The twice cursed serpent, p.33
The Twice-Cursed Serpent, page 33
“Remove her?” the emperor slowly asked. “She has just awakened the Stone God. Karima herself has blessed her by bringing her back. It’s clear she is Karima’s blessed prophet. And you would have me do this—insult the goddess—why?”
“You know why.” Seda glowered, her threat to the emperor unspoken, but present nonetheless. Caes marveled. Surely, Seda knew that this was reckless?
Understanding crossed the emperor’s features, swiftly followed by iron. “No.”
“No?”
“You heard me. Caesonia is a citizen of this realm. You cannot now remove her like a pest. You had your time for that—and failed. You must live with it.”
Caes could not see Seda’s face, but frowned at the way Seda placed her hands on her hips, defiant.
“Alright, father. You are the emperor, and she is now a citizen.” Seda took a deep breath. “Therefore, I challenge her to the Idici Sors.” Desmin perked up. Althain’s eyes narrowed as they darted between Caes and Seda. The crowd erupted in anxious murmurs.
Caes’s head bolted up. What was this? Her ancient Malithian was still rudimentary...some sort of trial? She had heard it mentioned before. Yes, Sabine had mentioned that Althain might use it to challenge Seda. Some sort of contest?
The emperor rubbed his chin, deep in thought. Kerensa, from her place near the emperor, hung her arms at her sides, clenching her hands so hard that Caes could see the bones protruding from her skin. Whatever was about to happen, no matter how much she might want to interfere, Kerensa would not be able to help her. “Alright,” the emperor said, letting his hands drop.
“Father?”
“I decree that you will engage in the Idici Sors.” Murmurs rumbled through the crowd. Though” —the emperor turned to Caes and noted the blank look on her face, for he then said— “I don’t think our newest citizen knows what it is.”
“I do not, Your Augustness,” Caes said. Out of the corner of her eye, Alair had stepped closer to the throne. Cylis had not moved from his place next to her and was still helping her keep her balance. Could they help her, whatever this was? Would they? What was Seda going to do?
“The Idici Sors,” the emperor said, “also known as the Trial of the Fates, is a formal challenge, one under the blessing of the goddess. You fight to the death. The one who loses gives up everything they have—the loser’s heirs will not inherit the loser’s title or possessions—it all goes to the winner. Everything that that person is. As I have decreed that it shall take place, you have no choice but to accept.” Just like that, Malithia stripped all choice from Caes again.
Caes did not answer. Fight to the death? Caes barely knew how to hold a sword. And what did Caes have that Seda would want? Nothing. Nothing but her death. And the emperor—what he did have to gain from agreeing to this, and so quickly? Whatever it was, concern for her was at the bottom of the emperor’s priorities.
Seda’s eyes bore into her like brands of fire. There was no possibility Seda would let her go. But Caes had already died once today, Seda had murdered Beltina, and Caes had no patience to continue this game between them any longer.
This time, Caes met Seda’s challenge boldly.
Let them end this, with the court as a witness. There was no point in trying to hide any longer. Even with Althain to protect Caes, Seda was not going to let her live. Not anymore.
“Regardless of the stakes, I accept the challenge, Your Augustness.”
“Go,” the emperor said, flicking his wrist. “Most of the time the Idici Sors is done instantly, but neither of you are dressed for battle. And you deserve a little rest to make this a fair fight. We will meet in three hours, in the palace arena.”
Caes bowed, barely aware of her world as Cylis grabbed her arms and silently guided her out of the frenzied crowd.
Chapter thirty-five
Caes barely remembered the carriage ride back to the palace, or Cylis escorting her to her room. Cylis left her alone, only to come back moments later with Sabine, her frizzled hair framing her flushed face. No one bothered with greetings. Caes hadn’t seen Sabine in months—they would not let Sabine visit her when she was studying—and she had missed her friend.
“What am I doing?” Caes sobbed where she sat at the table, throwing her hands in the air. The earlier defiance she felt when she rose to Seda’s challenge was gone like a snuffed candle. “I don’t know how to fight. Why is the emperor letting her do this to me? Why?”
Caes threw herself at Sabine and the noblewoman wrapped Caes in her arms, letting her cry her tears onto her dress. “It’s alright. It’s alright,” she muttered.
Caes looked at Sabine, horrified. “How can you say that? I will be fighting. To my death. In less than two hours. I don’t know how to fight.”
“Neither does Seda,” Sabine said. “Not well, at least. You can win this.”
“She doesn’t do things without a plan,” Caes said. “She has a plan.”
“I imagine she was also angry and not thinking clearly. And, yes, I would expect a poisoned blade at the very least. Now, sit. Have a drink of water. You need it.”
Sabine guided Caes to the chair and helped her down. “I’m sorry I couldn’t visit you sooner,” she said.
“No need to explain. They told me they refused my visitors.”
“Why didn’t you write to me when you were gone?” Sabine asked. “I sent so many.”
“I...didn’t get them,” Caes explained lamely. “And I didn’t want to pester Bethrian’s mother to send word to you first.”
“Hmm. Probably a good call. Bitch didn’t give you my letters. I wouldn’t count on her to be the most loyal messenger.”
“No.” Caes sighed. “Dammit, Sabine, I could have used word from a friend at that estate.”
“I can imagine—Soul Carvers are not exactly friends. You’re lucky yours seem to like you.”
Memory of Alair’s mouth on her thighs rose, unbidden.
Oh, if Sabine only knew.
Servants knocked on the door, coming in at Sabine’s word. The servants laid clothing and a pair of leather boots on the table for Caes—breeches, boots, and a tunic. Next to the clothing they laid two swords and a few daggers—apparently, Caes would have her choice of weapons. After the servants left, Cylis and Alair walked in, closing the door behind them. Sabine gave them a curious glance, but she did not question why they were there. Not out loud, at least.
“You really get into it, don’t you?” Cylis asked. Caes glared. Next to him, Alair stared at Caes, his expression blank.
“I think,” Sabine said, looking at Alair, “that I am going to leave you alone. You need to get ready.
“I will be watching the fight,” Sabine said to Caes, “cheering for you. Remember, Caes, you are able to win.” Caes nodded and Sabine left, giving Caes a final sad smile, while Cylis walked over to the table inspected the clothing and weapons laid out for her.
“I don’t understand,” Caes said once they were alone, “what is this trial? Why have I not heard of it?” That wasn’t true, she had realized—Sabine had mentioned it almost a year earlier, but hadn’t bothered to explain what it meant.
“It’s...rare,” Cylis said, motioning to Caes to get undressed and turning around to give her privacy. As refusing would only delay the inevitable, Caes complied—this was no time for modesty. After their time together in the woods, there was little Cylis hadn’t seen already.
“This is considered,” Cylis continued, “a way for the gods to settle an argument between mortals, but it needs both the emperor’s permission and the high priestess’s to occur. Otherwise, there would be too much property flying around the court and angry nobles pledging their family name over imagined slights.”
“I didn’t hear the high priestess agree to this.”
“You did not see, but she nodded. She agreed.”
“Oh.” What stake did she have this? Or would she attribute it to divine inspiration? Caes pulled her robe over her head and tossed it on the floor, standing in nothing but her sliced shift. Alair stared at her, at the scar over her heart. Quickly, Caes tugged on the breeches, her legs squirming in the unfamiliar fabric.
“You really did it,” Cylis said, still facing the wall. “You were dead. How do you feel?”
“You tell me,” Caes said, tugging the tunic over her shift. “You died too. You can turn around now.”
Cylis laughed sadly, turning around, and giving Caes an approving nod at her clothing. “Yes, I guess you’re an honorary Soul Carver now. You died like one. Right, Alair?”
Alair was unreadable. “She needs to try on the boots—the wrong size will kill her if they are too big, and we don’t have much time to find better ones.”
“Ever the cheerful one.” Cylis sighed and helped Caes tug a belt around her waist and adjust the unfamiliar laces on the breeches. Despite Alair’s concerns, the boots were a perfect fit. Caes turned to the weapons, and asked the two Soul Carvers, “What do I pick?”
“The smaller sword,” both Alair and Cylis said at the same time, pointing to the short sword on the table.
“You want the reach,” Cylis explained. “A dagger would be too much of a disadvantage. A longsword is too heavy, and you don’t have the training to use a saber.”
“How do I know Seda isn’t using something like a crossbow?”
“She won’t,” Cylis said. “She will have access to the same weapons as you. It’s bad form for it to be otherwise. Though” —Cylis picked up a tiny dagger in a small sheath— “I’d tie one into your boot.” Cylis bent down and helped Caes attach her weapons. “There’s no rule that you can only bring one. And remember, this is just like we trained in the woods.”
“If I had known this was going to happen, I would’ve tried a little harder.”
Cylis shrugged. “It’s still better than nothing.”
“Does Seda really have no experience either? The emperor said he had her trained.”
Cylis and Alair considered her question. “I haven’t heard that she does,” Alair finally said. “Other than the basics. A conquering queen has to at least be able to hold a sword.”
“Neither have I,” Cylis said. “Whatever she learned, she has not practiced in some time. That I would’ve heard about.”
Alair placed a hand on her shoulder. “Go into this pretending that she has more training than you—underestimating an enemy is the worst thing you can do.”
Caes nodded. Was this happening? Hells, this was happening. “I really expected the emperor to let me leave. Why is he doing this to me?”
“It makes things easier for him,” Cylis said, standing to face Caes. “This way, he placates Seda and removes someone who may have found herself a bit of an unpredictable icon. If for some reason you win, it also removes a daughter who is becoming more and more of a difficulty to his throne. And it’s not like he doesn’t have another heir waiting. Really, either outcome will help the emperor.”
Icon? Who would consider Caes an icon?
“He is so sure Seda will win, then,” Caes said, resigned.
“Seda,” Cylis said, “did not just kill herself and come back from the dead. I think he is counting on her feeling a little bit better than you. And let’s face it—he doesn’t know you that well.” Cylis smiled. “I don’t think Seda knows what she has gotten herself into.”
Caes smiled, grabbing onto to Cylis’s hands. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” Cylis smiled sadly. “Blessings of Kaj be with you.”
Kaj. Hanith had called her a child a Kaj when he awoke. Caes bit her lip. Cylis frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Kaj. Why are you blessing me with my grandfather’s name?”
Cylis and Alair looked at each other before Alair answered. “Kaj is a traditional phrase—it’s not ancient Malithian, it’s...I’m not really sure where it’s from. I’m sure Malithia got it from some kingdom or another. But in one translation it means ‘earth.’ It’s considered a solemn blessing, willing the powers of nature to be with you.” Alair looked at Caes. “There is something else bothering you?”
“It’s...nothing. I just didn’t know why my grandfather’s name was said.”
Cylis referred to the “blessings of Kaj.” Hanith called her a “child of Kaj.”
Her father’s prophecy, the one that got him killed, called him ”child of Kaj.”
Something deep unsettled in Caes’s stomach. The voice’s taunt from when she floated between life and death. “Your pawn was too stupid to realize that she could have ended this at any time.” The magic that plagued her eye since she arrived in Malithia. Desmin’s taunt that she was a foundling...from the earth.
“Oh gods,” Caes shook, collapsing and caught by Alair’s arms. “It was me. It was me. It was me.” She whispered over and over.
“What do you mean?” Alair asked, guiding her to her bed. “What are you talking about?”
Cylis followed, concern wrought on his face.
“The prophecy,” Caes said, gasping between words. “That killed my father. It was about me.”
Like she had done so many months ago for Sabine, she recited the prophecy:
Come, child of Kaj, leave your home,
A goddess waits on empty throne.
Leave your sheep and farm behind,
When the Sword of Might you find.
Your power’ll twixt the world apart,
Flame be ice and shadows hard.
You will meet the goddess at the end,
At the temple you will rend,
A death brings balance again.
“Desmin said I was a foundling, that my father dug me out from the earth. Kaj. My father didn’t find the sword—I did. I pointed it out to him in the field—he took it. It must have had some magic, something—and my power, my death—” Caes rattled to the Soul Carvers the exchange she overheard between who she assumed were Karima and Shirla after she freed the god. Who was apparently not Hanith. Caes pushed that mystery from her mind—that was the goddesses’ problem. Not hers.
“Alair—what am I?”
“I don’t know.” Alair shook his head. “I can’t awaken your power, if you have any of note. The lock on it was much too strong for me. I could expose your eyes...”
“No, that would do me no good.” Caes’s world swirled. “Typical prophecy, coming to pass only after everyone interpreted it incorrectly.”
“It’s not over yet,” Cylis said.
He was right. Power or not, she was about to have the fight of her life.
Cylis looked at Alair and then shuffled awkwardly. “I, uh, I know this is a lot, but I think I am going to leave you alone. I’ll be right outside. Not listening. To anything.”
Alair nodded. Cylis gave Caes one more attempt at an encouraging look before stepping outside the door.
Alone, Alair wrapped Caes in his arms. “I feel like we just did this,” Caes said, resting her head on his muscular chest. “Saying goodbye. How many times are we going to prepare for me to die?”
“This is the last one. I promise,” Alair said, placing a slow kiss on the top of Caes’s head. “I won’t let you die, not by that witch.”
“Alair—”
“I stayed away when you were before the god—I knew that if I stopped you, you would be dead anyway. But now, there is no such thing. If she kills you, she will follow shortly.”
“Alair, please—”
“No.” His glinting eyes burned with determination. “You made me once promise to travel or some frivolous thing. I’ve had enough of Malithia and its rulers. They haven’t changed much in the last couple centuries, and any change hasn’t been for the better. Trust me, I will be doing the empire a favor by ending them now.”
“But they will kill you.”
Alair smiled grimly. “I already died once. That is the last thing I’m worried about. Death isn’t that bad.”
“Did you see anything, after you died? All I saw was black, until…the god woke me.” To Caes’s surprise, she found she could not say that the god was not Hanith. Could not utter the phrase…
With a reassuring hand on her back, Alair spoke softly into her ear. “Yes. I saw. I don’t know how to explain it. I did not see, I felt. Felt...at home. All pain melted away and became a memory. I could not remember why I worried so, when I was alive.” Alair looked down at Caes. “That sounds bad—I’m not explaining it right.”
“No, no it doesn’t. It sounds beautiful.”
Alair wrapped his arms around her, like he would never let her go. “It will be alright, Caes. Trust me, even if you do not win, it will be alright.”
Chapter thirty-six
Seda had made a horrible mistake.
When the maids brought Seda her battle clothes and weapons, Seda realized the utter stupidity of her decision. The blades gleamed on her table, mocking her.
Too late to change her mind now.
“Your Highness,” Ferlie said, rushing over to Seda when she entered Seda’s bedroom. “I heard the rumor and...” Ferlie drifted off when she caught sight of the weapons and clothes strewn across Seda’s bed. “Oh. It was not a rumor.”
“I’m afraid not, Ferlie,” Seda said, blinking back her tears. She had been alone from the day her mother died and there was no one to protect her from her siblings. For a while she had Gren, but he could do nothing to help her. He would be lucky if he lived through this himself.
“Oh, Your Highness.” Ferlie walked over and placed a sympathetic hand on Seda’s, while shooing the servants from the room. When they were alone, Ferlie asked, “What happened? What were you thinking?”
Seda smirked, wiping her eyes. “I panicked, Ferlie. I panicked and miscalculated.” Now that she had nothing left to lose, Seda told Ferlie how she put together that it was likely Lady Flyntinia who was responsible for Caesonia’s assassination attempts. How Seda had planned to get around it by counting on Caesonia dying after proclaiming for Althain. How against all odds Caesonia actually succeeded in breaking the curse.
