Free Annatrice of Cayborne by Jonathan Davison

him on my very life that I would never reveal your secret or allow you to become a threat to his reign?”
    Annatrice's emptiness saw no boundaries as her world began to crumble before her eyes. Marianne spoke the truth and her transparency was clear yet this did not quench the fires of betrayal that raged inside of her.
    “And yet you still protect the King as if he were your own son? Can you not see that he is the wrongful heir to the kingdom of Araman, a cheat and a murder who has attained his position through skulduggery and stealth? Oh how I kid myself, of course you know these things, you are one of his most loyal servants seemingly willing to extend your services to exploitation and treason!” Annatrice was furious and her tongue moved freely and without restraint. Marianne had no defence, she was being laid bare, her soul wide open for scrutiny.
    “If it is a kingdom you want, then you will no doubt have it soon enough, what mortal being can stand up to your prying heart?” Marianne grew angry, it was her shame speaking more than her natural self, her only defence was to try and right some of the wrongs, something she had tirelessly gone about over the last year or so.
    “I do not wish a kingdom or the poisoned chalice of rule, I seek only justice on the part of my father and I will have it!”
    Marianne pulled herself to her feet and looked down upon the girl with whom she had come to cherish as a daughter.
    “I would not deny you the right to revenge.” Marianne cleared her throat, steadying herself and attempting to retain her calm authority.
    “However, should you wish to pursue this, please make sure you get it right, for I am as good as dead if you should fail?”
    The very matter of fact the way Marianne pleaded with Annatrice disturbed the young woman. She knew as well as Marianne that she could not afford to make an error in her vengeful plot. Marianne turned and walked away, pausing at the exit of the dormitory in order to collect herself before once again addressing her students. Annatrice slumped back into her bed, as much as she thirsted for her revenge; she loved her maternal guardian in almost equal measure. Annatrice closed her eyes and curled up into a tight ball. She could feel Marianne’s shame and her poor attempts to hide her sorrow, she could feel the other girl's nervousness around her, she could feel the heart pounding of the swine in the sty outside as the cook approached with the cleaver. The worlds thoughts were hers to know, it was only a matter of how she chose to use this most precious and unique of gifts.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
    A season passed and the torrid winter months drew in, immersing the castle in a frosty grey blanket of misery. Annatrice had kept herself to herself in that time and Tragian had not called for her since the last violent encounter. Much to Annatrice's amusement, the King had been rumoured to be under some considerable pressure, the people disenchanted by the shallow ruler whose glorification through a prolific campaign of propaganda did not match up to his skills as a leader of men. The tension between Araman and Suleyman had continued to build spilling over into reported scuffles at the boundaries of Araman territory. There was talk of a full scale war in the offing. Tragian was stuck in the middle of a possible invasion from the West or an uprising from all sides. The King had made it clear that he preferred the distraction of all out war to clear the minds of the populace. His annual speech to the collected nobility was apparently noteworthy for its lack of substance. Even his fellow nobles were becoming jittery and that meant trouble to the King whose claim to the throne was tentative and discounted by those brave enough to voice their opinion. When Tragian looked around his table and saw thirty faces hungry for power, he knew that he might have to resort to drastic measures in order to regain some kind of order and respect.
    Annatrice spent more of her