A War of Silver and Gold Read online

  They rose in unison and sheathed their swords as the King spoke again, this time addressing the crowd behind them. “The Heir is returned to our City, the bloodline of the King forever shall preserve!”

  His words made Cassia cringe. She never had the desire of becoming his Heir, she never needed all that hatred on her shoulders, on her soul. He turned around and walked into the Palace and they followed obediently with bowed heads. She had a purpose being here, apart from securing her safety and her city’s. The King didn’t talk to her as he walked away from the Throne Room surrounded by his advisors. She turned to Ael, who was gulping silently, his eyes widened as he eyed the King with suspicion holding over him.

  “He is terrifying.” He said as he grasped the sheath of his sword tightly between his fingertips.

  “He is family to me, the only family that I have left, and he has accepted my human blood without shunning me away.” She shook her head, dismissing every thought from her brain and sighed heavily. “Come, I’ll show you to your room.”

  He looked at her questioningly.

  “It is my Palace also, I know where my room is and my commander’s room is adjoined to mine. Come, we must rest before the feast.”

  + + +

  Cassia inhaled deeply. Her legs were folded, her hands opened and facing upwards as she rested them on her bent knees. She was meditating again, it was somehow vital for her to keep up her cold demeanour in the presence of the King. She was his executioner, not a damsel in distress. She exhaled again as her breath took over a fine pattern.

  In a few hours, the feast would begin, and she was certain, the King would prepare another scheme of showing her that he still had the upper hand in her life. She knew him all too well; he couldn’t stray from his habits easily. Last time he made her humiliate a human slave stable-boy in front of all the Lords of the Court. She still remembered the pleading eyes of the slave, he asked her to let him go, but she couldn’t do anything, she couldn’t defy the King. She slipped into his mind though and managed to kill him -spare him another moment of pain, a life of terrors- before the King understood what happened to the man before him, he was too drunk to understand anyway.

  She had thrown onto the bed the dark green velvety pants, the same coloured overcoats, a white plain shirt to wear underneath and black leather boots. Her gold belt along with the golden sheath of her sword was also thrown beside the clothes. The little golden circlet was neatly placed beside the belt. The servants always took care of her clothes in the wardrobe there in her Palace Chamber; they shined the silver and golden accessories she wore when visited.

  The sword was vital to wear even when she was in the Palace. The gem on the hilt was a way to express military and social rank. It was a massive ruby, the clearest she had seen so far, which adorned her sword. Rubies were for Generals, emeralds for commanders, amethysts for Lords with no military rank and sapphires for soldiers. To gain a sword from the Citadel one had to have shown great bravery and determination.

  The clock beside the white wardrobe stopped. Its pendulum had come to a halt. She stood from her place on the floor, flexing her muscles and wincing at the feeling. She turned and went into the bathroom. She washed quickly, dried her hair with the assistance of her magic and brushed them. She pulled them over to her one side and braided a loose plait. She still wore her towel as she laid the brush onto the vanity desk.

  Her shoulders were full of scars, the towel could barely cover a red mark that began from her left ribs and went up close to her collarbone. It was the reason she never wore dresses with deep cleavage. She wasn’t ashamed of her scars, but it felt strange to show them to the Lords and Ladies of the Court. They cringed the first time and turned away in abhorrent disgust.

  She shook her head and she leant towards the mirror in the vanity desk to grab the eyeshades and the dark kohl. She wasn’t favouring makeup, but it made her look scary and intimidating. By the time she was finished a grey eyeshade, the black kohl and a red lipstick made her look different. Her green eyes stuck out more and her lips looked bigger and fuller. She had years to stare at herself with so much terror for her own skin.

  She had almost forgotten how she looked like with all this makeup on her face. She hissed at her reflection and turned her head in disgust and stood. She dressed swiftly, trying not to ruin her makeup and slipped her feet into her boots. Those had more height than her usual ones, they didn’t bother her, but it felt strange to wear them again. She placed the circlet over her head.

  Last, she wore her belt and pulled her sword in the golden sheath. She looked intimidating, she knew she did. The elves that were to attend the feast were to wear white attire, but she never bode well with that rule of the King, though he didn’t seem to mind.

  She checked one last time if she had forgotten to wear something. She pulled her dagger in her boots and stood. The door knocked and she jumped. It wasn’t the door from the corridor, but the door to the adjoined room.

  “Come in.” She said as she kept fastening the belt tighter onto her green coat.

  The door opened and closed with a thud. She heard the silent steps of the elf inside her room. “I believe it’s time...” He trailed as she turned around and glanced at him. His expression changed immediately, from merriness to terror. “You look...” He paused for a moment, holding his breath, eyes widening. “You look terrifying.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I know, that’s the reason I dressed up like this.”

  He sighed. “Oh, but you are beautiful nonetheless.”

  She shook her head. “Anyway,” she cleared her throat. “Let me enlighten you about tonight.” She moved closer to him, standing before him as she fixed his brown coat. “Since the King doesn’t know that you are High Born, you are going to attend another feast down in the City. Please, be careful and don’t let your guard down, not even for a moment.”

  He looked at her to the eyes. She mentally thanked that the boots had higher heels and she could look him in the eyes easier. “Cassia, if they are going to hurt you-”

  She cut him off. “I know how to handle them and apart from that I am going to do some atrocious things in there.” She shook her head. “Trust me, I’ll go in there alone and you are going to have fun in your feast. Don’t think about me, I know how to manage those people better than the King anyway.”

  “I am still terrified at the idea that you are going to get hurt.”

  He pulled up his hand, his fingertips touched the skin of her cheek. She would have shivered, but somehow he had moved closer to her, close enough that she could only see his darkened eyes and the sense of protectiveness that overcome them as he looked at her. The soft caress of his fingers against her left skin made her shook her head and pull away. There was no room for deep, sentimental feelings in this place.

  “Don’t be,” her voice had grown huskier. “Don’t be afraid, nothing is going to happen to me anyway.” She pulled further away and sighed heavily as she placed her right hand on her sword’s handle. “Have fun; sleep with as many she-elves as you can, drink enough wine, talk, flirt. Do whatever you want.”

  “And you?” His voice had grown weaker.

  She exhaled heavily and raised an eyebrow. “I am going to stay sober through the entire night and stand by the throne. I am going to confront High Lords and humiliate their Ladies and I am going to kill –the King’s treat since he thinks he knows how much I like the smell of blood.”

  He shook his head. “Like the smell of blood?”

  She shrugged. “That’s what I had told him once and trust me I regret it gravely.” She eyed his sword then; she hadn’t told him something about needing his sword that night. “How did you know that you needed the sword tonight?”

  He frowned. “I didn’t, I just presumed you would approve.”

  She nodded. “I approve, but don’t ever let your sword out of sight. You are lucky enough that the stone in the hilt is emerald.”

  “Why?”

  “Emerald is for commande
rs.” She tapped her finger on the gem on her own sword. “The ruby I have is for generals and heirs.” She shook her head. “Plain luck you chose a sword with an emerald gem.”

  “Or Fate!”

  She shook her head chuckling. Fate. She exhaled and laughed. “I don’t believe in Fate, my friend.”

  “It was Fate that we met and Fate all those years ago that my father fed me to the wolves. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have met you now.”

  “It was Luck, not Fate.”

  She shook her head and walked to the door. “Anyway, we have to leave. Ask a servant and he will point you the way to your Feast.” He remained there for a moment gazing at her, his eyebrows knitting before he moved out of the room. “Go that way.” She pointed towards our left. “And I will go that way.”

  “Sia, if you need-”

  She shook her head, dismissing his speech. “I won’t need anything. Now, go. Have fun, it’s your feast anyway.”

  He nodded before he turned and walked down the corridor, she remained there, looking at him until he was out of her sight. She didn’t know what had passed over her, but she felt different with him for some reason. He felt different, to her at least. She shook her head; those childish thoughts of finding love –no- compassion and understanding in the eyes of the lycan, these thoughts were not to be expressed. Never.

  She closed the door and went down the corridor. The music had already begun as she descended the stairs, her hands clasped behind her back, the hilt of the sword protruding from her side. She reached the end of the white staircase and straightened her spine. The many pairs of elven eyes trained on her, the music stopped. She fixed her eyes on the King and raised her chin high.

  She was unmistakably known even to those new Lords or even their sons. The ruby in her sword, the golden belt around her waist and the golden circlet around her head gave away her princeling status more than was required. She could listen to the murmurs of the Ladies, plotting to set her up with one of their sons. They should have known better than this. As she walked down the ballroom and towards the King, the crowd opened to the sides, parting in two.

  The colourless white flowers, the golden cups with sparkling foaming wine and the numerous pillars abound the room, dressed in their best white frocks. The King was a maniac when it came to colour. Cassia couldn’t figure where the King had gotten the flowers, maybe ships had brought them from the southern Islands, the Islands of Scorps, down to the Great Ocean of Ellor.

  The crystal chandeliers, illuminating and reflecting the light about the chamber, washing the malice from the vicious faces of the Lords. It was better having them drown in wine, coat themselves in sin and hate than allowing them into the matter of the state in council rooms cast in darkness and lecherousness for land and blood.

  At the other end of the Great Hall, the King sat on his marble throne, invincible and unmoving. Hate sparkled like diamonds in his severe and sinister face. So much malice and hatred Cassia would have averted her eyes, but this was no place for cowardice. She had to live up to the legendary name she had been given.

  The chamber suffocated her, but with her green clothes and her circlet, she was the black spot in a sea of white. She kept her eyes on the King, never straying from him.

  She concentrated on her steps, counting softly inside her head. She distasteful glances towards the Lords and Ladies, making it known to them she would not tolerate foolishness easily, her hand dangerously close to her sword. She clenched her jaw and narrowed her mismatched eyes on them, the eyes of an empress, a conqueror. A female strong enough to bring down and clutch and destroy empires, men and males and tear them apart with her talons of gold and silver and adamantine determination.

  She bowed before the King and took her rightful place at his side.

  The Lady in green ascended the white marble stairs that led to the throne. Her hand idly fell onto the back of the white throne. She knew that one day this burden would fall on her shoulders; this burden would be hers to carry because of the quality of the blood running through her veins. She dreaded that time, but it also gave her a reason to move and change the world.

  Yes, a reason to change the world, a reason to execute all those Lords around her. A reason to destroy this unworthy court and build a new one on the ashes and blood of the old.

  No more death, she reminded herself. No more death.

  The music began again and the crowd returned to dancing and celebrating. The King turned his cold, unfeeling glance at her, his right hand gripping a golden cup full of white wine. Of course, the King never favoured red wine, she remembered this clearly.

  He smiled devilishly and nodded his head. “You have taught your pet well, I see?”

  His voice made her mind cringe and the need to belch in disgust rose to her tongue. She wore her own fake devilish smile and narrowed her eyes. Her voice, the voice that spoke wasn’t hers, it was too harsh but too shrieking. “Pets are to be trained, your Majesty, and they are to be shunned and killed wherever the Master feels the need.”

  “He must have been tough that one. A lycan.”

  She knew what he was doing, she knew that he was trying to find any loophole in her mind, she knew he was trying to find something that would make her seem false and faulty for the people. It hurt him and itched him to know that his citizens favoured the Halfling elf princess instead of him.

  He should have fought beside them in the War then, instead of sitting on his high Throne, commanding his elves like sheep to be slaughtered in a golden slaughterhouse.

  “No, he bent to my will quickly enough. Of course, after he acquired intimate knowledge for the traditions of Navacore...” Her voice trailed, not from terror, never from terror.

  “You’ve done well again, daughter. I’ve always been proud of you, more than my despicable son. Who would have known that such strength had come from the womb of a human woman? You have surpassed all my expectations,” he nodded and presented her with another baleful smile. “For that, I have reserved a present for my bloodlust Heir!”

  He stood from his throne and the music stopped again. He raised his hands. She knew what was coming after; she had to kill tonight to satisfy his need for blood, not her needs, the King’s needs. “Bring the prisoners before the Heir!” The King’s voice echoed through the white Hall, stentorian and unfaltering.

  The door on the west side of the Hall flung open and screams followed and shouts of men, human men. Guards dragged and cursed as they pushed to the ground violently three men. The humans, young in face and years grasped in the hands of the guards pleading, pleading to be spared, their voices cracking from long hours of torture.

  The King turned to Cassia and smiled before he returned to his throne. Her heart sunk as he said, “There, take your gift.”

  She bowed her head and bit her tongue fiercely. She managed another false smile. “Thank you, my Liege.”

  She turned and glanced at the men, the guards had them fallen to their knees as they let their head hung low. She took in a deep breath, her mind hovering over thoughts of her dangerous past. She feigned an expressionless mask and pulled her sword.

  “Are they trespassers of our lands?” She asked again with that shrieking voice she despised so much. She heard the nobles shuddering in fear as she spoke.

  “They tried to kill me, daughter. Take your revenge.” The King said dismissively.

  She pulled her sword up, the blade shone under the lights. She dragged it down over the head of the first one. She didn’t look at him; she looked on her bloodied sword instead, the man’s limp body fell to the ground with a thud as had his head before him. She couldn’t show mercy, not now, not ever under the eyes of the King. The white marble on the floor must have turned red, crimson; she didn’t turn her eyes to see it. She walked to the next one as she stepped onto the blood that was smeared on the floor, her boots leaving red imprints as she walked towards the next victim.

  She took a glimpse at his face, but she didn’t even blink. She brought the swor
d over his head. She had turned her eyes to the crowd and she didn’t see the blood again, she kicked the dead body forward with her foot and heard the King laughing in the most twisted way she had ever witnessed.

  Cassia swore to every god and goddess she knew; she would take the King’s head with the same sword she held and she would remind him every death she had brought with the sword because of his rutting lust for power.

  The next one, she pulled the sword over his head, close to his neck. He raised his eyes and glanced at her, she would have flinched, but she stood her ground.

  She was the Heir, she killed for sport. Legends about her name made people believe she drank blood and feasted on the flesh of her victims. She wanted to let the man go, free him from his pains and give him a life where he wouldn’t need to be afraid of the King.

  She couldn’t do this though, not back then. The King would instantly know if she was to flinch away from the man. She pulled the sword up and took the head of the man as swiftly and as painlessly as she knew. The head fell on the floor with a thud; she grasped onto his clothes and cleaned the blade of her sword. She couldn’t do this anymore, but she had to stand there and fake vanity of killing these men.

  She pushed his body with her foot as she had done to the man before him. “Filthy scum!” She shouted and the people cheered.

  She killed three men before them. The Ladies had aborted their eyes from her, but the Lords were more than happy to acknowledge –first hand- how loyal was their Heir to their King.

  She was not loyal, she hated the elf, but she couldn’t let go of her past. Blood had made her what she was, she couldn’t forget. She would never forget.

  She returned to her place by the throne. “Well done, daughter, well done.” The King whispered his eyes shone of gratification as she nodded.