Sovereign

Prologue: The Calling

The rising sun cast soft, pink light through the mullioned window, the checkerboard pattern falling upon the large four-poster bed and the lifeless body of Finnian Salvitto, Sovereign of Dracacre, laying upon it.

Two male figures stood hidden in the shadows of the empty bed chamber, their ragged breath forming clouds before them.

One male peeled back his hood, his thin, stubbled face barely visible in the dark corner of the room where night still lingered. A flash of anger blazed through his yellow eyes, glowing bright like two candles in the night as he rounded on his partner.

   "The Spirit burned through him," he growled, exposing the sharp points of his teeth.
The poison of his words made the bigger man take a step back as he stuttered, "H-he was the h-host, I swear it." His terror-stricken expression remained hidden underneath the black hood.
     "P-please, Magnus, I am s-sure of it."
Magnus took a menacing step towards his partner, his expression feral and it made the man press himself against the cold marble wall.
     "I w-watched his every move for y-years," the assassin insisted, his voice small and pleading. "I e-earned a seat on the Bench. I kept a close watch on all his training. He's the o-one..."
    "Does he look like he's the one, Cato?" Magnus spat his name like a curse. "Does it look like he's the host?" Magnus gestured erratically to the corpse, to the King's once handsome face, now bloodless and grey as if it has been decaying for months, to his violet eyes that were now charred hollow pits.
Death has frozen his face in a permanent scream, revealing the scorched lining of his mouth, lips burnt away, black and white where skin had turned to dust.
    "You were wrong. Again."
    "N-no! I swear it! He mastered all the gifts!"
    "That proves nothing!"
    "But his closest allies are witches, just like in the prophecy!"

Magnus' hand shot out from under his cloak and latched onto Cato's throat.
He brought his face close, his fangs bared, the feline eyes narrowing, blazing with fiery rage.

    "You imbecile!" he snarled. "You based your decision off witches?" Cato could only gasp in response as Magnus dug his claw-like nails into his partner's skin, threatening to pierce through. "Half the court is from Oberon, as it had been for eons!"

The large man gasped for air, clawing uselessly at Magnus' hand that tightened more and more until Magnus released him, nose wrinkled with disgust. Cato doubled over, coughing and gasping as Magnus yanked his hood back on before giving a hard kick to his partner's ribs.

"Get up," he hissed. "We need to get to Isopol before they send those dogs chasing after us. It won't be long until they discover their king dead and one of the Bench members conveniently missing."
Cato coughed but uncoiled himself from the floor and weakly but quietly followed Magnus out on to the balcony where two Peryton awaited. The creatures threw their antlered heads with impatience, their black wings like mirrored glass.

The assassins clambered up on the feathered backs, clutching the reigns. Cato hesitated. He cast one last look into the marble room as the sun began filling it with golden light, chasing back the shadows.    

    The legibility of Donovan's signature had significantly decreased, his hand growing more unsteady as he signed the hundredth copy of the Declaration of Death that was to be sent out to every town, village and city, stamping each announcement with the Royal Seal.

It was to be read out loud in every town square by one of the King's heralds, the news to be repeated over and over, their voices to carry it across the kingdom with the winter wind; his son, his only child, was dead.

He felt tears burn at the corner of his eyes, his vision beginning to swim, the headache progressively getting worse. He dropped the quill, the last drop of ink splattering on the parchment as he cupped his forehead in his hand, steadying his breath.