Fate of the Mage (Skyelorn Chronicles #3)

Reconciliation

When the dinner had finished and the candles were snuffed, Merrick and Marithyda wandered aimlessly through the castle halls in search of a room to spend the night in. In this case, and in this castle, Taileen had an embarrassment of riches. There were rooms galore: reserved for the royal family (of which there was now only one member) and visiting dignitaries from the farther provinces.

So Taileen had no doubt that the pair of visitors would have no problem finding somewhere to lay their heads as she trudged off to Queen Rosemary's quarters. Her own mattress felt stiffer than usual. Or, perhaps, that was her back.

She chased after sleep all night, but it never quite let her catch it. Instead, she stared up at the ornate markings on the ceiling—painstakingly carved wood, painted by a still hand—and allowed her overstimulated mind to run free. She didn't quite know how to feel.

Though it pained her to speak about Paolin and what had become of him, it felt good to say it out loud. The sorrow in Marithyda's eyes mirrored the very same sorrow that she'd held in her heart since his death. Maybe, this kind of grief wasn't easier to shoulder alone. When she closed her eyes, she saw glimpses of a little cottage in a forest, by a river. She saw an old man and a fresh grave. A tear slipped from her eye.

Yes, maybe it was time to say goodbye in the manner that Paolin requested. The one that he deserved.

She sat in bed and thought of these things a while longer, tears building in her eyes but not quite falling. Who knew what the morning would bring, what war with Magus Opté would mean for the kingdom of Karvoth? But she couldn't quite think about it. Not yet. There were still matters to take care of before the world ended. She'd made a promise that she intended to keep.

* * *

Taileen's sleepless night was punctuated by the slow rising of the sun. Her current room was on the lower floor of the castle, opposite of the spire that had served as her refuge and prison since childhood, so it took the light longer to fill the grand space. She imagined that there was some kind of poeticism in that fact, but she was never one for flowery language. She had a duty to fulfill as Queen, and right now her most important duty was to Marithyda Skyelorn.

I can't believe this is who I am now, she thought to herself groggily. She performed her morning routine in the washroom, dressing herself in a tight-fitting blue gown with sleeves that ended at her wrists, and then she picked out a fresh gown for Skyelorn. It was black and made up of numerous flowing swathes of shadow-like material. Taileen felt it was entirely appropriate.

Gown in hand, she wandered the castle halls, suddenly wondering where her guests had wandered off to. Perhaps she had been too trusting of them, allowing them to wander wherever they pleased. Her heart stilled. What if they had come across Paolin's corpse and thought that there was some kind of foul play at hand?

Chilled to the core, Taileen approached a guard, one of her most trustworthy. She believed his name was Timothy ... Samuel ... Eric?

"You," she said in greeting. "I brought two guests in last night. Do you have any idea where they might be?"

"Umm, yes, Your Majesty," he spluttered. "Well, sort of. One of them—the woman—went upstairs to the old Prince's room. I'm not quite positive where the odd man went."

Taileen chewed on her lower lip. "That's alright. Have the cooks prepare breakfast. When you find mister Westcobble, escort him to the dining room."

"Yes, ma'am." Taileen made to walk off, but the guard grabbed her hand, stopping her. His eyes were imploring as he lowered his voice to a whisper. "That woman. She looked awfully like the Shadow Witch of Pathos. I mean, it's preposterous, but—"