Her Cinder Throne (Completed)

Chapter 82

Cadfael's tale continued on, showing images of her leading the battle to free the Eldritch from the human tyrant and rebuild the glory of the olden days away from his dark touch. It was magnificent and stirring, but it was not her. His story continued as she returned to Avallen, a queen, and the celebration of her crowning began....

Cole turned away sharply. She shook her head, dislodging the images like fog from the surface of a lake. She didn't want to think of the after. The duty that would be hers forever, in a land that she did not even know. She didn't want to see the image Cadfael sang, of a white gown and lace... and a faceless man with beautiful wings. It was a future she couldn't imagine, and she didn't want him to help. She was just Cole now. A human girl who slaved in the mines and missed her father and mother. Not Caspia. Not a princess or a queen or a savior.

She pushed her way out of the crowd, moving quickly to the edge of the town and the view of a large swath of grass. From there, Cadfael's voice was too faint to hear, and his lyre was barely audible. HIs magic images were nothing more than niggling feelings of discomfort in Cole's chest, that she was able to push to the back of her mind.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and finally took a moment to mutter out every curse word she had ever learned. They spilled from her mouth in a streaming cascade, emptying out her chest until she felt the fire dim.

"Well, that was quite entertaining."

Cole's eyes slammed open as she spun around to see Tanwyn biting back a smile just behind her. She rolled her eyes and shoved his arm hard enough to almost topple him.

"Don't sneak up on me like that," she grumbled, turning back to look out at the wide field.

"I didn't want to interrupt that beautiful poetry," Tanwyn said, falling into place by her side. She tried to ignore the charge feeling in the arm between their shoulders, and how it felt like there shouldn't be a gap there at all. "I mean, you could give Cadfael a run for his money with such lyrical genius."

"Shut up," Cole snarled. "He's painting me like some sort of saint. And singing of queen and crown." She paused, not wanting to say it, but feeling it like a hot coal in her stomach. "And weddings."

The amused curl of Tanwyn's lips dropped instantly. His eyebrows drew together, and he stared out at the horizon with a crease in his forehead. "They expect that when the ancient bloodline reclaims the throne, the new queen will not follow in her mother's footsteps. They feel betrayed, and Cadfael knows that they'll love you more if they have an image of an Eldritch marriage in their minds."

"I don't even know any Eldritch men. Who would I marry? It sounds like he wants me dressed in white as soon as my blade cuts through Thijs' neck."

Tanwyn sighed, long and heavy. "There are many factions of Eldritch in our world. The mountain dwellers, the sea folk, and those of the chilly northern islands. They all have men of great honor and bravery who would make fine matches for the queen. There are many who are loved, and that would only strengthen your claim. A marriage to an honorable man would usher in a new golden age. A time of pure peace and clear Eldritch rule."

The tops of Cole's fingernails dug deep into her palms. "What if I don't want to marry any of them?" she asked, hoping the quiver in her heart did not come out in her voice.

Tanwyn shrugged. "I don't know everything. I'm a disgraced son of a traitor. I was born under bad stars, cursed to be seen as a liar and cheat because of it. I only know the mission my mother wanted to complete, and that Thijs must be stopped. Beyond that, you are just as lost as I am."

Cole bit down hard on her teeth. "Thanks. That makes me feel so much better," she muttered.

Tanwyn didn't reply, and a few minutes later Cole felt the electric fizz in the air of magic. She blinked and suddenly Maelona stood before her, ethereal and holding her bowed lyre. Cole nearly screamed, and snatched the rough fabric of Tanwyn's shirt.

"Don't do that!" she managed to gasp out to Maelona.

"My apologies, your grace," Maelona said, her voice steady and calm as she dipped her head. "I merely wanted to let you know that myself and the other bards have finished telling your tale in the valley and field towns and cities. Some seemed to take your side, and others not so much."

"Do you think there will be resistance?" Tanwyn asked.

Maelona let her narrow shoulders rise and then fall. "I do not know for certain, but when the people do not respond well to bard's tales, it is hard to see why they would suddenly decide to support the person the bard is singing about."

"Cadfael seems to be succeeding with this village, which means that hopefully soon the guards will be on Caspia's side. That will be half of Gethwine's official army, and hopefully at least part of the other half will be the sort of citizens to side with the ancient blood over new blood."

Maelona nodded along with what Tanwyn said, but her eyes were trained elsewhere. Cole followed her gaze down to where she saw her own hand still gripping Tanwyn's sleeve, her knuckled pressed against the firm plane of his muscles. When she realized just how close she was standing to him, she dropped his sleeve as if it was made of fire and sidestepped toward Maelona. Tanwyn watched her with a puzzled look on his face-- but, even worse, she detected a small hint of hurt behind his eyes.

"I should warn you, Lady Caspia, that your mother's dalliance with your human father, and her subsequent abandonment of her throne and people, will make your own private matters anything but that."

"What do you mean?" Cole asked, clearing her throat.

"Only that you will be scrutinized, and the people will not be happy if you start choosing sides with people who may be seen as unfit or a conflict in interest toward the throne. One mark is already stained into your name, and I'm not sure that the people will be able to overlook two."

Cole didn't know what to say. She wasn't sure what Maelona thought was going on, but she wouldn't... she wasn't even thinking about Tanwyn in... she shook her head, confused on the swirl of emotions and thoughts that stirred up as quickly as a rock plummeting into the soft silt at the bottom of a puddle.

"Or perhaps she will gain the admiration of those who wouldn't have otherwise helped her, if they see that someone they support will also be connected to the throne," Tanwyn said, a hard glint in his eyes as he stared at Maelona with flat lips and a clenched jaw. "Purity isn't something that can be accomplished any more. Who cares if a bit more mud is thrown in?"

"Two wingless butterflies will never be seen as the perfect examples of their kind. Perhaps a person may overlook one, as long as the wings of the other are splendid. However, when both look like nothing more than grubs... people will tend to think they are just that."

Cole wasn't exactly following the conversation, but she got the distinct feeling that she had just been insulted. She opened her mouth to retort, but just at that moment, Cadfael appeared next to them, his wings folding back under his silk robe and his delicate fingers holding his lute by its throat.

"I think we may count this a village of support," he said. "They were most pleased with the performance, and they've already asked me to send more bards to tell of other stories. They'll surely share this with their kin in the castle."

"Well, I suppose we need only wait until Gethwine catches wind and returns. Then we will see if our songs were enough," Maelona said.

This was the part of the plan Cole hated. They would only have a short period to make their argument to the fae folk, and then it would be a battle against queens. Not one with swords, not yet-- but one that must be waged in the minds and hearts of the people. A queen disgraced by her mother's betrayal and the human blood in her veins, against a queen who took the crown by force with no more right to it than any other Eldritch with a sword and a will strong enough to defy the old oaths. The people would have to choose who they thought more worthy, and depending on who they chose might determine how much more power Thijs and his dark magic would accumulate.