Blade of Glass: Chapter 49

Geneve felt the throne room was too hot. Too many eyes on her, with far, far too many people watching. She waited, unsure of what to do with her hands. Queen Morgan sat on her throne, her Coven arrayed about the room, with her honor guard front and center.

She’d said to Armitage, Please hide, and he’d said, Fuck off, but she’d held his hands and he’d nodded, hulking back to the antechamber. Sight of Day went with him, tail lashing, gold eyes hard like metal. The Feybrind said nothing, but his eyes reminded her of her duty.

Duty to her Tresward, and to her heart. It felt like she was splitting in half.

She felt someone by her side and turned to find Meri there. His hand found hers, gentle fingers inside her metal gauntlet. “I’m here. Whatever comes, we’ll do it together.”

Geneve wanted time to talk with him, to work out what this meant, but time wouldn’t be held by any woman’s leash. The throne room’s door crashed open. A guardsman stumbled inside, falling on his rear. Another was held in the armored fist of Israel. Vertiline stalked at his side, glass blade ready to catch the light or a throat, depending on the occasion.

Israel’s armor was bright, but his black sash was worn ragged, frayed ends showing the marks of the road. The gold bars were faded almost to nothing. His dark skin was burnt. Vertiline fared worse, her fair skin the bright red of a cheap harlot’s hair. 

The Knight Champion tossed the second guard atop the first. “Your hospitality is lacking, Morgan.” Israel ignored Geneve, his eyes everywhere but on her. They narrowed as they spied Meri at her side.

“Queen.”

“Excuse me?”

“Queen Morgan. Or Your Majesty. Some call me the Raven Queen, others Morgan the Black. A few brave souls call me Morgan the Fair, but they don’t know me very well.” Her tone was so frosty Geneve felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

Israel’s throat worked, but he settled when Vertiline touched his elbow. The big Knight gave a short bow. “My apologies, Your Grace. I feared…” He looked at Geneve as his words choked off.

“She is not my prisoner.” Morgan didn’t laugh, or cajole, just laid the words like bricks of explanation. 

“You silly man,” Tilly said. “I’ve tried telling you for three days.”

Geneve ran, armor clattering. She crashed into Israel as he curled her into a bear hug. She held him tight. “I’ve been so lost. I wasn’t ready. I’m so sorry.” Geneve tried to hold back tears, but they wouldn’t be denied.

She felt his armored hand on the back of her head, smoothing her hair. His voice was thick when he spoke. “It’s me that’s sorry, Geneve.” He didn’t say what for. It didn’t matter.

Geneve didn’t know how long they stood like that. Perhaps seconds. Minutes, maybe, but time urged forward. Meri gave a soft cough behind her. “I, uh.” 

Israel released her, then set her back, both hands on her arms. His eyes were bright as he pushed her aside, marching toward the young man. “Sinner, by the authority of the Tresward, you will—”

“No!” Geneve stormed past Israel, stepping between the Valiant and Meri. She shoved her hand against his chest. “He is no sinner, Iz. He is kind, and decent, and … he took us from the temple of the ancients. His gifts kept me safe when you left me with the Vhemin. He’s been at my side when the wise thing would be to stick a knife in my throat. Meri’s given his all to come here, so I could find what was wrong with our Tresward. He’s helping the Feybrind, because the monsters destroyed their family. It’s all connected. The Vhemin, their priests, and our, our…” She ran out of words, chest heaving.

“Knight Valiant Israel, you might want to listen to your Adept.” Vertiline joined them, her blue eyes deep and calm. “What do you mean when you say there’s something wrong with our Tresward?”

Israel’s jaw clenched as he stared past her at Meri. Then he let his anger go, calming like sea after a storm. “What have you seen?”

“The Vhemin take the will from the Feybrind. They are hunting Meri, because he knows about the Ledger of Lost Souls—” Israel laughed, then cut off like a tightened faucet at Geneve’s glare. “The Ledger is real, Iz. The queen will bring it here and destroy it.”

“With more sinners?” His tone was ominous.

“With whatever I deem necessary,” Morgan said. “It’s my kingdom, after all. Or did you forget?”

Geneve didn’t look at her. She kept her hand on Israel’s breastplate. Listen to us. Please just listen. “Would you like to see it?”

Israel shook his head. “I count you and the sinner, but we followed four sets of tracks through the desert. Where are the other two?”

“Sight of Day, and, uh, Armitage.” She dropped her hands and her eyes. “It’s complicated.”

“Uncomplicate it,” he suggested.

“She means I’m a monster,” Armitage said, in the door of the antechamber. “She thinks you’ll kill me soon as look at me, and to be honest, so do I. Been waiting for death since I got to this pissant castle, no offense Your Grace, but no one here looked up to the task until you walked in.” The monster rolled his shoulders, striding forward. “So, shall we have us a little fuck-up party? Just you and me.”

Israel’s mouth opened and closed before he faced the queen. “You harbor Vhemin in your kingdom?”

“No, he just turned up.” Geneve swore laughter hid in the queen’s tone. “With the other three. But I’m of no mind to turn away honest help. There’s precious little going around, and more than enough fighting and backstabbing already.”

Thunder rolled from less far away. The storm drew closer, the hiss of rain sliding across the tiles above. Geneve bit her lip. “Iz, please. Let us find what’s going on.”

The Valiant looked about the room, counting the people there. The four honor guard he skipped over as unimportant, but he lingered on the Coven. “Are these all sinners?”

“They’re not your concern,” Morgan said, as another toll of thunder rumbled across the throne room. It sounded closer, angrier. “They’re—” 

The throne room door banged open again, but with far less force, as the young page from earlier returned. His hair was slicked wet, eyes wild. “Run!”

Israel blinked. Vertiline raised an eyebrow. Queen Morgan descended the steps. “Take a breath. Then another. What’s—”

“The dead!” the lad wailed. “The dead walk the streets!”

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