Free Sanctuary by Rowena Cory Daniells

Lanterns strung from poles gave the event a festive air. Long tables had been carried up and a set for the feast. Musicans played a Dacian air on instruments Jaraile was unfamiliar with. She could hardly hear the music for the rowdy singing.
    But as Eskarnor led her between the tables to the high table, the singers faltered and the musicians lowered their instruments. She saw her cousin, Baron Kerminzto, go very still and wished she could get a message to him. She tried to tell him to run with her eyes, but he just looked grim. Did he think she had willingly abandoned King Charald and her son?
    Eskarnor led her around behind the table, then climbed onto a chair and drew her up beside him.
    ‘You will have all heard the rumour concerning King Charald’s mental state,’ Eskarnor said. ‘The king’s mind is going. Why, not so long ago, he held a conversation with Queen Sorna, who has been dead these thirty years.’
    Jaraile glanced to Eskarnor, horrified. How had he known? He hadn’t been there that day. Someone must have betrayed Charald.
    ‘Yes, the secret is out, my queen,’ Eskarnor said, taking her hand as if consoling her. Jaraile had just confirmed his claim.
    He tucked her arm through his. ‘For over forty years, Charald has bullied his own kingdom and all those around the Secluded Sea. You know why he hates the Wyrds?’
    ‘Because the one-eyed half-blood is his son!’ Captain Pataxo yelled.
    ‘Worse.’ Eskarnor was enjoying himself. ‘Because the rumour about his twin is true. Charald was born with a half-blood twin. Talk of tainted blood!’ Eskarnor shook his head. ‘Charald should never have sat upon the throne. Tonight, I come here with Queen Jaraile to offer an alternative to a cruel, irrational old bully. Unite behind us and we will free Chalcedonia from King Charald the Tyrant. No more handing over your best men to go off and fight his campaigns against subject kingdoms that have revolted. Tonight, choose freedom and a new start for Chalcedonia. All barons who swear loyalty to me will keep their lands and titles.’
    ‘What of Nitzane?’ Pataxo called.
    ‘That lap-dog? He’s no warrior. United, we are more than a match for him.’
    ‘What of Prince Cedon?’
    ‘The Wyrd wharf was attacked by slum-dwellers. The Wyrds cut the boy’s throat to...’
    Jaraile’s head buzzed. This was what she’d feared. The lanterns spun and she toppled. Eskarnor caught her, sweeping her off her feet.
    ‘Poor thing. The shock’s too much for her in her condition. Charge your glasses. The queen carries my son, heir to the throne.’
    Jaraile stiffened in his arms.
    Eskarnor laughed and kissed her, holding her tightly.
    ‘Did you think I wouldn’t notice how you pick at your food and force it down?’ he whispered. Then he raised his voice. ‘I vow before you all here tonight, King Charald will be dead by summer so I can marry the queen and make my son legitimate. Step forward now and give your oaths of loyalty.’
    In the cage of his arms, Jaraile could only watch as the rooftop crowd erupted. She saw her cousin try to fight his way to the stairs. She saw Eskarnor’s men drive their enemies against the rails and over so that they fell to their deaths, four storeys below.
    The struggle surged towards them at the high table.
    ‘Wait here.’ Eskarnor sat her in the chair, placed one boot on the table and jumped over it to join the fighting.
    To her disgust, she saw at least two of the Chalcedonian barons turn on the others, uniting against the very men they’d sworn to support.
    But all she could think of was her sweet little Cedon, dead. She’d failed him. He’d died alone and frightened. Had he called for her right at the end?
    Could you die of grief?
    How could she go on after this? Why go on?
    ‘Traitor!’ Baron Dekaitz charged the high table, bloody sword raised to strike her.
    She threw herself backwards. The chair tipped. She slammed on the tiles, rolled onto her hands and knees, and tried to