The Broken Kingdoms of Osvolta (Kingdoms of Osvolta #1)

43. Someone Has to Care

Chapter forty-three

Someone Has to Care

T he sun was drifting low in the frost-coloured sky by the time someone started pounding incessantly on the door. Solveig dragged her sleep heavy body from the bed to wrench it open.

“What is so important!” she demanded; eyes fierce despite the lingering haze of sleep that called her back to the still warm sheets.

“Miss Everly had us bring you dinner,” answered a prisoner. They were dressed in the beige garb of those assigned to kitchen duty, and the fear in the woman’s eyes told Solveig that this one remembered her. The lack of red welts peeking out from her hair line said she had yet to be sent for rehabilitation .

“You remember me?”

“Who could forget the Reaper of Luxenal?” the woman hissed.

“Some have,”

“Because they chose to. I don’t want to forget. I never can.”

“Forget what?”

“The hopelessness on my husband’s face as you used that wicked devil magic to drag every drop of life from him.” Solveig swallowed tightly, the only sign that she felt anything.

“It’s probably best if you leave,” she insisted, refusing to apologise. The words would offer the woman little comfort now.

“Probably,” the prisoner parroted, as she walked away with one last hate filled glare over her shoulder, her chains ringing a solemn tune.

Solveig ate the standard prison fare of watery cabbage and onion soup and a square of dense bread, the echo of pickaxes her only company. It was as tasteless as she remembered, but it was hot, and it filled the gaping hole gnawing at her insides. She sat back down, eyes alighting on the boxes lying on the empty bed opposite her.

After she’d forced down the last drop of soup, she went through the boxes again. Most of it, such as old bedsheets and clothes she could replace in the city. There were random books worn with dirt, ripped and water damaged from the damp surroundings that wouldn’t survive the journey back. In another, her hand drifted over the shining steel of her remaining daggers. She smirked to herself at the commander’s oversight. He’d taken her weapons at the gate only to hand her old ones to her like a gift. They had folded her spare leather training outfits beneath the weapons. Those were irreplaceable, custom made solely for her.

Solveig sorted through each box, packing her bag with her belongs atop the files she had stolen, praying no one would go rifling too deep before she left. Soon, all that remained was a small jewellery box containing two items. Her ostentatious engagement ring and a chain holding a dainty sapphire encrusted locket. She left the diamond in the box. It wouldn’t burn in the fires of the crematorium, but it could stay there in the smoke and ash forever for all she cared. The chain, however, she slipped over her neck, the locket pendant hanging beneath her shirt lying close to her heart.

She couldn’t bear to open it; wasn’t sure she could ever witness his handsome face again, but still she wanted to keep the memory of him close. It was all she had left of the boy who made her believe she could have any life she wanted. Until he took it all with him when he departed for the Netherworld.

With her belongings packed and energy somewhat restored, Solveig readied herself to leave the mine for the last time, when a commotion picked up, echoing toward her. She stepped out into the hallway as Miss Everly rounded the corner, racing toward her.

“Thank The Oracle you’re already dressed. This way please!” she rushed as Solveig turned to grab her bag.

“What’s going on?” she replied. Hands ringing impatiently before her. “And the commander isn’t too happy about it.”

“Who?”

“Now I can’t say I’ve seen an image of him. But I’d be willing to bet my Oracle blessed powers it’s that mysterious prince from Elithiend everyone has been chattering on about.”

Anger simmered in her veins, head falling back on an exasperated sigh. “That stupid, arrogant son of a bitch. I’ll kill him myself,” she swore, slamming the door shut, as Miss Everly spun on her heel to lead her to him.

“That won’t be necessary if we don’t hurry,” she said over her shoulder. “Commander Sellen may beat you to it.”

The two women raced for the gate, where the commander stood with a team of heavily armed guards at his back against two travel weary companions on horseback.

“You must possess a death wish to even consider coming here, Prince,” she called as they grew closer. Emmerich couldn’t hide the relief in his eyes when he heard the rasping anger of her voice.

“You left without a word. What else was I to do?”

“You were supposed to stay out of my sight for a few days,” she seethed, brandishing a dagger in each hand. Wariness creeped into the prince’s demeanour at the sight of them.

“I didn’t want to lay eyes on you in my home. What makes you think here is any better?”

“Why did you come back?”

“That is none of your concern.”

“Depends.”

“On nothing, Prince, it wasn’t a question. My parents granted you access to Marrelin City. They did not give you permission to wander throughout Torrelin unaccompanied.”

“I wouldn’t be unaccompanied if my guard dog hadn’t vanished into the night like a wraith,” he shot back.

Solveig glared at him, and the silent commander trying desperately to smother her laugh beside him. “I should kill you now,” she muttered. “Put you out of your misery, for your own stupidity is bound to catch up to you eventually.”

“I’d enjoy seeing you try.” Solveig could see the smirk lifting one side of his handsome face as her hand tightened around the hilt of a dagger.

“I’ve held a weapon to your throat twice now, Prince. Wasn’t that proof enough that I’m more than capable?”

“Physically sure,” he shrugged, gaze pinning her to the spot, “mentally though, I’m not convinced.” His smile only widened as she moved to launch for him, only halted by Commander Sellen’s exasperated bellow.

“MISS MALEEN!”

“WHAT?” she snapped.

“A word, if you’d be so kind.” He tipped his head. Anger plain in the reddening of his cheeks. Reluctantly, she followed the commander a few steps away when he turned on her.

“I know you went skulking around today, Princess,” he muttered. “A prisoner without chains seen running for the guards’ quarters. Vanishing without a trace after scaling the window.” His eyes drifted with an oily slowness down her body, settling on her stomach. “Shall we see that bruise you’re hiding?” The commander reached out to grab the hem of her shirt. But Solveig read his move, wrenching his arm back suddenly as her other hand hit dead centre with a sickening crack. Commander Sellen’s forearm bent at an unnatural angle as she brought his back to her front, pressing the point of her dagger into his neck until blood welled.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to have you under the bite of my blades, Commander.” She hissed in his ear, “Touch me again and I’ll give them something to investigate me for.” She dug her dagger further into his neck, slicing deeper as blood poured from the wound. “Or maybe I should kill you now. Put a stop to whatever evil you’re taking part in behind those gates.”

Distracted by the bliss of finally having Commander Sellen at her mercy, she didn’t see the guard creeping up behind her. A sword poised to lacerate her back until he landed with a thud at her feet, a throwing knife protruded from his neck.

Solveig spun, releasing the commander. She found Emmerich staring at her, panic clear in his eyes. “Did I ask for your help?” she sneered, wiping the commander’s blood from her dagger on her pants.

“No.” Emmerich scoffed, shaking his head as he walked closer, bending to pull his knife from the guard’s neck. “But that doesn’t mean you have to do it alone all the time.”

Solveig studied him for a moment, ignoring the commander groaning at her feet as he desperately tried to staunch the blood from his neck with his uninjured arm.

“I thought the laws of your country had you strike down cold-blooded murderers.”

“It’s not cold-blooded if your life was in danger.”

“Why do you care about my life?”

“Someone has to,” he muttered, stowing his knife as Solveig turned back to the commander without a word.

“Run back to your castle and take your moronic lover with you before I have you all in chains,” the commander cried.

“I’d like to see you try.” She laughed, pressing on his snapped arm with the toe of her boot before snatching up her bag. “It’s a good job you love this place so much.” She muttered, turning to face him for the last time. “Because if I see your face in Marrelin City, I’ll have you rotting with the sewage in a day.”

Facing the prince and his commander, she ordered, “You two follow me and try not to fall off your damn horses with exhaustion. We’ve got a long ride before it’s safe to make camp.”

“Why did you come back?” Emmerich asked, mounting his horse and trotting after her.

“I was settling old affairs.”

“What sort of affairs?”

“No offence, Prince.” She sighed, staring up at him. “But that is none of your concern.”

Emmerich stopped pressing, and they travelled on in silence until they reached the tree line of the Cuprum Forest, the sun setting behind them. They walked for another hour, until the chill rattled their bones, clear skies stealing any warmth the day had provided.

“We’ll make camp here tonight,” Solveig said, coming to a halt. The prince and the commander jumped from their horses, grabbing their own packs.

“I don’t suppose either of you have a hidden talent for pyromancy up your sleeves,” she asked, but neither spoke. “Old fashioned way it is then, surely you two are capable of that. I’ll take care of dinner.”

She turned, heading toward the river, a straight path through the dense trees. Their shadows formed spectres in her peripheral vision. Images that would terrify anyone unfamiliar with the territory.

The storm had created a rush of water, but it would not deter Solveig. If she had to face the prince on an empty stomach, she was liable to gut him before the moon even rose. She made a bed of thick leaves, taking a seat at the riverbank, pulling out her dagger, taking aim as she had done countless times over the last two years. Before long, she had caught them each three fish. That would hopefully keep them going until they could reach the city.

She returned to their camp where a roaring fire was already glowing, casting the trees and dirt around them with its warm orange haze. The prince and the commander sat before it as she dropped the fish beside them.

“Think you two can cook these?” she muttered. The prince only stared at the catch and then back up at her, and back down at the gaping wounds in each of the fish’s heads.

“Did you… did you throw your daggers at these?” Emmerich asked in bewilderment, taking one in his hand.

“Not much in the way of target practice out here, Prince. You’ve got to learn to be resourceful.”

“You caught fish. Using daggers. Live, swimming fish?” he whispered in cautious awe.

“If I wanted you dead, Prince,” Solveig sighed, “there are far easier and faster ways than feeding you festering fish.”

“Not what I was implying,” he said with a shake of his head. “But fair enough.”

“What?”

Emmerich laughed, looking up at the canopy of trees above them. “I never stood a chance when I challenged you to that target match, did I?” He smiled. A real, genuine smile that was higher on one side than the other. His eyes sparkled with it, and to her surprise, Solveig couldn’t help but smile back as she quipped.

“No, you didn’t.”