By nightfall, word in the palace was that refugees from the south had trickled into the capital of the kingdom, family by family, village by village, until the sun set and the city gates closed for the day. The newcomers spoke of animals gone mad, of the earth rumbling deep beneath their feet, of the fishermen who went out to sea and never came back, of how the kingdom must be cursed.
Worst of all, they brought word of the thousands' more citizens trailing behind them on the roads, slowed by young children or the elderly, and due to arrive in the coming days.
In other words, in a matter of days, the city could be packed full to the brim. Whatever horrors chased them from their homes must've instilled extraordinary fear for them to choose sleeping on the streets of Lyons over staying put, especially with winter fast approaching.
Cassandra's dearest father, apparently, had told Dane about 'some refugees' headed for Lyons, but deliberately left out conveying the full extent of it. The Rivera's motivation for keeping those details up their sleeves? Shock factor. The outcome? Success.
The latest word in the palace was that King Dane exited the meeting with his council after several long hours, grim and glassy-eyed as he headed out to the palace courtyard.
According to the Rivera's, the Great Dane was down. It was now up to Cassie to pat it, hug it, comfort it all the way into its bed and declare 'Veni, vidi, vici' (I came, I saw, I conquered).
Dressed in a simple maidservant's dress and carrying a basket with glass flasks of wine, Cassie kept her head down and followed Madam Piper's lead towards the courtyard.
At the doors leading out to the palace grounds, two guards blocked their path with their swords. "His Majesty does not wish to be disturbed," one of them grumbled.
"His Majesty has ordered more wine," the Madam said.
The guard frowned. "A boy only just delivered some five minutes ago."
"Well, that boy also delivered his Majesty's request for more."
Diligent and cautious, the guard said, "I will go and check with his Majesty."
Quick as lightning, Madam Piper closed a hand around the guard's forearm. "Are you stupid, boy?" she screamed into his face. "His Majesty left you orders that he does not wish to be disturbed. Yet you're going to disturb him because you don't believe that he requested more wine. Do you still want your head, boy?" she yelled again.
"Gods, have mercy on our eardrums, woman." Both guards held their free hand to one ear, protecting themselves from the Grim Banshee's wails as much as they could.
The other guard nudged at the first one who'd been doing all the talking. "Surely Madam Piper wouldn't..."
Lie? Yeah, she absolutely would, when pestered and threatened enough by the Viscountess of Melina.
The two men shared an exasperated look between them, then one of them fished out a long silver needle from his belt. He dipped the needle into each flask in Cassie's basket and inspected it for any change in colour which might indicate the presence of poison. Satisfied, the guards stepped to the side, allowing Cassie and the Madam to pass through.
What was once a busy training yard filled with sweaty bodies during the day was dark and empty in the night, and now appeared even larger than a football pitch. In one corner of the courtyard, a small lantern sat, illuminating the only sign of life beside it with its faint, flickering glow.
Cassie stopped and stared at the lone figure on the dirt floor, elbows resting on his knees, fingers clutching the neck of a wine jar, his crown nowhere to be seen. For some reason, it made her all the more nervous to approach him, not as a lady to a king, but a woman to a man.
YOU ARE READING
Bride to the Cursed: a Snow White retelling
Fantasy[COMPLETED] When a king makes an order, he expects it to be followed. When King Dane divorced his wife, he expected her to get out of his sight and stay out of his sight. Not reappear three months later in his bed, spouting nonsense about being a 'l...
