Against the Reign (13 page)

Twenty-seven

My heart races as we run up the stairs. We’re careful around every corner, but we see no one until we reach the stairs of the Reflection Room. Ulric’s personal guards are there and they fight without asking questions. They seem more preoccupied with Liam than with me, and glancing up, I see Ulric on the stairs. We meet eyes and he runs. Ward and Borin join in the fight, and since they’re there to help Liam, I run after Ulric.

An intense yearning pumps through my veins and drowns out the sounds around me. I’m focused on getting to Ulric and on ending this fight and nothing else. I reach the top of the stairs and enter the room at a run with sword ready. I can hear each breath I take, each beat of my heart. I match my steps to their rhythm and go.

He’s on the balcony. I’m running to him, my sword raised, my gaze steady, when his arm rises and lowers quickly. A sudden, piercing blow to the gut sends me reeling backwards into the wall. I hit the stone and my legs go out from under me. My hand flies to my abdomen, strokes the handle of the blade stuck in there. A handle I recognize without having to see it. My dagger, given to Vian and stolen from him, now one with me. Surprisingly, there’s no pain, though I suspect there will be later. But there is blood; it streaks my white dress and warms my hand.

I can’t seem to move. A shadow is over me; Ulric, with a grin. His booted foot kicks my hand still holding the sword and I hear the ting of the blade as it slides out of my line of sight. He walks away and there’s a click as the door is locked, strangely loud in my ears. I hear words, though they’re muffled, like if my head was under water.

“All too easy, as I thought it would be. I’m very sorry, my dear. You’re a very beautiful young lady. With proper care and training, you may even have made a good queen someday. You have the history of a troublemaker, but sometimes that willingness to bend the rules makes for a good leader.” Ulric steps away as he speaks, back onto the balcony. “What a beautiful view. I’m rather fond of Newrock. As a matter of fact, when my plan is through, I may retire here. See, I have a plan to carry out. Taking over Etigan and Newrock is just the beginning. Next will come Windem. They are planning to attack me, but I have the upper hand. With our joined forces, I’ll overthrow their king easily. I have spies there. I know the ins and outs of their castle. I know many of their secrets. And once they fall, only Kensar will remain and that will be an easy job. Five kingdoms, reduced to four, soon to be one. Under my rule.” Ulric looks at me and I try to meet his eyes, but everything seems so blurry and tinged with red. He continues talking, letting me bleed, letting me weaken.

“Do you know that I am not a rightful Etigan heir? Neither is Liam, you know, nor was his father. The line of Etigan was tainted long ago. A commoner, unhappy with the king, overthrew him and took his place. It is his line that bore my brother and I and Liam. We have no blood relation to the Etigan knight. Not many people know that. But it’s written in history. Either way. I will soon begin a new line that will rule over this country as one. A fresh start.” Ulric takes a deep breath. “I am very sorry to end your life. Your life, and that of your brother, which, sadly, will follow. Life is a beautiful thing, and you are both so young. But you are just one of many stepping stones on my quest. As was Declan, the beloved brother. And Liam’s older brothers. They both died very young, both in unfortunate accidents. My brother spent years believing his line was cursed, but it was all me.”

I’m listening to Ulric’s words, sickened by his confessions, my head screaming foul things at him that my mouth can’t seem to release. But the light of the setting sun catches my attention. It’s shining on the faces of my painted parents. My gaze drifts to them and I meet eyes with my father. I silently apologize to him for letting him down. I tell him I was right when I said I couldn’t do this. In my head, I hear his voice arguing with me. Telling me to get up. He reminds me that the Knight of Newrock’s sword is mine for the taking when I prove myself worthy.

The painted sword. That’s what caught my eye. It glints in the sunlight. How does paint glint like solid gold?

My father’s voice in my head.
Grab the sword!

I gather my legs under me and try to push myself up. Now there’s pain, piercing, stinging pain that radiates from the dagger’s blade and shoots through my body. My legs are numb, mere thoughts below me, and I slip in the blood that has pooled on the ground. I catch myself on my free hand, keeping one on the dagger’s handle to hold it steady; it can’t leave me yet. Instead, I begin to crawl. It takes all of my will to not cry out in agony, but I won’t give Ulric the pleasure of hearing me whine. Instead, I focus on my goal, and am blindsided by sudden memory flashes that come to me.

It starts with Vian. His small face pleading at me for protection.

His loving embrace when we met in the corridor.

That look he gave me when I let him down.

I can hear them screaming my name. Liam and Ward. They’re banging on the door, but they can’t get in. The door is locked and I’m on the wrong side of it.

More flashbacks.

Ward dancing beside me, sloshing his drink, his laughter filling my mind.

The look on Ward’s face when we told him our plan to make him my maid.

Monroe’s little smile when I tickled his chin.

Marguerite’s determination when she saved us from Ferrant.

The memory flashes help numb the pain as I move. Is my life flashing before my eyes? Does that mean I’m dying?

My cheeks flush with heat; Liam’s lips on mine.

The taste of his mouth, soft and warm.

His weight holding me still when he disarmed me the first time we met.

The feel of his hands on my back.

Liam. If I don’t make it, neither will he. I keep pulling myself.

Ulric is watching me as I scrape across the floor like a maimed dog. The cold stone. Another feeling creeping into my memories. The cold stone of the dungeon. Suddenly, I remember clearly. The hand on my head. It was in the dungeon that night my father locked me away. I was passed out from mead, my cheek lying against the cold stone. Father came in and put a hand on my head.

His words.
You’re better than this. They can doubt you all they want—I know you’re better than this. They don’t think you’ll ever make it as a leader.

I pull myself forward. One more pull to the fireplace.

My father had put his head close to my ear. Was his voice quivering?
Prove them wrong! You are my daughter, and I love you. Prove them wrong!

I’ve reached the fireplace.

“You’re a brave girl. More so than I gave you credit for.” I hear a blade being drawn. Ulric’s blade, studded with green emeralds. Emerald green like Liam’s eyes. “I’m afraid we’ve reached the end though. I won’t make you suffer.”

I pull myself up on the stones, willing my legs to support me. They tingle and stab, but they hold me up. I raise my eyes to see that my suspicion was correct, yet I still marvel at what I’m seeing.

The painting was placed around an indentation in the wall. It looks like my father’s hand rests just above the sword in his belt. But the sword is real, stuck in the wall and reflecting the light from the setting sun. Why have I never noticed it before? I never looked closely enough.

It calls to me now.

I am worthy.

The final strike is coming. With a sudden burst of strength, I wrap my hand around the hilt and yank the sword from the wall. Half a sword, the blade broken by the sword of the Etigan knight in a decisive battle won by my ancestor.

Now, that same half-sword catches Ulric’s blade, stopping its intended path. I meet eyes with him and see a look of fear flash through them. He knows the story of the knights, too.

“I am from the line of Newrock, and this kingdom will never be yours!” I say with conviction, and with the strength given to me from the sword, I push him away from me. He stumbles backwards, and I attack before he can recover. I catch his blade once, then a second time; the third time his blade goes down, I slash my broken blade across his hand and he drops his. I continue to swing at him until he’s backed onto the balcony. He makes a grab for the dagger still in my gut, but I deflect him and cut his other hand. I thrust my blade for his chest and miss, and he grabs my wrist. We’re struggling against the parapet, the loose stones giving way to the pressure and opening a hole in the wall with us teetering on the edge. My vision is beginning to darken, as if someone is pulling a shadow over my eyes. I don’t know how much longer I can maintain consciousness. Below, I can see outlines of people, and wonder if they’ll watch me die.

Then it happens. My left hand is sliding along the stones, looking for something to hold on to so I don’t fall over with Ulric’s tugging. And I finger something that shouldn’t be there, but is. An empty bottle. Unable to form coherent thoughts anymore, I grab the bottle and shatter it over Ulric’s crown. He stumbles and disappears over the edge, bringing sudden relief to the tension on my arm. I feel myself falling, into the darkness that now surrounds me, and I surrender to my fate.

Only I don’t fall. There are shouts and voices and hands, followed by thorny vines of pain that choke the breath from me.

Life grows quiet and warm.

One last vague recollection. Liam’s shirtless torso against my face, the feeling of my skin on his skin.

Twenty-eight

Three months pass in a blur. The memories fade in and out, tainted with pain and mead. My first real memory is Joannes’ voice. I only catch bits and pieces of the conversation, but I think it is Liam he speaks to, the voices still muffled.

“I can only do so much for the pain...”

“She’s lucky I got through that door…”

“We’ll just have to watch her. I just don’t know…”

“I told her that dagger would never kill anyone…”

There is blackness for a long time. Then slowly, growing from the darkness like a thorned weed, the pain begins; hot and burning and stabbing. I recall a voice crying out in agony and I think it’s mine. Someone holding down my arms and legs. A rotten smell in my nose. Sweet mead pouring into my mouth and erasing reality.

The darkness begins to clear. But waking up means facing the pain. Thankfully, I have a best friend named Ward, and he comes daily with bottles of mead or ale or wine. Joannes and Liam complain at him, but the stupor the drinks put me in relieves the pain.

Eventually everything begins to wind down. I start walking on my own. I spend more time awake, and Liam sees to it that I spend less time drinking. I feel my strength begin to return and I ask what happened.

Ulric fell from the balcony merely inches away from the second balcony below it. I almost followed, but Liam managed to kick the door in and get to me before I went completely over. Ward tells me I was fortunate to be unconscious at the time so as not to have witnessed Ulric’s end. I disagree. After what Ulric told me on the balcony, I wish I had been awake. I inform Liam of the things Ulric confessed to, including the murders of his two older brothers. I know it hurts to hear it, but I know it’s important that Liam know his family’s only curse was having Ulric in it. In his anger, it’s Liam that gives the order to end Ferrant for his betrayal, to both Newrock and Etigan.

Liam also returns my dagger, cleaned and polished, and it goes back to my leg where it belongs.

Etigan’s soldiers were witnesses to Ulric’s fall, and Liam takes control of his kingdom with the help of some of his trusted men. He disbands all of the former court and will replace them. Etigan has a lot of work to do to fix itself, but healing takes time. I know that.

Six months after I nearly lost my life to Ulric, I step out onto the balcony where the battle began and face the people. It’s winter and cold and fresh. I take a deep breath; Newrock winters are cold and snowy, but not usually brutal. Snow tops the houses I can see in the distance and everything looks clean and white. I think of the dress and my father’s wishes to make me look pure. The dress may be tainted, but now the whole country looks pure.

The people see me and kneel, and I feel warmth wash away the chill in the air. I may still have issues, but I nearly died for them, and they fought alongside me. I smile and wave. Vian joins me on the balcony and we embrace to their warm applause. When he pulls away, he holds my hands.

“You have the kingdom now, Sister. Have you decided what you’re going to do?” he asks. I glance over my shoulder at Liam who stands with Rayner, Ward, and Marguerite. Ward and Marguerite no longer wear servants’ clothes. They have been granted noble status and are dressed as such. Even Monroe, who kicks and coos from Marguerite’s arms, is dressed in a small suit. He tugs at the little hat on his head. Ward’s arm is around Marguerite’s shoulder.

My gaze shifts to Liam and I hold out a hand. He joins me, taking it and kneeling on one knee to kiss it. I smile to him and turn to address the crowd.

“The people of Newrock, several months ago I married the prince of Etigan and signed a contract uniting our kingdoms. The contract has been destroyed and Newrock remains a free kingdom. But my marriage is still valid.” I squeeze Liam’s hand. “My love for Newrock will always beat within my heart. You have seen it, and you know it to be true. But my true love lives in Etigan.”

“Ginny…” Vian says, surprised. I put a hand up and speak.

“Etigan is under new rule, but still has a long way to go to rid itself of the evil that Ulric and countless others brought in over the years. King Liam has promised a new beginning, and I want to be at his side to make that happen. So I am renouncing my title as Queen of Newrock, and I am handing the crown to my brother.”

To prove my words I reach up and remove the crown that sits on my head. Though he looks unsure, Vian kneels and accepts the crown that I gently place on his head. This is only for show; a real coronation will have to take place. But the people obviously approve as rapturous applause breaks out from down below us. Vian rises and faces the people and they fall to their knees again. Vian looks at me with tears in his eyes.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” he says.

“You proved you were when you faced certain death and shouted out your loyalty on this very balcony. Rayner and the court will help you. And I’ll be just a river away.” I lower into a deep curtsy to show my respect for the new king. When I rise, I touch his face and imagine his painted portrait hanging in the Reflection Room, cradling the Knight of Newrock’s broken sword. “You look just like Father.”

“I can see him in you, too,” Vian says.

With the people satisfied, we head back into the castle. Ward speaks up.

“So, what now Ginny?” He doesn’t have to call me by any title anymore. I made that clear when I gave him his.

“Our first duty on the throne is to find the descendants of Descrete. The fifth kingdom was conquered and stripped of its title, but deserves to have its place.”

“That I can help you with. I’m from there, remember. And I believe I know who you need to speak to,” Marguerite says. She smiles. “It will mean the world to the people to have Descrete reestablished.”

“As I assume it would. Let’s right the wrongs Etigan imposed.”

Liam throws an arm around me and pulls me close. “I like it when you speak with such conviction,” he says.

“Please don’t start kissing here!” Ward cries, covering his face.

“Is it that bad?” I ask.

“Takes me back to the alley, it does. When we used to make fun of him. That was more fun than watching you two match lips.” Ward shudders.

“You used to make fun of me?” Liam asks me, his face falling playfully.

“Well, just a little. When you used to strut, you know.” I shrug.

“Which was always,” Ward throws in.

“If I may, Your Highness,” Rayner breaks in, trying to hide the smile on his face at our bantering. “We should discuss Vian’s coronation ceremony. And I might add, I certainly hope we will be invited to yours in Etigan.”

“Of course! The whole country is invited! Etigan and Newrock will no longer be considered enemies. And Rayner, please call me Ginny,” I say.

“It is a habit I cannot break, Your Highness. But I can’t wait to come to your coronation. I know it will be a feast to remember.”