Ice Burns (44 page)

“What's this? Who are you?” one of the guards yelled, his face went bright red and apoplectic. Alphonse stepped forward.

“All's well; I brought her here.” Alphonse waved his arms in front of the men.

“And what does that matter? You’re a deranged old coot!” the guard shouted. Chandra couldn’t help but nod at that assessment. “Get them out of here and question the girl as to why she thinks she can be on the ancient throne.”

“Whoa! I was told to come and sit in the chair, and I did. That’s it,” Chandra tried to tell them, her hands raised, palms out. She was thankful the shadows kept the man from seeing her eyes clearly.

“Take ‘em to the Marshall and see what he wants to do with them.” The ruddy, round guard still looked on the verge of a stroke and his eyes were not quite back in their correct place. The three of them were marched off to an office near where Alphonse had filched the armor and boots for Chandra.

“Found ‘em in the throne room,” a young guard said to a grizzled older man in a stiff blue uniform with a salt and pepper beard and sharp blue eyes.

“Very well, Cooper,” the man said. “Take them in to wait.”

“Aye, sir!” Cooper said with a salute and marched them into a tiny room. They had been in the chamber for a short time before the gray-haired guard, whom Chandra assumed was the Marshall, entered.

“Smythson says the girl was on the throne at your behest, seer?” the man asked after entering the room with Smythson. Chandra noticed the way the man accented the word “seer” as though it were something vile instead of a title.

Alphonse nodded. “She’s the princess,” he told them, his eyes steady on the sharp gaze of the Master at Arms.

The Master at Arms frowned. “You know the princess. She ran away two fortnights ago, quickly followed by the queen.”

“She was not the real princess. This girl is,” Alphonse said, shaking his head.

The Marshall looked at Chandra, who didn’t look up but fought the urge to shrug. His gaze took her in for a moment before turning back to look at the old seer. “Okay, for argument’s sake, you decided to sneak this princess to the throne?”

“To protect the kingdom, yes!” Alphonse looked relieved. He apparently misunderstood the Marshall’s barely veiled sarcasm as agreement. Matta, Chandra noted, was staying wisely silent.

“And did it work? Did the throne activate?” The man's tone implied that he didn't need the answer. Alphonse sighed and deflated.

“No,” he told them mournfully. Chandra started to see Alphonse was very much like his brother in the pouting child department, but instead of anger, this brother was naive.

“In the future, would you mind bringing any heirs to the throne you come across to me instead of sneaking them into the throne room.” The Marshall's gray eyebrows reached for his hair.

Alphonse nodded slowly, and the Marshall gave a sharp nod.

“Escort them back to the seer’s study, Smythson. I don’t think they’ll be any further trouble.” The Marshall eyed the trio, and Chandra shook her head, her eyes down and with what she hoped was a contrite expression on her face. The stern man turned to leave the room but hadn’t made it to the door when it burst open, and Cooper stepped in.

“We’re saved! A son of Manus survived the cleansing and is on his way to reclaim the throne!” Cooper was all but dancing with joy. The Marshall's eyes widened just slightly but otherwise showed no real response to the news.

“Bring him to me when they enter the castle.”

Cooper nodded so hard it looked as though his head might separate from his neck. Smythson’s flush did not change, and he gestured at them to exit. He escorted them to the seer’s office where Chandra thought he might try to lock them in at the way he paused in the doorway. Instead, he shook his head and grunted before he closed the door.

“I don’t understand,” Alphonse muttered, and Matta walked to a window to look out. Alphonse raised his eyes to Chandra. “You are the princess, but the throne did not recognize you. Why?”

“Because I’m not...” Chandra began but was interrupted by Matta.

“What's wrong with your right hand, Chandra?” the Dryad asked her without turning from the window.

Chandra had been itching it and stopped. She looked at the white hair that flowed down her friend’s back and said nothing. She wasn’t sure what she could say. Matta turned and walked back to them.

“May I see your hand?” Matta held out both hands to her. Chandra knew it wasn’t a command and fought the urge say no. She was embarrassed by the skin there that had burned and not restored like the rest of her had. She peeled away the glove and held out her hand. Matta rested Chandra's hand in her two palms but was careful not to touch the young woman's pitch-black palm. The skin and scales had begun to climb her forearm.

“Dear Ancients, save us!” Alphonse said as he leaned in to look. He reached out a hand to touch her palm, and Matta slapped it away. Alphonse looked at her and flushed.

“Yes, yes, mustn’t touch!” Alphonse chuckled, and Chandra frowned. There were times when he seemed more mad than sane

“When did this happen?” Matta asked, and Chandra blushed.

“Sometime after I was abducted, tortured, and almost had my magic drained before I went back and burned them all to bits including the building they were in before growing new skin, hair and having glowing eyes,” Chandra said in a rush.

Matta looked toward the window never having let go of Chandra's hand, though it was less pink skin than blackened flesh. When she looked back, her eyes glittered dangerously.

“Did you get them all?” Matta's rasping voice was no more than a whisper but felt like a shout. Chandra nodded, and so did Matta. The dryad's lost her ethereal quality. “This didn’t occur when you were captured?”

“I don’t think so, but I wasn’t exactly in my head when it happened. I was drugged and...” Chandra closed her eyes for a moment before opening them. Her eyes warred between water and fire, but she knew what was done to her would never afflict another person by the hands of her torturers. “When I was free, I found myself on fire.”

Matta’s eyes widened, but she kept her gaze firmly on Chandra’s.

“I felt the fire flowing over and through me, and all I could do is...”

Matta nodded. “And after?”

“I was still burning, but I saw...” she paused and looked where Frostwhite was napping on a perch near the window. “I saw that I was burning and scary, and I kind of went out.”

“And that’s when you saw your hand?” Matta asked.

“The hawk wouldn’t let me touch him with that hand, and then I noticed it,” she said.

“Smart birdie,” Alphonse said with a nod. “Might have hurt him if you had touched him.”

“I thought...I mean I know that the skin was burned, and looks odd, but I figured I had only charred some of the skin from using my magic, at first,” Chandra said. When the scales had grown, she knew it was more than just blackened skin. She'd remained hopeful for a while that it would heal.

“It’s a venom kiss, and you’re lucky it hasn’t eaten your hand away!” Alphonse said, rustling through some books and muttering about counter-curses and anti-venom. “You must have got it from the creatures in the city, not when you used your magic. Unless...”

He paused and came closer, putting his face as close to her hand as possible without touching it. “Unless you’ve had it since birth and this is a mark of your dark soul being taken by a Night creature?”

“I believe she would have noticed it, as would I, if she had been born with it,” Matta said with an eye roll. Alphonse made a clicking noise and went back to his books.

Matta continued to study her hand, turning it this way and that without touching the black, scaly palm. Then she raised her careworn eyes to meet Chandra’s, and a rock settled in Chandra’s stomach.

“At some point, you need to find your mother, child,” Matta murmured. “The queen will have gone into hiding with her husband dead, but you can find her.”

Matta read her thoughts and patted her shoulder.

“That reminds me of something,” Matta walked over to a bureau with a woven bag that had probably held grain at some point. When Matta turned back from pulling something from the bag,

Chandra gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. In Matta’s arms, she held the beautiful cloak Chandra had purchased and thought lost to the fire at the Torture Inn. Her eyes were wet with happiness at it’s return.

“How?” Chandra’s voice was ragged as she reached to touch the fine material.

“As the thaw grew, I felt your magic twist and I followed it.”

Matta the dryad’s eyes misted with a greenish moisture like dew.

“I didn’t get there in time to save you, not that you ended up needing it,” Matta’s voice was soft like wind through leaves. “But, I found this on a pack with a wandering horse and it was coated with your colors.”

Chandra bunched her hands in the fabric and held it to her face.

“Thank you,” Chandra spoke through the fabric. She pulled it away and looked at her unusual mentor whose eyes shone back at her. “I can’t describe what this means to me. I know it’s silly to be so attached to something material, but... it’s the first thing I’ve ever had that was mine, without ties to something else.”

Matta patted her arm and then helped her don the cloak. They both looked at it and thought about what it signified for Chandra’s future.

“You have earned your right for solitude, but I'm not certain you can be content without all of the answers," Matta smiled. "No matter who your mother is, the queen will have answers. When you wish to find them, you need to find her and tread carefully. She is a dangerous woman, and she’s running which makes her unpredictable.”

Chandra nodded.

Epilogue

Epilogue

The following morning, they were all in the grand audience chamber for the succession ceremony. A slender, rough-looking man had entered the castle the evening before. The guard had given useful information, and the man was a cousin to the throne. His father, Seanneas was a cousin to the dethroned Rawland and son to the surname of Manus. It was a connection slightly removed, but a Winterbourne connection just the same. Willam was the only of eight males in his family who had survived the cleansing.

After extensive questioning from the Marshall and Alphonse as the castle historian, Willam Manus cum Winterbourne was taken to the throne room. Once he sat at the ancient dais, the magic in his blood was recognized and Willam proclaimed heir.

Alphonse tried to describe the power that swirled around the room and some type of rainbow snowflakes, but Chandra just felt relief. A true successor had come to the castle.

Chandra and Matta had their own unique experience with when Willam "just sat down." Matta stood beside her when it happened with her eyes closed. Both women felt the hum of the bond move through the castle and the Winterbourne lands.

“He is not strong; his blood is far removed from the royal line, but the throne recognizes him and will honor his magic.” She opened her eyes, and Chandra looked into the pale depths. “We must hope for the sake of these lands that nothing comes forward to challenge him, or he will not be able to stand. His magic is not strong enough to defend and hold. I believe the ancient magic sees him as a placeholder only and will not accept him for long. Faust needs a real heir to connect to the throne and revive the ancient magic’s connection to the land.”

Chandra nodded but said nothing. She knew, behind the clear depths of Matta’s eyes, there rested an image of Chandra sitting where Willam was.

The main audience chamber filled with people from the nearby towns who had come to see the man who would take the throne. Chandra and Matta stayed to the back of the crowd to watch but, for Chandra, to distance themselves from the ceremony.

Chandra looked at the faces, seeing many that reflected joy at a new heir while others seemed shadowed in distrust. Near her, another was looking at the crowd, itching at bright red burns that ran down his cheek and peppered his long, pointed nose. His eyes would lock on Chandra’s face for a moment before pushing away to avoid notice.

Chandra shivered once as a part of her felt the touch of darkness and she rubbed her arms as though that would push it away.

The heir now stood between the two thrones and the head of the room, holding the crown that had been given to him by a wizened old priest as he surveyed the people in attendance. When he spoke, he made Matta’s appraisal of the situation fact.

“I have connected to the kingdom, but I am here only as a regent Pro Tempore. Your real king, Charlemanus, second son of Manus is en route to reclaim the throne. I am here at his behest that the throne has a Winterbourne regent to protect its people and work toward restoring Faust to its former glory and prosperity!”

The gathered crowd roared approval. The collective was ragged, having endured lots of poverty under the reign of Dezmond and Adeena, and they welcomed the ability to hope.

“Charlemanus is a great man like his father was, and I am honored to stand his stead until his journey brings him home to you!” Stomping and yells followed his statement, and Willam handed the crown back to the priest with a bow as he settled into the king’s throne to make introductions of the nobles that remained or had returned when the King had died.