Bound by Roses (The Bound Series Book 1) (7 page)

“Enough of this pettiness!” The blood red jewel, swung freely back and forth like a pendulum. It caught the light of the pool and glistened like the evening star dedicated to Magdelan, “We knew that the power struggle my father
and
Lord Red created was not a permanent solution.”

Marguerite’s voice bellowed with a fire as hot as the torches over the Ministers.

“His hope was it would last more than a mere decade,” Minister Emon waved his arms as he spoke, sleeves weighed down heavily, but still they moved about freely.

“Yes, hope—but not a certainty. This is something my father knew intimately, Minister,” Marguerite continued to lean and stare at Minister Emon. Neither flinched. Neither backed down from their gaze of one another.

“To which the House of Red, failed to prevent,” Minister Emon began to chuckle, which was soon joined in by the others present. Minister Emon was the first to break the gaze between them.

Marguerite retook her seat and ignored the laughing Ministers. Her grin wider than their own, for she had won the wits against Emon, and she would use that, “Whoever this Wolf Queen is, she is not the same.”

“How are you so sure, Lady White?” Minister Thani’s voice broke over the voices of the many others.

“The beast has escaped captivity before, Lady White. Taking the life of Lord Red in the process,” a rather slender Minister Olan, with wild grey hair attempted to remind Marguerite who readjusted herself.

“I am well aware of the fate that befell Lord Red, Minister Olan,” Marguerite stared at the slender Minister.

“Yet you fail to answer the question posed to you, Lady White,” Minister Emon leaned upon the table and bellowed to those present.

“To answer our questions and calm our minds. I will speak to the Seven,” Marguerite held her head high as she spoke.

“What could those hermits possibly know regarding the affairs of the Realm?” The Ministers laughed at the comment placed by the grey haired, Minister Olan.

Marguerite rose sharply and slammed her palms upon the table’s rim. Her ring chimed as it hit. A great energy ran through the stone ring. All, including Captain Iritis took a step back. The pool quaked. Waves looked to splash onto the floor. The power of Marguerite demonstrated silenced the laughing Ministers,

“You will never question the knowledge the Seven possess, Ministers! Their knowledge can fill the Library one thousand fold. I trust their judgment, as did my father. Is that clear?”

The Ministers remained silent as Lady White stared at them, “Ministers! I would like an answer.”

Marguerite continued to lean heavily upon the pool, “Is that clear?”

The Ministers looking away all responded, either together or separately, “Yes.”

Captain Iritis covered a chuckle with his hand.

“I am glad we understand one another,” Marguerite said with a delicate smile towards them all, “Now, while I speak to the Seven, Ministers, you are to prepare the city to receive any refugees that—”

“Refugees?” Minister Emon was the first to speak up. Before they all talked at once, each laughed at the idea, “You cannot be serious, Lady White. The fact that we should degrade our city in such a way—”

Marguerite kept her hands upon the edges of the table head low. She would not look at those before her, she did not want to offer them the dignity of her gaze, “and we shall welcome any and
all
that seek the safety and comfort that our city has to offer. There is no discussion.”

“Is that decision truly yours to make?” Minister Thani asked of Marguerite. His hands folded before his rounded stomach.

“Yes, Minister,” Marguerite still leaning, eyes shot to him, “as sole heir to Ashok Orai, the decision is mine to make.”

“That is well beyond—”

“Beyond what, Minister Thani?” Marguerite barked, her gaze shot to the side to stare him down like a dog, “Your objections are noted and can be discussed at a later time.”

“B-but, Lady White,” Minister Emon stumbled upon his words as Marguerite no longer leaned.

“I am using the judgment my father would have. Any other questions?” Marguerite asked, but none talked, “Good. Captain Iritis!”

Captain Iritis walked past the Ministers, who fell quiet. Each eyed him as he walked to Marguerite’s side, armor clanked loudly in the rounded room, “Yes, Lady White?”

“Take the largest contingent you can and secure Zhan’ding. You have twelve hours. I will be there then.”

“As you wish,” Iritis bowed.

“My dear, Lady White. You should remain here, in the safety of Ashok Orai. Allow your underlings to do the grunt work there,” Minister Aarohn humbly bowed numerous times. His plump arm and fat fingers extended and wiggled towards Captain Iritis.

“Are you volunteering, Minister Aarohn?” Marguerite questioned.

The flustered Minister fumbled backwards. Hands waved wildly before him. He nearly tripped when his shoes caught his robes, “I-I-I made no such claim!”

“Your concern for my well being is noted, but unneeded. Captain Iritis shall secure the city. I have matters in Zhan’ding that must be taken care of personally.”

“What could be of such great importance, Lady White?” Minister Emon questioned. His hands folded into his sleeves.

“Rose Red was practically my sister,” Marguerite stared at the pool of water. Finger ran along the ebony stone of her ring counterclockwise instinctively. She always liked how it felt when she did that, something about it gave her a chill that tingled the base of her skull, “But as Lady White—I must pay my respects. To undo any damage that may have been caused through the recent years.”

“Of course,” Minister Emon bowed low, “my apologies.”

“You are all dismissed. Except you Captain, I have a few more words to speak to you about.”

The Ministers huffed and shuffled their way up the spiral staircase around the room. Each mumbled to themselves and each other. A few eyed Captain Iritis who was to stay alone with Marguerite. His sparkling amber eyes watched each of them as a hawk does. He knew they talked about him. He also knew he would need to squash out the venomous rumors the Ministers would surely inject into his troops. They always tried to undermine his authority.

Marguerite herself kept a close eye on the Ministers. She trusted not a one. Each sought to undermine her power, and lay a claim to the House of White. None would have dared while her father was alive, but now, years later; they were preparing to strike as snakes do. She knew she needed to be cautious, even more with Zhan’ding in ruin. Once the last Minister had left the chamber and the door closed with a resounding click, Marguerite turn her attention back to the Captain,

“There is much to do, and little time.”

Captain Iritis waited to speak as well, “How can I be of additional service, Lady White?”

“In addition to securing Zhan’ding, I will be relying on you to secure the lands beyond. Train all you need. I feel that it is we who must now keep the Wolves under control.”

“Zhan’ding’s territory is expansive, Lady White,” Iritis’ hands spread apart as he spoke.

“I know it is,” Marguerite stood and adjusted her gown, “we will have to start small. Zhan’ding first.”

“Understood. Anything else?”

“No. Return to Zhan’ding. Secure it. Then return for me.” Captain Iritis bowed, and rushed as fast as he could, armor clanked loudly.

Marguerite stared at the table as she climbed the stairs. She felt compelled to stare at images that no longer existed. Images of Zhan’ding burned into her mind. The broken body of Saledii, heartbreaking but that too engraved into her mind. She wanted to cry, but there was no time to grieve. She needed answers.

Marguerite sped her way to the tower of the Seven; the wisest men she knew and respected that always awaited her questions. They would have the answers she needed. The stone tower always seemed darkened in the early afternoon by the shadow of Ashok Orai’s High Tower. Through the silent white stone courtyard, Marguerite approached and entered.

Aged yellow candles lit the windowless spiral staircase. Wax drippings cascaded like waterfalls downwards. The wax pooled along the steps. Marguerite’s eyes stared at each brightly intense flame. Her mind wondered by what magic kept the candles from ever needing to be replaced. They dripped and melted, but never seemed to grow smaller. She stared until her eyes grew sore from the light. The thought did not last long when she turned away. It never did when it came to things of magic to her. Magic was the work of her Mother, and something she wanted nothing to do with. For it never brought her happiness.

The stone steps ended at a meticulously carved wooden door. Upon its ancient grained surface were seven hooded and robed individuals, shorter in stature than a normal man. They stood within a forest. Some looked up, others looked down. None had the same gesture as another. Woodland creatures danced and pranced around them. Sparkling jewels, fresh from the mines, were placed like stars in the sky. She had seen this door countless times over the years, yet the gemstones never lost their luster or sheen.

Marguerite stood on the second to last step. Her shadow danced upon the door. Cast from the dim light of candles behind her. Her heart always beat fast, and stomach became a knot before she saw the Seven. Before she could knock, the door opened of its own accord. Billowing tendrils of multicolored smoke, that smelled sweetly of cedar wood and sage greeted her sinuses. The tendrils wrapped around her. They beckoned her into the room. They pulled her in past the door.

“Ah, our dear Snow White, please, enter,” an earthy voice enticed from beyond the threshold.

Marguerite entered the room lit only by a glowing pool of water in its center. The tendrils faded to mist at her feet. The water churned out multicolored bubbles that floated upwards to the high ceiling before popping. There they produced the multicolored smoke that greeted her senses. While much sank down and hung around the pool like fog. Some escaped through holes in the roof. The holes produced great beams of light that lit different areas of the tower. Within each was a book.

Each book, eight in total, was a different color with beautiful silver gilded edges. The leather covers had a small fairy in either gold or silver upon their surface. Marguerite never asked what the books entailed. She only knew they were special to the Seven, and to whoever crafted them. All that Marguerite knew was from what the Seven told her. They contained stories. Marguerite let the thought slide, as she always did when it came to the books, for she knew there were things that were beyond her comprehension and level of understanding. Should the Seven wish to divulge the nature of the books, they would have.

Around the pool stood the Seven, Marguerite’s personal advisors, and closest friends. From what was now, so very long ago. They stood half as tall as Marguerite and hooded in robes of fresh green moss. They were hooded but she knew they each stared at her intently. They watched her. They studied her. They always did. The Seven stood barefoot upon the grass and moss that encircled the room and inlaid stone pool.

“Please forgive my absence as of late,” Marguerite stood before the Seven. The door closed behind her, just as it opened by itself, silent. She smiled to them, but eyes stared straight forward.

“You have no reason to apologize, Marguerite,” one from directly across spoke to her honestly.

“You are no longer the small one we rescued in the woods so many years ago,” another spoke, voice almost identical to the previous.

The Seven took turns speaking, “Your duties in Ashok Orai, since Lord White’s passing, have kept you occupied.”

“My father made it look easy,” Marguerite released a sad chuckle from her throat as she talked.

“The weight your father carried upon his shoulders was immense,” another spoke, “It is understandable, that he shielded you from most of it until you were ready.”

“But was I ready?” Marguerite asked eyes stared forward.

“No one is ever ready for such responsibilities, but fate chose to put the weight upon your shoulders sooner than many would have hoped.”

Marguerite was silent remembering her father. Her eyes finally broke the gaze of the back wall, and turned towards the churning pool. She watched the bubbles delicately dance upwards. It was calming.

“What brings you to our Council today?” The Seven that stood nearest to her right spoke, hooded head turned. In the dim aqua light of the churning pool, Marguerite could see his eyes shimmer like diamonds. They sparkled bright.

Marguerite breathed deep into her lungs the cedar wood and sage. Her heart raced terribly. She did not want to continue. Marguerite held her the cedar wood and sage in her lungs until they burned. She exhaled the words, “The House of Red has fallen.”

The words hung heavily upon her ears. Her own voice echoed harshly the reality in the dimly lit room. Her heart broke upon hearing the words that she was forced to say. A tear fell and ran down her reddened face. It was ice against her flushed cheeks. She fell silent. Even her breaths were silent. Though the beating of her heart pounded loudly in her ears.

The pool churned about constantly. Though the pools innate aqua coloration did not change, nor did the bubbles it create disturb it. The churning were drums against her throbbing, red-hot ears. Her breaths were equally as heavy.