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

60. Secrets and Lies

Chapter sixty

Secrets and Lies

T he Royal Library of Farrenhold made its counterpart across the border appear more a hovel. A stark white building topped with a gleaming golden dome and spires at each corner. Beyond the great mahogany doors lay a bustling scene. People searching stacks and discussing books in hushed tones at tables lit by elemental flames. Torrelin’s library was deserted. Though open to the public, the common folk of Torrelin had little time to indulge in the idea of reading for pleasure. There were many citizens who grew into old age, unable to read at all.

Adira rested their hands on their hips, surveying the room. “Did you bring the list?” Solveig nodded as she stared.

“Good. There’s a private room in the back reserved for my family.” Adira moved through the crowded stacks and Solveig followed, feeling every pair of eyes on them as they passed by.

Over the next few hours, they poured over the list and the little information Solveig had absconded with but could find nothing out of the ordinary. No names that stood out as not belonging. It was as Solveig had feared. Whoever had poisoned the prince was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Everyone was a suspect, and she had no way to narrow them down, save one. Top of the list was none other than Queen Asta herself. She wasn’t afraid nor foreign to slipping substances into drinks, but would she poison a foreign prince? Solveig couldn’t be sure. Such a grandiose display of aggression wasn’t her mother’s style, she preferred more underhanded tactics.

Adira eyed Solveig hesitantly. “I don’t think you’re going to find the person responsible for the poisoning here. This is something you can only discover through observation.”

“And the other issue?” Solveig pressed, sensing they weren’t done.

Adira leaned back in their chair, running a finger across their bottom lip. “I’m not sure that our library will hold any books that differ vastly from yours. We can still try, but don’t get your hopes up.” They leaned forward, tapping their fingers atop the edge of the desk before meeting Solveig’s gaze once more.

“You said the prince exhibited different symptoms?”

“Yes, Al…” Solveig paused, as the name caught in her throat, hands clenching as she spoke again with a deep sigh. “Aldrik and Xanthe both died, choking on their own blood. With Emmerich, there was this shaking, foaming at the mouth and…”

“And then?” Adira pressed.

“Nothing,” Solveig whispered, her eyes downcast, “he was still.”

“Anything else different?”

Solveig paused again, thinking hard about what little she remembered, her mind already hard at work boxing away the hurt as it had with Aldrik. There was Commander Bleeker, expressing concern about the prince’s well-being, and the smell. That acrid scent and taste that had clung to the prince that night. Was it truly a hint of whatever had been lurking in his bloodstream?

“I think I sensed it.”

“What?”

“Earlier in the evening, he smelled… bitter. Then when I was healing him,” she spat with a shaking her head at the mere idea of what she had done being construed as healing. “I sensed it again. The more I drained him, the more it faded.”

“Okay,” Adira said, eyeing their friend beneath drawn brows as Solveig met their gaze once more.

“It wasn’t there before, with Aldrik or Xanthe. I sensed nothing. Not as their blood pooled and clogged their throats, there was nothing except the tang of iron.”

“What if it wasn’t poison?”

“Sorry?” Solveig said, head shaking.

“Think about it. What’s one of the first things we learn in the guilds?”

“How to use our powers?”

Adira sighed, rolling their eyes. “What else?”

“How to fight,” Solveig said after a moment, “how to use weapons, make poisons and their antidotes…”

“Exactly, Solveig. Do you remember a single poison that was odourless and tasteless because I don’t?” Adira jumped to their feet, pacing back and forth as they spoke. “They all left a marker. Either before or after death, and there you sit, telling me you sensed nothing as you held them through their dying breaths. We know their inspections showed no signs of lingering poison. You’re a Hydromancer, Solveig, healer by trade or not. Part of your power is sensing the body’s fluid.”

“Okay?” Solveig hedged.

“What if it wasn’t poison? What if it was simply the curse? And the two scenarios are linked only by their locations and the victim’s proximity to you? Aldrik and Xanthe’s symptoms in their last moments match those who died of the curse, but Emmerich’s don’t.”

“It can’t be,” Solveig whispered, mind racing.

“Why?”

“I… I… How?” Solveig stared at her friend, slacked jawed, and misty eyed.

“First, we go for the books on known poisons and search for the markers.”

“It could be something new. Something created by the anti-magicists.”

“Perhaps,” Adira allowed, before countering “but then why not use the same method on the prince too?”

“I don’t know,” Solveig whispered, slumping in her chair.

Adira moved to sit on the desk beside her. “You have the perfect undetectable poison, and you decide not to use it despite its proven success? That doesn’t make sense and you know it; these deaths aren’t connected.”

They poured over volumes of books on the known poisons and their recipes. From the sweet scent of oleander blooms to the stomach burning acidity of Nyteberry. The utterly paralysing Hemlock to the seemingly harmless glass of milk from cattle feasting on snakeroot. But as Adira had suspected, none were described as untraceable.

Solveig was fighting desperately to keep her tangled emotions in check. What if Adira was right? The idea was almost too much for her to stomach, because that meant she was living on borrowed time. That whatever had come for Aldrik and Xanthe was now breathing down her neck, too.

“You said the prince found you looking into records, right?” Adira asked, closing yet another book on poisons. All of them said variations of the same thing. If a poison were present at the time of death, it stayed, because the body would no longer be processing it.

“I was searching for correlations between the deaths and old powerful families, and then any connections to those who had seen their family line of power run dry.”

“What did you find?”

“They were all there,” Solveig stated.

“And the families whose power had run dry?”

“None of them were mentioned in any history of powerful families, nor were they on the list of deaths.”

Adira sat back in their chair, rubbing at their eyes in frustration.

“It’s a start, I guess.”

“We have the correlation,” Solveig agreed. “Perhaps we should look for the same pattern here in Farrenhold? See if we get the same result?”

“And if we do?”

“We cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Adira only nodded their head and together they headed back out to the main room to pull even more books.

“You know I’m surprised the prince didn’t demand to join this little excursion.”

Solveig chuckled, avoiding her friend’s gaze.

“What?” Adira leaned into Solveig’s line of sight.

“I may have told him the wrong meeting time.”

“Solveig Aila Maleen, you did not!”

“He’s insufferable,” she reasoned. “I don’t need his help.”

“Whether you think you need it or not, it’s an extra pair of eyes to go over all these books.”

“He’d only get in the way.”

“How would he get in the way?” Adira smirked.

Solveig blinked, mouth in a thin line as she hoisted her heavy pile of books. “He was too close, too observant, too…” She paused, searching for the right word. “Much.”

“He got under your skin?”

“Perhaps.”

“No wonder you don’t want to go there.”

Solveig rolled her eyes and sighed. “I haven’t much honour left. Who will I be if I break my promise to Gabriel now?”

Adira shrugged. “Well, you’d be a lot less tense for one.” Solveig swatted their arm.

“I’m being serious.”

“As was I!” Adira giggled. “What Gabriel doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” They slid closer, although there was no one around to overhear them. “The walls of Farrowvale are thick. You could make a whole manner of noise, and no one would be any the wiser. Have some fun. He looks like he’d be a damn good ride.”

“You’ve said as much before,” Solveig muttered, “yet I don’t see you offering yourself.”

“He has more equipment going on than I would like.”

“Thought that didn’t bother you?”

“When I was sixteen, then I grew up and realised, women are much better at well, everything.” They shrugged. “Maybe you should give it a shot.”

Solveig choked on a laugh. “Believe me, I would if I could. Yet it appears to be one of my Oracle blessings to be attracted to the sex who make it their lives work to belittle and underestimate us.”

Adira clicked their tongue. “Tis a cruel world, my friend, but someone must do it. At least the prince is nice to look at.”

Solveig had to fight away the visions of the prince’s handsome face. The unruly mop of curls she wanted to rake her hands through and the glimpses of his powerful chest.

“So is Gabriel,” she insisted.

“I haven’t seen him in a long time, but if memory serves, he’s all broody stares and icy words.” Adira shivered. “That prince, however? He has flames in his eyes and on his tongue when he’s around you, and it’s not every day you find that.”

“In another life perhaps, but in this one, going down that road will only lead to heartbreak. I survived it once, and believe me, that’s enough for one lifetime.” Solveig shuddered, thinking of the bone crushing fear she had felt at the sight of Prince Emmerich’s prone body at the ball. How it had pushed long buried memories of Aldrik’s death to the forefront of her mind.

“Take it from someone who knows Solveig. Nature is an unstoppable beast. You can fight it all you want, but all things succumb. It is the way of life. We hurtle toward it every day. Sometimes it’s easier to just let go.”

“If that were true, then nature would have stopped me a long time ago,” Solveig countered.

“Maybe that’s just it,” Adira whispered solemnly.

“What is?”

“The weakness, the nosebleeds, coughing blood. Perhaps it’s all nature’s way of telling you that the power you wield goes against everything. That the more you use it, the more it feeds off you.” They stared Solveig dead in the eyes, all semblance of humour gone. “Nature will have its prize, Solveig. That is something even you can’t avoid.”

Late into the evening, under the hazy blue flicker of elemental flame, Solveig jumped from her chair.

“What is it?” Adira demanded, muscles tensing, braced for an imminent attack.

“How do you have that book?” Solveig stammered.

“What are you talking about?” Adira leaned across the desk. The tome was old, the pages browned, ink fading. Still, they could make out the words of stories of old. Legends of the Seers of Vanahold who had long since deserted these shores.

“That book is blasphemous!” Solveig bit out, “And it was sitting out there for anyone to pick up. This text belongs in the vault.”

Adira had to force a deep, steadying breath before picking up the book and moving it away from Solveig.

“Our kingdoms have a lot in common, but there is one way in which we differ.”

“And that would be?”

“The Seers are our ancestors. Vanahold could once be seen across the Bay of Trivellian before they disappeared. We have never denied their existence, for we are their legacy.”

Solveig staggered back in horror, blinking rapidly. “What you’re saying right now is blasphemous.”

“So,” Adira hissed, “no one here is going to report me. Farrenhold is not Torrelin.”

“This is insane.”

“Do you remember my mother?” Adira said flatly, placing the book down on the table, dust moats flying in its wake.

“No.”

“I do,” they said with a wistful smile. “She used to tell me a story. A prophecy her family had passed down for generations.”

“Adira…” Solveig warned, stepping backward.

“No Solveig, you need to hear this.”

“I have no desire to.”

“Too bad.” Adira flicked out a hand, summoning rock from thin air to seal the door shut faster than Solveig could blink. “Now that I have your full attention.” They gestured to the chair Solveig had vacated. Reluctantly, she returned to her seat, her eyes never leaving Adira.

“She would repeat this prophecy so often that the words burned into my memory, but never once did I utter them around you.”

Solveig thought she saw a glimmer of guilt cross their face before it vanished completely. “You need to hear it now.”

“Dark as night,

a dangerous might.

A kingdom torn.

Royal born,

to end our age-old plight.”

Solveig sat stoic, as Adira looked on. “Don’t you see? They knew something, were waiting for something, someone.”

“To do what?” Solveig replied.

“I don’t know.”

“What plight?”

“I don’t know.”

“Which royal? When? What dangerous might?” she demanded; each word harsher as her anger grew.

“I…”

“Don’t know,” Solveig finished. “Only The Oracle has the power of foresight, Adira, you know that.”

“Do I?” Adira’s eyes narrowed.

“The Seers were frauds. They spoke in riddles so generic that anyone could claim any prophecy was about them.”

“What would be the point of passing down a prophecy through generations if it were meaningless?”

“It may as well be a fairy tale.”

Adira shook their head. “After all you’ve seen, all you’ve done in their name, you still believe The Oracle is all good?”

Solveig paused, because she knew, deep down, that Adira was right. She had seen it for herself, the darkest depths that The Oracle would go to, to root out those who were a threat to their rule.

“Well,” Adira pressed.

“No ruler is all good.”

“You’re evading the question,” Adira seethed, leaning across the table. “Do you think Malik hasn’t told me about what goes on in that mine? About that, that thing that rips into your mind and allows The Oracle to see every thought you’ve ever had. Surely, you’ve asked yourself why it’s even necessary. For a being who’s supposedly omniscient, they shouldn’t have to lower themselves to such violent deeds to see inside our heads.”

“I came here for your help, Adira. If I wanted a lecture on all the cruel and terrible things The Oracle has done, I would have invited the prince and his commander along.”

“If you want my help, you’re going to have to stop accepting everything they tell you at face value and start recognising that which is staring you blind in the face.”

“And what would that be?”

“That every single one of them is lying to us! Manipulating us, holding us hostage to their way of thinking, it’s time, Solveig.”

“To do what, exactly?”

“To bring their lies and misdeeds out of the shadows and into the light. You should know better than anyone the stain that lies beneath the surface of their rotted hierarchy.”

“It’s hopeless,” Solveig sighed, thinking about all she had learned of her family. All the evidence she had of their misdeeds that she didn’t know what to do with or if people would even listen to her, the Reaper.

“No, Solveig. It’s necessary. How many more people must die before you’ll see it? The Oracle is lying to us all. Whether indirectly or not, it doesn’t matter at this point. It’s time we uncovered all their darkest secrets.”