A War Of Traitors( ARTK, Book 2)

Chapter 130

Seggos 10th, 3329 A.G

It was a strange feeling, sleeping in the bed of a man you'd killed. The bedchamber screamed luxury, furniture adorned with carvings- expensive gemstones from Uculia, clothing only one with an exorbitant amount of money could afford. The plants placed around all of the chambers were said to help one breathe- or that was what a temple devotee told him at least. It hadn't hurt so far.

Ahelis Amalone had had a small box of jarred herbs she took daily, given to her by the high priest himself - that were said to help with a long life, but it felt wrong to look through their things.

It wasn't as if they'd be needing them, but Ahelis's things at least would go to Isolde. He'd permit that. He wasn't a complete monster- he told himself as he attempted to sleep under an ultra thin bedsheet that was Ferdrar Amalone's the previous night.

He hadn't been there, but he kept seeing the child's face after learning both of her parents were dead- and Nara's smile after learning that same news. The latter made it worth it, but the first kept him up for hours. Eventually he kicked the bedsheet off. The heat wasn't helping his sleep- nor was that extra layer in it.

He called for poppy seeds eventually- knowing the next few days would not be easy, and had the good sense to make the servant try a few to make sure they weren't poisoned. He'd felt bad about that too, but compared to other things he'd done it was nothing. When he did fall asleep- he was plagued by back to back to back nightmare. Many stuck out that night, but the worst by far involved her.

Confused, Renard woke up in those same chambers and walked to the bathing chamber to drink from Ferdrar's wall pipe. When he turned back around she was standing there, and she did not look like herself.

The definition he were used to seeing on her arms was completely gone, and they were completely limp underneath the too-big tunic. Her breeches were nothing more than a few pieces of tattered fabric, and she wore no boots. There was a trail of blood where she appeared to have walked, and a pool quickly forming around her feet. Dream Renard did not understand it were a dream quite yet, and so he did something that'd only happened once before- when she was also injured.

He picked her up, taking the pressure off her injuries- and carried her to the closest surface. This time it were Ferdrar's bed, and he lost his breath when he got a good loot at Nara's face. It'd hollowed out so much he doubted she'd eaten a full meal in the past year- and when his hand accidentally brushed against her side as he moved down to look at her feet, he could feel the individual ribs there.

Then as he looked at the cuts- a sword seemed to jut upwards, from underneath the bed and straight through her heart.

Renard screamed, sat and woke up at the same time. He stayed there for nearly an hour, processing what he'd just seen. It were only a dream, but it'd felt so real. From the rare contact of their skin, to the desperation he'd never seen on her face before.......

He could not let it get to him. If he ran back because of a bad dream, before he'd completed his tasks- what would be said of him? What would she think of him?

He forced himself out of bed then, taking one of Ferdrar's simpler tunics and his own breeches. If he were on the island he would have gone barefoot, but here- he begrudgingly put shoes on. He took just three guards with him.

The hallways were strangely quiet, servants going about their days almost silently. The Ashhand soldiers and what little was left of the Amalone guard watched each other intensely. Renard excused himself after accidentally bumping into a servant girl around a corner, then stopped in his tracks when he looked a few dozen paces behind her.

She looked like she'd lost a brother- and she had. Millie Amalone had slept even less than him, thinking of how she'd truly explain this to her niece. She'd been told of their deaths, and she wasn't stupid. She'd heard the commotion and whispers from servants, but it wasn't hitting just yet that she was the high lady of Dedor..... or it's rightful queen.

  For now, she was with Millie's own children and and husband while they figured out how to ease her into it. She glared at the usurper king as she walked, using every bit of willpower she had not to reach out and strangle him. It would do no good for her to get executed too.

  That didn't mean she'd bow anytime soon.

  When she got just a step too close, two guard stepped between her and Renard- but he gestured for them to move. He would look her in the eye- and she had the same idea.

  She took a few more steps, not stopping until they were close enough to feel each other's breaths.

  "I will never respect a man who executes a father and mother." She said simply. "I will never bow to a man who executes a father and mother- simply for taking what was rightfully theirs. And what for-"

   "You love your husband, don't you?" Renard interrupted, an eyebrow raised. "Then you understand. It isn't always as simple as.... knowing it were wrong."

Millie smiled slowly then- close to laughing. "If my husband asked me to murder both of a child's parents, I wouldn't do it. I'm no warrior...... but the sword would instead find it's way through his neck."

  He started to reply, but before he could get another word in there was spit on his shoes and she were walking in the opposite direction. He'd been staring down for only a moment before one of his guards asked a question.

  "Should I behead her, my king?" He watched as she disappeared into a room. "Her actions did-"

"No." Renard quickly said. "She's free to spit on as many shoes as she'd like. I'm no mad king."