Black Crown FINAL Kobo Page 3

  “Wait… I would never do anything to Cas.”

  My feet drag along the floor as they manhandle me, and in my cotton nightdress I feel more vulnerable than ever before. There is a sharp pain as my heels graze against stone, but they move so fast I can hardly make my feet work quickly enough to take steps. The stairs prove to be a bumpy ride, with the guards never slowing their place.

  “This is complete hogwash,” I say, my indignation rising. “You know full well I wouldn’t hurt my friend.” I resist the temptation to use my powers. This is not how I want them revealed to the world.

  “We don’t know you from Celine, love,” says one of the guards. “But we know the king will have our heads if we don’t follow his orders.”

  “And what about the queen?” I say. “What about her orders?”

  “I don’t see the queen here, do you?”

  I clamp my mouth shut for the rest of the journey, aware that I’m only making things worse.

  When they throw me into the cell, my face slaps against dank floor, and I bite into my lip. The rusty taste of blood fills my mouth, tangy and sweet and sickening. I push myself up into a sitting position and wipe the blood away with my hand. There’s a cackle coming from the cell to my right, so strange and inhuman that it turns my stomach. I turn to see an old face staring at me from between the bars. The eyes echo a troubled mind. They dart around the room, seemingly unfocussed. Her mouth is stretched into a grin so wide that the dry corners have cracked and scabbed. I flinch at the sight of her, forgetting the pain in my lip for a moment.

  “You’re a pretty one,” she says. She seems to have no age, like she could be thirty years old or eighty.

  “Not really.”

  “Got no hand, have you?”

  “Top marks for observation.” I manoeuvre myself so I can lean against the wall of the cell. There’s not much I can do about my bit lip, only hold my tongue by the wound to try and slow the bleeding.

  She clenches down on her teeth so hard it makes me shudder. “I’ve not had no company for weeks.”

  I don’t want to ask about the last prisoner here. But after a few seconds of hesitation, my curiosity gets the better of me. “What happened to the last prisoner?”

  “Thief he was,” she says. “Got executed, didn’t he?” She mimics a hanging with such vigour that my muscles clench.

  I shouldn’t have asked.

  “Wedding bells, wedding bells. That’s all they talk about. Wedding bells.”

  The woman’s eyes glaze over and I am all too aware of her losing touch with reality.

  I turn on my side, facing away from the strange woman, and attempt to find comfort in the dirty straw. I have two choices now: to use my powers to escape, or to hope the queen will come to my rescue. If I use my powers, I will reveal myself to the world. Is that what I want? I think of Beardsley used as the king’s instrument for so many years, forced into creating evil inventions. Is the king powerful enough to force me too? The short answer is yes. I have weaknesses. I have people I love who could get hurt if the king wants to force my hand. If I decide to use my powers, I need a proper escape plan, one that ensures I leave the castle immediately. My stomach sinks. If I do that, there’s a good chance I will never see Cas again. I must be careful, I must be realistic. If I am killed, Aegunlund will lose the last craft-born. I must choose the right time to fight the king, and I will need allies to do that. If I go up against him alone…?

  But what if this is what I am meant to achieve? What if I succeed?

  I close my eyes. All I know is that I am tired and my head throbs. I must think about this tomorrow. Tomorrow, when the wedding is planned. Forget about it all until tomorrow.

  I whisper to myself, “I will survive. I will become stronger. I will reach my destiny.”

  I will survive. I will become stronger. I will reach my destiny.

  Again.

  I will survive. I will become stronger. I will reach my destiny.

  *

  I’m woken by loud voices. At least two people are arguing.

  “This is ridiculous, release her at once.”

  “King’s orders, Your Highness. I need his approval first.”

  “Isn’t my word good enough?”

  I rub my eyes and try to get my bearings. The stench of piss and excrement assaults my senses. My head is still groggy with sleep. It must be very early morning.

  “Mae? Mae, are you all right?”

  At the sound of Cas’s voice I sit up straight. He’s standing by the cell bars, his hair dishevelled and his eyes puffy.

  “I’ve had better nights.”

  “I’m sorry. I spent all night trying to reason with my family. Father and Lyndon are in a room right now conspiring some awful plot against you. I don’t understand why any of this is happening. Why did the healer say those things?”

  “Because they’re true,” I say.

  “What?” he asks.

  “I am different. I mean, I think I’m human, but I am different to everyone else.”

  He sighs. “No, you’re not. Mae, forget about the people in Halts-Walden. I know they treated you badly, but it doesn’t mean that there is anything wrong with you.”

  “No, you don’t understand—”

  “Wedding bells, wedding bells, they always talk of wedding bells,” interrupts the strange woman. I hadn’t even realised she’d woken.

  “I have to get you out of here. You cannot stay here a moment longer. I will speak to my father—”

  “Of course you will, ninny, and I know exactly how that conversation will go.” The king’s voice rumbles down the steps as he enters with Lyndon by his side. “You’ll beg and whine and most probably cry, and I will slap you round the face and send you on your way.” He swigs on a goblet of wine.

  Hatred bubbles up in my stomach and I have to bite my tongue to stop myself talking back to him. Fresh blood seeps from the wound on my lip.

  “Father—”

  “I’ve done what needed to be done,” says the king. “You’re getting too close to that girl and the healer thinks she’s some sort of evil creature. Stupid old fool. This way, we get rid of her, I get to keep that stag, and you can marry the craft-born. Things are as they should be.”

  Lyndon smirks at me and I lash out at the bars. He backs away with a snarl.

  “Keep away from Anta!” I shout.

  “Or what?” The king’s upper lip curls. He grabs Cas by the shoulder and pushes him closer to me. “Do you see how your little whore speaks to me? Oh don’t look at me like that. Don’t you think I have eyes and ears in this place? I know you’ve been sneaking into her room at night. Never thought you had it in your trousers to be honest.”

  Cas’s face turns a shade brighter than scarlet. He wrenches his shoulder away from the king and turns to face him. There is a spark of anger in him that I have never seen before.

  “Don’t you dare speak of her like that. Mae is no whore. She is a good person, with a brave heart. The bravest person I know,” he says.

  “Are you in love with the peasant or something?” Lyndon teases.

  “Whatever she is, it won’t last long,” the king says. “She’ll be executed within the week. And for today, well, she can have a nice view of the wedding. Why don’t we lock her up in her room for today? It overlooks the garden. She’ll get a good view of the festivities.” A cruel smile spreads across his face.

  But Cas has turned ashen. “Executed?”

  The king ignores his son. “Here, guard. Get my son up to his chambers for his wedding preparations. You two, come down here and get this urchin to her room. I want her locked up but not chained up. She can watch everything from there.”

  With a turn on his heel, the king marches away from the prison cell. Lyndon pauses to flash me a sadistic smile. Cas struggles against a guard as he is marched away from me, and two others open my cage.

  “Stop,” I yell. “I’m the craft-born! I�
�m the craft-born, it’s true!”

  The king never turns back, he only laughs and laughs as his steps disappear into the darkness. Lyndon turns to me with a sneer.

  “The stupid girl is as mad as she is a fool. Give her a slap and shut her up.”

  “No!” I scream. “Cas, it’s true.” But Cas has already been man-handled out of the room.

  I need only use my powers against these guards so I can break free. But as I ready myself to call on them, one of the guards reaches through the bars and hits me over the head with a baton. I collapse to the floor, thinking of how I’ve been reminded that I’m still a little girl. And in the background, I hear the words: “wedding bells, wedding bells…”

  Chapter Four – The Wedding

  I wake to the pealing of bells and the excited chatter of voices in the castle. My head throbs from where the guard hit me. The room is somewhat blurry, as though I’ve been drinking wine. I hug my body from the chill and find a sore spot on my arm. A pinprick. Not only did they knock me out, but they drugged me, too. The healer must have really frightened them all. They think I’m dangerous. Well, they’re right.

  My legs are a little wobbly as I make my way to the door, but the room comes into focus and I feel my body fighting back against the drugs. My door is locked. Of course, I didn’t expect anything less. But from now on, I will not be holding back on using my powers. As soon as I can shift the fog from my mind, I will get out of my prison.

  My room is on the ground floor at the back of the palace. I’d always loved how it faced the gardens. Not today. I rush to the window, ignoring my weak legs. It’s as I thought. The revellers are already arriving ready for the wedding. I search for Cas and Ellen amongst the large group of guests, but it seems that they have not started the ceremony yet.

  I lean my head against the bars on the window. I’d never given them a second thought before. But now I see that it’s strange to bar the windows in the servants’ quarter. Yet another despicable act by the king. I bet he keeps the servants locked up like slaves. I never thought to ask if they were paid. The Red Palace is a haven for lies and deceit. It makes me sick to my stomach.

  I need to think.

  If I am going to get out of this place, I need to push the fog away, strengthen my body, and form a plan. I cannot expect to go bustling through the castle, using my powers to knock everyone to the ground. It’s not going to be that simple. I certainly don’t want to kill a lot of innocent people, or end up tiring myself out and getting captured again.

  My attention is drawn back to the wedding. There’s a stirring amongst the crowd. The guests part, mumbling and smiling, to allow Cas to step forward into the throng. He wears a crimson tunic embroidered with gold thread, and a draped cape fixed in place with a gold clasp. I grip the bars on my window and lean forward. Does he know I am here? Does he know I am so close? And yet I’d may as well watch him from the Benothan mountains.

  As his guests greet him, the king has to jab his son in the ribs to prompt Cas into action. Cas seems like a ghost version of himself. His skin is almost green tinged, and his eyes are red.

  I know I should change from my dirty nightdress, or formulate a plan, but I become transfixed with what is going on outside. Cas is shown to his throne—which set on a dais below in a grand marquee—and he takes a seat. All around him, revellers enjoy the beautiful sunny weather, drinking wine and eating canapés. For a brief moment, I celebrate how the Nix was wrong about the wedding. Although this version is far worse than anything it showed me.

  The king must have gone to quite an expense, which is saying something given the rest of his realm is living in poverty. There are fire breathers, jugglers, dancers, and musicians. The king walks through the chaos slapping backs and glugging his wine. He laughs at the entertainers, some of them he dismisses with a wave of his hand. The poor performers scuttle away quickly, their faces pinched in terror, wary of the king’s renowned temper.

  “Brute,” I say to myself, screwing up my one remaining hand to form a fist. This is a man who plays the boisterous bully in public and cries over his impending mortality in private—the worst kind of coward.

  Since my father’s murder I have tried not to hate another human being. I remember the way vengeance almost consumed me, and how I lost myself through grief. But the king—the cowardly, bullying, crude man that he is—may become the one person I choose to let myself hate. I shake my head. I must learn to restrain my anger. If I can’t keep my emotions in check, how can I expect to control my powers?

  The king stands in the middle of the crowd, and glances across to my window. My cheeks flush when I realise he has caught me watching the wedding. Cas follows his father’s gaze to see me. He stands up, his arms tense by his side. He tries to step towards his father but at a flick of the king’s wrist, two guards cross swords to prevent him.

  The king smiles at the revellers, and then turns back to his son, where he whispers something in Cas’s ear that makes him appear as though he might throw up. My heart sinks as Cas’s eyes plead with me.

  I turn away. Enough of this. I must get ready to leave this place. I retrieve the scrolls and the king’s notebook hidden within the stuffing of my mattress. I tuck them into the pocket of my nightdress. Then I quickly pull on my boots. To hell with proper clothes. I need to get out of here now. But as I turn towards the door, ready to blow it off its hinges and get out of my cage, I hear the king shout, “Ladies and gentlemen. If you could make room, I have some special entertainment arranged for my son.”

  I don’t know why it grabs my attention. There is something in the tone of his voice that seems even more malicious than usual. I find myself moving back to the window. The king locks eyes with me, and it’s then that he opens his arms wide and commands the attention of the crowd. “As you know, in little over an hour, my eldest son will be marrying the craft-born. But before then, I have a gift for you, my dear Casimir.” He watches me with hooded eyes. “I know how much you love to hunt.”

  My stomach does a flip and I grasp the window bars. What does he intend to hunt?

  “Bring it out,” he calls, lifting his hand with a flourish.

  The king backs away from the crowd and takes hold of a bow and quiver. All the time I watch him, my heart beats faster and faster. Bile rises in my throat at the thought of what might happen now. I want to be proved wrong. I don’t want it to mean what I think it will mean.

  Please, no.

  The king takes a seat on the dais near Cas. I can see Cas gripping the sides of his throne, staring at his father with a worried gaze.

  From the far side of the garden I hear a delighted sigh from the crowd, and then a sound that fills me with complete dread. The high-pitched roar makes every hair on my arms stand on end. My skin chills like ice. I know that cry. I know what it means.

  And then he comes trotting into the little arena the king has created in the garden. The crowd scatters. The entertainers leave.

  Cas leans forward in his seat and shouts, “No!”

  A surge of rage pulses through me as the king nocks an arrow and lets it fly. My heart skips a beat as I see Anta, my Anta, hit in the flank by the arrow.

  Cas turns to his father and I can see his lips moving, but he does not physically try to stop him. The king lets another arrow fly, hitting Anta in the neck. Anta—panicked—races around the small enclosure, lowering his antlers towards members of the crowd. They squeal excitedly and run away from him as though it is a game.

  My chest hurts with the pain, and in an instant, I feel my consciousness fading. I know that what I am about to do will be on pure instinct alone.

  I lift my hand from the window and draw my arms back to my side. With one fluid motion, I push both arms away from me, drawing on my power of wind at the same time.

  With a great crumbling of stone, the gale passes through the wall, knocking it all to the ground, and sending up a great plume of dust. A woman screams, clutches her skirt, and runs away
from the rubble. The king stops, his bow drops from his hand and his jaw falls open. Cas is on his feet, his eyes are open wide with fear and shock.

  I turn towards the king and a fireball forms in my hand. The king’s face is contorted in fear as I throw the fire towards him. Cas leaps down from the raised platform and begins to run towards me, but I wait and watch to see if the ball of fire makes it to its target. The king ducks out of the way, and the throne bursts into flames.

  There is a moment of utter silence as all eyes turn to me. A dirty, skinny girl in her stained nightdress, yet more powerful than any of them put together. I turn and regard all the nobles, dukes and guards, stood still, their jaws dropped with shock. Anta lets out a great snort and walks towards me, his body trembling.

  “Mae?” Cas says.

  There is no time. I never wanted him to find out like this, but I could never sit and idly watch as the king killed Anta.

  “Seize her!” the king shouts.

  But I summon a tornado before the guards can get to me. As they run towards me, the wind knocks them off their feet, tossing them across the gardens as though they weigh nothing. The wedding guests flee, but my tornado finds some of them, tripping them to the ground and creating madness. While the palace guards attempt to deal with the chaos, I jump onto Anta’s back and he responds under my touch.

  The king gapes at me, his eyes wide and full of terror. In that moment he is the man from his fear, wailing in the dark at the thought of dying. I toss another fireball in his direction, not caring anymore. It hits his shoulder and he screams in agony. He runs into the waterfall of the garden and plunges in.

  “To the gates, Anta,” I whisper into the stag’s ear. With one hand I can only clutch his coat, grip with my legs, and hope to stay on.

  But the guards are closing in on us. I use the water from the garden to create a wave, knocking them to the ground. I urge Anta on with my legs and he gallops out of the garden and into the great courtyard of the castle. In one heart stopping moment, Anta swerves to avoid a collision with a cart carrying fruit, almost unseating me in the process. The trader covers his face with his hands and runs from me. Anta dodges through the castle servants, cantering up to the castle gate.