Chapter Four

After hearing Merthin's prophecy, Agata goes to confront Lyosha. But Lyosha is gone, and war has been declared.

Merthin collapsed on the floor. He was completely still; it didn't even look like he was breathing. For a moment, Agata could only gaze at him in shock, stunned into paralysis as she tried and failed to process everything he'd just said. It was always like this when her brother had visions. He was unaware of how frightening he could be. He was oblivious to how dangerous it was: for him, for her, for everyone. Before Merthin, there had never been a Seer in Astraia. They simply did not exist. Because of this, there was nobody in the entire queendom who could explain his confusing visions. He found it difficult to translate images in his brain to words in his mouth. It was impossible to navigate. He was impossible to navigate.

Merthin and Agata remained like that for what felt like centuries: apart from one another, neither daring to move or make a single sound. Then Agata noticed that her little brother was shaking violently. She peeled herself off from the wall, slowly dropping to her knees beside him. Reasoners knelt to no one. But Merthin wasn't no one. Merthin was Merthin. And he was shaking with sobs.

“Hey,” Agata said softly. She reached out, gently touched the back of his head. When he didn't recoil or flinch, she began stroking her fingers through the straggly black hair. Their father’s hair. “Hey, it's all right. Everything is going to be all right. Come here.”

She reached out, crossing her legs so she could pull him into her lap. He wound his arms around her neck, burying his head into her shoulder, his tears silent and wretched. They drenched her clothes, but she didn't mind. Because of the nature of their mother's position, it had been Agata who'd raised Merthin, nursing him back to health whenever he was sick, reading his bedtime stories when he couldn't sleep, teaching him how to read, write and sing. She'd been more of a mother than their real mother had ever been. It was expected of the Reasoner's family; it was just how it was in Astraia.

Of course, Merthin was his own person. As he got older, he started showing signs of his visions. Agata kept them all hidden, and his Sight became their huge secret. Something their mother could never know. Something of which the Speakers were sworn not to tell.

He started developing his own way of seeing the world. He learned how to persuade and sweet-talk the cooks and servants into giving him sweet treats. He learned the various secret passageways in the corridors, and knew exactly how to disappear at the right moments. 

And then there was the magic. With no magical tutor to help him, Merthin was alone in learning what he was supposed to do with his abilities. So he learned. He learned how to create things out of thin air, using the water in the clouds and the ice in the ground as his resource. He learned how to be in room and disappear into the next. He learned things Agata did not understand. Despite the fact that he was Agata's brother, he was strangely different. Disconnected from the world.

Brother and sister sat in silence for a few, precious moments, in which Merthin tried to calm down, and Agata struggled to remember what Merthin had said. Something about Lyosha. Skelski. There had been something about Agata herself, but what, Agata could not remember.

Once Merthin stopped crying, he untangled himself from his sister, standing up with the shaky legs of a newborn fawn and looking around himself. He always seemed so disorientated on waking from a vision. It was as though he completely forgot who he was and how he could do things like walking or talking. He was reduced to little more than flesh, bone and emotion.

He blinked twice, tilting his head, frowning. It looked so like him that Agata knew he was slowly coming back to awareness. His eyes flickered around the room, back to their normal size, and finally rested on her.

“Agata,” he said.

She smiled at him, but it didn't meet her eyes. She couldn't smile genuinely anymore. Not since the death of their mother. Not since all the power had been slammed down on her in an avalanche of responsibilities.

“Are you feeling better now?” she asked, squeezing his shoulder.

Merthin nodded. He'd gone back to being distant again. He turned away from her so that her hand dropped from his shoulder, and picked up her book from the floor. Holding it again to his chest, the Seer turned to face her shoes one last time.

“Skeleton Crown is dangerous,” he told her quietly. “Please. Don't go there. Just don't. Promise me you won't go looking for it.”

Agata blinked at him. It was unusual for Merthin to suddenly act like this. He never gave out warnings. He always said that, no matter what he did, the visions he Saw would come true. They were unstoppable. All he could do was give some warning as to what was going to happen. But now he was telling Agata to go against what he'd Seen. And if he was doing that, the situation must be dire indeed.

“I promise,” she assured him. “I can stay out of trouble. It's in the job description.”

He shook his head. There were tears in his large eyes. Seer eyes. “You'll do it anyway. They all do.”

And without waiting to hear her response, he walked out of the room, carrying her book with him.

 

~

 

Agata had planned to go to bed, but now, her mind was buzzing. She pinned up her hair once again, replaced her green strelets coat, and stepped out of her bedchamber, looking at one of the guards standing outside. Agata used to be frightened of the guards, especially her mother's. They were always so silent, so still, and yet, they heard every secret within the palace's walls. If Agata had ever done something in secret, the guards would somehow know about it. They were not simply guards, as Agata now knew. They were guards, they were eyes, and they were the Reasoner's spy network. They were here to protect the Reasoner, trained from youth to do so. They were here for Agata.

She frowned at the one nearest to her. Guards did not wear helmets or obvious armour. If they looked like an ordinary person, an intruder would get cocky. Cocky intruders, as Agata well knew, were much easier to take down. Practicality also came in the chase. If a thief stole the Reasoner's circlet or earrings, guards with simple, light armour would have a much easier time chasing them through the crowd than guards with heavy, obvious armour. The guards outside Agata's door did not even appear armed, but Agata knew better. They were the only people in Astraia who were allowed to carry knives on their person, and they were only allowed to do so after praying to the goddess of hunting and protection, Atix. There came certain religious value with protecting the Reasoner. The Reasoner was not a divine figure, not even to the cultists, but she was their leader. Leaders were near-worshipped in Astraia.

“Good evening,” Agata said. The guard was quite unusual in her appearance, what with the dirty blonde hair and eyes and the scars on her face. Still, there was something strangely beautiful about her. Agata thought scars were beautiful. After all, what could be more appealing than proof of strength and hardship?

“Your Imminence,” the guard replied, inclining her head politely. She said nothing more. She wouldn't, unless Agata prompted her.

“I asked one of my Speakers, Olga, to make sure a boy was protected tonight. Have you any idea where she may have taken him?"

The guard considered this. Then she replied, “I believe the Speaker placed him in one of the apartments disconnected from the palace. Would you like me to escort you there?”

“Yes,” Agata agreed.

The guard began walking down the corridor, and Agata followed. The palace was so large and spacious; as a child, Agata had been afraid of ghosts. Now that she was older, and the Reasoner, she knew that it was not nearly as empty as it appeared. There were guards everywhere. There were Speakers in the shadows, Speakers on the stairs. Everyone in this palace was waiting for the time to protect their Reasoner. It was strangely comforting. Agata was so secure and safe here. Nothing would ever be able to hurt her. 

But with safety came claustrophobia. After the death of her mother, security had been maximised, until Agata could go nowhere without being silently escorted by a guard or Speaker, whether they were open about it or not. A guard could approach her and ask if she would like to be accompanied back to her apartments. A Speaker could silently watch from the shadows, soundlessly following her until they knew she was safe. There was no longer a moment in Agata's life in which she was alone. It was both comforting and smothering.

The palace of Astraia was more like a forum. Agata's bedchamber was tucked away in a corner; it would be too obvious for murderers and thieves if it was placed in the centre. Meanwhile, the bedroom of the Reasoner's personal Speaker was right next to Agata's room, so that Gerda had full access to her apartments at any time. The Council Chamber was in the centre of the far wall, and was guarded at all times. Anything else in the palace was an open audience chamber. Agata's throne sat in the centre of the second floor, facing the large double doors. Downstairs, the kitchens and servants' quarters. Upstairs, the quarters of any Speaker who was not Gerda. It reminded Agata more of a hotel than a home, and she was not sure how she felt about it.

Merthin, as a boy, was not allowed anywhere near the main palace. There were apartments connected to the palace, where guests, visitors and any male relatives of the Reasoner were kept. He lived with his Guardian, who just so happened to be Siljie, and was not allowed to leave his home without being accompanied by her. And he didn't. Despite his mischief and chaos, Merthin conformed to the rules of Astraia, mostly because it would cause trouble for either his mother in the past or his sister in the present. Whenever Merthin crept through the tunnels so that he could reach the kitchens and sweet-talk the cooks, Siljie went with him. Merthin was simply very lucky that his Guardian just so happened to be Agata's childhood friend and fellow troublemaker. Siljie didn't mind the mischief. She encouraged it, in fact. It was one of the things that both siblings loved about her.

They had reached the connecting apartments. The guard had said nothing the whole time, stoic and unfeeling as she continued along the long corridors and the tunnels. For once, Agata did not mind. She liked the quiet. It gave her time to reflect on everything that had happened that day, and everything that could still happen.

“I will wait for you outside,” the guard said on arrival. Agata nodded at her gratefully, trying to press a coin into the guard's hand. The guard simply shook her head, passing it back. “I will accept no payment. It is my pleasure to help the Reasoner.”

As Agata opened the door and walked into the apartments, she heard the guard's soft prayers to Atix. That was never a good sign. Guards only prayed to Atix when they were preparing to use their weapons. Which meant that, whatever Agata did, this guard was expecting trouble.

The apartments were a long corridor with doors on each side. Agata continued walking until she reached the end, where she knocked softly on Olga's door. It was late at night, Skelski territory, but Olga still opened the door, fully dressed and ready to serve.

“Your Imminence,” she said, bowing before her.

Agata nodded in reply, gesturing to the space behind Olga. Olga's bedroom, with its high ceiling and red curtains. It was an ugly room, but Agata would never tell her so. “Is Lyosha here?”

“Lyosha?” Olga repeated. Then understanding appeared on her face. “Ah. The boy from earlier.”

“Yes. I asked you to make sure he was safe and comforted. I need to speak with him about the Skelski. Now.”

To Agata's surprise, Olga looked strangely uncomfortable. Her blue-grey eyes were darting all over the place, staring at anything but Agata.

“What?” Agata asked, immediately noticing. “What has happened?”

Olga cleared her throat. Her eyes turned to the floor, and she gazed at the marble as though expecting to find answers in the delicate patterns. Evidently, she did not, because she looked back up with a sheepish expression.

“Lyosha left."

Agata stared. “He what?”

“He left. I took him to my chambers, told some of the servants to look after him, and then went to attend to some duties. When I returned, he was gone. All three of the servants were just waking - he’d knocked them out cold.”

“A boy managed to overpower three grown men?”

“Ah...yes.” Olga did not dare to smile, even apologetically.

Agata was not known for her calm, collected mannerisms. She was the most emotional of all in her family. Too much like her father, the whispers went. Too much like him. It was not exactly a rare occasion to upset Agata, and nor was it a rare occasion to see Agata in a bad mood. She'd been a lot cooler since gaining the position of Reasoner, but it didn't mean she wasn't ever going to lose that cool.

“Pathetic," Agata said. "Dismiss them all. Immediately. Any delays will mean death: for them and for you. Do you understand?"

Olga blinked. She didn't protest, however. In Astraia, how a woman treated her servants was reflective of the woman herself. The fact that Olga's servants were weak enough to die at the hands of a panicked, unarmed boy would not only humiliate her. It would ruin her. Adding the fact that the Reasoner herself was insulting Olga's servants would only seal Olga's replacement.

“You said the servants woke when you returned,” Agata continued, struggling to remain calm. “Did they say anything at all about where Lyosha may have gone?”

“Yes, actually. Lyosha said something before he left.”

“What did they say?”

Olga hesitated.

“Out with it!” Agata snapped, drawing up to her full height. Which was a surprising amount. Her height was one of the only things Agata had inherited from her mother.

“He said it was done,” Olga said, looking away again. “He said he had to return to his people.”

“His people?” Agata prompted. “Which people? Spit it out!”

Olga met her eyes levelly. She no longer looked confident, but nor did she look nervous. She'd already lost everything now. There was no point in fighting any more pain. “The Skelski, Your imminence. He said he was going back to them. And he said they were going to kill someone.”

Agata wasted no time interrogating Olga further. Instead, she rushed out of the apartments, back to where the guard was standing, and immediately gave the order.

“Gather a search party and find the Skelski ambassador. Now.”

The guard blinked at her rapidly, obviously surprised at such a sudden demand. And so late at night, too. “What - Now? - What has -”

“No questions!” Agata snapped, pushing at the guard's arm. “Go, now!”

She didn't need telling twice. The guard bowed, turned around, and immediately started jogging towards the barracks. Agata was alone once more.

What had Merthin said about Lyosha? He'd called him a liar. He'd said Lyosha went between two separate Skelski. And dances, there were dances. Were they literal dances? Was this going to be a war between humans and Skelski, or Agata and Kaja?

“It's too late.”

Agata glanced to the side. The apartments held the Speakers, but also her brother. Merthin was standing to her right, gazing at her boots with tears in his eyes.

“It's too late,” he said again. “She's dead.”

“What?” Agata gasped. “Who's dead? The ambassador? The guard?”

He shook his head. “It's too late. It's too late. It's too late. Nothing you can do now, sister. She's dead and it's too late.” He was shaking. His eyes were wide. He was Seeing, but he wasn't Seeing the future, or even memories. He was Seeing the present. “The body's gone. It's gone.”

“Where? Where is it? Where did she go, Merthin?”

He'd already turned away again. He was beginning to retreat into Siljie's chambers, flapping his hands as he always did when he was panicking.

“Wait!” Agata yelled. She saw him flinch, but she couldn’t help yelling. “Where? Tell me where!”

“The Council Chamber,” he replied. Then he was gone, and she was alone once more.

The Reasoner was not usually seen running up and down corridors like a madwoman, so Agata got a few strange looks on her way to the Council Chamber. She ignored all of them, even going so far as to shout at any guard who didn't appear to be doing anything. She continued running, pushing past servants and guards, her eyes on one prize and one alone. 

The Council Chamber was the most important room in the entire palace of the Reasoner, and so it was no wonder there were more and more people the closer she got to finding it. Guards tried to stop her, tried to ask what was wrong, but she ignored them. Speakers tried to follow her, running through the shadows or even alongside her, but she was faster than all of them. It was fortunate she was so athletic. Had she been anyone else, she would have fallen back miles ago. But she was not anyone else. She was the Reasoner. She'd grown up fighting, and she'd continue fighting.

The Council Chamber was guarded by a dozen different women, all with their bows and arrows or even knives out, ready for danger. Something bad had happened; Agata knew this already. She should have been faster. She should have listened to Merthin's warnings. She shouldn't have taken so long to reach Olga's apartments. Now, she was paying the price. Now, she was going to walk into that room and she was going to find that she was too late to stop bad things from happening. Whatever was going on, she had to stop it. But if whatever was going on had already happened, how was she supposed to do that? She'd have nothing left to stop.

“Your Imminence!” one of the guards shouted out. If they were shouting at her, that was bad. If they were brave enough to do something so rash, something horrible had happened.

“Let me in,” Agata growled, her breathing heavy from all the running. The apartments were far from the Council Chamber. She'd got here as fast as she could, but it was likely not fast enough.

“Your Imminence, with due respect, we have orders,” the guard tried.

“And with due respect, I am now giving you new orders,” said Agata. “I said let me in. Are you going to ignore a direct order from the Reasoner?”

The guard opened and closed her mouth in a bizarre impression of a fish. Then, slowly, she stepped aside, giving Agata the entry she needed.

Agata entered. There were candles already lit, so the room was not as dark as it usually was. There were Speakers all around. Most of them were arguing. As Agata entered, however, they all looked up, falling silent as they registered who was standing there in front of the open door. Siljie was the one to move first. She stepped forwards, reaching out to gently squeeze Agata's shoulder. It was a comforting gesture. There was only one reason Siljie would be attempting to comfort her.

“I am sorry for your loss, Agata,” Siljie murmured.

There was only one reason Siljie would be allowed to use her real name, too.

“No,” Agata gasped. She pushed Siljie off her, forced her way forwards, past all the Speakers. None of them tried to stop her. Perhaps they knew she'd hurt anyone who dared. “Let me through...let me through...”

Behind the crowd of Speakers, Agata could see something. Something on the Speakers' podium. Someone. Soft eyes stared at her. Dark hair. A scarred face, once beautiful and fierce.

“No,” Agata said again.

But there was no denying it.

On the Speakers' podium sat Gerda's severed head.

Author's Note

So...that happened.
Some of the description is definitely off in this chapter, and it definitely needs a bit more work. Hopefully it's readable regardless. What did you think?
Thank you for reading!