Authors: Amanda J. Clay
EPILOGUE
Sometimes when she closed her eyes, she could smell him. Freshly picked fruit, rich soil and salty air lingered in her memory. But that’s all they were now—memories fading into the darkness of her past. She knew she wouldn’t hear from him, but it didn’t calm her anticipation. She hovered by her window as if she expected a white dove to fly in with a note declaring his safety and freedom. It was nonsense.
Twenty-two days. Not even a month since she had kissed him goodbye and watched royal guards tear him from her life. She had spent the last twenty-two days confined to her quarters, with no word from the outside world except for an interrogation from Pantone, who wanted to know how Rogan managed to escape the dungeons.
“I don’t suppose you can tell me how he managed to escape the depths of the city prison—from a windowless room buried three stories down? How, broken and bloodied, he managed to flee the custody of the Royal Guard?” He’d asked, sitting across from her with eyes like a corpse.
“How should I know? I’ve been locked away like a caged bird,” she said with a detached stare. Pantone narrowed those horrible eyes.
“Yes little bird. Keep singing your sweet little tune so the whole world loves you. But know that we WILL find him. Even if we have to burn down this entire city, your rebel is dead.”
The city would burn. She had no doubt about that. Elyra knew she was protected because of her position. She might remain a prisoner, but Pantone didn’t dare harm her if he wanted Markus’ help.
But what of Brita? What of the cause? She had no way of even knowing if it persisted or if it had been crushed. Ada knew nothing and Markus would tell her nothing, citing that she did not want the truth right now. Her future hung by a thin thread of hope and its fibers were rapidly splitting.
A slow rap hit her bedroom door. The sound echoed like a horn of death. She didn’t move—just stared out the window into the city as the rays of sun bled into its crevices. She didn’t need to rise or properly answer. She had no more attendants to guard her privacy. They would enter if they pleased. The door creaked open and footsteps brushed through. The pinch in her gut told her all she needed to know. The time had come.
“Princess,” a voice said softly and sincerely. A voice she knew so well yet seemed a stranger here in her darkest hour.
“Don’t tell me,” she whispered, fighting back tears.
“I need to,” Markus said, walking to where she sat on the window seat. He touched her shoulder gently. She didn’t flinch. She would need to get used to his touch.
“It is a dream.”
“I’m so sorry, Elyra, but it is not. He is gone.” Markus’ voice was equally spiked with grief.
He had loved him too. Loved him like a father
. Elyra nodded bravely. She had waited by the window every day, anxiously anticipating the news. She had dreamed of it and her aching soul had told her it was coming.
“And now?” She did not turn to face him. “I don’t suppose they have declared me Queen.”
Markus sighed and shook his head.
“No. Pantone maintains himself as acting regent. He stands by the charges against you.”
Elyra did not react.
“And my mother?”
“She is respectfully to remain dowager Queen but has been asked, or commanded rather, to retreat to the country estates and remain silent. Not that she ever pretended to do anything else.”
Elyra nodded. She didn’t expect anything of her mother. She wasn’t by her side during the good times—she hardly expected her to be during the bad.
“And you?”
Markus didn’t answer directly. He took her hand.
“I will maintain my position on the High Council and conduct business as usual until your charges are…reconciled.”
“Reconciled. And then?”
“As we discussed, as soon as you are ready…we will announce the engagement when the time is right.”
Elyra laughed despite his sincerity.
“As soon as I am ready. Of course.”
“You will need time to mourn. I know you don’t just cry for your father.”
She finally turned around and stared him hard in the eyes.
“And how long will you give me? A few days? Perhaps a few hours? We cannot let my father’s chair grow cold.”
Markus pursed his mouth.
“We made this decision together, remember? For the good of this country. For your own safety. For
his
safety.”
“Don’t you ever speak of him. Ever. You know nothing about him.”
“I know that Rogan is gone from Arelanda City. Probably out of Arelanda entirely at this point, and he cannot return. It’s over.”
Her heart sank a little deeper. She knew that it had to happen. She knew it was the only way to stay alive—she had told him to go—but part of her had prayed that he would not flee, but stay to fight for her. Childish hopes, she told herself.
Stupid, selfish wishes from a stupid, spoiled girl.
“He had no choice. It is what we made him do. Pantone won’t leave him in peace. He would not have survived,” she said more for her own benefit than to convince Markus.
“Elyra, I cannot lie to you that it is all going to be all right. It isn’t. But I promise that I will protect you.”
“Yes. You’ll protect your investment I’m sure.”
Markus twisted his mouth in frustration but did not give in to her bait.
“You can see it however you want, but it doesn’t change the truth.”
“So if Pantone is King and I am dethroned, how do you suppose a Fallon son will ever wear the crown?”
“Pantone is old. He has no wife and no legitimate children. And he doesn’t claim to be King--only acting regent. If we play by his rules, I will be his heir. And you will still be Princess. You will still have a chance at ruling and seeing an honest council elected,” he said it sincerely but it made her shriek.
“Will you listen to yourself? You swear your love and loyalty to me, yet you happily step aside as Pantone takes my rightful place in my murdered father’s seat and promises you the crown if you keep me quiet.”
“Now it’s murder?”
“I do not doubt it,” she muttered.
“I know how hard this is for you. But you will not survive unless you act and think rationally. You can’t just stomp your feet and pout in the corner like a child. Your days of acting like a spoiled little princess are over.”
“Get out. I will have to see you more than I care to soon enough. Let me be alone to grieve.”
“Don’t pretend that this isn’t happening Elyra. I am the only thing that stands between you and a prison cell. You shamed your family and committed treason against your country. Don’t forget that. You did this to yourself. Be thankful that I love you anyway.”
She brought her palm to his cheek before she could reconsider and felt the satisfying sting of flesh on flesh resonate through her skin. He flinched but didn’t cry out.
“I’m sure I will soon have enough of that as well. But it will not change anything.”
“Just go,” she said through defeated tears she could no longer fight. “I want to be alone.”
Markus leaned in and kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger on her skin. He stood and walked toward the door.
“We are going to survive this,” he said looking at her thoughtfully. “Pantone will not beat you. I promise you.”
She turned quickly to question him, but he was already one foot out of the door. She pressed a hand to her belly and the flicker of new life within it, and wondered how she was possibly going to survive.
The End of Book 1
About the Author
Amanda J. Clay is a California native. She studied English and Journalism at Chico State University and received a Master’s degree in Communications from California State University, Fullerton.
Rebel Song
is her first novel. She currently lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband.
For any inquiries, please email
[email protected]
.
https://www.facebook.com/amandajclaybooks
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