Sinevia blinked, haunted by the memory she viewed as all but a betrayal. Father was a fool, but he was right to fear magic. It had cost Daphne her life. It had made her weak and naive. Magic was dangerous unchecked. It couldn’t be eradicated, no matter how hard father tried. It would always exist. So it only made sense that it should be wielded by one. One with the strength andjudgement required to suppress any power that could ever rise up against it. To cut away weakness wherever it festered.
As she turned to go from the prisons, one cell caught her eye—the dark bloodstained dungeons that once held her brother. His chains still strewn across the floor in the same spot they’d fallen since the day he broke free. The dungeon she would visit so often to teach him songs and think of games to play through those iron bars. Those iron bars she had promised to find a way to unlock one day...
She'd deal with Asterious and his court of fools soon enough. But she was glad he ran. She'd planned on killing him at first, but his absence and the passage of time had birthed a far better idea for his punishment. She'd make him her slave, like father had done, except this time he’d no longer be shielded by prison walls. No. She’d put him on display for all to see, as a constant reminder of the power she held.
And until then, he wouldn't be able to take the high road forever. She just had to bring out his bloodthirst again. She was certain her curse would accomplish that with time—when the strength of his bare hands were no longer enough, and he couldn't stand to outrun the need to kill any longer. And by then she'd be strong enough to put that bloodthirst under her command…and trap him in it forever like he always feared.
She turned to leave, making the trek back to the throne room, where the Captain of the Guard opened the door for her and informed her of a visitor. She rolled her eyes and walked to the throne, permitting the doors to open once she was seated.
An interruption to her plotting burst forth in the form of the Captain entering the dimly lit throne room, his footsteps echoing on stone. As he walked the long, dark walkway towards the throne, Sinevia raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at the dirty, hooded figure that limped beside him.
“Remind me of what this is about.” She commanded gently, her voice like a nightingale.
“Your Majesty.” The Captain bowed. “This gentleman requested an audience in your presence this morning. You told him to come back at midday.”
“Ah, yes.” Sinevia let a sigh escape her ruby lips as she smoothed the heavy velvet skirt across her lap. “And what is it you have come to ask?” Her dark gaze shifted to the man beside the Captain, who had now removed his hood to reveal his weathered face and balding hairline.
“Your Majesty.” The man bowed so low he nearly kissed the floor. “I have come to ask once more that you send aid to our city. There have been so many raids from the mountain tribes that things are beginning to feel—well—out of control. They are taking our food and flocks.”
“And which village is yours, again? Do remind me.” Sinevia’s tone was cold and her gaze unmoving.
“Misthelm, Your Majesty…” The man quaked, looking down at the floor.
“I see.” Sinevia rubbed her fingers together, taking her eyes off the peasant before her. “If I remember correctly, there are those in Misthelm who...” she breathed a pause, playing with her words, “...oppose me. They’ve made it known that they refuse to close their temples as I have demanded. And now they dare to ask me to send them protection? Let them pray for protection to the gods they so fiercely defend.”
“Well, yes, Your Majesty, but it’s only a few—’’
The queen cut him off. “A few who have chosen their fate. To oppose me is to lose.” She stood, the long dark locks beneath her crown falling around her shoulders. “I am no fool to this game. You expect me to be merciful? To overlook outright rebellion? Your temple priestesses pray for my downfall, do they not?” She laughed gently with a chilling hum in her throat. “I have learnedthat mercy is a fool’s game. And your deplorable citizens must learn that I do not play games.”
“There’s nothing you can do?” Tears welled up in the man’s eyes as he pleaded up at the dark queen before him. “My children. It’s dangerous for them. I worry each night that there will be another raid.”
“Perhaps you should find a new place to live. Or convince those who oppose me to submit.”
“But, Your Majesty, with all due respect, even King Daemar offered protection regardless—’’
“Do not speak that name in my presence again,” Sinevia hissed. “In case you have forgotten, Daemar is long dead. And I am your Queen now. Do not return to my court unless you can tell me every soul in your village has pledged their allegiance to me and me alone. And you can prove it.”
"How…how would I possibly prove that, Your Majesty?" The man stuttered.
Sinevia smiled. "Bring me the head of your high priestess. Then maybe I will believe you." As the man's eyes widened in horror, the queen addressed the Captain. “Now get this man out of my sight.”
The Captain took the dejected man by the arm, and led him away, back through the great entrance of the throne room. When the doors were closed, Sinevia sent a guard to request that the Captain return alone.
As she waited, visions of the girl from weeks past flashed through her head—the strange girl who’d appeared in a dream one night, only for a moment, before she vanished like smoke. Sinevia didn’t know who she was, but something about her gaze unsettled her and drew her in all at once. She couldn’t forget those eyes, no matter how fleeting the vision was. Some visions she could call on and control—but this one was sporadic and unclear.
She pushed the thought aside, having given up on it by now, replacing it again with thoughts of Asterious, and how she would make him suffer. He had always been the noble one, despite the darkness that plagued him. But that untamed temper of his left its ruin on him like the bloodstains of his cell. But perhaps it could be the most useful tool to her of all. She couldn’t fight him with magic or weapons to bring out his dark power. He’d learned to control it too well by now. It would have to be a battle of the heart. She’d have to take something from him he couldn’t live without, so that he no longer cared to lose himself.
She pocketed the thought for later, brushing away any inklings of doubt as she returned to her seat on the throne. She reassured herself that she would, in due time, break Prince Asterious.
The broad-shouldered captain returned, solemn and silent, ready to accept his next assignment. “Captain.” Sinevia’s midnight voice lilted through the great room. “Send troops to burn half the crops of Misthelm. And destroy the temples. I want the message to be clear enough.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The Captain bowed.
As he turned away, Sinevia considered how long she had been seated there, churning over her burdens as queen and her bastard brother, and decided some fresh air might help her clear her head. Perhaps a ride to visit Daphne's grave before supper would ease her mind. Though many of the palace horses had disappeared in the night with Asterious and the traitors who followed him, her stable remained well-stocked.
“Oh, and one more thing, Captain.” Sinevia’s perfect lips curved faintly. “Ready my horse.”
Across the hillsides she rode at a slow and steady pace to match the thoughts lingering in her head. As she reached the field where the last few wild violets bloomed, she dismounted and picked a handful to carry to her dear friend's grave. Memories danced like ghosts of summers spent as childrenweaving flower crowns in sunlit grass. The lilacs had died out weeks ago, and the violets would soon follow. Winter would claim everything.
