Silence Reigns

Chapter 8

The steed's silver mane furled like sails around the horse's head.

Erielle watched the silver etchings curl and spiral up the back of the throne, a wild thing of its own, and then her father sat in the throne and blocked the royal symbol from her sight. She blinked and resumed her walk to her own chair beside King Pontius IX.

"Your Majesty, what do want me to send back to King Landoness?" the courier asked from his place in the center of the throne room.

"He is not king!" Pontius bellowed and rose from his throne. The courier withered under the heat of his glare.

She looked to her father. The king was angry. She had seen her father angry before, but never like this. His face was red, eyes unfocused and fiery with rage—it was the face of one who has been betrayed. He seethed; she recognized her own anger in his.

When he spoke, it was slow and calculated, as if he were processing how he might plot a murder. In a way, Erielle thought he was.

"Send a message to Anoleda that says this: 'Landoness, you who call yourself a king, come down from your self-appointed throne, and put aside your pride, and I will reconsider taking your head for your treason.'"

The courier scurried off, a frightened expression on his face, and the king sat heavily on his throne, as if a weight had pulled him back down.

Erielle thought of Ransom and wondered if he had spoken with his father yet. Surely he was home by now; it had been a day already since a servant had informed her that he had ridden away. Maybe there was something he could do to change his father's—or rather, his mother's—mind.

She highly doubted it.

Ransom watched as his mother read the letter. After a moment, she scoffed. "What a poor, desperate man. No wonder half his kingdom hates him."

"Mother," he said in a low voice. He had caught her in the audience chamber. "I know what you're up to."

She seemed unruffled as she smiled calmly at him. "Oh, Ransom. My last-born. Always so curious."

Ransom brushed away the hand that tried to cup his cheek. "I'm not a child, Mother. I'm done watching you scheme and make trouble. This time, you've gone too far."

"Oh." She feigned a hurt expression. "Is it because of that princess you're fond of?"

He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw against the pain that flooded his senses. He was not going to let her manipulate him. She had done that enough.

"Ah, but she doesn't love you, does she?" She stepped closer to him. "She told you to go home."

"How do you know that?" His voice ground out.

"I have my ways." She sounded so certain. "You need to let go of her, my son. She is only holding you back from better things."

The Lady of Landoness brushed past him, leaving him standing alone in the audience chamber.

No matter how hard he tried, Ransom couldn't push away his thoughts of Erielle. She was always there, just as she always had been—like a scar a soldier earned in battle, he couldn't get rid of her. Normally, that would have pleased him just fine. But now—now that it was obvious that she didn't want him the way he wanted her—it tortured him.

He hated to admit it, but his mother was right. He had to move on. Erielle didn't love him, and maybe she never would.

If only he knew what he'd done.

King Landoness laughed when he saw the letter, though Ransom could tell he was nervous. He could always tell: the anxious twitching of his fingers, just the same way Ransom did. The only difference was when Landoness swiped at his nose every so often. This he did before he said, "What, does he think we are incapable of leading an army?."