"Mom?" Liz took the sticky hand in her own. "Are you hurt?" She searched her mother’s body for wounds. Her gown, especially the right sleeve, was covered in crimson stains. It soaked into the silk making the fabric slick against her skin, the stains so dark they were nearly black. Clutched fast in her other hand was a dagger, soaked to the hilt.
The world twisted beneath Liz’s feet. It was as if she was seeing and feeling everything in a distorted way, from a considerable distance or from underwater. Her mind didn't make the connection right away, not until her mother unclenched her fist and let a dagger clatter to the ground.
"He was standing there with that Priestess in the corridor and I couldn't let them kill you. I couldn't let them kill my baby."
Liz’s beautiful white silk gown was stained with blood, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Clinging desperately to her mother as her knees gave way, they sank to the floor.
"Who?" Liz flinched as her mother cradled her face in her sticky, blood stained hands, smearing it into her skin. It was still warm.
"Your father, the king."
No. Liz dug her nails deep into her mother’s shoulders, not caring if it hurt her.
"It’s treason. They’ll execute you! " Fresh waves of tears rolled down Liz's face, worse than mourning her unspent life was knowing with certainty her mother would join her in the vastness of the frozen wasteland that awaited them all after death. "Why would you do something so stupid?"
"You have to run, Lisbet." Her mother's eyes were wide and frantic, scouring over every angle of Liz's face. Committing her to memory. "You can’t save me now, but if you run you could escape."
Liz opened her mouth to protest, but her mother took her chin in a firm grip until she was forced to focus on her determined face, an older version of Liz's own. The shadow of a dream Liz didn’t dare speak aloud hid in the gentle lines of her mother’s face. She could almost see herself growing older, having thwarted the prophecy. Not the way the Priestesses insisted was true, but the way she knew was true in her own heart.
"Listen to me—"
I can’t leave you to die," Liz argued. The courtiers’ every whisper clanged in her ears. Every not-so-subtle look of oddity or strangeness she’d endured, reinforcing her belief that she didn’t belong here. Liz had never been a person to the other members of court, merely a sacrifice. An object to be traded for their comfort, and a source of guilt when they thought too long about the implications of that.
"You can. If it’ll help you find another way to bring magick back then you can and you will."
Liz shook her head again, not believing what this night had turned into. Instead of her own body adorned with water lilies on the altar of the water temple, it would be her mother's. They didn’t sing the song of your life if you were branded a traitor.
"Where would I go? The entire kingdom knows I belong to the Dragon. I have nowhere to run, no one who would help me escape."
“I know a way out. A hidden passage in the caves below the palace.” Tia’s voice sounded stronger than before. Liz didn’t turn to look at her friend but the wrinkles at the edges of her mother’s eyes smoothed in an expression of relief. Screaming echoed from the corridor, her father and Priestess Elba had been discovered.
"Go to the northernmost point of the Kingdom. Winter is almost upon us, and the mountain passes will freeze. When it begins to snow, they will become impassable. It'll buy you time. Enough time to find a way to save Aegis." Her mother clutched her to her chest one last time, and then she pushed her away, set her chin, and pulled her shoulders back. Ready to face her punishment with unfailing grace. Liz clawed at her mother’s dress, Tia snaking her arms around Liz’s waist and hauling her bodily away.
"I can't run. I can’t leave you here. Please." Liz could see it in her mind's eye. A mockery of her wedding tonight. They would beat her mother first, until her skin was more purple than its normal milky white. They would drag her down the steps of the castle, the entirety of Silver City watching. The Dragon would want to make sure the people saw her as he burned her in the open air. He would want to make sure they heard her beautiful, musical voice contorted into inhuman screams. Until it finally ended.
In silence.
There would be no one left to sing the song of her mother’s life, no one to sing her into the halls of the gods, no one to remember her when they struck her name from all the histories. No longer would the queen exist anywhere except in Liz's mind, in Liz's heart.
"You can." Her mother smiled sadly.
The sound of boots clomping down the hallway resounded as fear pulsed hot in rhythm to her racing heart. Her mother tucked an errant curl back into place and smiled softly.
“Mother, I—”
"Promise me something.” The firmness of her mother’s voice silenced all of Liz’s protestations in an instant.
"Anything." Liz couldn't help wavering as her voice broke on the word.
"Promise me you'll fight, until the last. Promise me you'll live well, my sweet girl. Live well for me." Liz felt Tia's arms tighten around her shoulders, but she didn't want to turn away.
"There are guards coming,” Tia said. “If we're going, we have to go now." Liz shook her head. Not enough time. There was never enough time. She didn't get to memorize the shape of her mother’s face. She didn't have enough time to say goodbye.
"Now, Lisbet!” Tia shouted, yanking hard enough that Liz nearly lost her footing.
"I promise."
Her mother nodded, resigned. She tilted her chin, giving Liz permission to go. Something inside of Liz's chest broke straight in half. Tia pulled her around the corner, through to the servant's quarters just as the palace guards burst into the room and surrounded the queen.
I promise.
Chapter Four
Mat stood at attention, awaiting Lord Callum’s punishment. He wanted to believe that he exuded calm, stoic professionalism as he waited, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case. In truth, he seethed at Gareth’s casual confidence. Mat avoided looking at his foe, instead studying the worn leather near the toe of his mud-caked boots to hide the shadow of a snarl on his mouth. The dirty slice in his skin from Gareth’s blade stung, and the fear of the lash itched across the skin of his broad shoulders and back. He had marks there already and didn’t relish the thought of adding to the faded silver scars.
He fought the urge to lift his eyes and take in the opulent splendor of the Great Hall. Commoners weren’t allowed into this part of the keep unless they were serving Lord Callum and his family. Gareth didn’t seem afflicted with the same institutionalized obedience as Mat. Crossing his arms and sneering down his long nose with an entitled arrogance that rivaled royalty, Gareth didn’t seem particularly worried about displeasing Lord Callum.
Mat’s mind whirled as he scrambled to find an excuse believable enough for a commoner to attack a soldier. He bit down on his lip hard as his thoughts scattered in a thousand different directions, panic flaring in the deep part of his chest and thudding rapidly against his ribs. Gareth trained with the soldiers, was a valued member of the legion stationed here for the crown.