Serpent and the Throne (Fedosian Wars #1)

25. Skeleton Key

twenty-five

Skeleton Key

Sofia saw Aleksei ride off with a group of sentinels and a few watchmen, probably to find and kill her brother, and she kept her gaze down after that. She could hear the dying. The Shields piled the injured and dead together and set them ablaze. The White Palace was stripped of all its art and gold and then burned, and the dead Custodian and the garden as well. Servants too old or injured to be of interest to Durnov were beheaded. Not many left, though, the Guard household had gathered in the chapel and taken a poison—chamberlains, stewards, ladies of noble birth… most of them.

Sofia was being put into a wagon of servants the Durnov were taking till a sentinel recognized her, probably because he’d seen her at Raven with Lev. Then she was put in a carriage with no one else because the Shield didn’t take prisoners, only heads and gold.

Prelude to a coffin perhaps, the carriage had no windows and was a dark box.

Sofia was given a simple cotton dress and was kept in one of many spiraling towers of Raven, not the common dungeon. Once a day, someone brought her wheat porridge, and her door was locked with sentinels on the other side. She’d hear them speaking with one another, laughing about courtiers. Sometimes they were playing something, she couldn’t see, but they’d argue when they gambled—they sounded very human, more so than the Guard Knights who’d always had an air of arrogance.

The square windows were high, and she couldn’t see anything through them but the changing of the light, morning to afternoon, to evening, to night, then again, the morning. She heard it when it rained and it always soothed her. Wasps had nested on the high ceiling, and she would see them come and go, busy with their day. At least she had company.

About a month or so after her capture, Sofia had been sitting by the oak door and reading the light codex they’d been so gracious to give her and listening to the sentinels because their muffled voices kept her company, when she heard ‘captain’, closed the book and pressed her ear to the door.

“Lev Guard?” asked one. She didn’t know their names or faces but there were at least three of them out there.

“Nope. Empty handed.”

“Shit.”

“Shit, it is.”

“War then?”

“Yep.” Long silence. “War, then.”

“He’s been slipping.”

“The captain? You don’t say.”

“Well, a soldier’s fate. We all either redline or die, sooner or later. Some sooner than others.”

Then they began talking about how pretty Zoya Chartorisky was and how she was on the list of women they’d do for free… Her brother lived, and that brought a little sunshine to Sofia’s soul. She felt like smiling today.

The red one, the blue one, the green one, and the black one… What to call the dragonfly? His body was gold but he had very large black spots on his wings like thumb prints... The day drew to a close, and Sofia had been counting her insect collection she sorted by the colors when her door flung open at an uncustomary hour.

“Come on, little lady, let’s go for a short walk.” Two sentinels, and the one who spoke had brown eyes. Their masks were down.

“Where to?” she asked.

“You’ll see.”

Nowhere good, but she’d been here long enough waiting for her death. It was time, she supposed, and got up and straightened her dress. “How’s my hair?” she asked.

“Well, it’s lice free,” said the same one as they headed out the door and descended the spiraling steps.

“Where do you have lice? Aleksei’s always talking about them,” Sofia mused out loud. Never in her life had she been anywhere with lice.

“The captain?” asked the other one. His eyes were green.

“Is he well?” Sofia twisted back to ask, and they nudged her to keep moving forward.

“Nope,” said the brown eyed one. “No one is ever well. It’s Fedosia. It’s just variations of shit. You’re about to have a shit day, lady. No hard feelings, though, it’s just war.”

“None whatsoever.” She nodded. It was fine. It was all right. She’d go see her father now. She’d held out tiny hope Aleksei would come see her, but it was all right. What was she to say to him anyway?

Unlike what the sentinel said, the walk was very long, a trip through Raven, and it took nearly an hour before they were at what she assumed was the throne room. The saddest place she’d ever seen, it was all black. The floor was dark stone with open metal grates where charred bodies were chained. The single window was tall and slender, placed directly behind the throne, and the light through it was pale. Cold evening out there, Sofia assumed.

The queen’s throne was black with a bit of red leather, and the darkness of the room was broken only by intermittent torches secured to the walls. The exoskeleton on the queen’s hands had claws and she tapped the metal armrest with them. She wore a darksteel kokoshnik with three tall prongs, making her look like a strange lizard, and up close, she was much older, paler, and her eyes duller. She looked ill, Sofia thought, her skin glistening wet as though she would smell of damp old cloth.

Of all the courtiers I hate touching me, she revolts me the most.

The watchmen stood behind the throne and beside it too. Mage Grigori, his white robe the brightest thing in the room, stood by the queen, resting a hand on the crest of the throne. The way he studied her reminded her how he’d taken a double look at her during the royal ball.

There were sentinels in the room, all around but their dark uniforms blended into the dimness, and it appeared as though the walls were moving, breathing.

Prince Nikolas had been sitting on the foot of the dais and playing with dice. He lifted his gaze to Sofia when she was brought, then his scarlet eyes ballooned wide like children’s did when they were afraid. His eyes flicked to a sentinel, and hoping it was Aleksei, she followed, but it was Eugene, notable by the rod and not a sword he carried.

Aleksei is not here, she realized and stopped searching. It was all right. It was all right. It’s all right.

A man whimpered beside Sofia making her notice he’d been there. Tearing her eyes away from the strange queen, Sofia looked at the wretched soul with a steel collar chaining him to the iron grate he was knelt upon. Dropping her gaze to her feet, she found them on solid stone. She turned to the man again because he was crying.

Red light beneath, and just before the flames shot out through the grate, engulfing him, he yelled, “The saints save us!”

The scream that followed was short lived due to the intensity of the flames, something to be grateful for, but the smell of burning fat and hair was harsh, and the thick grey smoke rose to the high ceiling. Sofia realized the room was dim because of the smoke, and it smelled like a kitchen preparing for a lord’s feast—a lot of things cooking.

The throne room wasn’t hot though. It was vented well, the smoke escaping somewhere through the ceiling.

The brown eyed sentinel shoved her forward and Sofia stood with her hands to her sides, oddly calm, and curious about the queen. Unlike the queen Sofia had seen through the refractor, the woman on the throne was confused, relying on the mage to whisper in her ear, perhaps to instruct. She didn’t suppose the queen had always been this and wondered if her mind swung between sane and not, wanting to let go but couldn’t because her son wasn’t of the age to rule. Albeit momentarily, she pitied the queen, but then the red eyes trained on her, sending shivers down her spine and threatening to ruin her calmness.

The mage whispered to her, then the queen nodded her chin, the tall kokoshnik jingling as she did so. “Do you call yourself Yelizaveta Guard?”

Though the queen had asked it, it was Grigori who waited for the answer.

“No, Your Majesty. I’m Sofia Guard. Yelizaveta was my mother.”

“Guard.” The queen sneered as though she just realized it. “Her next!”

The pair of sentinels who brought Sofia fell away at her side, becoming shadows in the corner of her eyes as a watchman stepped in front of her. Not a single word as he grabbed her neck and walked her onto a grate. She didn’t struggle as he chained her. She’d loved. She’d been happy though that’d been short. She’d hoped to see Aleksei again but it was better he wasn’t here to watch her die. That would disturb his frail mind—she knew so. She hoped Lev survived. He was the last of the Guards now. And she hoped Aleksei found peace, whatever that was for him. That was all. Now she would go see her father. Necromancers went to hell, surely, but women who murdered their husbands didn’t twinkle as stars in the night sky either.

The warmth glowed beneath her, the red crawling up the shaft. Her affair was always meant to end tragically, one way or another. This was worse than she thought, certainly, but it wasn’t of her making.

“Mother, she’s a Guard. Her execution should be public!”

The prince had grabbed something, and he was turned, keeping it from a watchman. Some type of lever, Sofia thought, but the watchman didn’t give a damn and grabbed the heir apparent by the throat. Eugene’s spear pierced through the watchman’s visor, and he let go of Niko and turned to the sentinel. The queen responded to neither.

“Stand down, Watchman,” said Grigori, his tone even, and he spoke as a tutor would to his pupil.

“Stand down, Watchman,” echoed the queen, and the monstrosity backed away from Eugene. He dislodged the spear from his face and tossed it back at the sentinel.

“The girl is a Guard,” Grigori said to the queen. “Make her execution public. The word will reach Lev Guard.”

“The rack,” the queen said. “I want her torn apart. And make it on Day Solis for good measure, on the ruins of their fucken church.” She flicked her wrist. “Go then and get her out of here.” She turned to the mage. “Who’s next?” Then she screamed for no reason, calling her dead brother, “Burkhard!”

No tower that night, Sofia was put in a dungeon under the castle, not very far from where she and Aleksei had come down during the royal ball, she supposed. Unlike the undercroft of the Church of Murmia, there were no rats, mold, or swamp water. It was rather clean, and not too uncomfortable except for the cold and the darkness. It smelled of dried herbs even and she thought there was an apothecary room down here.

A torch was affixed to the brownstone pillars down the hall and Sofia, who no longer had her insects to keep her company, had been playing with shadow puppets on the wall when she heard footsteps approaching and stuck her head out through the iron bars.

“Fuck this, and fuck you.” Eugene came strutting, a large iron key in his hand. “Steal the skeleton key, says the boy. Help Sofia, says the boy. Watch this Day Solis as Eugene gets the rack instead of the damn Guard.”

Sofia got up as he shoved the large key into the lock as though he was stabbing it and angrily twisted it.

“Come on then.” He held out his hand. “Let’s get the fuck out of here if you mean to live.”

Sofia didn’t need a second invitation, ran out of the cell, and followed Eugene through the winding dark corridors. The sentinel didn’t carry a lantern, didn’t need one, Sofia supposed, but she couldn’t see anything and grabbed his arm when she tripped on something.

“Make more noise, will you?” Eugene hissed.

“Where’s Aleksei?” Sofia whispered. There were voices behind them around the corner, not looking for them, just some sentinels debating which baroness had the nicest breasts.

“With his queen. He’d been gone a long while to return with empty hands. It’s time he entertained her to remedy her souring mood.”

Oh, she hated that. She wished she hadn’t asked.

Eugene yanked her into a corner and covered her mouth as shadows passed by on the wall, more sentinels discussing more breasts.

After a dizzying trip through the underbelly of Raven, passing through the gates separating the sections, heavy doors all yielding to the same key, Eugene took her to an iron ladder. “Here is the skeleton key to Raven.” He handed her the key. “That’s a trapdoor and it opens with this.” He pointed up. “The outer gate as well. Everything opens with this, give it to Lev so he can kill us all in our sleep, will you? I hope to never see you again. Goodbye and farewell.” He shoved her forward.

Just as she grabbed the iron ladder, a shadow lunged at Eugene. She yelped.

That had surprised the sentinel as well, and he cursed, hissing, “Stop doing it!”

It was Prince Nikolas. The boy shook and he was frantic. “I’ve killed her. She wouldn’t stop, and I’ve killed her. I had to. I had to. She’s dead, Eugene.”

“What are you going on about?” the sentinel grumbled. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of the last ‘favor’ you asked of me?”

“She wouldn’t stop… She wouldn’t stop. Gone mad, Eugene. So I killed her. It was awful.”

“Niko.” Eugene pulled the prince by the back of his neck. It had looked aggressive, but he just held him, and the prince’s mania calmed down, his breathing too.

Sofia waited because she wanted to thank the prince, and eyed the climb, tilting her head back. It was too dark to judge the distance, but she had the key and would figure it out. Then what? Off to Usolya, she supposed, but she hadn’t the faintest clue as to how to get there. Another thing she’d figure out, alone, broke, and now wanted.

“Who did you kill, Niko?” she heard Eugene whisper.

“My mother. I killed the queen,” Nikolas said. “She kept hurting Aleksei and wouldn’t stop. My brother’s dying. Please help him.”

The skeleton key slipped from Sofia’s hand, clanking on the stone floor when it fell. She thought Eugene said, “Ah fuck,” but she wasn’t sure. The world swayed just then, like a rocky boat, and she reached for the ladder to steady herself but missed, and ended up on the dark floor.