2

Night had fallen but the city was awash with lights. A large crowd poured out into the streets holding fires covered in dyed clothes so that they displayed dull red, blue, green, and yellow colors. The crowd trooped to the castle outside which was the open ground for the celebrations. Within the crowd moved a body with a black oversized cloak around its bony shoulders, covering its frayed trousers. He kept his head down and held on to the satchel on his waist as he weaved his way through the crowd. He was of average height and build, quick and light on his feet.

By the time he got to the clearing where tents were pitched and different festive dances were going on around fires, he raised his hand to pull the hood of his cloak back slightly and gazed at the king’s castle with bright brown eyes. Huge, intimidating, and foreboding in sight and size. For a moment the boy knew a moment’s panic but in the next breath, he frowned, squared his shoulders, and continued to make his way. Behind the castle was the door he knew would be open and out of this came servants carrying buckets and baskets to and from the castle. They paid him no heed.

Even if he was stopped and questioned tonight he already had an answer, “I have a message for the king." 

No one would question a message from the king.

Moving stealthily up the stairs he barely made contact with anyone until he ran headlong into one of the king’s soldiers dressed in Arlankis uniform of a chainmail covered by a surcoat with the royal emblem of a serpent wound around a castle.

“Pardon me, sire,” the boy said in a husky voice. Surprisingly deep for his size.

He started to walk by. Before he could move, the guard's hand shot out and grabbed him. “Where are you going?”

The boy had his answer ready. “To deliver this to the king. It is a personal message for him.”

The guard held out his other hand for the boy to drop said message.

“It is a personal message,” the boy insisted. “It contains words of those Baryns worms.”

The guard’s frown cleared and he withdrew his hand. “You should have said. Very well then, be on your way.”

As the guard continued down the hall Mare smiled to herself.

Easy.

Veren hadn’t believed it would work but here she was now on her way to the king’s room dressed as a boy. Tonight his head would be delivered in her hands. On the day of the dragons, she will finally fulfill her aim. She could see herself carried on the shoulders of Baryns as they chanted her name and a smile spread her cheeks.

Veren and Llod should be having equal success sneaking into the palace. Veren held the bag in which she would put the king’s head.

Mare touched the satchel at her waist to make sure the dagger was secure. It was a cruelly made dagger but it would do the job. Her steps were light as she reached the flight of stairs that would take her to the king's royal chambers. She bowed her head as servants exited the room carrying loads of royal robes and linens.

On the stone wall curtains of purple and red were draped and huge paintings made from dye and animal fat of the king and past kings before him hung on the wall. Mare’s eyes caught the king’s family portrait. With him was his wife, a sullen-faced golden-haired woman dressed in expensive royal regalia, her hands were crossed in her laps and her golden hair hung in a braid over one shoulder. Standing beside her was a staunch-faced boy with golden hair and bright blue eyes, his hands held firmly beside him and he stood like a soldier under the command of his commander. The girl on the opposite side of the queen held a bored expression but with a slight tilt to her lips that gave a look of superiority and condescension. 

The last person in the painting, the one that caught Mare’s attention the most was the king. Vallezarii Keryghan.

His dark hair was slicked back so that his undeserved crown rested on his head. His dark eyes, tiny cruel beads that they were, stared down at her as if they knew what she planned.

She paused for a second before the painting and curled her lips.

“Today you die by my hands and leave your children orphans,” she swore before making her way further down the stone hallway.

She reached the great door of the king’s room surprised to see that no one stood guard in front of it. Well, given how busy everyone was with the celebration downstairs it made sense.

With her hand on the brass knob, she hooked her bony shoulder on the door and pushed with all her might. The door groaned open and a few heartbeats later she was standing in the doorway looking into the lavishly furnished room. Heavy white curtains trimmed in gold lined the walls, more paintings of past kings, there was a display of swords and medals and the last thing in the room was Mare’s major target. The bed.

It was wide and on it was a lump under the covers. She closed the door, doing her best to make as little noise as possible.

There were clean royal robes draped over the back of a chair before the huge dressing table, no doubt hung there for when Vallezarii was ready to get out of bed to attend to his duties in the castle front.

Well, he would not be attending any duties today as long as Mare was concerned.

Her feet made no sounds as she approached the bed and slipped the dagger from the satchel on her waist. She reached the side of the bed and the lump moved letting out a pig-like snore.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Never will you see the new dawn Vallezarii Keryghan,” she vowed as she raised the dagger over her head with one hand and with the other she pulled back the covers ready to strike.

And froze.

There was no king in the bed. There were five pigs tied from end to end in his place.

Before she could realize what was happening shadows moved and jumped out to throw her on the floor. Suddenly the door burst open and heavy boots thudded on the stone floor as soldiers filled the room. Mare’s heart thudded as she raised her head in fear to see what was happening.

Veren and Llod were held roughly by soldiers and soon they too were thrown on the ground like her.

“We found the others.”

Veren grunted. “They found us, they know about our plan,” he grunted as one soldier roughly dug his heels into his back.

Mare wanted to cry. Her dagger had been taken from her hands by the soldier who pushed her on the floor. On the bed the pigs squeaked, fighting to get loose of their ropes.

“How?!” she cried. “How did they discover our plan?”

“I told the king,” came a familiar voice.

Right then the king walked in. A tall hulking man - far bigger than the painting depicted - dressed in a scarlet robe with a gold crown on his head. He grinned wickedly.

“Better men have plotted my death and failed. Three children are not enough to take my life.”

From behind him came a tall dark figure.

Polen.

“I heard your plan and told my father about it and he told the king," he wickedly explained.

“And for that, you will be rewarded, your loyalty has once again been put to the test.” Vallezarii turned to the soldiers. “Throw them in the dungeon. Their fate will be decided after the celebration.”

“I don’t want to die!” Llod cried shamelessly. “This is all your fault, Mare.”

Mare ground her teeth together to keep from crying out. As the guards dragged her past the king and Polen she realized she didn’t feel sorry because she was going to die, she felt sorry because she had brought this dreadful end to her friends.