XIV. In Cold Blood

SALOME'S POV

Discoveries were meant to happen sometimes.

My gaze soared through the air, and splashed upon the telltale glimmers of the incandescent town below the balcony. I leaned against the pillar cloaked by spiraling vines.

I barely could begin to register what I had perceived.

From the bedchamber, the receiver urged a response from me. I sighed, and pivoted, making my way back in. The wind in my lungs were caught when I neared the receiver to my ear. "Hello..."

There was a familiar arpeggio that harbored significant information about the farmhouse incident. I was well updated by the constables. "Miss Salome, your sister has been found, and is on the way home. It is imperative..."

I nodded to his words.

* * *

Clack of footsteps traversed from one hall, to another. They were faint before but they grew louder as they approached. A figure moved past in a hurry.

"Where are you off to in such a rush?" My voice crested over, halting her in her tracks.

She spun around with an adamant bombshell expression commanding her facial features. Broadened eyes. Lips split open. "Sister, I did not expect you there, embosomed by the shadows..." She moved forward, but I stopped her there with an unmistakable expression on my face. An expression of curiosity, a cold kind of curiosity.

"I suppose I must gasp that you're alive, and find it good news." The statement was traitor to the calm look I donned, hearing that I let an ounce of anger slip through the crack.

She smiled but I could never look at it the same way again. Was it ever real, or were the years I spent with her a living evidence of monsters disguised with their charismatic mirages?

"I am glad that I'd finally reunite with you. I was kidnapped, held against my own will, and I was afraid," she said as she walked toward me with hands to her sides, as if ready to capture me in a trap. A deceitful cradle that supposedly indicated her affection. I knew it was no longer real. Perhaps it was never even real.

She was not my sister.

"What happened? You were on the floor, motionless..."

She batted her eyes at me, but did not bother. "Minutes after my sips of wine, I felt dizzy. I needed to excuse myself from dinner so as not to concern anyone. Before I knew it, everything went black."

"What happened when you woke up?" I asked.

"Must you brush me with these questions?" She folded her arms. "I have just fled the dark tendrils of fright, and this is how I am greeted back home." There was a frown on her, genuine for once.

"I need to know because I am concerned. I want to bring your experience to justice," I lied to her, but there were drops of honesty about bringing the experience to justice. It would all be the same, except she was not the victim.

She narrowed her eyes for a second, then sucked in a deep breath. For a moment, I thought she would hand out an answer, but what I received was far better. Confirmation. Her now-twisted hostile glare betrayed her utmost endeavors to subdue the intense wrath simmering from within her. She could no longer contain it, and what happened next was an eruption. A meltdown.

"Concern? Oh, you truly are concerned for me?" She tightened her hand into a firm fist, white knuckles bulging from the gripping pressure.

"Because that's what our parents would want." What I said stoked the ember of fire that sparked in her.

Her nostrils flared. "Parents? You say that because they favor you more, you rebellious brat!"

"W-why are you so angry at me?" I stuttered.

She was sold by the act. "I have always envied you! Whenever you do something wrong, they say it's my fault for not teaching you properly." Hot tears stung her eyes. "You don't know the immense torment I was put through!"

"Is that why they sent me to India? What did they do to you while I was away?" I knitted my eyebrows together, cautiously reaching a hand out to her.

She paid no mind to my outstretched limb because she immersed herself in her own grave. "More like what I did to them in retaliation." Her lips curved up eerily. "I found a syringe from Sir Quint's quarters, and I discovered that it was poison. Of course, it was my first murder without a plan, which crafted me to become a liar."

I watched with an open mouth.

She continued. "Then, I snuck in papa's study. Little did he know that he would die to a needle." She shrugged. "I made sure that the needle traced back to mama. Also, I bet it would be a much successful frame-up if I had fabricated the whole story in my diary."

Her harsh revelation struck pang through my chest. "Why? They didn't deserve it!"

"Oh yes, they did. You only say that because you did not go through what I went through. I had enough of them barking at me, making me their ideal daughter!" She stiffened, tense. "At least I got away with it, and your mother leaves this world with a bad reputation clinging onto her name."

I allowed a rivulet of tear to slide down my cheek. It stopped itself by my jaw, but eventually dropped to the floor. "You are cruel. They're our parents!"

She cackled wickedly. "You should be grateful. I am right. Every choice I took was right."

"You are a monster..." I took a step back, and she inched forward.

"Who's to talk now? Don't you recall the time when you... spilled to mama and papa the secret I trusted you with? Why did you do that? To prove to them that you really must be the favorite?" Her envy bled through her rumbling timbre.

I could not answer that.

"I thought so." She muttered under her breath.

"How long have you been lying to me?" I asked, head bowed down.

"For as long as I can remember. And for the record, it wasn't just you. I mastered the art of deception, starting with the assassination plot." She smirked. "I figured that you'd love to have the throne to yourself since mama, and papa dearest wanted it. Right?" She pouted her lips in a taunt, arching her back as she leaned forward in a crooked posture.

Without a warning, which she did not require, I swung my fist across her face causing her to stumble backwards in shock. She covered the side of her face as a man melted out of the shadows. "I heard enough," said the constable whose name was Andrew Sharp.

Amice whipped her head at him, furrowing her eyebrows. "What are you doing in my castle?"

"It is not yours anymore," said Andrew calmly.

"This is where you are wrong." She diverted her attention to me. "You think you are intelligent?"

"Your assumptions, not mine," I crossed my arms.

She was about to lunge forward when Andrew yanked her back, and bound her arms behind her back. She struggled in protest, complaining. "I am your Queen! You have no right to do this to me you ungrateful bastard!"

I inched forward, and hissed in her ear. "Last I checked, Queen Amice died in the night of the Twilight Ball. Whoever you are... you're irrelevant in this castle."

Those words resulted in a hideous scowl from her. She tried to break free from the tight rope tying her hands together.

"You can't do this!" She shrieked, writhing from the strong grasp of Andrew.

"Enjoy your place in hell because I sealed your fate just now," I teased her.

Andrew giggled. "Surely she'll enjoy the flames." The protesting voice of Amice persisted despite being dragged away by Andrew.

* * *

ADRIAN'S POV

A few days later.

The early yawn of morning over the horizon diffused a pinkish light throughout the hospital.

Arabelle stirred in her bed, slowly awakening from slumber. Her eyes fluttered open. There was no instant pounce upon searching, just a wave of relief washing over her when she saw me. A smile danced on her lips, making my heart swell in my chest at the sight of her.

"Good morning. How was your sleep?" I asked her as I gently stroked her forehead with my palm.

She moaned slightly, gathering the words in her tongue. "Dreamless, but I slept alright. Wish I could have dreamt about you though."

I chuckled. "Why dream about me when I'm real." I guided her hand to my chest, allowing her to feel a beating pulse.

"Ah, I meant to say that it'd be great spending time with you as well in my head. We could drift to all sorts of things." She suggested which made me smirk.

"I'll make those real..." I neared her hand to me, and brushed my lips across her knuckles. "How are you feeling?"

"There's a faint pang in my abdomen, but I think I can handle a stroll around the hospital. I miss using my legs," Arabelle replied in a mellow tone. She appeared better than the preceding days.

Her mother traipsed toward her. "Hey." She whispered, and leaned close to her daughter.

Arabelle grinned. "You are definitely not fiction."

Her mother responded in a light and hearty laugh. "I'll stay by your side from now on."

Our heads turned to the doors where a figure waltzed in. Salome. She walked over to us with a pleasant look plastered on her face. There seemed to be good news bubbling.

"Ah, to begin the day with some news." She greeted.

Arabelle squirmed in her bed. Her mother, and I helped adjust her to a sitting position. She inquired her, "So... what is the punishment?"

Salome sighed contentedly. "An execution. We still go by the books. Regicide provokes a grave punishment, especially when kept hidden for so long."

"Would that be a beheading? I am thinking about the poor children who'll witness..." Mother voiced out her concern.

Salome rescued the situation. "No, no. It won't be like before. It's not a public hanging."

Mother exhaled a sigh of relief. "Good. I suppose that she's been dealt with."

"Any news about Sir Quint?" I asked.

Arabelle closed her eyes, almost dozing to sleep, but she roused herself by pinching her wrist.

Salome clicked her tongue. "He is in hiding as of now. Perhaps news of Amice's execution will bring him out?"

"He did mention that he'd do anything for her," said Arabelle in a deft recollection of her memories.

* * *

ARABELLE'S POV

The capital punishment of Amice Heil Ashworthe had been proclaimed to the people of Helmburn. It was to be held in a clearing where a gallow had been prepared. Those who chose to see the hanging of the former queen arrived in flocks, surrounding the gallow.

Andrew lugged the female criminal up the stairs, until she was atop a trapdoor. Her squirms were a challenging disagreement compared to the unyielding hold of Andrew. Eventually, her head had poked through the hole of the rope.

She swept her gaze among the spectators who rewarded her bellicose glares. This elicited a malefic reaction from her, as she struggled, and writhed in where she stood. "Ungrateful dogs! This kingdom would not be standing without me!"

Her incessant cacophony of angry wails sparked outrage among the gathering spectators. One cried out, amplifying the loudness of their voice by cupping their mouth with their palms. "This kingdom would be better off without a selfish liar, and a murderer!"

The others exuded a low guttural sound in agreement.

Every ounce of malevolence ebbed from Amice's face which was replaced with dejection. To have the people she helped turn their backs against her... It had been painful. Yes, she did what she could to keep Helmburn from crumbling to a chaotic debacle, but that did not mean that she could eternally run away from consequences. She took lives with a horrific intention.

"You'll never flee. You made a choice, and this is what it entailed," Lady Deanne yelled at her.

"Your actions fired my father from what he was passionate about!" Charlie exclaimed, pain taking over him.

The build-up of an acute concentration of ire from the booing crowd led to Amice crying out in agony. "Shut up! Shut up! Damn you all!"

"Damn us all? You're damned after this!" A woman raised her voice, echoing at Amice which seemed to ricochet from her when she strung her lips up with a sinister grin.

"To hell with everybody here! All your souls shall gallivant to the fierce pits of flames! You all have dark secrets of your own. No one is innocent!" She molded into another person. The remaining sliver of sanity had been stolen from her. "I have killed! But all of you, don't act like you are saints! In fact, everybody are sinners!"

Everyone pressed forward, their hands prepared to tug at the feet of Amice, and make the execution early themselves.

"Enough!" A gunshot tore through the air, causing everyone to descend into screams, and sprints!

I gasped, and laid low, with Lord Adrian, Rosalie, and my mother.

The crowd parted into desperate calls for rescue as Sir Quint strode through them. He hurried up to the gallow, to Amice, to the person he cared most. Amice flicked her gaze at him. "Y-you came..."

"Of course, my love," Sir Quint cupped her cheek. "Now let's get you out of here." He snapped his gaze at the paralyzed onlookers. "None of you better move, or I will shoot everyone until every patch of grass is coated in burgundy!"

Mother whispered in a frown. "He's going to take her, and they'll flee!"

I pursed my lips, contemplating. Then, I jerked my head up with determination. "Not on my watch."

Before anyone could reach out to stop me, I made my way over, in front of the gallow, in front of the Helmburn's most gruesome killers. Last time did not end well... I warned myself.

Sir Quint immediately redirected his aim at me, with a furious scowl twisting him. "You shoved us closer to the edge... We should have finished you off when we had the chance!"

I took a calm breath. "Are you sure of what you're doing?"

"Very." He nearly pulled the trigger when I raised a finger.

"What happened to you?" I asked him.

He was perplexed, for a moment. "What do you mean?" His face returned to a wrathful fire.

I breathed out a sigh, and pulled out the metal pin badge. I showed it to him, and he widened his eyes. It was not long until he scowled again.

"Why do you have that? I lost that. It's mine!" Sir Quint's tone oozed with intense bile.

I answered, remaining still and tranquil despite death gambling before me. "It is yours, but are you really the same person?"

His facade cracked slightly. "What the hell is your game here?" He gritted his teeth.

"Not a game. I just want to get something across. Knock at your heart for any... Any chance that you're regretting what you're doing," I told him.

"I don't regret this. I wanted this," Sir Quint replied.

"Would your brother want it?" I furrowed my eyebrows. That struck the greatest nerve in him, and I had successfully taken down his armor. His arm shook, his sharp target wavering.

There was a crunch of grass behind me. Madame Desiree, and Sir Henry had joined the situation, their plea jumping out from them.

Madame Desiree placed her palms together, and begged to her son. "Quint... please, don't do this. I can't lose you."

Sir Henry knitted his eyebrows together, his eyes glossy with constrained tears. "Son... This isn't what your brother would have asked for."

Her mother pulled out another metal pin badge, a variant of the one I had. With a magnetic tug toward her, I gave back what was not mine. Madame Desiree read the words engraved on the badges. "Passionate, my love, and I promise to protect." She uttered.

At an unhurried pace, Sir Quint lowered his pistol. He bent his head down in shame, in realization of what he dived in to. Andrew poked out from behind the gallows, and looked to me for a signal. I shook my head.

"Remember these? You and your brother would light up. One badge for each because you both complete each other," said Sir Henry, his shaky breaths becoming distinct by the second.

Amice crumpled her face into a hideous glower. "What are you doing?! Kill them! Kill them all!" Her pounding perseverance caused Sir Quint to erupt in an indelible scream as he fell to his knees. His blaring discord bound her lips in complete, and uncomfortable silence. Everyone flinched from the shriek, except I.

He needed to be captured, not in ropes, but a tender embrace from her parents. I turned to them. "Give him a hug... He needs it."

Madame Desiree, and Sir Henry made a careful approach toward their son. They extended their arms, inviting a quivering Quint to their touch. When he saw them, he had pure regret latched onto him. "I... I'm sorry. I am a monster."

Her mother lulled him in comfort, hushing him as tears escaped her eyes. "No, you're not."

"I am. I am. I killed, and I don't deserve redemption..." He faded, his face now devoid of emotion. "Go away."

"Quint–"

"Please. Get away from me. I'm a failure!" Sir Quint exclaimed.

Sir Henry reluctantly pulled his wife away from their son as he lifted his pistol. Quint transferred his stare to me, sending chills racing down my spine. I shuddered. "You will be a better queen..." He pressed the pistol to the side of his head.

His parents cried out. "No!"

But it was too late. He pulled the trigger.

His head exploded, his blood spraying on Amice who seethed in disgust. The remaining body dropped out of the gallow, and landed on the grass, painting the patch with crimson.

The spectators rushed out, forsaking the bloody clearing in terrified caterwauls.

Salome marched forward, and ascended the steps of the gallows. "I hope you're damn proud of what you've done, bitch."

Amice rolled her eyes. "He was emotionally weak. That was a poetic, and grand way to end an arc!"

"You don't deserve to live," Salome glared.

"Great. Because my demise marks my victory." She drilled a stare into me. "Chin up, your majesty. I still won."

Salome had enough, and instructed Andrew to pull the lever.

Below Amice, the trapdoor gave way, and she dangled on air. The rope wrapped around her neck gradually crushed her throat. Her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, as her veins throbbed.

"Hrrrk!" She struggled. The wind in her lungs had been taken. It was up to time to drain the soul away from her body. She thrashed in the unimaginable torment, and the pain caught up to punish her for languid seconds. Eventually, her persisting writhes, and twitches halted, and her head dropped involuntarily.

Amice was gone for good.

Salome pivoted, and descended the gallows, striding away to leave behind the cadaver of Amice, and Quint.

"It's over..." I mumbled.

Rosalie folded her arms. "They got what they deserved for killing my mother." There was pure hate in her eyes.

I clutched her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "It's time to go. Aunt Genevieve would want us to look forward... to the future."

"You're right. Mother would love that," Rosalie answered, and politely extricated herself from my grip. She retreated into the exit.

I spun around, but cast one glance over my shoulder. They were dead. They were truly dead.

* * *

One week later, the coronation ceremony was a throne room away. I was in the bedchamber with Rosalie, and my mother.

Rosalie put final touches on my face. The moment was reminiscent to when I was preparing for the Twilight Ball.

She took a step back, and smiled proudly. "Ah, beautiful as ever."

I rose up, and admired the glittering gold emblazoning my torso, and the black tulle that flowed downward like shadows contoured by the lamplight. "Rose... thank you."

"It's nothing." She replied.

"No, it's everything. If you hadn't nudged me out of my comfort zone, then this, all this, wouldn't happen," I told her.

"In that case then, you're welcome."

She instructed me to turn my back to her so that she could lace a pendant around my neck.

"Do you have a bracelet?" I asked her.

"I thought you'd never ask." She grinned, and retrieved a wrist embellishment for me to slip on. It had a scarlet ruby that could capture the attention of everybody.

Eventually, we neared the doorway. "Are you ready, Ara?"

"I am. Let's do this."

We sauntered down the hall, and emerged from a corner, to greet a sea of faces. Old and new. Without a second to waste, I stood before the throne, facing the avid crowd.

Mother. Adrian. Rosalie. Charlie. Lady Deanne. Sir Carlos. Salome. Lady Anthanasia, and her brother, Sir Martin. They were there in attendance, as well as the Heads of House. They had beaming smiles.

Before I knew it, it was time to commence the ceremonial rites of the coronation.

A poise man in an all-white vest with gold accent addressed the crowd. "Today is a momentous occasion as Helmburn will be led by a new bloodline." He turned around with a kind smile. "We will begin with an oath."

There were the practiced lines sitting at the back of my tongue, awaiting to spring out to the throne room guests. I faced them confidently. "I firmly take my stand here, to raise another bloodline of Royals. I have formally, and officially chosen to shoulder the duties, and responsibilities of a monarch." I sucked in a deep breath, and continued after a brief interval. "As a solemn promise to represent the black jaguar on Helmburn's flag, I shall face adversity with valor, with mercy, with loyalty, and with protection."

I raised my head up with a proud smile.

Then, there was a glint that lured my attention. The crown. It was headed for me, drawing in the attentiveness of the guests who stared onward.

It rested on a navy blue pillow.

The white vested man made hand gestures at me, then lifted the crown effortlessly. I lowered my head in order for him to secure it.

I immediately felt its heavy weight. I became the queen, and on the horizon, there peeked the challenges. But I was ready. I was ready to face it.

"Helmburn has found its new monarch."

Almost instantly, the guests produced a raucous sound of applause. There were exuberant cheers clouding the air.

They chanted.

"Long live the Queen! Long live the Queen!"

I held back my tears.

I made my way to them. First, I encountered Charlie who bowed down. "Your majesty, must I say you look magnificently accoutred."

I chuckled. "I'm still Arabelle, but there's queen attached to my name now."

"Heh. I'm certain you'd make quite a wonderful ruler. A diplomat who would cut through the sea to forge international alliances," said Charlie.

"I like the sound of that," I curled my lips up to a smile.

"Oh, it looks like other people want to grab you for a chance to talk. I'll leave you to it." Charlie stalked off, his form blending among the crowd.

I whirled around to see my mother. "My daughter... or your majesty. You handled yourself with grace up there." She cupped my cheek. "I'm proud of you."

"Thank you, mother." I captured her in a hug.

There was a voice that rose. "Your majesty!"

I swiveled my head at Sir Martin, and his sister who no longer needed a wheelchair. "The crown fits you," Sir Martin complimented with a grin.

"Oh, thank you," I responded.

"You deserve this, after everything you've done to us. The least we could do is shower our never ending support," said Lady Anthanasia.

"Thank you." I smiled warmly. "I take that you're adjusting yourselves with your new estate?"

"Much better than we expected. Keith Philipps's assets... We plan to donate them," Sir Martin stated.

"We won't be needing them, so we figured that we'd give them away." Lady Anthanasia held her hands together.

"You two are generous souls," I grinned.

They giggled, then they bid farewell before leaving the throne room.

Soon, the coronation festivities were to begin.

I stepped out of the castle, with a crowd swarming out in tow. The Helmburn flags were high up and waving, melding with the ocean blue sky.

Beyond the gates, there lied the world. There lied the people I would be taking care of, the responsibilities that I needed to carry.

For now, we must celebrate.