Chapter 18: Shadow of Doubt

Kingdom of Zuland, Grezeit Castle Courtyard, Present day.

"Lady Sara, get behind me." Svarga pulled her back.

Sara nearly slipped with the combination of the General's force and the layer of ice that coated the stone. "Svarga?" Her words were caught in her throat as the sound echoed.

The man's body was face down in a pool in his own blood, he was dead. He had to be dead. The following second he stretched his hand out and pushed himself up with a single arm.

The crowd's roar once again turned into screams of horror, but Sara couldn't hear them, their screams muffled. Her mouth dry and cold, her hearing dulled as her heart raced.

The people ran away from the horrid scene, some turned back to take a final glance at horrid scene.

Before her was the man that was dead mere moments ago, he stood hunched with almost black blood dripping from the gaping hole in his neck. His eyes were gone, only two wells of darkness decorated his face until they were quickly filled by an unnatural yellow glow. The croaks that came from his exposed throat sent horripilation down her spine.

He quickly turned his head back to the soldiers that stood guard, his head twisted unnaturally, as if he was a puppet. He pounced at the nearest guard and sunk his teeth into the man's neck.

The guard let out a quick scream before it turned into pained gurgles as the monster tore away at his neck.

"Kill him!" said another guard before he leapt and drove his spear clean through the monster's back.

The growls were cut short as its body went limp.

Sara gulped. What is he?

The guard let go of his spear and the remaining men backed away.

"Is he dead?" asked one.

"Put another spear in him for good measure," said another.

The monster before her twisted around again and locked its eyeless gaze at its attacker.

"Gods!" yelled the guard as fear overtook him. He tumbled back; palms dug deep into the snow.

Myn quickly charged at the monster and caught it halfway through its pounce. His large claws clasped the monster by its neck. With his free claw he dug into its eyeless pits.

The creature flailed its arms in a desperate attempt to break away from Myn's grasp. Then came the tearing of flesh with a rain of blood as the top half of his skull was ripped off. It plopped to the ground without a single twitch.

Every breath she took came with needle-like pain alongside the smell of copper.

"Is he really dead, kasaber?" asked Svarga.

Myn looked down and growled at the corpse before nodding yes.

"Lady Sara are you injured? Sara?"

She felt a heavy hand land on her shoulder. "I…" Everything froze for half a second like a painting. "…I am fine. Just shaken."

"Aren't we all." He sheathed his blade. "We should do something about the bodies." He knelt over the corpse. "Is this?" There was a tone of shock.

Sara circled around him.

His eyes were wide as he picked up a what looked like a letter and a gilded token from beneath the body's coat.

She took slow breaths. "What is it?"

"Nothing." He skittishly put the paper into his coat. "Just a bloodied parchment, thought it would help determine who this man, but its illegible." He broke away from the body and pointed at the remaining guards. "You men. Get a proper burial for your fallen brother." He looked down at her assailant. "Not this thing though. Dispose of this one at the cliffs, let the choraks have him."

The young men, with terror still trapped in their eyes looked over to her.

"Do as he says." She waved them off.

"Y-yes, my lady," answered one, followed by a slight bow.

"Kasaber. Take the princess back into the castle. She needn't look at this display any longer."

Myn glared at man and growled. His claws and fur decorated in crimson snow.

A dagger of guilt pierced her inner thoughts as she made her way back up the path to the castle. How could she have let something so horrid happen to her people? She gazed back as she ascended the stairs. She had already come to miss the cheering of the crowd. Now it was desolate, only blood and snow remained.

Myn pushed the large doors open.

Sara took in one final breath. "General, there was a reason behind his attack, find out what it was."

"Of course, Princess."

~~~

The tourney room felt colder than regular. Even with glass-encased flames within the four walls, Sara could feel the air was thinner. She tapped her leg endlessly, every minute seemed to last hours. Anytime she found herself confused she'd find herself either in her bedchamber or here in the seats of the tourney room. The large room had a square limestone arena at its center. An arena that had gone unused for almost an entire year now. The limestone was a stage for honorary duels and tournaments.

She had spent so much time watching the best of her nation combat one another not long ago. Since the age of five, her father would bring her to the duels against mother's wishes. But Sara loved that he did, never had she felt so much joy in her youth than watching artists of combat display their skills. Her eyes landed on the two thrones high above the other seats. She scoffed. How could her mother give up on the life of a noble to live like a simpleton? She removed her coat while numerous questions battled in her mind, each trying to be first in the line of focus. How could father let the woman he loved leave his side?

The flames of the room crackled louder as sparks flew from the charred wood.

Sara closed her eyes. The man said he knew what father did, what did he mean by it? More so, why did Svarga hide what he had found? She leaned in, elbows on knees, and ran her cupped hands down her face. Whatever it was, it was a type of steel, her aura allowed her to know that much.

"Ah, Daughter." Her father walked through the large archway that led into the arena with a scorn. "General Svarga told me of what transpired. Are you hurt?" At his side was Lanace, Prince of Silverpeak who wore garments fitting for the cold, a regal fur coat over a black vest. Though he was not just a prince, but her fiancé's elder brother.

Disgust was added to Sara's already long list of ailments. Was it his long woman-like hair that she found so repulsive? No. It was the way he walked, the way he talked and presented himself with a ungenuine smirk. A look that perpetuated the idea that people should bow and kiss the ground he walked upon. Such arrogance from a prince that only knew how to be pampered, accepting the perks of rulership without achieving the feats needed as one. The man was a complete opposite of Ramses.

"I hope you're not hurt, Snowdove," said Lanace as he put out his hand, awaiting hers.

Sara glared down at the bowed man. "What did you call me?"

"Snowdove. Ramses used to—"

"But you're not Ramses." She scoffed and took a step closer. Now eye-to-eye. "Far from it."

He arched back and eyed her top to bottom. Tongue-in-cheek, he smiled. "Lively as ever."

Her father put his arm in between them and kept his head low. "Don't be impetuous," he growled. His glare vanished as he turned to Lanace with a pat on his shoulder. "The prince insisted on coming to see you. He wanted to make sure you weren't harmed. You'll have to forgive my daughter. She is still distracted from the attempt on her life."

Sara rolled her eyes. "I wish to speak with my father alone, Lanace. You can leave us now."

Her father cut through her with another sharp glare.

Lanace gave a slight bow. "As you wish, Highness. King Ryker, I'll take my leave until you call for me." He turned and continued out of the chamber.

Her father shook his head. "You make friends with servants but resent people of stature? I don't believe you understand how to choose your allies."

Sara felt a seed of anger planted in her chest. "Allies? Is that all? Father, one of my very own subjects tried to take my life."

"Attempted assassination, it won't be the first…and it won't be the last. As a ruler there will always be those who reject sovereignty, simple-minded fools who believe themselves above the crown and law. In such events you must pull the weeds of treachery from root and stem. If what General Svarga said is true…you did just that."

"Having one of my own people attempt to murder me is only the surface of why I'm riled. I just witnessed a man get his throat ripped out only to rise again as—as some monster!" She had just now noticed she was shouting. She wiped trickles of sweat from her brow as her chest throbbed with heated blood. "Before he attacked me…he said he knew what you did. What do think he meant by it?" She crossed her arms.

Ryker shrugged. "Impossible to guess." He put his hand behind his back as he paced on the tile arena. "Perhaps I gave the order for his wife to be hung as a harlot, or perhaps I evicted him from his ancestry home for bringing shame to it. I have no interest in the reason. A man willing to spill the blood of his betters because of trivial whims is no man worth of his life. Peasants like him are so far from reason that they tend fabricate a fantasy to excuse their treason."

The man's final words echoed in her mind. "His daughter," she whispered.

Her father leaned in with genuine confusion. "What?"

"He said that he knew what you did to his daughter." She looked up at him as he stopped his pace.

His eyes narrowed, though he seemed unfazed.

"Enough!" She balled her fists. The seed of anger in her chest had sprouted, bearing fruits of confusion and fear. "You know more than you're voicing! I'm a member of your council, when will you treat me like so?" She threw out her arms. "Well?" Did I just yell at father—the king? She turned away to hide her sudden shock from her outburst. "I…" Her voice stuttered as warm tears glossed her eyes. "I didn't mean to yell, I simply—"

She expected him to match her tone of voice, to yell down and lecture her as he had done many times before. But what followed was a more than a surprise.

"Shh." He caressed her hair as he took her in his arms. His voice was low but gruff. "Seems to me that you are still too fragile." He held her shoulders so that they were now face-to-face. "You are the Heiress of Zuland. Wailing aloud won't make the problems go away. This kingdom won't progress with a ruler that sobs anytime she is confused."

Sara's eyes itched. "I…"

Her father pulled her in and embraced her. "You won't disrespect the Prince of Ara'koh." His voice was far from calming. "And you won't demand answers from me and reach the edge of tears again—this will be the last of it, understood?"

The warmth of his body combined with the heat of embarrassment nearly burned her alive as she nodded yes.

"Don't be like your mother and I'll trust you with the truth."

Sara broke away, confused as her eyes danced in his. "Truth? About what?"

"Everything."