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[Rough Draft] Chapter 96: The Fragrance of Rebellion
“So, Octavia sent this forgery to the Pope,” Percy muttered in disbelief, “who then gifted it to Nicholas—as a wedding present?”
“The Dowager must have sensed her end was near,” Linby replied in a less than respectful tone.
“Perhaps the loss of Viktor’s magic pushed her over the edge,” Maylea commented with a speculative shrug. “A witch of her years, weakened by the aconitum herb, would have suffered significantly in its absence.”
“Her desperation does not explain betraying every witch in Lafeara!” Percy snapped.
‘And unfortunately, Octavia found a different way to reverse the damage of aging through sacrificed virgins,’ Carina thought grimly. The Earl glanced in her direction as if pondering the same gruesome memory of the Dowager’s garden before they both turned to study the Viscount.
“Most of the Elders and I were fortunate enough to have shifted our allegiance to Kirsi before Viktor met his end, which mitigated most of the effects,” Linby explained, sensing the suspicion in their gaze. “Those among us who refused to acknowledge a demigod were–less fortunate.”
‘So, I’ve been elevated from half-blood to demigod?’ The Duchess’s lips twitched in amusement as she refocused on the spymaster.
“Naturally, the Pope was suspicious of the Dowager’s gift,” Maylea continued promptly, “Especially given the Dowager’s sudden disappearance afterward.”
‘If only I had gotten rid of her sooner,’ Carina mused as her eyes drifted to the unbloomed cherry blossoms overhead. ‘Who knows what other acts of treachery Octavia has unleashed that may yet still ripple through the palace.’
The ethereal moonlight, all but concealed behind a shroud of dark clouds, winked down at her through the cherry tree’s branches. The fragrance of the pink and white flowers teased the breeze that fluttered through the Duchess’s pale white hair as her attention shifted towards the Earl, who gazed at her silently. There was something in his gaze that urged caution, which Carina understood quickly enough. Even she didn’t believe that Maylea was working for the Frost Coven out of pure loyalty.
“If Nicholas stands with the Church,” Percy muttered as his fingers fidgeted idly with the onyx signet ring on his finger. “Then the Covens of Lafeara have but one choice.”
“Rebellion?” Carina arched a cynical brow as her ice-blue eyes met the Earl’s determined gaze. ‘Must this timeline also end in bloodshed and war?’
“Do we have another choice?” Percy demanded coldly. “The Covens will not tolerate another inquisition led by a puppet of the Pope! That is why they banded together and named me their King, to oppose any further threat from the Church.”
“Perhaps that is why the Pope chose tomorrow’s ball as the first battlefield,” Maylea interjected calmly as she folded her hands against the table. “Jericho knows that the heads of the Covens reside amongst Lafeara’s most powerful families. If his relics can take out Kirsi and a few purebloods vital to that alliance–it would make his crusade through Lafeara that much easier.”
“In which case, it would be foolish for the leader of two covens to attend,” Carina pointed out as she turned to face the Earl.
Percy turned sharply in her direction. “There would be little point in worrying about the Covens or me, your Grace. If Jericho awakes his Saint, there’s not much a coven or Witch King could do to stop her.”
The Duchess frowned but looked away. ‘I wish Percy would keep his animosity focused on the Pope rather than Hana.’
“The simple matter is that as leader of the Noble party, I cannot afford to miss such an important public event any more than the Duchess can,” Percy continued with a bit more restraint. “Our absence would only create an opportunity for the Royal Faction, who support both King and Pope, to spread rumors of dissent or perhaps even treason.”
“While I can understand your position, Earl Hawthrone,” Linby interjected as he folded his arms. “I believe her Majesty presents a valid point. If you insist on attending, you ought to be prepared for any possible casualties.”
Percy drew in a slow breath as he leaned forward to rest his fingers against the table. “Put it from your mind, Viscount. I shall ensure a suitable candidate is on standby.” The Earl raised his winter-gray eyes with a cynical smile, “in the event of my death.”
“Let us pray it does not come to that,” Carina murmured absently. ‘I might lose my nerve if I start thinking about who may fall in tomorrow’s battle.’
“Yes, but—” Linby cleared his throat as the Earl dragged his fingers lightly over the tablecloth. “Perhaps it would be prudent to change the battlefield. Our odds would only improve if we could draw the Pope into an arena of our choosing?”
The Duchess remained quiet as she ignored Percy’s lingering gaze. When the Earl finally turned back to the Viscount, he replied, “However favorable, it would be all but impossible to achieve and a poor use of what limited time we have left to prepare. I highly doubt the Pope would give up the advantage of facing us on consecrated ground.”
“A surprise attack on the way to the palace would be equally futile,” Maylea interjected with a shake of her head. “All the church’s carriages are enchanted with the same offensive and defensive spells bound to the Witch Hunter’s armor. Not to mention the number of civilian casualties from the crowds expected to line the street for a chance of the Divine Heir’s blessing.”
“But that might still serve as a useful distraction?” Linby countered. “If the Pope were ambushed on the way to the Palace—the King could hardly carry on with—”
“No!” Carina hissed as she rose to her feet with a look of disgust.
“F-forgive me, your Majesty. I did not mean to–”
“No matter where we face the Pope, he will have the Saint’s relics and Hana at his,” Carina continued with barely subdued frustration. “While it might be reckless to walk into the Pope’s trap, we do not do so blindly. Let us focus on mitigating that danger and improving our chance at survival.”
“The Duchess is right,” Percy said with a glance towards the Viscount. “The longer we put off the inevitable–the more we risk facing the Saint at full power.”
Carina’s grip tightened around Viktor’s bracelet as a painful shiver of fear invaded her chest.
“But if we are to be successful, then we must work together towards a common goal.” The Earl straightened, then folded his hands behind his chest as he turned deliberately towards the Duchess. “If we can agree that Nicholas, as well as the Pope, is our enemy, then the witches can attack both parties with full force.”
“It is not yet set in stone that Nicholas will turn against us,” Carina replied in a neutral tone. While the rational part of her brain murmured that the Earl was right to anticipate Nicholas’s betrayal–it did not remove her concern for the feelings of the knight captain, who remained silent behind her.
Percy closed his eyes and muttered through a repressed growl, “That makes things more complicated both during and after the battle. If the Coven must put themselves at risk, then it must be for a justifiable reason. At the very least, the Pope must die along with all his Cardinals and Witch Hunters!”
The Duchess drew in a breath, but any thoughts of protest were quickly drowned out by the centuries of crimes committed by the Church that Kirsi had witnessed. “Very well. The Pope–and all who support him–shall be put to the sword. And we will show no mercy to those who stand beside them.” The air around this small gathering of conspirators seemed to prickle with a murderous chill as Carina’s ice-blue eyes flickered with her recently inherited magic. “I swear to tear down the Church, brick by brick until every trace of it has been removed from this world–or Ramiel descends to stop me.”
Percy exhaled quietly before offering a single nod of agreement. “Very well. On that, we agree.”
“Then—what of the King?” Linby murmured tensely. “That bastard has no right to–”
The Earl cut him off with a confident wave of his hand. “Nicholas’s true colors will be revealed soon enough. If he stands with us, the Coven will grant him the peaceful life of a nameless noble somewhere far from the Capitol. But if he stands against us….”
Percy’s deliberate pause and gaze made the Duchess’s blood boil. ‘Why is he leaving this up to me?’
“Your Majesty?” The Viscount’s expectant gaze only settled the matter.
“As I said,” she whispered quietly. “No mercy to those who side with the Church. And if Nicholas will not surrender his throne, then he will surrender his life instead.”
The satisfied smirk that slid across Percy’s face did not ease the anxiety bubbling up in Carina’s stomach. A growing sense of dread crawled up her spine. The keen sense of others plotting her death wound around her throat like a noose. ‘What is it? What am I missing? Where is this danger coming from?’ She stepped back from the table, attempting to remain calm, even as her lips refused to draw in air.
“Your Grace.” Percy’s quiet voice stopped the Duchess in her tracks. “If Hana should awaken as the Saint–”
The blood in Carina’s right arm hardened as the tip of an icy blade emerged from her palm. She closed her fist around it and offered the Earl a warning smile. “Under no circumstances will I allow any harm to befall Lady Hana. Is that clear, Earl Percy Hawthorne?”
“Your Grace,” Maylea rose from her seat to offer the Duchess a respectful bow. “While I understand your concern, it must be said that the Saint is only at her weakest while she remains a mortal.” The spymaster raised her ghost-like eyes and continued in an ominous voice. “Once she has attained Rameil’s power–only a god can stop her.”
“I am aware, Madam Maylea.”
“But then, your Majesty?” Linby spoke up hesitantly as he circled the table to join her.
“I will do what must be done, Viscount. For now, let us focus on liberating her first,” Carina snarled, her patience fading rapidly.
Percy glanced between the ice witches before rubbing a hand along his jaw. “Then, in the meantime, we should prepare our respective Covens for what lies ahead. I would recommend using any and all enchants, specifically protective and offensive ones. After all, if the Pope wishes his Witch Hunters to remain effective, they must be allowed to use that much.”
“But they will not have ice enchantments at their disposal,” Linby murmured with a cunning smile. “The Elders of my Coven are quite adept at defensive spells—considering how often we have relied upon them to stay alive while being hunted.”
“Then I would be grateful for any knowledge your Elders might share,” Percy replied with a respectful nod. “Might I suggest we assemble at Hawthrone Manor to prepare? At the very least, we should meet up three hours before the ball to reassess our plan of attack.”
‘It is already past midnight, with only us six hours till dawn and three hours until the ball. That’s not a lot of time for the covens to gather and enchant multiple garments, armor, and jewelry pieces. But if I use that method—’
“Very well, Lord Percy,” Carina replied calmly. “Then could I trouble you to convey Lord Linby back to his Coven.”
“It would be my pleasure, your Majesty,” Percy replied with a sweeping bow.
“Then, Lord Linby, once you raise the Elders, you may summon me through your oath. I have a means of conveying you and the other members who wish to fight to the Earl’s residence.”
“Of course, your Majesty. Then, might I suggest you notify your forces outside the capital that a new unit of Frost Witches will be joining them shortly?”
The Duchess nodded in response, and a moment later, she, Beaumont, and Madam Maylea were left alone in the garden.
“I suppose I should thank you, spymaster,” Carina commented with an icy smile as she faced her one-time ally.
“There is no need for that, your Grace. As I said before, I have my own motivation for assisting you,” Maylea replied with a faint smile. “Though I will admit to hoping that you’ll come through this ordeal–in one piece.”
The Duchess nodded as she gracefully circled the table towards the spymaster. The bodyguards standing at a distance shifted uncomfortably, but Maylea merely smiled as she met the ice witch’s cold gaze.
“Does your Grace intend to seek revenge on behalf of my father?”
“No.” Carina shook her head even as her expression shifted into one of pity. “Even after such a gruesome death, Isaac holds no desire to harm you.”
A muscle in the spymaster’s chin twitched slightly as her smile faltered.
“I wish only to clarify your true agenda,” Carina continued as she raised a hand to brush back Maylea’s pale white hair, so similar to her own. “That it is truly yours and not one shared by an immortal.”
The spymaster let out a weak laugh. “I’m afraid I cannot deny your Grace’s accusation.”
The Duchess’s fingers stiffened as they ran down the woman’s neck. “And here I thought you had no master.” Carina’s words hardened as a blade emerged between her fingers. “Tell me then, which immortal pulls the spymaster’s string?”
“One you have met, Kirsi,” Maylea replied unphased. The spymaster spread her open hands to her side before raising her left hand towards her cloudy eyes. “I told you how I received this injury after nearly drowning in the ocean. That–was not entirely true.”
“Go on,” Carina growled as the blade edged closer to the spymaster’s skin.
“The ocean I speak of touches no mortal kingdom and bears no mortal ship.”
The Duchess blinked as she froze in place.
“I was conveyed across the endless waves and fog by a vessel of ice. When the fog cleared, a mountain of black stone appeared, which led up into the heavens. The mountain was ruled by an ocean of singing stars adorned by a blood-red moon. At the base of this mountain, I met a stage whose fur was the color of the purest snow, with scarlet antlers that dripped tears of blood, twisted around a single fading star. This creature carried me to the top of the mountain–where I stood before the blood-red moon—and beheld an immortal who introduced herself as the Mother of the stars, earth, water, and ice.”
“You–saw the moonlit path?”
“Yes,” Maylea continued with a distant gaze as she lowered her hand. “My soul was conveyed there after death to speak with this immortal. In exchange for resurrection, I promised to guide Viktor’s child until she too found her way to the moonlit path.”
‘Did Maylea speak with Hypatia? But why was the moon be red to her and white to me?’
“Now that we have reached this pivotal moment along your path,” Maylea continued with a weary sigh. “I can only pray for your success, Kirsi.” The spymaster stepped forward suddenly to clutch the Duchess’s empty hand. “But if I could make but one selfish request to a future goddess. Please, destroy the Church and the bloodline of Saints. So that no more children—need suffer as my sisters did.”
All the doubts swirling inside Carina’s head faded at the sight of the all too human anger that burned within the half-witch’s empty gaze. “I will do everything within my power to destroy the Pope and his Church.”
Maylea smiled brightly as the Duchess withdrew her hand and its blade. Carina blinked as the spymaster reached inside her robe to remove a simple velvet jewelry box. “This is the only artifact I was able to get my hands on. I swapped it with a duplicate, but I expect its absence will be noticed soon enough.”
Carina accepted the gift hesitantly, half expecting the holy relic to reject her touch.
“It is a protective artifact created by the First Saint,” Maylea murmured as she pulled up her hood and withdrew towards her approaching bodyguards. “It may be of use to you. Now, I must be getting back.”
“Back?”
“The Pope has asked me to escort Lady Nesta to the ball tomorrow,” Maylea explained with a brief smile. “I will see you there, your Grace.”
“But–” Carina’s fingers tightened around the jewelry box. “Thank you.”
The spymaster nodded, then turned down the path that would lead her to the royal fortress entrance.
‘I don’t know how she managed to come all the way here without raising the Pope’s suspicion, but I’m sure Maylea has her means.’ Carina exhaled as the knight captain walked up beside her.
“What now?” Beaumont whispered.
“Now?” Carina turned to meet his gaze. “You should return to Nicholas.”
The knight captain frowned but nodded his assent.
“You have no objections?”
“You wish me to remain beside the King to ascertain his allegiance,” Beaumont replied with a faint shrug. “Who else but me could get close enough to determine that.”
A twinge of guilt pricked Carina’s chest as she smiled and offered him a deceitful nod. “Yes. As the King’s shadow, you may find yourself close to the Pope at the ball.”
“Which means I may also have access to Hana.” The knight captain’s violet eyes rested heavily on Carina’s face as his lips twitched into a rueful smile. “You wish me to protect her?”
“You’re the only one I can trust not to harm her.”
“Even if Hana turns against you?” Beaumont’s eyes narrowed as he turned towards her. “Even if she becomes a threat to you?”
“Hana would never harm me of her own free will,” Carina replied stubbornly. “If you can get to her before–everything goes to hell–”
“You want me to take her outside Lily Palace to nullify the Saint’s artifacts,” the knight captain growled quietly.
“Yes.”
“And then?”
Carina stepped towards him and placed her small pale hand against his plated armor. “Stay with her. Until it is all over.”
“I cannot,” Beaumont responded bluntly as he closed the distance between them. “How can I protect you if I am not beside you?”
“I don’t need your protection,” Carina murmured as her hand inched slowly up his chest. “Only the gods and the Saint are a threat to me now.”
“A Pope with an active Holy Weapon might prove just as deadly,”
“That is a risk I am willing to take.”
Beaumont’s brows furrowed together as his eyes narrowed. “But I am not, Carina.”
Carina drew in a sharp breath, then let it out in a burst of wry laughter. “It would seem your loyalty does not come with blind obedience.”
“Nor should it,” Beaumont retorted with an almost gentle smile. “I swore myself to you for an eternity, Carina. Were it not to ease your conscious before the battle begins, I would not leave your side now. Regardless of whatever command you give, I will only act in your best interest.”
“And is losing a dear friend in my best interest?” The flickering image of Maura’s execution flashed behind Carina’s eyes as she raised her hands to frame his stony expression. “And what if I command you to kill every mortal and witch in that room tomorrow? Would you?”
Beaumont’s large hands wrapped around her wrists. “You would not,” he whispered as he pulled her fingers towards his lips.
Carina laughed sharply. “How do you know? I could kill them all myself and secure Lafeara’s throne in a single day.”
“You could, but you won’t,” Beaumont replied confidently. His warm breath washed over her fingers and traveled down her wrists.
“Perhaps not intentionally,” Carina replied numbly as she tried, but failed, to pull her hands away. “But thousands will fall along the path I must take. The church was right in that regard,” her lips curled into a cynical smile, “I am the Witch of Calamity.”
“No.” Beaumont’s hands left her wrists to circle her neck and waist. “No matter what happens.” His face leaned in so close she could taste his honey-like breath on her lips. “Even if this world and all the souls bound by it should end, you would not be responsible.”
“Not even–if my death–might spare them?”
“It takes far more courage to live and fight to change what has been tainted and twisted than it does to die, believing yourself to be a martyr for that change,” Beaumont replied. His face drew back as he pulled her into his arms and folded himself around her like a shield. “Everyone deserves the chance to live and die for what they believe. Only a coward would turn and flee after their allies have engaged. Only a fool would lay down their sword before the battle is over.”
“Then be my sword and shield, Aeron,” Carina whispered as she pressed her face against his neck. “If I falter–if I lose faith in this world–you must carry me forward–to whatever end awaits.”
(Possible scene ending 1.)
She closed her eyes as Beaumont’s hand ran gently down her pale, white hair. His steady breath ran past her ear as his cheek pressed against hers.
“We will walk the moonlit path together, Carina,” Beaumont whispered reassuringly. “The gods and mortals alike shall tremble beneath our wrath and furry.”
(Possible scene ending 2.)
Carina pulled back slowly and gazed into his burning violet eyes that shone like amethyst stars in the pale moonlight. “You should return to Nicholas’s side. Determine if he is a friend or enemy.”
Beaumont nodded as he straightened stiffly. “If I believe he has joined hands with the Church, I will stand at his left. But if he remains loyal or neutral, then I shall stand at his right.”
Carina nodded, even as her physical being shimmered halfway between this world and her cortex of power. “I must use what time remains to prepare our defenses. Until tomorrow, Aeron.”
A few seconds later, Beaumont’s arms were empty, the glittering frost upon his armor and clothes the only remnants of her presence. The knight captain bowed his head and exhaled. The power radiating from his eyes faded as they turned upon the crow that watched from a distant hedge bush. Beaumont offered the fowl spy a parting smirk before he strode off toward Peony Palace.
(Possible scene ending 3.)