Setia sat in her chamber, wrapped in a warm cloak and holding a cup of mulled wine, waiting for the shift commander's report. He should be here soon. She drank another cup of wine, wanting to fill the emptiness she felt inside. Moros entered her chamber.
"I heard a commotion in the corridor, is that true? Someone was trying to free Aktis?"
"Not someone, but Jefre." Setia took another sip of wine.
"Jefre? After all this? But, you and him… Are you sure?" Moros looked at Setia in disbelief, who only nodded, confirming her brother's fears. "And what will you do now?"
"I already did." Setia pulled the dagger from her boot in one movement. Blood was still visible on the blade. His blood.
"You…" Moros picked up the dagger and looked at Setia. "What did he say, why did he do it?" Moros still couldn't grasp it.
"He was a lunatic. He didn't say anything because I didn't ask him." She stood up, unwilling to be questioned. Standing with her back to Moros, she only said, "Death for treason."
After a moment of silence, she heard her friend leaving the room without a word placing the dagger on the table.
Borwin, the night shift commander, found the dutchess of Emfer standing by the window.
"Come in and close the door," she said without turning around.
Borwin closed the door and after a few steps stood behind the princess. When she turned back, she was pale and had a dark circle under her eye, the other one was covered by a simple eyepatch.
"Report," she ordered, leaning on the windowsill.
"Madam, I report that the Dowager Queen has died. She took some poison, because we found this small bottle." He held up the small vial. "The guards are still asleep, and we fear it's not because of the wine, but because of some other substance, because attempts to wake them have been unsuccessful.
" We didn't find the man's body at the entrance to the dungeons, only a stain of blood.
Ice had pierced Setia's heart. Jefre was alive. Aktis lay dead, she had poisoned herself. This was Jefre's gift, this was the escape he offered to her. Haleon, Setia felt her knees tremble so she grabbed a chair standing next to her.
"My Lady, is something wrong? Should I summon the elder?" Borwin asked, concerned.
"No, everything is fine," she whispered through whitened lips. "Thank you, you may leave."
She didn't ask him, immediately assuming the worst. Jefre was her enemy now. If the wound wasn't fatal, then Jefre would return. He would return for revenge. For deserved revenge. She wasn't afraid; this was something else; she felt both a relief that he was still alive and the overwhelming grief of her loss.
The morning found her in rumpled clothes and with a headache.
When she looked in the mirror, she felt disgust; she looked bad. The events of the past few days had left their mark on her. She had killed her husband, lost her lover, and led a rival to her death.
She felt nauseated and quickly vomited into a bowl next to the jug of water. She washed her face, combed her hair, and put on a silver mask. Today she must look dignified; before her was the final show - the funeral of her beloved husband and the burial of Aktis. The irony of fate was that by giving Aktis the poison, Jefre had done Setia a favor. Now, no one doubted that Aktis was the poisoner.
Setia needed a dress, black as night and adorned. Such a lady was meant for all to see, beautiful and strong. She summoned the servants.
The pile of wood prepared for the spring equinox festival served as Tendred's funeral pyre. Setia looked at her dead husband one last time. She felt nothing looking at his corpse; he was merely an obstacle, a heavy burden she had to drag behind her likely for the rest of her life. The emptiness she felt in her heart stemmed from the loss of someone else.
The priest of Haleon approached the pyre and poured holy oil over it, then, in a somber voice, wailed, praying to Haleon. Finally, Setia approached the pyre. In her hand, she held a bulging purse of gold coins, which she had thrown onto the pyre for Idir to earn the god of death's favor. She bowed her head and touched Tendred's cold hand. For this occasion, she had brought a lace handkerchief with her, which she now partially covered her face in a gesture of grief over her loss. The pyre was ignited, and Setia watched the flames slowly march towards the body of the Prince of Emfer.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Moros wipe away tears. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps if he had stayed with Tendred longer, he would have come around to a new relationship. An involuntary smile spread across her face; she had to control herself. Her body was already burning, the smell, the smoke, and the heat from the pyre were taking its toll on Setia. She felt nauseous, again. There was no way to retreat discreetly, because all of Emfer was watching her. She put a handkerchief to her face and, accompanied by two guards, reached the main entrance before she vomited. The maid immediately began cleaning, and Setia went to her chamber. Lying on the bed, she realized she was indeed pregnant. Her lie had become the truth, except that Tendred wasn't the father.
Gorsep walked steadily through the marble hall, straight to the royal hall. His footsteps echoed dully off the walls. Soon his father would arrive for a visit—let's not call it that—to check on him and plan the next phase of the invasion.
Everything, however, was proceeding according to Gorsep's will. The treasury was no longer a cinderblock, he had mastered the food shortage, and key positions at court were held by men utterly devoted to him.
He became a king, the true king of Kanror. One day, he would sit on the throne of Hadgard. Even his lanky wife fulfilled her role, her bulging belly was a testament to Haleon's blessing and his virility.
Murmurs and louder shouts could be heard from afar. A large crowd stood outside the royal hall. Guards kept them away from Gorsep, so the king of Kanror calmly entered the hall and heard the thud of the door closing behind him. On the dais beside the throne stood Iridius, carrying an armful of scriptures. The tapestry of Kanror's crown that adorned the wall behind the throne disappeared in favor of the silver towers of Gardynia.
"Sir." Irydiusz bowed. "Here are the documents addressed to you."
Gorsep glanced at the sheaf of documents and then at Irydiusz.
"What's this gathering?" he asked the legist, taking the first document in his hand.
"They've come to protest against compulsory military conscription." The legist pointed at the document. "A request for permission to open an inn on Piwna Street."
"Didn't I already issue permission, about two weeks ago, to open an inn here?" Gorsep frowned.
"Yes, sir, as you can see, the competition is not sleeping." Gorsep signed the document with a flourish and affixed his seal.
"Do you wish to deal with these documents first, sir, or with the people waiting outside the door?" Irydiusz asked.
"The documents first, let people repent; waiting gives food for thought, even to the most confident people." Gorsep handed the signed document to Irydiusz. "Of course, here's another request to pave the road by the goldsmiths' workshop." Iridius deftly rolled up the letter requesting permission and set it aside. Gorsep skimmed a few lines.
"I consent," he said, more to himself than to the legists. "They pay high taxes, so let them have what they need."
The noise outside continued, the crowd was growing louder.
"We have a request here to resolve a dispute concerning a will."
"Such matters fall under the jurisdiction of the City Council."
"The matter concerns one of the councilors, hence the request for a decision."
"And let the representatives of both sides come and present their arguments. Preferably tomorrow."
"Yes, sir, the right decision." The legislator held up another document. "The matter of sewage drainage repairs."
"How much will it take?" Gorsep sighed.
"About 300 arenas, sir."
Gorsep felt a pressure on his temples; the pile of documents had diminished slightly. Another hour or so and the paperwork would be over; only the people would remain, and that could take much longer. As time passed, the behavior of those waiting at the entrance to the royal hall changed. The shouts and murmurs first grew louder, but now silence reigned. Gorsep deliberately dragged out his paperwork, took a break for a glass of wine and a small snack, and only now decided to face the crowd.