Chapter 36 | The Tale of Two Kingdoms

The next day dawned clear and fresh; spring had warmed the earth fully. The air in the field where Warin and the Travelers had camped smelled of trampled grass, wood smoke and horses. As Warin slowly woke, he briefly thought he was a child again, waking up in his father's camp during troop maneuvers, before he became a man and went to war. A small part of him wanted to stay there, dreaming and dozing, half expecting to hear his father's booming voice calling him to rise up and come eat breakfast with the men. Then he remembered: His father was dead. His thoughts quickly moved to Emmae and his brother, and he came awake fully.

Today was the day he would kill his brother and take Emmae back, or die in the attempt.

Inside the castle, a flock of serving women tended to Emmae in her new chambers. Emmae looked for old Meg among them, but she wasn't there. Meg was familiar, and though she was loyal to her beloved prince, she'd been kind to Emmae; her absence made Emmae anxious somehow. "Where's Meg?" she asked, but none of the other serving women knew. She sighed, fidgeting under their hands as they tugged and tied her into a gown of dark Tremontine red. At least Jessa wasn't among them, she thought. Her long chestnut hair was left unveiled and combed into a shining torrent to her waist, awaiting the crown Hildin would place on her head. The serving women left in a chattering, excited flood.

Against their tide came Gill, a jewel casket in his hands. He pulled two pearl drop earrings from the casket, fastened them in her ears, and kissed her tenderly. The long, lingering embrace left her breathless and confused. Dipping into the casket again, he pulled out several ropes of pearls and fastened them around her neck. "These belonged to Queen Sella, Hildin's mother," he smiled. She trailed her fingers down the lustrous strands, thinking.

"Gill," she said, moving away to pick at her uneaten breakfast, "I have missed Meg these last two days. No one knows where she is. I should like to have her back among my women. She is one of the few friendly things in this horrid place, and I miss her."

"Ah," said Gill, averting his eyes. "That will not be possible."

"And why is that?" she said. She picked up a silverberry and examined it listlessly.

"Because she is dead," he replied, shutting the casket lid with a click. "I killed her." Emmae dropped the silverberry. "Jessa, too. I knew Meg all my life, and it grieved me to do it. But no one who knew you were here could live, my lady, I'm sure you can see that."

"No," she said hotly, "I can't see that at all! Meg would never have betrayed you! How could you do such a thing? I never wish to be the cause of anyone's death!"

"Then I suggest," said Hildin as he strode into the room, "that you never speak to anyone of Warin, your enchantment, or the circumstances in which we found you. Do you understand? We will kill any confidante of yours, my dear, so confide only in us. I loved Meg. That's why Gill killed her for me. You're right, she would never have knowingly betrayed me, but she was a stupid old thing, and often said things she shouldn't."

"You're beyond disgusting," she whispered. "You're heartless."

"Depend on it, lady," Hildin answered with a feral grin. He took Emmae's hand and spun her slowly around. "Splendid. You look every bit the queen." Hildin himself was darkly handsome in the same red, his sword sheath and dagger winking with jewels. His thick, sleek hair hung in loose waves around his shoulders. He spun her around again and into his arms, turning her away from him to face a cheval mirror.

"See what a handsome pair we make?" Her eyes met his in the mirror. "Oh yes, we've brought mirrors back into the Keep. Wherever we are, and only where we are, there will be a mirror from now on. Let Warin come. I want him to come. I want him to see me atop his throne. I want him to see me atop his woman." He nuzzled her neck, chuckling. "My woman, now, and my throne. Had we any time before the coronation," he murmured against her hair, "I would pull up your skirts and have you right here." He pressed his erection against her and her nipples hardened.

"But no matter," he said breezily, leading her away towards the door. "We have a lifetime to taunt my brother. Or at least until he grows a pair of bollocks and comes to let me kill him." He swept her out of the room to the assembly in the great hall. Gill quickly covered the mirror and followed.

Hidden just outside the city gates, Warin crouched with Connin and seven Travelers, assessing the odds. The gates were closed; everyone who wanted to see the coronation was already lining the streets around the Keep, hoping for a glimpse of the nobles and especially the new king and his beautiful queen. A small squad of bored but well-armed soldiers guarded the gates, some in front, and some above on the parapets.

Warin opened his mirror box. "If Emmae is within sight of her reflection, show her to me." She immediately appeared, queenly and sorrowful in a magnificent gown and his mother's pearls. His brother caressed her from behind, whispering; whatever he said to her brought color to her pale cheeks. But before Warin could gather his magic and step through, they turned away. He caught a glimpse of his cousin Gill, and the mirror went dark.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then turned to Connin. "We shall follow the Teacher's advice, then, and go openly into the city. Are you ready?" he asked.

"This is not our fight," answered Connin, "but we've known about this day and our place in it since your birth. Once this is over, don't expect to call on us again."

Warin grinned savagely. "I'm grateful nonetheless, and will make sure you know it whether you want to or not! Now," he said, standing up, "it's time."

Connin jumped to his feet and strode toward the gates, Warin and the Traveler men following quickly behind. "You!" he bellowed. "You guardsmen! Open the gates of the city! Your prince returns to take his throne!"

"Go away, Traveler scum!" jeered the captain in charge. "Our prince is inside. What play are you acting? I promise you, we won't throw coins."

"And I promise you that you know me," said Warin in a loud voice, joining Connin. "I am Warin, Prince of Tremont, eldest son of Gethin, and I have come back to take what's mine. Let me in." The captain drew his sword; his men followed suit, as did the Travelers. But Warin did not draw. Instead, he held his hands out to his sides. "Come close to me and tell me you don't know me. Tell me to my face I'm not who I say I am."

The captain approached warily, watching the Travelers for signs of ambush or falsehood. He looked in Warin's face, squinting. "You are very like him, I admit it. But it's been ten years since he's been seen here. How can I be sure?" Warin scanned the parapets until he saw a burning torch. He snatched a flame from it and formed it into a wand of light in his hand. "I've seen other nobles do that," said the captain uncomfortably.

Warin smiled grimly. "And this?" He spread his hands and the wand turned into a long staff. Warin spun it and struck the ground with one end. A wall of flames sprang up around the captain, who screamed in panic. Warin waved his hand; the flames died instantly, but he kept the staff in his hand.

The captain dropped to one knee. "It is you," he said, hoarse with emotion. "Your highness--your majesty, your brother has not governed well."

"I am here to rectify that. Will you and your men follow me?"

The captain stood and saluted, his right fist to his heart. "We are loyal to Tremont, your majesty, and you are its rightful ruler."

Warin nodded. "Very well. My first order is that you treat these Travelers with me as equals. They are my companions. Now, captain, let's stop this coronation." The captain signaled his men and the gates opened wide. "You are to make it known among the men that no matter what happens, the Princess Edmerka is not to be harmed," said Warin as they entered the city. "She is blameless in this."

They passed through the streets toward the Keep, gathering soldiers and onlookers behind them as they went, and word quickly spread in the city that Prince Warin had returned. Warin walked at the head of the mob, Connin at his side and the Traveler men at their backs. Strange, he thought, how quickly the habits of command had returned to him--as if he'd never stopped being a prince, almost as if he'd never been a woodsman at all. He put those pensive thoughts aside and acknowledged the shouts now ringing out all around him as he kept walking toward the Keep.

Inside the Keep, brilliant banners hung from the ceiling of the great hall. The lords and ladies gathered there for the coronation, however, reflected the kingdom's mourning for King Gethin; they were more somber, both in clothing and in mood.

Lord Hendas the Elder of Barle turned to his son, Hendas the Younger. "Hildin expects trouble. See the guards lined up against the walls?"

Hendas the Younger frowned. "Does he really think his brother will return? After ten years?"

"How lucky for us all if he would return!" said Hendas the Elder. "Even with the crown on Hildin's head, most of the lords gathered here would recognize Warin as the Heir. Hildin is unstable at best and insane at worst, and if his reign goes anything like his regency has, we're all in trouble." The fat lord shook his jowls sadly.

His son discreetly elbowed him. "Here he comes."

Prince Hildin and his stunning new wife walked down the aisle toward the throne room dais, the assembled nobility bowing on both sides in a solemn hush. On the dais, the High Priest of Pagg waited for them, attended by Gill and another page bearing the crowns.

Despite the occasion's formality, Hildin fairly danced up the aisle, moving quickly to kneel before the High Priest. "Make it fast," he hissed quietly. The startled priest began his planned chant, thought better of it, and gave the prince a quick blessing. He took the king's crown from Gill's hands, held it up, blessed it, and settled it on Hildin's head.

Hildin stood, stepped onto the dais, and looked down on Emmae. He took the queen's crown from the waiting page, held it up briefly, and placed it none too gently on her head. To Emmae, it felt like the weight of her captivity bearing down on her, and she could hardly stand it. Your time will come, she thought to herself. Watch for your opportunity and take it.

"Give me your hand, my queen," Hildin said quietly. He raised her up and brought her onto the dais to face the assembly, which dropped to its knees.

"Long live King Hildin! Long live Queen Edmerka!" cried out Gill, his young voice echoing through the hall. The nobles rose. "Long live King Hildin! Long live Queen Edmerka!" they dutifully repeated.

Not if I can help it, thought Emmae.