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Chapter Seven

“Resolve”

            Tais Illvanna, oldest daughter of King Orem III of Illymar, stood silently in the tiny room that had been her prison for the past year and stared out of the single window that she had been allowed in her imprisonment.  A gentle breeze blew through the window and stirred her unruly golden hair, and she absentmindedly brushed away a few stray strands that covered her eyes with an elegant sweep of her wrist.  Her room was located at the top of the tallest tower in the castle, and as such it should have commanded a truly spectacular view—only there was nothing at all to see, for the window was angled in such a way that no matter which way she looked all she could see was the ocean and the occasional sail of a ship.  That was a part of her punishment she supposed, for Orem had decreed that she be allowed no distraction from the contemplation of her “treason.”  As such, even the very sight of the city she had so loved as a child had been denied to her lest she became “distracted,” and moreover, she had been allowed absolutely no visitors.  Not a single person aside from the royal physician had come to visit her in the past year, and even he hadn’t been to see her in months.  As the endless days of her confinement had turned to weeks, and the weeks had turned to months, she had moved well past the point of caring.  She didn’t know if her younger sisters Lyrahe and Chesare even knew she was still alive, but that meant nothing, for in her darkest moments she often found herself wondering if she actually was still alive.  It was possible she supposed, that she had in fact died and had been sentenced to some nameless hell, but she refused to believe that, just as she refused to give in to despair.
            With no one to talk to she had spent countless days lost in her memories, wondering what—if anything—she could have done differently.  No answers had come to her during her imprisonment, and she now believed beyond the shadow of a doubt that none ever would.  She looked down at the base of the tower, and smiled faintly at the waves crashing on the rocks far, far, below.  The waves and the rocks had become companions and friends of a sort since she began her sentence, and she felt keenly the seductive pull of their siren’s call.  It would be so easy she knew, to take a single step forward and end her imprisonment and pain forever.  One tiny step would be all it would take for her to join her husband and child in death, and at long last they would be together.  She watched as a wave crashed against the rocks and turned into white spray, and for a moment the look of longing in her eyes intensified; but then the moment passed, she closed her eyes, and with no little effort pulled herself away from the window and stepped back into the room.  It was becoming harder and harder to turn away from that window and the surcease of pain it promised, but she still had many things to do before she died.
            Now that she had decided to live for yet another day, she walked to her simple cot and sat on the corner, once again returning to her memories.  Tais had always had an outstanding memory, and a year of solitude hadn’t dulled it in the slightest.  Quite the opposite, actually, for her isolation had honed it and sharpened it to a razor’s edge, allowing her to recall with complete clarity anything she wished.  As a girl, her perfect memory had matched easily with her sharp intelligence and keen insight, and the combination had allowed her to learn history, politics, and languages at a much faster pace than any of her siblings.  She had absorbed facts like a sponge, and had eagerly immersed herself in any subject she could get her hands on no matter how advanced it may have seemed.  King Orem hadn’t approved, for a daughter that was perceived as being more intelligent than the man she would marry would be very difficult indeed to arrange a marriage for, but Tais had pointed out quite reasonably that the ability to speak intelligently on any topic a potential husband might find of interest would serve to make her more attractive as a potential bride, not less.  Tais had hoped that any husband Orem found for her would appreciate her for her intellect, but truthfully she hadn’t held out much hope.  She was smart enough to know that of the many qualities noblemen sought in a wife, intelligence wasn’t ranked nearly as highly as station, dowry, or the ability to bear children.  The one redeeming quality that she possessed as far as Orem had been concerned was the ability to know when to keep silent.  Tais had developed that ability very early in life, for she had discovered quite by accident that one learned more through listening than through talking.
            Three years ago her father had informed her that he had come to an arrangement with the Emperor of Ferralin for her to marry his son, the Crown Prince Lain.  She had been grateful, for Lain was very close to her in age, and she would at least be spared the indignity of being wed to someone far older.  With the foreknowledge of the identity of her future husband, she had begun to research Ferraline customs and political structure, and what she had learned had fascinated her.  In Ferralin, a husband could have many concubines but only one wife, and the wife had much greater influence and freedom than an Illymari wife of equal station would have been allowed.  As her studies had continued, she found herself looking forward to meeting the Crown Prince to see for herself just what kind of man she would be bound to.
            Before that had happened however, an event occurred that altered the course of her entire life.  Her brother Ethan, the Crown Prince of Illymar, had entered into yet another one of his tournaments, and Orem had commanded her to attend.  Tais despised tourneys, but the games had been ordered as part of the celebration for Ethan’ 23rd birthday, and in honor of the event the entire family had attended.  Ethan considered himself to be quite the swordsman and normally he did quite well in the lists, but it wasn’t Ethan that prevailed that day.  No, that honor belonged instead to a dashing young nobleman named Markus, the Earl of Danshire.  With his brilliant swordsmanship Markus won the tournament—and the heart of one Princess Tais Illvanna.  Tais closed her eyes in pain at the memory.  He had been so very handsome!  Markus had caught her eye early on in the tournament, and as he had advanced through the lists, she found herself sitting on the edge of her seat during every one of his matches with her heart in her throat.  In the final, he had bested Ethan sword to sword, and with a brilliant smile on his face he had presented her with the victory laurel making her the Queen of the Tournament after he was declared its victor.  At the celebration dance following the tournament, the two of them had shared the first dance, and she had felt as light as a feather in his arms.
            In the weeks following the tournament, Markus had remained at court and had pursued her with single-minded determination.  At first she resisted his advances, but despite her weak protests she had been just as eager to see him as he was to see her.  Eventually she had given in though, and after that the two of them had seen each other as often as they could, taking every possible opportunity to sneak away to dark corners and lonely corridors to be alone.  At first they were content to talk about their hopes and dreams, but soon enough talking turned to kissing, and their infatuation had gradually changed to love.  Then one day Markus asked her to marry him.  Even as he had asked she knew it was a fool’s wish, for she was bound to another man, and through their marriage they would seal an alliance that would keep Illymar safe from the depredations of warlike Dakkadia—the only country that could challenge Illymar’s dominance.  She knew better than any other that it was her bounden duty to sacrifice her happiness for the good of her country, and until she had met Markus it had been an obligation that she had willingly embraced.  But those were arguments of the head and not the heart; for her heart had yearned desperately for the marriage that Markus had proposed.  With tears of joy in her eyes, she had accepted his proposal, but had warned him that her father would never allow the marriage to happen.  He hadn’t listened to her protests though, silencing her doubts by telling her that true love could make the impossible possible.  He had been so sure—so convincing that she had been caught up in the moment, and Markus had taken her by the hand and the two of them had gone to see her father.
            The meeting did not go well.
            In a speech both eloquent and impassioned, Markus had begged the king for his permission to marry her.  He spoke of his family’s lineage, his unswerving loyalty to the crown, and of all of the myriad reasons he was worthy to wed her.  She had been so proud of him in that moment, so filled with love that she was certain that his words would sway her father into allowing the marriage to proceed.  The king had listened calmly until Markus had finished—and had then exploded in fury.  Tais had never seen him like that, for his anger had never before been directed at her, and in the face of his elemental fury she shrank back in terror.  But Markus absolutely refused to back down, and he shouted right back at the king, matching tone with tone and fury with fury.  There had been no argument, no exchange of reasoned positions…they had simply screamed at each other, and it wasn’t long until Tais had been completely forgotten.  In the end, the king had ordered Markus’ arrest for treason, and the young nobleman had been dragged away by the guard.  When Markus had been removed from the king’s presence, Orem had turned his wrath upon her, and had held nothing back.  After screaming at her for several minutes, without warning he silenced his own tirade and his demeanor changed completely.  The abrupt change caught her off guard, and when he spoke again, the chill in his tone and the lack of expression on his face convinced her that her very life—the life of his daughter—was hanging by a thread.  He coldly asked her if she had dishonored herself with the earl, and all she could do in the face of the frightening calm that had overcome him was to shake her head in denial, completely unable to speak.  It was true of course, for she had not dishonored herself with Markus, but she did not know what her father would do if he did not believe her.  Something in her face must have convinced him however, for once he had been reassured that her marriage with Lain could still proceed he had ordered her to be confined to her apartments, and had washed his hands of the matter.  Her mother Althea, who had been silent throughout the entire episode, grabbed her by the arm and marched her out of the audience chamber towards her rooms.
            Tais was glad to be gone from her father’s presence, for she desperately wanted to seek comfort in her mother’s gentle arms as she had done so often as a child.  She knew that her mother would understand her pain and terror, and would know exactly what to say to make it all better.  Tais bravely held back the tears that threatened to drown her, and meekly followed her mother to her own apartments.  When they arrived at her rooms, the tears began to fall at last as her mother closed the doors behind them.  When they were safely alone with no prying eyes, Althea turned to her abruptly and with no warning whatsoever slapped her.  Tais had never been physically struck before and her bitter tears had dried up instantly in shock and disbelief, but Althea wasn’t done.  A second slap quickly followed the first, and then a third, and a fourth, until the slaps became blows that rained down on her without pause or mercy.  She did not remember falling to the floor, but at some point during the beating she found herself lying there desperately trying to ward off blows.  Eventually fists were replaced by a strap, and Tais’ entire world had turned white in agony as her mother had beaten her relentlessly.  And all the while she had beaten Tais, she had screamed at her that she was a stupid, stupid child and how dare she presume?  How dare she!?  Eventually, Althea had tired, and the blows had slowed and then stopped.  But by then, Tais was nearly dead.  She had curled up in a ball on the floor trying desperately to cover her head with battered arms too bruised to lift, bleeding from cuts that crossed her body from top to bottom.  Althea let the strap fall to the floor, and then reached down to her daughter’s face.  Tais flinched at the movement, expecting yet more pain, and her mother had obliged.  Althea knocked aside her arms and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head back to look directly in her eyes.              Tais was in shock and barely coherent, but the stranger that wore her mother’s face didn’t care.  In acid tones, Althea had told her your lover will die for this, daughter.  He will lose his head for daring to presume he was good enough to join this family.  But you…you will marry Lain, or you will join your lover in death.  She let her daughter’s head drop to the floor, and turned to leave.  As her hands touched the door handles, she turned back to look at Tais’ crumpled form and said you are a princess of Illymar, and were raised to be better than this.  Never disappoint me again.  Ever.  With that, she left the apartments…without so much as a second glance at the broken girl that had once been her daughter.
            In all her eighteen years, Tais had always been secure in the knowledge that her parents loved her.  She had never had any reason to question that absolute belief, just as she had she never given them cause to be angry with her, but as she remembered her father’s voice and her mother’s eyes, she had known without a doubt that she had never truly known her parents.  The people that wore the faces of those she had thought had loved her were the faces of strangers, and those strangers were people to fear.  To his daughters, Orem had always been a father first and a king second, but on that day Tais had finally seen the king in the man…and had learned to fear him.
            Had the tragedy ended there, it would have been bad enough, but poor, sweet Markus had other ideas.  When the guards had taken him to the dungeons beneath the castle, he had somehow seen an opportunity to escape and had taken it.  The guards should have warded against the attempt, for it hadn’t been a fluke that he had won the tourney.  His swordsmanship was accounted excellent, and sheer desperation gave him skills beyond those he already possessed.  He disarmed a guard and took his weapon, then fought his way out of the prison through pure skill at arms.  Somehow, he had killed the last guard before the alarm could be raised and used the opportunity to sneak through the halls to her chambers.  Tais was still lying on the floor unable to move when she heard the sound of fighting in the hall.  The sounds abruptly ceased, only to be replaced by the sound of a key turning in the lock and the gilded doors opening.  At first, she had been terrified that her mother had returned, but when Markus stepped through the door her terror had been replaced by a relief so powerful all she could do was cry.  He saw her lying on the floor and rushed to her side, and the love and concern in his eyes made her tears fall even harder.  My love, what have they done to you?  What have I done to you?  He reached down to touch her forehead lightly, and tears streamed down his own face as she flinched from his hand like a terrified animal.  Can you move, beloved?  We don’t have much time.  Tais had hovered on the brink of protesting for she knew what would happen to the both of them if she defied her parents, but the memory of the vicious beating she had received at the hands of her mother returned to her, and she found herself standing up, wanting desperately to somehow escape from the ruins of her former life.  As much as the thought of running frightened her, she feared staying even more.  They fled the castle with nothing more than the clothes on their backs, and Markus’ friends smuggled them out of the city within the day.  The couple ran to his keep in Danshire, several hundred miles north of the capital.  Danshire was very small, and not terribly important, but neither one of them had anywhere else they could go.  He mobilized his own militia, a mere 250 men-at-arms and archers, and immediately sent letters to his neighbors, asking for the aid of his fellow nobles.
            It was during this time that Tais had discovered several disturbing facts about the monarchy.  The most important fact was that Orem was very unpopular amongst the nobility, for the nobles that had helped them escape told her that for years, true nobles had been systematically replaced by members of the Savonne family—her mother’s relatives.  Years earlier, in a breach of all protocol, King Orem had married Althea Savonna, who was nothing more than a beautiful daughter of a wealthy merchant who had somehow caught his eye.  His family had been furious of course, but Orem didn’t care.  Once she had been elevated to the position of queen, Althea convinced him to grant titles and lands to several key members of her family, which served to further alienate his own family and the nobility.  Several voices of opposition emerged, but one by one they were silenced as the king stripped them of their lands and titles and had them imprisoned or executed.  The seized lands were then given as gifts to the Savonne family, usually at Althea’s request.  This practice had continued unabated for 26 years, and by now it was no exaggeration to say that practically every single member of the Savonne family had been elevated to one rank or another in the nobility thanks to Althea’s position at court.  In fact, several titles had been created out of whole cloth, with no lands whatsoever attached to the titles, only trading or mineral rights.  The Savonnes had been all-too happy to use their newfound influence at court to ruthlessly stamp out any competition to their business ventures, and as such, the Savonnes had quickly became the richest family in Illymar…all at the expense of the nobility.
            While almost all of the voices of opposition had been silenced, one man remained that was too important to imprison or execute.  The king’s younger brother Ascham, the Duke of Saerce, hated the Savonnes with a passion and had emerged as a very vocal opponent of the practice of ennoblement.  His relentless attacks on the Savonnes—and his brother—had gained him a very strong following amongst the remaining nobility, but eventually he too had crossed the line.  Althea had been quick to accuse Ascham of treason, but the king had refused to have his own brother executed.  Instead he ordered Ascham to personally oversee his lands in the far north, an exile in all but name.  Ascham had no choice but to obey, but his banishment had proved to be no great hindrance to his cause.  In fact, it had had the opposite effect, for it had generated a tremendous amount of influence not only for him, but for the nobles who were quick to use his name as a rallying call to drum up even more support.  The nobles who remained behind had to walk a very fine line, for if their support became too vocal, they risked having their titles and lands stripped from them and given to the very people that they hated.
            King Orem’s pursuit was inevitable, and they both knew it.  Markus told her that the key to their survival rested on the support of Duke Ascham.  If Ascham could be convinced to extend his protection to them, the king would have no choice but to leave them alone or risk starting a civil war, but if Ascham didn’t help them, they would have no choice but to leave Illymar and seek their fortunes elsewhere.  Riders were dispatched to Saerce, and it didn’t take long for them to receive a reply.  A year later, she still remembered the letter word-for-word.

            To Markus, Lord Danshire;

            I received your urgent petition seeking the protection of Saerce and its most puissant allies in your challenge to the throne of Illymar.  I regret to inform you that neither Saerce, nor any of its allies will help you in this endeavor, for in so doing we too would risk being attainted of treason—something we absolutely will not do.
My sincere advice to you is that you surrender yourselves immediately to your king and beg his indulgence.  Perhaps he will be inclined to be merciful.

            Ascham, Duke of Saerce

            Markus had been devastated at the abandonment, for he had believed their cause was worthy enough that the other nobles would be willing to lend their support.  Instead, he had been shunned, too insignificant for the others to risk their own titles to aid.  Even worse, word came shortly after the arrival of the letter that an army of 2000 men led by Prince Ethan himself was on the way to Danshire to lay siege, and he had ordered the roads and ports watched.  Escape was impossible.  With no support and no avenues of flight left to him, Markus did the only thing he could:  he prepared for the siege.
            The two of them were married the day before the army arrived, in a small, private ceremony led by the Dracon of the county.  They had tearfully exchanged rings and vows, and once the simple but beautiful ceremony had concluded, they had quickly retired to his rooms to consummate the marriage.  She had been afraid, but he had proven to be a gentle lover, patiently and lovingly guiding her through her first time.  Their lovemaking had been glorious, but it had also been underscored by a sense of urgency brought about by the approaching army.  Neither one of them knew what the future held, but for one perfect evening, it didn’t matter.
            Tais did cry then, in remembrance of the man she had loved for so brief a moment in time.  Within weeks of their wedding, Markus had been killed in battle, gallantly defending his wife and his unborn child with the aid of his few remaining men.  His men-at-arms had held the keep much longer than they had expected, hoping that some noble or other would come to their aid, but ultimately they had been overwhelmed.  When it became clear that all was lost, Markus challenged Ethan to single-combat to decide the issue.  Ethan had always been a bully and a lout, but he wasn’t a fool:  he knew very well that Markus would kill him in single combat, so he avoided the entire challenge.  Ethan had simply laughed at Markus, and had then ordered his men to shoot him to death with their crossbows—an order his men had willingly obeyed.  Tais could still remember the horrible sound of the quarrels striking her husband’s body, and the way he had jerked at the impacts again and again.  It had taken time, but once Markus could no longer defend himself Ethan had walked up to the dying man and with a single stroke of his sword had cut off his head.  And just like that Tais was a widow, her unborn child fatherless.
            Though Tais’ memory was perfect in all other respects, she simply could not remember a single minute of the journey home to Illymaine.  She had tried desperately to remember something—anything—about that time, but from the day she had been taken from Danshire, to their arrival in Illymaine, not a single image would form.  Unfortunately, the same could not be said of her arrival home, for she remembered the meeting with her parents all too well.  When she was brought before them she had thought that she would be executed on the spot, just as Althea had threatened.  That was not to be however, for Orem had a different punishment in mind for his wayward daughter.  To this day, she still did not know why he had ordered her imprisoned instead of executed, but after a year of solitary confinement she had begun to think that the punishments were one and the same.  The one thing that she had had that gave her the courage and the strength to continue living was the child growing within her.  At least one small part of her Markus would survive, and she had taken great comfort in that.
            The pregnancy had not been easy.  The stress of the siege, the murder of her husband, and her confinement in the tower had made a delicate condition even worse, and she had been sick for much of the time.  The physician had been in to see her each week, but he was only allowed to ask questions directly related to her health or to the health of the child—no other communication was permitted.  As the months progressed and the baby had developed, he had become more and more worried by her condition.  The constant sickness and poor living conditions had been hard on her body, and the strain on her system was beginning to show.  When she finally went into labor, it was almost two months premature, and Tais had nearly died during the delivery.  She did not remember the event for she had fallen unconscious shortly after her water had broken.  It was days after the baby had been delivered that she awoke, to the concerned expression on the doctor’s face.  After checking her condition, the doctor told her quite firmly that she would live, and then had been taken away before he could say or do anything else at all.  After that there were no more visitors.  Even her food was delivered once a day through a small hole in the door a foot from the floor.  She had tried asking the person who delivered her food about her child, but there was never an answer.  She didn’t know if the child had lived or died, where it was, or if she would ever see it.  She didn’t even know if it was a boy or a girl.  It had been five months since the birth of her child, and those questions had yet to be answered.
            Tais would have those answers if it took her the rest of her life.  These were the reasons she refused to jump to her death, the reasons she refused to give in to despair.  If the child was alive, she would take it back and raise it as her own, or if it had died, she would seek justice on its behalf.  Her father, her mother, her brother, Ascham…these people had all had a hand in what had been done to her, and she would not forget it.  Zarryiosiad, Mother of Justice, I beg you on behalf of my child to please allow me the opportunity to seek redress for my own sins.  If I must die for the harm I have caused, I will gladly die.  But my child is an innocent.  Grant me the opportunity to protect and nurture my child if he lives, or to seek justice on his behalf if he doesn’t.
            As if in answer to her prayer, Tais heard the sound of a key turning in the lock of the heavy oaken door guarding her cell.  She shot to her feet in astonishment, too surprised at the unexpected event to do anything other than stare at the door, and when it swung open, her surprise turned to shock as she recognized Queen Althea and two of her lady’s maids.  The shock wore off quickly however, and at the sight of her mother, Tais’ eyes narrowed and she silently gave her heartfelt thanks to Zarryiosiad.  In your mercy, you have granted me the opportunity I have prayed for, Avatar.  I will not fail your trust; of this you have my word.  Althea stood in the doorway and looked at her for several seconds, before crossing her arms and saying,
            “You look both better and worse than I feared, daughter.  It looks as if we will have our work cut out for us if we are to make you presentable for the Convocation.”  Tais knitted her brow in confusion at the statement.  The Convocation?  After everything that has happened to me—and everything you have done to me—you can’t seriously be contemplating moving forward with my marriage to Lain.  Even as the thought came to her she disregarded it, for she knew better than anyone that she was no longer an acceptable candidate to be the wife of Prince Lain.  Several possibilities quickly crossed her mind, but she held her tongue and waited for Althea to continue.
            Althea stepped into the room, and reached out with her right hand to touch Tais’ unkempt hair.  At the movement, Tais stepped back a full pace to keep her mother from reaching her, never taking her hate-filled eyes off of her mother.  Althea’s expression widened in surprise at the completely unexpected defiance, and then hardened as the look in Tais’ eyes registered.  She dropped her hand and turned to the handmaidens, ordering
            “Leave us.  My daughter and I must speak.”  The two handmaidens curtseyed to their queen, and then they silently and gracefully glided from the room.  One of the young women closed the door behind her, but didn’t lock it.  After the door had closed on the pair, Althea turned back to Tais and hissed in a low voice,
            “You dare to defy me?  Again?  Perhaps you dare to blame me for what you have brought upon yourself?  I warned you daughter.  I warned you that betraying your family and your country would have consequences.  When we first discovered that you had fled with that fool, I fully intended to have you executed as you so richly deserved.  Fortunately for you, I cannot abide waste, and you may yet be useful.”  She paused for a moment, and then continued in a more normal tone.  “While it is true that you are no longer fit to be Prince Lain’s bride, with so many nobles attending the Convocation I am sure I can find someone who will be willing to accept you as a wife…even as damaged as you are.”  Her voice turned smug.  “Of course, the pool of men willing to entertain the thought of marrying a fallen woman will be quite shallow, but you should be grateful; any husband—no matter how repugnant he may be—is much better than you deserve.”  She stopped speaking and crossed her arms, awaiting her daughter’s response.
            It took Tais several tries to speak.  For months, she hadn’t spoken to anyone at all, and her unused throat protested at the unexpected exertion.  She had to clear her throat several times, but eventually she was able to make herself be understood, though her normally melodic tone was very rough indeed and sounded harsh to even her own ears.
            “What…” she cleared her throat again to make herself better understood “what happened to my child?”  Althea’s eyes narrowed in anger at the question, but Tais didn’t back down—she matched her mother’s icy gaze evenly and awaited her answer.  After several seconds, Althea broke the staring match by turning to the door, saying
            “We have no time to lose.  You are most certainly not presentable as you are, and the hairdressers and seamstresses will need to work miracles in the short time we have left.”  As she reached for the door handle, Tais quickly stepped forward and grabbed her mother’s arm, turning her forcibly around to again face her.  The anger and hatred welling up inside of Tais spilled forth, and she pressed forward, still holding her mother’s left arm in a tight grip.  Her gravelly voice matched her words perfectly, and she glared down at her shorter mother in fury.
            “I asked you a question.  What have you done with my child?” For just a moment, Althea’s eyes widened in fear, but that fear was covered in an instant by her anger at her daughter’s presumption.  Her full lips tightened into a line, and without saying a single word, she reached back with her right hand and swung an open palm at Tais’ face in a vicious slap.  For just an instant Tais remembered the last time her mother had slapped her, but she was no longer the same person she had been.  This time there was no fear…and no hesitation.  Before the blow could land, Tais released her mother’s left arm and reached up with her own right hand, intercepting Althea’s slap in mid-swing.  Althea’s eyes widened in surprise at the interception, and the surprise changed to more than a hint of fear as she attempted to pull her arm out of Tais’ strong grip and failed.  Tais pushed her mother against the door, still clutching Althea’s wrist in her own hand, and pressed her right forearm against Althea’s throat.  The fear in Althea’s eyes turned to terror then, as she saw the fury blazing in her daughter’s eyes.
            “You will never lay your hands to me again, Althea.  Never.  You lost that right forever on the day I became a widow.”  She tightened her grip to the point that Althea whimpered slightly in pain, and pressed her forearm even harder against Althea’s throat, choking her.              “Now, answer my question, or by the Avatar I will have it from you…whatever it takes.”
            Althea couldn’t believe this was happening to her.  She had been so sure that Tais’ will had been broken by the months of solitude that she hadn’t even brought along guards, for she had wanted as few witnesses as possible at this meeting.  She cursed herself for her own foolishness, for she had believed that Tais would be so grateful for any opportunity to leave the tower that she would be easy to control.  She hadn’t counted on the desperation, the fury, the madness that had overcome Tais, and she knew without a doubt that Tais could—and would—kill her.  At the realization that her life was actually in danger, Althea began to panic.  The only people that could help her were on the other side of the door, and long before they could summon help Tais would kill her.  As Tais increased the pressure on her throat yet again, it became increasingly difficult to breathe.  Before she could stop herself, the words began spilling out of her mouth in a flood
            “Your child died within minutes of its birth.  It was born too soon, Tais!  Too soon!  There was nothing we could do!”  The last came out in a strangled shout, and the pressure on her throat increased for a second.  Althea’s vision began to cloud, but then abruptly the pressure was gone.  Althea was relieved to see the fury in her daughter’s eyes waning, and then dying altogether, and better still the madness passed from her eyes.  Tais released her mother and stepped away slowly, almost leadenly, and walked to the window of the cell to look at the waves crashing on the rocks far below as she had done so many times in the past.  Althea rubbed her throat and wrist to relieve the pain, but she didn’t take her eyes off of her daughter.  For several long seconds, neither of them spoke.  Tais simply looked out the window at the waves crashing against the rocks, and Althea watched her warily.  Tais broke the silence then, without taking her gaze from the water.
            “Was…was it a boy or a girl?”  The look of longing in her eyes as she stared at the water touched Althea, and she felt a momentary surge of pity for her daughter.  With a soft voice she answered the question.
            “It was a boy.  He was interred in the Savonne family crypt in secrecy.”  At that, Tais began to weep softly, though her gaze never left the rocks far below.  It would be so easy.  One tiny step.  A son, Markus.  We would have had a son.  She felt her mother’s hand on her shoulder, settling gently upon her and the soft tears became a flood.
            “Come away from there, Tais.  Let’s go to your room and get you cleaned up.  It’s over now.”  Tais laughed bitterly at that, and said.
            “It isn’t over, Althea.  Not by a far cry.”  She scrubbed at her eyes furiously, wiping away her tears before she continued.  “Who did you give Markus’ lands to?  Which member of the Savonne family profited from his death?”  Althea jerked her hand back as if burned, and frowned in confusion at the non sequitur.
            “A distant cousin—one you wouldn’t know.”  Her brow knitted in confusion.  “How did you….?” As Althea’s words trailed off, Tais laughed and said,
            “It matters more than you know, Althea.”  She turned to look at her mother, and Althea was surprised to see that Tais’ tears were gone completely, replaced instead by a radiant smile of…joy.  “You have planted the seeds of your own destruction, and you don’t even realize it.  It’s more than I could have hoped for.”  Tais stepped towards the door, and when she realized that Althea hadn’t followed, she turned again to her mother.
            “You needn’t worry about my behavior ever again, Althea, for you can be assured that I have learned my lesson well.  I will once again be your perfect daughter.  I will obey your commands without question.  Find a husband for me if that is your wish.  I will marry whomever it is you may choose without complaint, and I will make for him the perfect wife.”  Her smile changed then, and a chill ran its way down Althea’s spine as the look registered.  The cold, hungry grin on Tais’ face perfectly matched the words she then spoke.
            “I make you these promises not because I fear imprisonment, or even death, but because I will do whatever it takes to be there to see the look on your face when your entire world collapses and you lose everything you hold dear.  I warn you now, that your own actions have already cost you this kingdom.  The damage has been done.  All I need do now is watch.”  With that, she walked to the door and knocked, and it swung open slowly to reveal the two ladies-in-waiting.  Despite her rags, her disheveled hair, and her tattered appearance, Tais looked every inch the royal princess that she actually was as she spoke to the ladies-in-waiting.
            “I believe you are here to take me to my quarters?  Please lead on.”  The ladies looked past Tais to the queen, obviously seeking her permission, and after a moment’s hesitation the queen jerked a nod, too shocked by her daughter’s apparent madness to say anything at all.

                                    ***

            Queen Althea stayed in the cell alone for a long time after her daughter had left.  Her reunion with Tais hadn’t gone well at all, and she remained behind to think on what Tais had said to her.  You have planted the seeds of your own destruction, and you don’t even realize it.  The words alone were disturbing enough, but it was the absolute certainty with which Tais had delivered them that had truly chilled her to the bone.  She went over their brief conversation again and again, trying to fathom the meaning of the cryptic statement, but in the end she decided that Tais must have indeed lost her wits during her imprisonment.  If that were true, her words could be disregarded as the ramblings of a madwoman, for a person touched by madness might be…unpredictable, but their words at least could be discounted.  Doubt still plagued her though, for Tais hadn’t sounded mad in the least.  She’d been too certain, too sure about her pronouncement.  No, it wasn’t madness at all, of that Althea was positive.  It couldn’t have been.  But her words were wrong—weren’t they?
            In the end, she gave up her speculation and left the room, quickly closing the door behind her as if to close off her doubts once and for all.  It didn’t work however, for she was unable to shake her uneasiness, or the feeling that someone, somewhere, was walking over her grave.

*

Zarryiostrom Main Page

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