The Secluded Queen, page 33
Veronica had gotten off much better than Vance when it came to a future. Vance’s father had wanted him to become a carpenter, but Vance had other plans for his life and insisted on seeking his fortunes in Gordion. He had a crazy idea to form a land port in Gordion, so those who wanted to sell their wares to the outside world didn’t have to sell through and be at the mercy of the sea merchants and their prices. Unfortunately, he had difficulty acquiring funding, and to avoid starving, he had enlisted in the military as a carpenter. It was there he discovered his natural aptitude for the crossbow, and he was quickly named a member of the Castle Guard.
Veronica watched a deer in the distance as it nibbled some grass. “Have you kept in touch with your father?”
“I have tried to, but it is difficult for him to write back. At least, that is what he claims. I wounded him severely when I refused to become a carpenter. I think that he feigns difficulty in order to be rid of me.”
The conversation brought up memories of her estranged father and made her feel uneasy with her meager efforts to stay connected with him. I had always assumed it was my father’s job to try and keep in touch with me, but maybe he has been waiting for me to reach out to him? The thought made her stomach feel sour. She had harbored such discontent with her father, but what if he wanted her to write to him, and when nothing was received, he felt the same pain that she did? I am not sure I want to open that book just yet. “I didn’t keep up with my father, and I sincerely hope that your father wasn’t lying just to avoid you. That would be terrible.”
“Parents are fickle things; they claim to love you, but it only seems to show when you are actually living out their dreams and fancies instead of your own.”
Veronica tried to stretch a cramp out of her back that worsened the longer she sat there, while Vance mindlessly traced his fingers in the dirt, the hard forest floor not bothering him in the least. “I seem to remember running into a Vance at the castle gate when I left a few weeks ago. Do you happen to know an Urartum?”
Vance froze and looked up to her. “I knew I recognized you! The other guardsman thought I was crazy and insisted that there was no way their Queen could be traveling with a nomad. But it was you!”
Veronica’s face burned red, remembering the amount of skin she had been showing while disguised as Urartum’s cousin. “How is Urartum? I didn’t see the Steel-Blade tribe when I returned.”
Vance frowned, his brow furrowed with concern. “Urartum returned to the castle late that night, bleeding from multiple wounds. He was very concerned about his cousin, well, I mean, you being in danger. He said that you had been attacked in the eastern leg of the Forever Green Forest and that you had fled into the darkness while he fought off the attackers. I was able to patch him up, but he wouldn’t stop mumbling about you being in danger and that his honor depended on finding you and keeping you safe. When I asked him about who had attacked him, he just shook his head and said nothing. Later, I found out that it was the Castle Guard search party that had done the attack. It wasn’t long before one of them identified Urartum, and he was arrested, and the Steel-Blade tribe was banished from Anatolia.”
Poor Urartum! He had sacrificed everything to help me escape. “Is Urartum still in the castle dungeons?”
Vance shook his head. “No, they moved him away from the Steel-Blade tribe as soon as they could transport him safely. If he hasn’t been executed yet, they are holding him in Patara to be tried by the large court system there.”
She swallowed nervously. “I’m sorry if any of the search party were your friends.”
He scoffed. “Friends? They were all pricks. Everyone knew that every last one of them had been bought out by the High Council to do their bidding.”
Veronica relaxed a little. It was unfortunate that the skirmish happened at all, but I’m glad that I don’t have to apologize for anyone’s death. “Are there many more of the Castle Guard owned by the High Council?”
“Some. But it’s hard to tell for sure without being close enough to interact with them on a daily basis. The crooked ones come around with weird assignments and requests. Requests that don’t usually come from a commanding officer.”
“If you discover any, I need to know at once.”
“You got it, your majesty.”
“I would be more than happy to help finance your land port. It seems like it would be beneficial to have an alternate route for our goods to leave the country.”
Vance perked up but then eyed her suspiciously. “And what would a man have to do to pay off such a generous loan?”
Veronica furrowed her brow, confused. “No loan. It would be a gift.”
Vance didn’t seem convinced, and he crossed his arms. “Everything comes at a price, but I understand that you wouldn’t know that, being in the position that you’re in.”
“My... position?”
Vance grinned. “Oh yes, as Queen, you have no want that goes unfulfilled, no craving that goes unquenched. You cannot understand the struggle a common man might have to go through to achieve their dreams. You are living the ultimate life!”
This same old conversation. No one understands the difficulties of being Queen. Irked, Veronica could not hold her tongue. “Yes, and all I must fear is the threat of assassination, power-hungry citizens usurping my throne and beheading me, or invading powers torturing me and parading my broken body through the streets in a barbaric show of strength. I was offering you an opportunity to achieve your dream, and I assure you, no ulterior motive was considered. There are great rewards that come with being Queen, but also great risks. You should be grateful that you do not need to sacrifice your life in service to your country and that you have the freedom to follow your heart wherever it takes you.”
Vance scowled, “I am not free to follow my heart as you so elegantly put it. If you are not lucky enough to be born into wealth, your options are either working or starving. I doubt you have gone hungry a day in your life.”
Veronica’s thoughts returned to the recent past while she was living in her little cabin. There had been many nights where she had gone to bed hungry. “I have gone hungry, soldier, and it was the happiest time of my life, to struggle and achieve. You are quite ignorant.”
“How so?”
“I was not born into wealth. I was not born a princess. There were many a night that I went to bed unsure of where my next meal would come from. You are not as unique as you think you are.”
Vance shrugged. “Whatever you say, your highness.”
Enough of this stupid dance. “Do you want the financing or not?”
Vance gave a half bow. “I appreciate the gracious offer, your Majesty, but I do not want to be entangled with the Crown.”
She blinked and shook her head in disbelief. “Your dream is within reach, and you refuse a no-strings-attached offer? Simply because you do not trust me?”
“It’s not the lack of trust, your majesty, just financial prudence.”
She waved her hand at him, dismissing his empty reply. “No, you do not trust me. I am done with this conversation. The idea is sound; I will find someone else to execute it.”
His eyes grew wide, and looked like he was about to protest, but she held up her hand to silence him, stood up, and left the bitter man where he sat, with arms still crossed, foolishly refusing her kind gift. “I’m sure you can handle Robert from here. I am going to head back to help Sir Richard.” Vance made no objections to her leaving. The fool. He could have had his dream if he could only free himself from the mental prison that he was the only warden of.
She decided to take the roundabout route on her way to Sir Richard. It felt good to be alone after such an insulting conversation, walking through the forest, taking in the beauty around her. The evergreens in this part of the Forever Green Forest were majestic, with plenty of scarring in their trunks from the local wildlife, which remained hidden.
Around the scarring in the trunks was accumulated resin, thick and ready for harvesting. There had been a night at the beginning of her stay at her cabin when she couldn’t get anything to light in her stove, and she remembered being colder than she had been in her life. After hours of trying, shivering, and wondering if she would freeze to death after only a few days of freedom, she was finally able to get some heat in her drafty cabin by gathering pine resin and breaking it up into some painstakingly dried shredded bark. The pine resin lit like lamp oil and burned hot and slow, just long enough for her to get some branches started.
Everything had been exciting at the homestead, where simply not being able to light your fire at night meant you were at least going to be immensely uncomfortable during the night, or at most, you would freeze to death. Everything she did alone in the woods carried incredible weight and purpose, and she did everything. No project got started without her, and nothing got finished without her diligence. No one was there to help her, to encourage her, to remind her of what needed to be done. The fact that she was able to stay alive—surviving for so long by herself, meant that she at least had some natural aptitude for homesteading, if not outright talent. The memory brought her confidence that she was a capable woman and that if she applied herself as she had in the Forever Green Forest, she would make a resourceful and powerful Queen.
Even with the struggles of homesteading, she was hard-pressed to remember a time that she felt more tired than she was at that very moment, other than after the fight at the ruins. If it hadn’t been for the hard labor she had to perform on her homestead, she would never have made it this far in the struggle against the sorcerer. There had been many a day at her tiny home when she had felt exhausted from the day’s labors. Sometimes, she was so fatigued that she had not been able to get out of her cabin until later in the afternoon. Her muscles had felt so sore, and her symptoms resembled a bad cold, with chills, headache, and weakness. But each time this happened, her body healed, and she became stronger and more resilient. Everything that has happened to her over the last few days happened because of her decision to start her homestead. My life at the homestead better prepared me to be Queen. It was a stepping stone as I entered my new role as Queen of Anatolia.
She came into the clearing where the ambush had taken place, and she found the group of archers there, binding the arms and legs of an unconscious Sir Richard. Amaryllis looked just as battered as she had during the attack on the homestead. She looked dirty, she moved with a heavy step, and she looked like it was a struggle just to keep her eyes open.
Erika was in the middle of the men, helping them finish with Sir Richard. When she saw the Queen return, she smiled and broke away from the group.
“My apologies, your Majesty, but when the others tried to subdue Sir Richard, he became very violent. We had to put him in a choke hold to make him go unconscious.”
Veronica watched the men hoist Sir Richard up onto the back of Amaryllis, who looked like she could not handle the weight but made no protest. “We do what we must. Did he injure anyone?”
“No, your Majesty.” Erika shifted from side to side, her eyes fixed on the ground like she was trying to look through it as she thought to herself. “Do you know how to bring him back? Him and all of the others like him?”
Veronica closed her eyes and rested the back of her head against a tree. “No, not yet. But don’t lose hope; we haven’t even tried to bring someone back from Sargon’s possession. There has to be a way, and we will do everything possible to figure out the cure.”
“I know you will.”
“Is this about Sir Richard, or is it about Thomas? Were you two close?”
Erika blushed and looked away. “You could say that your Majesty.”
Veronica hugged the woman. “We have many priests back at the castle. I’m positive one of them will be able to free his mind of this magical possession.”
With only a silent Sir Barbarossa left as an adviser, the world was a lot lonelier, and Veronica’s inexperience was at the forefront of her mind. To her dismay, she had to acknowledge that there was a spy in their midst, and it had to be someone close to her. Somehow, Sargon had learned of their plans to ambush him and had prepared his ambush exactly where they had been suggested to prepare theirs. Veronica had just the snake in mind, and she had Pimberly Pine arrested as soon as they returned to the Castle Myra.
Chapter 23
Queen Veronica’s shoes scraped the stone floor of the dungeon, dirt grinding beneath her heels, the hem of her dress kicking up dirt as she walked. Erika and Sir Barbarossa accompanied her. Their faces were lit by the eerie red light of the jailer’s lamp who was leading them down the long dungeon passageway. The ceiling of the dungeon hall was curved high above their heads, the floor was stone, and the walls were made of brick. Every sound echoed off the walls around them, and the air was full of dust and unclean. If I catch the blight in this place, I’ll lose it. That would be just my luck right now.
The dungeon not only looked repugnant, but it smelled of human excrement, and every cell they passed housed someone who hated her, who would scream and yell and curse at them long after they had passed. It was hardly respectable to accommodate a knight of the Royal Guard in the same way that you would house a murderer, thief, or traitorous High Councilman. But it was the only option they had. Sir Richard and Thomas tried to kill anyone that got within arm’s reach, so extreme caution was required. They were forced to protect the men from themselves, to prevent them from murdering against their will.
The small entourage stopped in front of the second to last dungeon, and the jailer, after setting down his bag, began clumsily fiddling with keys. In a high voice, one that reminded Veronica of a weasel, he broke the silence, his voice resonating down the hall. “We chose this cell, your majesty, because it was the only one of them with the windows.” He finally found the correct key, and with a loud clang, the door swung wide, revealing two men chained to the wall, with shredded bedding strewn around the room. The light coursing through the windows above the prisoner’s heads was dim as the cell faced the wrong direction for morning light. The smell was intolerable, and though the men had only been there for less than a day, they had already made a profound mess of themselves. “We tried to make them comfortable, my Queen, but they wouldn’t have it. Everything they were given, they tore up and cast away. They refuse to use the latrine and refuse any meals.” Sir Richard and Thomas looked at each other and laughed.
Thomas stood up and held out his arms to Erika. “It’s my darling come to rescue me! Come on over and get a kiss!”
Before Veronica could stop her, she rushed into Thomas’s arms, who embraced her warmly. Perhaps they are cured after all? Thomas ran his fingers through her hair, then cupped her chin and pulled her face up to look into his eyes. Sounds of choking filled the room, and Erika tore at the chains that were wrapped around her throat, expertly placed there while he deceived her with caring. Thomas pulled harder, smirking as his lover struggled to get air. Sir Barbarossa drew his long, curved moonstone sword and held it to the man’s throat. Thomas growled at Sir Barbarossa and released Erika, who fell to the floor, sputtering, coughing, and sobbing.
Sir Barbarossa backed away, but kept his sword raised.
Sir Richard snickered, then winced in pain from his injured leg. The injury had been wrapped in a bandage, but it was heavily soiled and didn’t seem to be doing much good. “Do you actually believe that pathetic bent sword scares me? You silent coward. Give me a sword and let me free and face me like a man!” He turned to Veronica. “And you, the Queen who wants to fight but doesn’t know which end of her spear is the pokey end. I should have murdered you in your sleep.”
Veronica couldn’t believe her eyes. Her friend, in a relatively short span of time, had deteriorated from a noble knight, most trusted in all of Anatolia, into a demonic and monstrous creature. “Well, at least I’m not the one chained to the wall of a dungeon.”
Erika found her voice and started screaming at Thomas, who was still wearing the same smirk as he had while trying to murder her. Her voice was hoarse from nearly being strangled. “Why would you try to kill me? We have been together for years! I thought you loved me!”
Thomas chuckled, low and ominous, studying Erika like a hungry predator. “Erika, Erika. You mean nothing to me. You are a terrible, hopeless mess of a woman, and I wish you dead.” He jerked uselessly at the chains that bound him to the wall. Then he screamed at the top of his lungs, spittle flying from his filthy mouth, “I wish you dead! Are you as dumb as you are ugly? Find the nearest bridge and throw your disgusting body off it!”
Erika fled the room, sobbing into her hands.
Like a switch had flipped, Thomas’ rage turned to laughter. He laughed and laughed and laughed, the visitors to the cell shaken and silent. “Maybe she will actually do it. I wish she would. If I had a djinn in a bottle, I would wish for her to kill herself slowly, I would wish to see it in person, and I would wish you, Queen Veronica, would kill yourself next. If only I could see to your death myself, but,” he rattled the chains, “I will just have to dream about what Sargon does to you when he sacks this pathetic castle.”
Sir Richard chortled, “Indeed, and what a great dream it will be at that.”
I grow tired of this nonsense. I told Erika that she should not come, and she didn’t listen, and now she has weakened my position with these demons. “How do we cure you two of this dreadful curse?”
Sir Richard held his arms out wide. “Curse? I have never been better. It is a relief not to suffer through your pathetic attempts to defeat our master any longer. It was borderline comical to see you try and fill King Edward’s shoes.” He theatrically dropped his head and shook it slowly. “How heartbroken he would be to know that you let Anatolia fall. He must be utterly disappointed in you, rolling over in the mausoleum as we speak.”
“Enough! Know this: if we do not find a cure for this possession, I will be forced to execute you. We cannot risk Anatolia’s secrets falling into the hands of Sargon. I say again, how do we cure you?”
