“Then what of the cursed child?” The queen again chuckled. “Were you not the one who ordered him lashed?”
“How do you know what occurred?”
“Were you not the one who called him a traitorous piece of filth who was unworthy of praise, trust, or honor?”
“Enough.”
“You were too concerned about your own pride and legacy that you failed to recognize your own son, cursed or not, and now he, too, is near death.”
“ENOUGH!” Beadurof screamed and hurled a chair at Marlisa, only to have the piece of furniture pass through her and splinter against the wall. Then she was gone, and within moments there were frantic knocks at the door followed by a voice of similar urgency. “Your Majesty?”
Beadurof did not answer, and the concerned individual soon entered.
“Is something awry, Your Majesty? I was coming to speak with you. I was not even a few paces away when I heard shouting and an apparent struggle.”
The king looked to the physician and in between deep breaths, he inquired, “How fairs … my son?”
The elderly man was the only individual who had ever been told about Awiergan, the only other person aside from the king, who knew the significance of the mark, and the only individual who Beadurof absolutely trusted. And now he needed the physician more than ever.
“What news have you of Awiergan?”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty, I …”
“Go on. Tell me.”
“There is little more I can do. It is for Fate to decide.”
Beadurof could not believe it. He did not want to accept the possibility of what could occur. My first born, my true heir, is dying and it is my doing.
“I shall continue to watch over him. I swear it, Your Majesty, I shall do everything I can.”
The physician continued to speak, but the king’s attention was directed elsewhere, to the corner of the room where Marlisa stood and smiled before again mocking him.
“You have been cursed, Beadurof, and it is only a matter of time.”
“No!” the king forcefully grunted.
“No what, Your Majesty?”
Beadurof quickly looked back to the elderly man, then to the corner which was vacant, and back before answering, “Nothing. It is nothing. I did not sleep well is all.”
The physician nodded and eventually added, “If there is nothing else, I should return to him.”
“There is nothing. Go. Do what you must.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
JENNIVER
It had not been enough to see the wagons arrive, to see the stretcher removed, and to hear the words she had most feared. Banan is dead. No. Jenn had also needed, had been compelled to join the other mourners offering their final respect in the Priory. She had been one of the first to enter and one of the last to depart, but the time in between, the evening and into the night, is all that had mattered. It had been her last opportunity to see Banan, and she had been determined to remain until she had made her peace.
Upon entering the capital’s Priory, Jenn had sensed waves of emotion rushing at her like the tide of a distant shore, hypnotizing her with its rhythmic and never-ending gushing and pulling her closer to its depths. There had been a mixture of both sorrow and the joy of reminiscence as tears were shed, sorrowful nods were offered, and occasional smiles were evident from both women and men alike. But Jenn had not intended to converse or share her grief with others. To them she would have been nothing more than a servant, and since the queen’s mysterious departure, a servant with no place at that. She slowly had paced the center aisle, keeping her eyes on the altar upon which Banan lay. He was dressed in full battle attire and his sword was clasped in his hands that were folded across his chest. As the waves of emotions had offered a hypnotic feel, so, too, had the numerous candles that surrounded the altar. All of them had cast their orangish glow upon the prince and had reflected off his breastplate. He had appeared so peaceful as if he were lost in a dream, and the handmaiden had wanted nothing more than to join him.
Jenn. She had heard Banan’s voice, but her tears had reminded her it was nothing more than a memory. I could forget this life, marry the woman I love, and begin anew. That had been their intention, but now that, too, had become only a memory among so many others. He had been hers, and she had been his. They had always been there for one another—to laugh, to cry, and eventually to love. Only you and me. Although she had accepted she would never hear his laugh again or feel his touch as he wiped her tears, Jenn had been comforted to know she would always have their love. I shall treasure it, as I do you, forever. “Forever,” she had whispered and wiped her eyes. Having reached the front of the Priory, she had assumed a seat in the first row and had watched several men approach the altar and speak about the leadership qualities Banan had displayed.
“He never turned down a challenge. He was always the first to battle, always in the midst of combat.” The man had paused and briefly glanced to the others. “We always respected him as our commander, but in war he treated us as equals, as brothers of a single cause. He will forever have my respect.”
The men had continued, but Jenn had ceased listening. She had not been able to deny Banan had been a leader. She had known him to be brave, but his courage had not been limited to fields of battle. What about his person? What about his compassion? They had known him as a warrior but not as he
