A New Hero

Salvation

She could scarcely believe that breath yet drew into her body, into any of their bodies. By some miracle of the Maker, they survived, they all survived. Rosamund turned from the Commander of the guards to glance back at her father. He plopped down onto a chair and was flanked by nobles all trying to shove medicines and poultices onto him. When one elderly woman attempted to yank open his tunic to rub a brown salve all over his chest he waved his hands in the air like a bee was in play.

"No, no more. You can cover me in your medicinal herbs when I'm dead!" her dad shrieked, tired of being fussed over. But he nearly did die. If not for Myra's sacrifice, which turned out to be less of a sacrifice than Rosie or Cailan expected, they'd all be fatherless. She bundled up her skirts, planning on questioning her father about it, when the Commander of the guards spoke louder.

"Your Majesty..."

Oh dear. Had he been talking to her while she wasn't listening? Putting on a pained smile, she turned to the man. "Please, tell me again."

"What do we do with him?" They already trucked off Eldon's bloody body, Cailan giving a cheerful wave that they'd find every sneaky way he'd managed to finance a mercenary army. The rest of the mercs were either bundled off the pyre or the dungeon. All that remained was the man in the chantry robes left standing in the corner.

Brother Cordell's weary face lifted at the focus, his eyes watering while he stared from Rosamund back to Cailan. The likeness in the two was striking, and a glimpse for Cailan of what his future would hold. But the prince wouldn't turn to look upon their father by blood, he didn't want to. He kept a scowl up while shuffling around their mother who was out of breath and off put but unharmed.

The Queen turned from her ladies and friends of the court who'd been all in a tizzy about helping with her husband nearly dying. Her eyes honed in on Cordell, the man she supposedly took to her bed. Was it out of love or desperation to create heirs?

"Beatrice," Cordell began, dipping down lower in a bow to their mother as the Queen eyed him up. "I swear to the Maker, I didn't mean for this to happen. I had no idea that..."

The Queen's bejeweled palm slapped hard against Cordell's cheek. Its concussive splat echoed through the grand hall, rendering everyone else's speeches moot while all eyes turned towards their queen. She sneered at the man with a red welt rising fast. "You're pathetic," was all she said while grabbing up her skirts and stomping away.

Cordell's pleading eyes tried to follow, but he knew better than to move. For a moment Cailan glanced over, and the man tried to reach out, before the prince sneered as well and turned away. Broken, Cordell's head hung low to his chest. No doubt he was already preparing his sob story for the crown. It'd have to be amazing for him to stand a chance from escaping the noose, and yet...

Shutting her eyes tight, Rosie whispered, "Take him to the dungeon. The crown shall pass sentence later." It was a headache for another day. She had enough on her plate right now. The Commander nodded and with a twitch of his fingers, guards appeared to drag Cordell away. Perhaps she should have watched the man, her supposed father, being pulled away in chains, but her eyes were all on the real dad in her life.

Alistair finished shooing away the helping hands while insisting someone bring him something useful like beer, or cheese. Or both! At the end of his command he turned to his eldest and smiled. "That's one hell of a night."

"The bards hardly know where to begin," she tried to smile, but her father looked worn. Age, which never truly stuck to his boyish grin and sparkling eyes, walloped him hard. His cheeks deflated even more than usual, sunken lips that struggled for breath pulled tight to his teeth.