Rebel Song (28 page)

CHAPTER 40

She felt the cold shadow above her even in her dreams. The room filled with chilly air and the light disappeared. Her eyes opened and the dim figure came into focus. She shot straight out of bed in a panic, her heart thrusting against her chest. Elyra sighed with deep relief and rolled her eyes when she realized it was only Ada.

“Sants, woman! You nearly stopped my heart. What are you doing in here?” Ada didn’t respond, only stared at Elyra with a drained expression. Her gentle hazel eyes were somber. “Ada, what’s going on?” Elyra sat up, more alert and awake.

“Child, you must come with me. You’ve been requested in the Hall of Justice.”

“The hall of…what? What time is it?”

Ada walked to her armoire and pulled out a pair of black pants and a long sleeved oxblood sweater.

“It’s the break of dawn. Get dressed and freshen up as quickly as you can. There has been an unfortunate turn of events. You’re going to need to be brave.”

Elyra pushed herself from bed and walked to her.

“Ada, look at me. What is going on?” She spoke calmly, but she was nearly paralyzed with fear as all the potential scenarios played out in her clouded mind. “Is it my father?”

“Yes, it’s your father. He…he has taken a poor turn. He’s slipped back into a coma and has no consciousness.”

Elyra’s heart leapt, but she willed her emotions to stay back.

“I must go to him. Don’t worry, I can face it.”

Ada put a hand on Elyra’s pale arm and shook her head.

“There is more.” She took a deep breath. “Brace yourself child. Pantone has called for your detainment.”

Elyra stumbled back at the words.

“What did you say? That’s absurd. On what grounds?”

“I don’t know,” Ada stammered. “I only know what I’m told.”

“But he has already taken over interim power. Why would he need me detained? Ada, tell me what you know!”

“Hush girl,” Ada whispered. “There are guards outside your doors waiting to escort you. Mind every word you utter from now on. All eyes are on you.” She handed Elyra the clothes. “All I know is that Pantone has officially declared that your position on the council is under investigation. I don’t know what ammunition he has, but whatever it is, it’s powerful enough to make them listen.”

Elyra studied her maid’s face for lies.

“Have you heard about—”

Ada raised a hand.

“I have heard the rumors. But now is not the time to explain yourself. The council is backing Pantone’s every move. All but Brita, but she is on very thin ice.”

Elyra’s head was a mess of dizzying thoughts. She thought about Brita and Benton—how she was going to out herself to the Cause. Her breath quickened as panic set in. Ada grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

“You have to hold yourself together, girl. This is no time to fall apart. Your future and the future of this country are at stake. Get dressed and go out there to face your enemy.”

Elyra summoned a deep breath and nodded.

Calmly, she dressed, washed her face, brushed out her hair and applied just enough makeup to look halfway awake. Two royal guards stood outside her chambers in neatly pressed green uniforms fastened with polished gold buttons, with the crest patches on the arm distinguished them from both city rangers and regular palace guards. They wore high black boots, polished to a shine, and clutched menacing long rifles, looking absolutely ridiculous against the backdrop of her ornate décor of rich silk curtains and embroidered carpets.

“Gentlemen. How kind of you to escort me.”

The guards did not respond, simply led her down the hall.

The Hall of Justice had the highest ceilings in the palace, rising a hundred feet into the sky with ornately carved molding and thick marble pillars guarding its corners. The walls were lined with paintings of political scenes and former leaders, ominously stretching twenty feet up the walls. The large, vacant eyes followed her as she swept past each one with as much dignity as she could muster. The room was silent as a tomb and each step she took echoed off the walls. She kept her shoulders back and her chin high, but she was crumbling on the inside. Pantone sat at the raised justice bench as if it were a throne. His fat, ruddy face was clean shaven and he wore a gray suit ill-fitted to his portly frame. Minister Brigg, Minister of Justice Elvin Black, and Chief of Guards, Maximus Dantus sat around the long oval table with curious expressions, as if they were eagerly awaiting the climax of a long-building thriller. The guards led her to the table. She stood proudly and faced down her enemy.

“Elyra, how good of you to join us,” Pantone said smugly from his false throne.

“It’s still ‘Your Highness’ to you. And it didn’t appear I had a say in the matter when armed guards arrived at my door at the break of daylight.”

Pantone smiled placidly.

“You have my apologies for any intrusion on your beauty rest,
Your Highness
,” he emphasized her title with mockery. “But you see this really couldn’t wait. It would appear we have a matter of national security on our hands.”

“Cut your theatrics, Pantone and try to be a sliver of a man. On what pretext do you presume to demand anything of me, let alone my presence in court at this hour? You forget yourself.” 

Pantone’s beady gray eyes narrowed to empty slits and he twisted his mouth. 

“On the contrary. I think I have remembered myself and the responsibility I have to keep this realm safe. You’ve been summoned to court to be served a charge of high treason,” Pantone spat out.

It felt as though someone had taken a hammer to her gut. She clenched and stumbled, nearly toppling into the skinny guardsman.
There it is.

“On what grounds?” She tried to sound angry and assertive but fear loosened her grip on the words. 

“For knowingly consorting with the enemy my dear. Or had you forgotten about that?”

“This is absurd. I have never consorted with anyone’s enemy, let alone my own. Where is your proof of such?” She knew damn well what proof he had but she prayed he wouldn’t be so bold as to admit he had the royal princess stalked and photographed. Her prayers were not answered. Pantone produced a brown envelope and stared at her smugly. Elyra braced herself but would not allow him the satisfaction of seeing her tremble, even as he opened the envelope and displayed the damning images. 

“It is true that sometimes we must see things to believe them,” Pantone said. “But these do tell a sordid tale, don’t they?”

Elyra simply shrugged. 

“It would appear that the noble Minister General had me stalked. Tell me, isn’t that a crime in its own right?” 

“Is this true, Minister?” Minister Black spoke up. “That is an act against the crown.” 

“May we stay focused on the matter at hand?” Pantone dodged the question. “I would never dream of violating the private life of our dear princess. These telling photographs were delivered to me anonymously from someone who finds her behavior as treacherous as I do—”

“Liar!” Elyra interrupted.

“Regardless of whence they came,” Pantone went on, “the truth is still the truth. Do you deny carrying on an affair with this known rebel?”

Elyra glared at him furiously but shook her head. 

“Clearly, I cannot deny that I consider Rogan Elwood a dear friend. I know nothing of these allegations of rebellion, but as evident by these very intrusive photographs, we have spent many days together and worked very closely on several charitable works,” she paused and looked at Pantone. “That’s when you do something for someone else in need, Minister.” The rest of the attendants snickered at the jape. “But as to some torrid love affair? I think you have a vivid imagination.”

“And is this how you treat all your dear friends?” Pantone asked, holding up a black and white photograph of her in a tender embrace with Rogan, their lips locked in a steamy kiss. Her heart lurched at the sight but she simply shrugged. 

“I do recall that day. We had just spent an invigorating day at the groundbreaking of a new shelter home in the alleys. Our momentous excitement led to a bit more affection than usual, I will admit. But since when is affection a crime? I can see how someone as repulsive as you would find it an unfamiliar pastime, but for most of us it’s a quite common and natural occurrence.”

“You think you are quite witty, don’t you? But, I would think you would be smarter than to perjure yourself so openly.”  

“Perjure myself? I’ve sworn no oath and this is not a court room. In fact, this is a waste of my time. Perhaps there is someone else awake at this hour whom you can annoy with your theories.” Elyra turned away and made a move to exit the hall. Before she could take two steps toward the door, the two armed guards stepped up to block her way. 

“I’m afraid I cannot let you leave,” Pantone said. 

“Let me? Under whose authority do you presume to tell me what to do?”

“Under my own authority. You are under arrest on suspicion of sedition and will face an investigation into your loyalties to this country.”

Elyra’s heart stopped mid-beat.

“Under arrest? Are you mad?” She was seething.

“You knowingly consorted with a known terrorist. In light of that, all your power, including your position on the High Council, is being revoked effective immediately.”

“You cannot arrest me. Once the council has time to deliberate,
I
will be regent until my father recovers. You’re lucky I don’t have you thrown in the cellars for this.”

Pantone only smiled placidly at her threats. 

“Wrong again I’m afraid, child. Right now you are nothing but a deposed princess who has decided to throw away her future because she couldn’t resist lifting her skirt for the first boy that gave her a wink.” Elyra’s nails dug into her palms until she felt blood. “Until the King recovers I am acting Regent, as is decreed by the royal law, which you should really read up on.”

“You are twisting the law for your own advantage,” she seethed.

Pantone smiled patronizingly. 

“Such denial. Even if you hadn’t committed such egregious crimes, we cannot make exceptions to the law.”

Elyra would have given anything at that moment for a butcher’s knife to fling into his thick forehead, right between those beady eyes.

“Surely there are exceptions to
this
law,” she looked to the Minister of Justice, Mr. Black, sitting to Pantone’s right.

The little bearded man flicked his small dark eyes from side to side and pursed his lips before shaking his head slowly. 

“I’m afraid not, Your Highness. The law does not allow for exceptions as a precaution against the…imprudence of youth,” he said gingerly. Elyra scowled at the shriveled man. 

“Well then perhaps it is time for new laws to be drafted. You are under quite the delusion if you think I’m simply going to hand over my country and resign myself to a jail cell.” Her tone escalated as her fury rose.

Pantone sighed a long, audible sigh of annoyance. 

“You see, gentlemen? The follies of young girls. So dramatic and defiant. It was a wise man who instated the Intern Law of Governance. Now I’ve had enough arguing this. You will have your day before the court to bat your lashes and plead your case. Until then, you remain a detainee of the crown under house arrest. You are to be confined to your personal quarters until arraignment, temporarily stripped of governmental responsibilities and titles. Guards, please escort Miss Ballantyne to her chambers and see to it that she remains guarded.”

The tall guard reached for her arm and she flung it away violently.

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

“Please don’t make this more difficult than it has to be, Princess,” Minister Brigg begged in his willowy voice. 

“Would you like to add resisting arrest to your charges?” Pantone barked.

“This isn’t over,” she growled back. 

“I wouldn’t imagine so.” Pantone flicked his hand and the short, fat guard seized her other arm.

Lodged between two of her own sworn civil servants, Elyra Ballantyne, Princess of Arelanda, was arrested and led away into captivity.        

CHAPTER 41

Elyra nibbled on a ginger snap, trying to force herself to stay nourished despite her waves of nausea and complete lack of appetite. She’d eaten nothing but a few bites of morning porridge and fried bread for three days but she had retched up half of it. Food turned sour in her mouth and she wasn’t entirely confident it wasn’t laced with arsenic. She stared out her window into the twilight settling over the city. Her soul ached for fresh air and her heart ached for Rogan. She would have given anything to feel the touch of his rough hands on her skin and taste his lips. She didn’t even know if anything had happened to him or whether he knew what had happened to her.

Given that her quarters offered all the comforts she would need, she hadn’t been allowed out since Pantone’s thugs had tossed her in and thrown away the key. She wasn’t even allowed to visit her father. Her only visitor had been Ada, who brought her meals as if she were a caged animal on a feeding schedule. But Ada was ignorant to most everything that was happening behind Pantone’s locked doors and could only repeat the whispers she caught seeping through the palace walls. She had pleaded with her to find out what had happened to Rogan but Ada hadn’t come up with any answers, which terrified Elyra to no end.
He is probably dead and it’s my fault
. She also feared for Brita but so far it seemed no one knew of her true involvement. Ada reported she still held her seat on the council and business was rolling on as normal.
Except that I am a prisoner in my own home and the King lies on his deathbed
.

A knock startled her from her distant thoughts and brought her back to her gloomy bedroom. She checked her table clock. It wasn’t a typical meal time, which sent her heart pounding. Was there news of her father? Before she could rise to answer the door, her guard beat her to it. 

“Miss, there is someone here to see you,” he replied in a guttural broken Southern dialect that scraped at her skin. 

“Well who is it? A lion tamer to give me the whip?”

The guard did not smile or even answer her. He opened the door and nodded to the man behind it. Elyra’s anger flared as Markus stepped through her entry way.

“Get out!” She snapped before he could say anything.

“Elyra please. Be civil,” he said, stepping inside.

She turned her head and stared out the window.

“I’ve nothing to say to you, you backstabbing coward.”

“Vero, excuse us please,” Markus said to the guard. Vero nodded and shut the door behind him. He turned back to Elyra. “You must listen to me and be reasonable.”

“I’m so sick and tired of everyone telling me to be reasonable. My father lies on his deathbed, I’m under arrest, my future is crumbling, my very life is on the line and you all want me to just calm down! Tell me, Markus, how do I calm down?”

Markus walked to her and took a seat next to her on the plush red settee. He tried to take her hand but she flung it away.

“What do you want?”

“I want to help you.”

“I don’t need help.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh really? Should I repeat your previous list of grievances? It seems you do.”

“Well I don’t want it from you.”

“You’d rather have it from him?”

“Don’t you dare talk about him.”

“I know you think you love him—”

“You know nothing.”

“I know that I love you. And that I’m here, right here, with no death warrant attached to me. I can protect you, not get you killed. Can he say the same?”

Thinking of Rogan made her eyes tear up and her lips quiver. She bit her tongue to keep from showing Markus her weakness.

“It doesn’t matter. I can protect myself. I’m the princess.”

“Are you? As it stands, it looks like you’re a deposed princess with dim hopes of regaining your power. Pantone’s case against you is rock solid. You are guilty and you know it.”

“Guilty of a fictitious crime maybe. That dried up old dirt bag just can’t stand the idea of anyone else being loved when he’ll never know pleasure he doesn’t buy.”

Markus didn’t resist a smile.

“That’s true. But so are your very real charges.”

“So what are you going to do about it then?”

“I’m going to help you prove you’re not a traitor to your own. That your priorities lie with Arelanda and that you’re fit to rule in your father’s stead.”

“What about Pantone’s
rock solid
evidence against me?”

“He’s only doing this to get what he wants. Give it to him and this all goes away.”

“And what is it that he wants?”

“Power. Control. Your progressive ideals squashed. Henri listened to him, accepted and promoted his policies. He knows you won’t.”

“If I give him the power, what does it matter then? I’m no better off than I am now.”

“You’ll have your freedom and time to win the people. You forget that, unlike you, Pantone is an elected official. Corrupt or not, at some point he has to answer to the council and people alike. And it’s only a matter of time before you age into your rightful place. No one wants a war, but war is coming. The people don’t love him, but they do fear him.”

“Rogan doesn’t fear him.”

“He should. He will rue the day he decided not to cooperate. And so will you.”

“Cooperate?” She twirled to face him. “What do you mean?”

Markus sighed.

“He was arrested a week ago.”

“Arrested? A
week ago
?” Elyra sat up straight. Markus nodded. “On what charge?”

Markus gave her a knowing look.

“C’mon El. After everything that’s happened, did you really think Pantone would let him stay on the streets? Pantone knows he’s tied up in this so-called ‘cause.”

“How could you not tell me?”

“I haven’t had a chance—”

“Did you do this?”

“I have done nothing. You want someone to blame? Blame him for conspiring against the crown. For compromising your integrity and forcing you to betray your own father and country.”

Elyra balled her fist but resisted the urge to punch him.

“It’s a witch hunt.”

“Tell yourself that all you want, but it’s the law. You don’t get to go around plotting against the government without consequences.”

“Then he needs a good lawyer to get him out of there.”

Markus shook his head.

“Elyra, face reality. Even if he is freed from custody, he cannot stay in the city. If he stays, he will eventually be tried and executed for his crimes. There is no way he can fight Pantone on this. Pantone will never let him go free.”

“My father will pardon him.” Markus gave her a rueful look.

“El, your father may not wake up. Even if he does, by then it might be too late for Elwood.”

“He will never run.”

“I know he won’t. Not when he has you to fight for.”

“And he always will.” She glared at Markus.

“That’s entirely up to you.” Markus raised his brow. “Even if he somehow slips past the judge’s gavel, Demos will ensure he disappears into the ocean.”

“What are you trying to say? Stop being so cryptic. I’m sick to death of cryptic warnings.”

Markus sighed and touched her hand.

“You have to ask yourself what you care about more: Being with him or keeping him alive. If you can let him go, let him run, I will save him.”

“But he will never. He wouldn’t leave me.”

“He will if he believes you are lost to him. It’s the only way to make him go. To save his life.”

“I can’t do that.” Hot tears nipped at the back of her eyes.

“If he stays, he will die. I am telling you the truth.”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I will never convince him of it. No matter how much I plead.”

“A broken heart is a great motivator.”

“You cannot ask me to do that. You can’t ask me to hurt someone I love.” She remembered the pain in his eyes when she had let him go before. And the sensation she felt of her own insides being shredded to pieces. She couldn’t bear the thought of doing it again.

“You have to think about more than yourself here. If you love him as you say you do, think of his family. Do you want to see them cut down as Pantone’s minions follow every lead to find him?” She turned from him and shook her head gently. “I didn’t think so. And they don’t have to. I can protect them. I will make sure Pantone knows they have nothing to do with it. I can stop this. Pantone wants me on his side—needs me on his side. He will listen to me.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“He needs Batem. He can’t risk Hildon favoring the opposition in the north, nor can he finish off Suell without funding. One word from me, Hildon will pull all support and leave Arelanda to flounder. But if Hildon gets what he wants, his support and bankroll are ours.”

“And Hildon wants…”

Markus lowered his eyes humbly.

“The same thing I want,” he said, serious but compassionate. She turned back to face him. “A Fallon son on the throne.”

“Never,” she muttered quietly with little resolve.

“Elyra, you’re a smart woman but you’re acting like a naïve, privileged little girl. Wake up—open your eyes and see what’s happened around you. You can cling to your ideals and dreams of happily ever after but they can’t save you now. And neither can your precious rebel.”

She raised her hand to slap him but he caught her fist in the air and pulled it to him. “But I can.” She glared at him hard and clenched her teeth to keep the tears at bay. “Is a future with me so terrible that you’d rather lose everything?”

She chewed on her lip until it hurt.
Was it?

“Is your lust for me so great that you’ll resort to coercion to have me?” she asked. Markus smirked but didn’t reply. “If I do this, I have your word that this ends. Rogan goes free, his family is safe and my position is restored?”

He squeezed her hand affectionately and kissed it.

“I swear it.”

Does he really love me or is this just a political move to him?

“Will you do this?”
What choice did she have?

After a few long moments, she nodded slowly, finally beginning to accept the fate that had been handed to her.

“If I have your absolute promise that he will be safe…then yes.”

His face lit up with a swell of excitement.

“You have my promise.” He kissed her knuckles.

“Markus?”

“Yes?”

“Honestly. Why would you want someone who doesn’t love you back? Is it really all about the power and title?”

Markus smiled and stared at her reflectively.

“No, it’s not. I think one day you will change your mind about me. I just want to be by your side when it happens. I want you to know then that I never doubted you.”