Chapter 64

 

This chapter has been copied from the original and may contain typos and grammatical errors.

~*~

This is looking pointless… Midshore had been thinking for a while now. As awful as it had been, she was starting to see the appeal of a tracking charm. She hadn’t been on the Mainland for a very long time, and it was much larger than she remembered.

There were very few spellcasters left to find on the mainland, but she needed to find a reliable source of information. Someone who had taken a position of service to a noble. Only one spellcaster came to mind, and she wasn’t pleasant, but when Midshore had known her she hadn’t been the type to conform. Maybe she could enlighten her as to where Anwyn, Liam, Romeo, or Gloria were.

Focusing deep inside, she centered herself, focused on where she wanted to go, and took her best shot at teleportation.

~*~

Anywn rubbed her hands, trying to ignore how raw they felt. The cold was brutal to her hands; she had forgotten that they got horribly dry every year around this time. When she cooked she would try and put her hands above the bubbling liquid hoping to catch some moisture, but the relief was short-lived.

Liam looked over at her, hearing her dry hands rubbing themselves again. “Annie, what’s the matter?”

She worried at the inside of her lip. “It’s been three months. It’s three months since my monthlies. I’m starting to think it’s safe to say… I think we should expect another child.”

Liam deflated a fraction. “I understand. Then we need to move up our plans, whatever those are. Montoya hasn’t been clear. And we haven't heard any news on a rebellion. Queen Rosa sure is taking her sweet time.”

Romeo had told them everything that Gloria had told him about the rebellion, which wasn’t much to begin with.

“We can’t rely on that, we have no idea when they’re coming - if they’re coming. They could all have been hung or stopped by bad weather. Gloria needs to get out of there before she’s married off to that shark and before she’s stuck with a child from a man who doesn’t want the best for her,”

“Do you know what that witch of a cook gave the king all those years ago? The one to make him not have kids?” Liam asked.

“No, I wish I did. We could slip it to Gloria to give to Blake, but I don’t know what it was or how to make it. And I suspect it was enchanted as well.” She leaned back in her chair.

“We’ll find a way. There is always a way,” he said, trying to assure his wife. But he was also trying to assure himself as dread was starting to settle in his stomach.

~*~

Gloria looked at herself in the mirror. The longer she spent here, the more and more pieces of herself felt chipped away. Her nightgown was made out of fine materials- so fine that she couldn't’ see the threads of the fabric. That’s just the candle light, she thought.

She pulled back the sheets on her rose and cream themed bed, pausing. Everything in her set of rooms was red and white, fancy and clean. It wasn’t what she loved, and it lacked everything she missed. She wanted golden colors, bright aquamarines, dandelion yellows. Not white, silver, and red. So much red. She was the Rose of the Kingdom; the king even called her his rose.

She’d cut off her hair if it stopped him from calling her his rose.

A knock sounded on the door, and it opened without her beckoning. Blake walked carefully from around the corner, making sure to not look threatening. He wore night clothes, but they were nothing like what he had worn on the island. These were expensive clothes, fit for a prince, not the coarsely woven cotton and linen clothes they had worn on the islands as they slept.

“Gloria, hi,” he waved.

“Blake?” Gloria asked.

“I- I was wondering if you’d like my company tonight,” he said. His face didn’t reflect the nervousness that his voice did, and she didn’t know which she should believe.

“I...” No. She didn’t. A rift had formed between them inexplicably. She had been so happy to see him when she had awakened in Illia’s cabin, but she hadn’t remembered the lies that he had told her. She did now, and she was still angry. It hurt. Creator it hurt so much to love something so much, and to know that it’s bad for you. That it would twist you into something of its own design like a bonsai tree instead of watching you become a full, strong tree. “I don’t-”

“It’s been so long, Gloria,” he closed his eyes, biting back an argument. “I miss you,”

Gloria felt her inner gate of discipline breaking as if under siege. “I- I’d like your company, but I’m not in the mood for anything further.”

He went to the side of the bed he had always slept on, and she on hers. Without speaking, she settled in beside him.

“I missed you, Gloria,” he repeated. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“I do.”

~*~

It hurt. Everything hurt. Burns had that effect; they kept hurting, no matter the position, even hours after they had been inflicted. He felt like every inch of him was bruised or burned. Seneca was so tired, but the injuries were preventing him from sleeping for more than a few minutes at a time. Was he going to die? He doubted that Blake was that bad of an interrogator to let his prisoner die without giving up information, probably on par with Barnabus if not better. He had ice in his soul, completely unsuited for the firey Gloria…

He had been so close to telling Blake what he wanted to hear. He had run out of fiction to reference, and he was almost worried that even if he told him the truth he wouldn't believe him anymore and he would never have peace.

There’s too much riding on him not knowing who I am. This is more than me, this is the whole movement. If I can’t dethrone him, my mother still needs the chance, he willed.

~*~

Illia smiled outside Gloria’s rooms. Blake loved Gloria. As well as he could, anyway. He had been raised to love her, so why would he think any differently? He was the king’s knight in a game of chess, and he did as he was told. This match had been made before Gloria had even been conceived. There would be no better pairing.

Well, not yet, anyway.

Illia may not have been able to read Gloria’s thoughts, but she could tell when she fell asleep. Gloria had such a vibrant mind during the day that it was a sharp contrast when her mind slipped away.

She let herself in the door, closing it behind her soundlessly. Blake raised his head, listening, thinking he heard something, then quickly turning to face her. His eyes flashed angrily, and he dislodged himself from Gloria. She had never been a cuddler before, when had she picked that up?

“What are you doing here?” he hissed, keeping his voice low. He knew that Gloria slept heavily, but he didn’t want to risk anything.

“‘I miss you,’” she taunted, tilting her shoulders in a suggestive way. “Relax, darling, I’m here because I’ve come to claim my price,”

Blake went a shade paler than he already was. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to find in here, but I guarantee you-”

She held up two strands of his hair, and swirled them around with a sparking flourish. “You will stop interrogating the boy,” she said, looking him in the eye.

“I- no.” He fought with himself to resist her. “I need him- he’s important- the king expects-”

“You will stop interrogating the boy,” she said stronger, leaning in, forcing her will on him.

Blake’s mouth couldn't open for him to object, and the only word that he could form was “Agreed.” It pushed its way out of his mouth without him wanting to, his eyes blazing.

“Crazy what a bit of hair can do, isn’t it?” she said, as she tossed those hairs on the floor. “How many did you give me? And I did that with just two?” She swiveled her hips around, walked to the door, and gave a mocking wave as she left the room.

~*~

It was a nice stroll down to the dungeon, just long enough to stretch the legs and get a good rhythm going for long enough to be satisfying. As attractive as her heels normally were, Illia had opted for some cushioned slippers for the occasion. They let her move more quietly across the hard floors of the palace without waking anyone.

She saw Montoya leaning against one of the door frames, his eyes tracking her down the hallway. He watched often, but rarely said anything. He was a man of few words, and he kept his thoughts close. How he had trained to be so secretive and yet so trusted by the king was a mystery, one she’d love to learn some day, but that wasn’t her mission tonight. She had an appointment to make before the next full moon, and since that was tomorrow night she really did have to get it done tonight.

“Going somewhere?” he asked as she passed.

“Always,” she purred, not stopping.

“It’s locked,” he said bluntly.

Of course it would be locked. Blake didn’t want Gloria stumbling in on Seneca. Blake thought that he had all the cards and could control every angle, but Illia knew differently for she controlled everyone’s hands. “You think a lock has ever stopped me?” she asked over her shoulder.

With a flick of her wrist she unlocked the door and opened it. The stairs going down were dark, and the air smelled of smoke and sweat. It was disgusting. With a snap of her fingers the air was clean and the torches lit. She breathed deeply and descended.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” she observed as she stepped through the door to his private cell. The discarded prince sat in a heap on the floor, going in and out of consciousness. Thankfully Illia didn’t have much empathy; she’d hate to be in his position if the tables were turned. Dirty, in pain, unable to rest, on the verge of paranoia. It wasn’t a fitting look for a king.

She opened the cell door and strode over to him, sauntering. He probably wouldn’t have enough of a mind to appreciate her sauntering, but she enjoyed doing it anyway.

“I- I won’t tell you- anything-” he said with rolling eyes and heavy breaths. “Though- the air is a nice- a nice touch,”

“My prince, I know everything about you already, remember?” she crouched down next to him, speaking in soft, sincere tones. “But I can help you now. I couldn’t before, but things have changed for the better and I can help you be free. But I need something from you,”

His head rolled to meet her gaze. “You’re a dirty witch, you know that, right?” he said as he winced.

“I’m a witch who can get you out of here alive in one piece to see your mother again,” she offered. “I’m the witch who can help the rebellion win. No one else can help you. Take the help, boy.”

His eyelids wavered, and she took his face in her hands, steadying him. “Let me help you,” she focused, trying to persuade him.

He took a few breaths, and she could feel his pulse in his jawline. “What did you need from me?” he asked.

“I need a bit of your hair,” she said as if it were the smallest request in the world. “Just a lock of your hair and all of this will be over,”

He shrunk away from her. “My hair? I know what people like you can do with a person’s-” he inhaled sharply, “-hair.”

“I want what’s best for you, Seneca, believe me. This will all be over. All the pain, the loneliness. You’ll see Gloria again. All of this, I swear,”

He looked at her, tears in his eyes. Had they been here all this time, or had they just started to form?

“I don’t have anything to cut my hair with,” he said.

She summoned a knife from the table, making it float in front of his face. “Here you are,”

He took the knife, wincing as he moved his arms, and quickly cut off a lock of hair and hesitantly handed it to her.

“Thank you, my prince.”

AHHH! We're getting closer! Have your predictions changed? Next chapter will bit a big one, lots will be revealed! Gosh I'm so excited!

Bloopers!

I didn't really have many this time around, I had a hard time making all of my poses working right. You move one thing and the whole ensemble decides to reset! ugh!