Griffin's Daughter

Thessalina clicked her tongue in dismay. “You’re hung over. I’ve never …I’ve never even seen you drunk before! What’s going on, Magnes? I know you. This is not about Jelena…Tell me what’s wrong with you!”

Magnes sighed deeply. Like a terrier with a rat, Thessalina had him cornered, and she was not about to let him go until she had shaken every last detail out of him. “Livie’s gone,” he said. “She married a farmer from Greenwood. I’ve lost her for good.”

“ I’m so sorry, Brother,” Thessalina murmured. “I know you loved her.”

“ It wasn’t enough.”

“ What will you do now?”

“ Gods, Thessalina! I don’t know. I can’t…no, I won’t marry that stupid creature Father has chosen for me. I’ll renounce all claims to the ducal coronet and take priestly vows before I let him force me into such an intolerable match.”

“ That’s foolishness, Magnes. You know you can’t just put aside your inheritance.”

The alcoholic fog dampening Magnes’s brain suddenly burned away in the light of revelation. He abruptly sat up and leaned forward. “I can, and I will. I never wanted the position anyway.” He stared into his sister’s eyes, trying to gauge her reaction to his words. She seemed genuinely shocked. “Don’t pretend that you’re surprised, Sister. You and I both know that you should be Father’s Heir, not me. The only reason you aren’t is because you had the misfortune of being born second in a land where the firstborn inherits everything. Never mind talent or temperament! It’s only fitting that I should step aside. If I openly declare my intention to take priestly vows, Father can’t stop me. He’ll have to make you the Heir.”

Thessalina stared, mouth agape in astonishment, unable to speak.

“ Where is Ghost?” Magnes abruptly asked. Thessalina blinked rapidly, and he could see her mind start to shift and turn. She now realized the implications of his words, and they pleased her.

“ Ghost… Where is he?” Magnes repeated.

Thessalina refocused. “He was an old dog. He died while you were gone. Don’t worry. I saw to it that he got a decent burial. I had him put under the old chestnut tree in the back garden-the one we used to climb as children.”

Magnes closed his eyes again and leaned back into his chair. He resolved to go say goodbye to Ghost, just as soon as he could stand without retching.

“ Would you have someone bring me some willow bark tea, please,” he whispered, massaging his temple in a vain attempt to stop the hammer blows inside his skull.

“ I’d think long and hard about all of this, Brother,” Thessalina suggested, but Magnes thought he detected an undercurrent of eagerness in her voice. He could not fault his sister for her ambition. They both wanted the same thing.

He felt, rather than saw, Thessalina leave the room. A strange lassitude gripped him, and he allowed it to carry him under. He stirred long enough to notice that a steaming mug of willow bark tea had appeared as if by magic on the table by his right hand. He drank it slowly, thankful that someone had thought to sweeten it. When he finished, he heaved himself up out of the chair, made his way to the bedchamber, and collapsed across the quilt, surrendering to sleep.

~~~

Duke Teodorus’s ice-chip eyes narrowed when Magnes entered the study. The duke sat at his desk, a small oil lamp illuminating the stack of reports before him. Outside, the castle bell chimed out the hour of Nonis, the last before midnight.

“ Details, so many details,” the duke muttered. He picked up a large piece of vellum affixed with an ornate seal and waved it at Magnes. “Y’see this? Came today from the capital, signed by Empress Constantia’s own hand. It says I’m to prepare and send a report with all speed detailing the strength and readiness of my forces. Bah! We’re not anywhere close to being ready for a war, but it seems that the empress is growing impatient. She wants the armies of the Imperium to be ready to march against the elves in fourteen months time-less, if possible! Wishful thinking, I say. Lucky for us, though, you’ve seen the inside of that elf castle. I’ve no doubt the empress’ll want me to secure it early on, since Amsara lies so close.”

“ Father, there are things I need to discuss with you,” Magnes said quietly.

“ And I with you, Son. I have written to Leonus to tell him that our contract can go ahead as planned. With the gods’ luck and a little good timing, you should have Leonus’s daughter wedded, bedded, and pregnant by fall’s end.”

“ That is what I need to talk about, Father. I don’t want to marry that girl.”

“ What you want doesn’t matter,” the duke sniffed. “You’ll do as you’re told. This isn’t up for negotiation.”

Magnes pulled his hair in frustration. He could feel the pressure building within him, threatening to boil over in an explosion of fury. “Father, listen to me!” he cried. “I will not marry Duke Leonus’s daughter!”

“ I strongly advise you not to defy me,” the duke growled dangerously.

The dam within him burst and swept Magnes along on the crest of the wave. “I will abdicate my position and take priestly vows if you insist on this marriage! We all know Thessalina should be your Heir, anyway. Give it to her, Father. It’s what we both want. Set me free, I beg of you!” he cried.

Without warning, the duke rose from his chair and rushed Magnes, pinning him against the wall by the fireplace. Magnes gasped in surprise, alarmed at how easily his father could hold him. “Please, Father,” he croaked.

“ Shut up! I know what this is all about. Don’t think I don’t know about you and my game warden’s daughter. Who d’you think had the little whore packed off to Greenwood in the first place, eh?”

A red fog shrouded his brain, and Magnes howled.

The next few moments rushed by in a blur of fists, and screams, and the sound of things breaking, and excruciating pain, and still more screaming, and blood.

Blood!

Blood on my hands!

The red fog lifted, and Magnes looked down into the blank eyes of his father.

“ Father?” he whispered.

The duke did not answer.

Magnes raised his dripping hands to his face and moaned in horror. He staggered to his feet and stumbled backward, away from the hearth upon which the duke lay, his broken skull resting in a rapidly spreading puddle of gore. A gobbet of hair, skin, and blood dangled from the sharp stone corner of the mantelpiece.

A loud crash exploded behind him. Magnes whirled around to see a chambermaid standing at the partly open door of the study. A heavy tray lay at the girl’s feet, shards of crockery and food splattered in a heap upon the carpet. Face white with shock, she pressed her hands to her mouth and stared, first at the duke’s lifeless body, then at Magnes.

Magnes nearly choked on the bile rising in his throat. Pointing at the corpse, he croaked, “My father must have fallen and hit his head…We were arguing…Oh, gods!”

The maid’s eyes widened with fear. Her mouth worked, but no words came out.

“ It was an accident,” Magnes whispered plaintively. “I didn’t mean…”

Oh, gods, I didn’t mean to kill him! Did I?

A wave of weakness threatened to topple him. His muscles began to twitch uncontrollably as his mind succumbed to panic.

I’ve got to get away, run away, they’ll think I murdered him, I’ll hang!

It was an accident! Someone please believe me!