face her nightmares and see her father buried. Gannon released her and stepped back.
“The…funeral. Who else will be honored?” Eliza asked weakly. Her father had not been the only one to die, after all, but she was uninformed. She did not know what had already been done.
“The funeral is for your father, the king. He is the only one who still remains unburied. The few lords and ladies that died were passed on to their families, and the guards and servants have all been given their rites. Tomorrow, your father will be laid to rest and honored.” Gannon answered her question without telling her what she had really been asking after. His non-answer angered her, but she said nothing.
Eliza struggled to give voice to the question that she so desperately wished to know, the question she was afraid to ask: What had become of Baird?
“Baird…will he be—”
“No,” Gannon cut her off. “Baird has already been given his rites. He will be honored tomorrow, as will all who died, but it will be a ceremony for the king, not his servants. In this difficult time, the king must be honored in such a way that allows you to come forward to unify the people and maintain everything that your father worked to create. Do you understand?”
She didn’t, but felt herself nodding anyways. Her head was beginning to ache and her thoughts were muddled.
“Good. You will not have to worry about your responsibilities, I will continue to rule for you.”
“What of Rowan?”
Her question gave Gannon pause. He stared at her with cold, calculating eyes. She disliked those eyes and found that she could not meet his gaze this time.
“Who?”
“Rowan. Baird’s apprentice. I have not heard word of him. He was—” Eliza hesitated. “He is my friend. I assume that he will be standing in for his master. Will I be able to see him?”
Gannon glanced over his shoulder at Byron, then looked to Eliza.
“I did not know that the two of you were close. Baird’s apprentice is dead.”
Eliza shut her eyes, trying to deny the words. If Rowan was gone too, then she was truly alone. She should have asked sooner.
“How? He should have been safe. He was with the other boys in the barracks. Was there fighting there as well?”
“He was found on the castle grounds, somewhere he shouldn’t have been. Byron identified him.”
Eliza was too numb to visibly react. On the inside, she was wracked with pain and guilt. She cried for her friend as she felt the sadness begin to overwhelm her. But her tears had been used up and her emotions were spent. Her sobs were weak and dry, giving little indication of how deeply this new loss hurt her.
“You have been hurt, Princess,” Gannon said, ignoring her sobs. Or perhaps he did not even notice. “Lives have been taken, and may still be taken. It is natural that you seek vengeance for those who have been killed. I promise you that I am working to find out who is responsible, so that they may be brought to justice for their crimes against the crown and against this country.”
Gannon’s words were harsh, spoken with a fervor that was intimidating. They startled Eliza, but in her current state, she was unfit to do or say anything. The sadness had returned, and she was struggling to manage it.
The weight of a hand on her shoulder made Eliza look up. Gannon had spoken to her, was trying to elicit some sort of response from her. She didn’t know what to say. She shook her head, but that did not seem to be the correct response.
“Do I have your permission, Princess?”
“I… What?”
“I will act on your behalf to discover who killed your father. I require your approval to use whatever means are necessary.”
Eliza found herself nodding again. Her head ached.
“Do as you see fit.”
“I will.” Gannon nodded. Eliza thought that he might be finished with her, but he had something more to discuss with her.
“Princess Eliza, have you remembered anything of the night that your father died?”
The scenes from her dream flashed through her mind. The image of her father.
“No. I have told you before, I have no memory of that night. Nothing but muddled thoughts and feelings. The sensation of fear and terror. Darkness. I do not know that I would like to remember.”
Gannon examined her, as though judging the truth of her statement.
“You are sure that you remember nothing?”
Eliza nodded, and relief was evident on Gannon’s face.
“Perhaps that is for the best. It is unlikely that you would remember anything important, and I would not wish for such memories to…disturb you.” There was a pause before he continued. “I have spoken with my physiker. He believes that your mind has repressed your memories due to an inability to cope. He has assured me that if your memory does not soon begin to return, then it is unlikely that it ever will.”
“And the nightmares? When will they go away?”
The horrible visions that she had seen in her dreams flashed through her mind, making her shudder. She glanced towards the sitting room to reassure herself that there was nothing hiding in the shadows.
“You are unwell, and it would be best for you to rest often. I will have a sleeping draught mixed, and another brought to you with your evening meal. Make sure to take it.”
The aching in Eliza’s head was becoming worse, beginning to distract her. She forced herself to nod, agreeing to take the medicine provided. She did not trust herself to speak.
There was a knock on the door. Someone entered and a tray of food and drink was placed by the bedside. Gannon took the cup and pressed it into her hands, urging her to drink.
“It will make you feel better.”
Eliza brought the cup to her lips and sipped. The drink was warm and had a hint of flavor that she could not place. It was sweet and then bitter. It tasted strange.
She was urged to continue drinking until she had finished the cup. A second drink had been provided, but Eliza did not reach for it. The pounding in her head was lessening, leaving her dizzy. She leaned sideways, using her arm to keep her upright.
“I have other obligations, so I will be taking my leave,” Gannon said, turning to go. “I would advise you to avoid dwelling on dark thoughts that will only disturb you and cause you more distress. However, it is important that you inform me at once if you remember anything at all. No matter how trivial the memory, you must tell me.”
He waited for Eliza to agree before leaving, followed by Byron. The door closed behind them and Eliza was left alone in the darkness. She barely even registered their departure.
She thought of Rowan. She had lost him, too, and she had not even known. The pain of this new loss washed over her and she began to cry the tears that she had been unable to before. It was all too much for her to bear. She could not do it alone. Not without a friend.
But there was no one left to her.
She lay down and pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them close to her body. She was alone and afraid. The sadness, the overwhelming depression, was back, and she did not have the will to fight it.
There had once been a time when she had always been happy, and her greatest troubles had been things such as tutoring, boredom, clothing, and not getting her way. Those things now seemed insignificant. She would give anything to have that time, that happiness, back. But wishing would not make it so. She wondered secretly if perhaps there was some reason that all of this had happened to her, that she was forced to endure such misfortune and pain.
Eliza’s lids grew heavy as sleep threatened to take her. She struggled against it, fearing the nightmares that would come. She blinked, and when she opened her eyes, she could see figures in the darkness. Immaterial forms like shadows, but with glowing eyes that stared at her with judgment and accusation. There was a new figure this time, younger than the rest. Rowan.
Eliza shut her eyes and tried not to cry out. The nightmares had returned.
* * *
Gannon left the princess’s chambers with haste. He visited the girl only out of necessity, caring nothing for her welfare or her well-being. She was useful to him alive, certainly. He had plans to build her into a figurehead through which he could leech power and authority. One more pliant than her father. But the reason that Gannon visited the princess personally was to ensure that she was kept in a pliable state. It would be inconvenient to have her memories return and, after tomorrow, it could be dangerous if she recovered.
That was why the young princess was kept drugged. His physiker laced her meals and her drinks with something that left her weak and weary. It helped to keep her sick and offered a good reason to keep her confined to her rooms. The man had also assured him that the drug would weaken her mind, clouding memories and leaving her susceptible to suggestion. It was a potent and useful drug, though addictive and dangerous when used in excess.
Gannon was not worried about those dangers.
“Did you want me to have an actual sleeping draught mixed for the princess, or just the usual drink.”
Gannon scowled as Byron spoke. It had been necessary to appear concerned for the princess, but it had been foolish to offer her a drug. It would not do to have her associating such things with her meals. As unlikely as it was, she could notice that she was under the effects of something else.
“Have Pheagis mix something, but be sure that it is unpleasant. I do not want her asking for more.”
The boy gave a servile nod.
“Get it done, and be quick about it!” Gannon snapped, waving him away. He had other things to attend to at the moment, and had no need for Byron. “And summon Lord Evans. I wish to speak with him.”
Evans. The lord who had assisted Gannon in overthrowing King Alden. He was as all rich lords were, intolerable, but the man was influential, well-connected, and privy to Gannon’s plans. Gannon needed him.
Gannon descended to the main floor of the castle, away from where he kept the princess hidden. He stalked through the halls, making his way towards the chambers where he would meet with Lord Evans.
He would have preferred to use the throne room, but such an action would appear too presumptuous, especially on the eve of the dead king’s funeral. Besides, the things that he would speak of needed to be kept private, away from any who might overhear.
Maids and servants bowed to him hastily as he walked the halls, looking down and avoiding his gaze. It had been made very clear that he expected deference and submission. Anything less was severely punished. Gannon could feel their fear as they cowered from him.
They do not know true fear. Not yet.
Gannon’s mood soured as he approached his conference chambers, finding the head trainer Darius waiting for him.
“You are not the man I came to speak with.”
“I wish to have words with you, Lord Commander,” Darius said, his tone hard.
“I do not have time for you, trainer. I am busy.” Gannon attempted to brush past Darius, but the head trainer blocked his way.
“The royal funeral is planned for tomorrow. The king will be honored, yet I have heard nothing of Princess Eliza.”
Gannon fought his rising anger. “Perhaps that is because the matter does not concern you,” he said. “You are the head trainer. Your duty is to train the soldiers, loyal soldiers,” he emphasized. “Yet you continue to involve yourself in things beyond the scope of your duties.”
“You would speak to me of acting beyond the scope of my duties?”
“These are dark times. Our country must remain strong, and the duty of leading this land has fallen to me. It is a difficult responsibility, but one that I have willingly accepted.” Gannon flashed a grin, knowing that it would anger the trainer.
