to let go. Somehow he did, as even Gem Trackers have their decency.
This was a dining hall after all. The rest would have to wait for a room with a door that closed.
With a lock and a key.
12.
King Marcus
Palace Royale, Éclat
He sat at his desk, pondering Cozette’s willingness to play the part of happy bride. The Royalty that would be coming in a few weeks’ time for the ball were not to know that they were putting on a front. He thought she would be displeased by the proposition; her response surprised him to say the least. It shouldn’t have, it had been a long time since he understood her. He could pinpoint the exact moment, if he was honest with himself.
Marcus had lost much sleep lamenting the loss of the woman he loved; but he never dared utter the truth of what happened that long ago night. The night he sent his princess away, the night he lost the wife he knew.
When they first met her ruthless vengeance enamored him. She entered his life as an unexpected breath of fresh air in a stale and regimented world. One led by stoic men and docile women. Not Cozette. From the moment they spoke, he knew, they were the same.
The parties that used to be an utter bore, were suddenly intoxicating, as she would twitter cruelties behind the veil of a fan. They would naïvely plot the ways they would conquer the world. It had all seemed possible. Because they were in it together.
No one liked the match. They thought a queen needed to be meek, and Marcus changed when they were together. He wanted her opinion on everything, he valued her so. She became the shining star in Marcus’s world, and he did anything to please her, and they were so young. Foolish and in love, a real tangible love.
They were wed, and a few years later, at the tender age of seventeen, Cozette was with child. She carried in her belly the heir to the throne, and on her shoulders, the increasingly wealthy country of Gemmes. Although the people of Gemmes didn’t support them, she came up with strategies to optimize the miner’s output. She created a system for accounting every gem in their vault. She helped make Gemmes a country with a name, a legacy, and a fortune.
Marcus watched as the life he envisioned slip away the night Cozette gained the heart of her child. He remembered his cry, that night in her bedchamber; he remembered the devins-guérisseur’s callous eyes when he made his choice.
“What is happening? Help her!” he bellowed at Aimée, who held the small, bloodied child in her hands.
“She isn’t breathing,” Aimée spoke with fear in her voice.
“I know that; help her!” he shouted, pointing to his queen.
“No, my Lord, the babe. She isn’t breathing either.”
“A girl you say?” The king shook his head betraying his dismay at her words. No boy was borne to carry his name.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Aimée answered, her eyes were full of worry.
The devins-guérisseur’s eyes darted between the two listless creatures, beings much like her. Tethered to neither this world nor the next, instead floating in the in-between.
“Help us, Tamsin, I know you can,” Aimée pleaded. Aimée’s life was on the line if the king’s family died on her watch this night.
The king looked at Tamsin, for the first time letting his eyes leave his queen. If she didn’t help, all four would die. The babe, the queen, Aimée, and herself. There was no choice.
“All of the attendants, out. You must leave. Leave us to do the magic alone,” Tamsin directed.
The attendants moved from the room quickly, but he heard the whispered words as they left, “She looks too young to be a sorcière.” Marcus feared the truth in the words, that perhaps she was not capable, but it didn’t matter, not in a time like this, when Cozette’s life was on the line.
“Can you save her?” the king asked.
“Yes, give the child to me,” Tamsin told Aimée with authority.
“Not the child, sorcière. Save my queen.” Marcus
This was a dining hall after all. The rest would have to wait for a room with a door that closed.
With a lock and a key.
12.
King Marcus
Palace Royale, Éclat
He sat at his desk, pondering Cozette’s willingness to play the part of happy bride. The Royalty that would be coming in a few weeks’ time for the ball were not to know that they were putting on a front. He thought she would be displeased by the proposition; her response surprised him to say the least. It shouldn’t have, it had been a long time since he understood her. He could pinpoint the exact moment, if he was honest with himself.
Marcus had lost much sleep lamenting the loss of the woman he loved; but he never dared utter the truth of what happened that long ago night. The night he sent his princess away, the night he lost the wife he knew.
When they first met her ruthless vengeance enamored him. She entered his life as an unexpected breath of fresh air in a stale and regimented world. One led by stoic men and docile women. Not Cozette. From the moment they spoke, he knew, they were the same.
The parties that used to be an utter bore, were suddenly intoxicating, as she would twitter cruelties behind the veil of a fan. They would naïvely plot the ways they would conquer the world. It had all seemed possible. Because they were in it together.
No one liked the match. They thought a queen needed to be meek, and Marcus changed when they were together. He wanted her opinion on everything, he valued her so. She became the shining star in Marcus’s world, and he did anything to please her, and they were so young. Foolish and in love, a real tangible love.
They were wed, and a few years later, at the tender age of seventeen, Cozette was with child. She carried in her belly the heir to the throne, and on her shoulders, the increasingly wealthy country of Gemmes. Although the people of Gemmes didn’t support them, she came up with strategies to optimize the miner’s output. She created a system for accounting every gem in their vault. She helped make Gemmes a country with a name, a legacy, and a fortune.
Marcus watched as the life he envisioned slip away the night Cozette gained the heart of her child. He remembered his cry, that night in her bedchamber; he remembered the devins-guérisseur’s callous eyes when he made his choice.
“What is happening? Help her!” he bellowed at Aimée, who held the small, bloodied child in her hands.
“She isn’t breathing,” Aimée spoke with fear in her voice.
“I know that; help her!” he shouted, pointing to his queen.
“No, my Lord, the babe. She isn’t breathing either.”
“A girl you say?” The king shook his head betraying his dismay at her words. No boy was borne to carry his name.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Aimée answered, her eyes were full of worry.
The devins-guérisseur’s eyes darted between the two listless creatures, beings much like her. Tethered to neither this world nor the next, instead floating in the in-between.
“Help us, Tamsin, I know you can,” Aimée pleaded. Aimée’s life was on the line if the king’s family died on her watch this night.
The king looked at Tamsin, for the first time letting his eyes leave his queen. If she didn’t help, all four would die. The babe, the queen, Aimée, and herself. There was no choice.
“All of the attendants, out. You must leave. Leave us to do the magic alone,” Tamsin directed.
The attendants moved from the room quickly, but he heard the whispered words as they left, “She looks too young to be a sorcière.” Marcus feared the truth in the words, that perhaps she was not capable, but it didn’t matter, not in a time like this, when Cozette’s life was on the line.
“Can you save her?” the king asked.
“Yes, give the child to me,” Tamsin told Aimée with authority.
“Not the child, sorcière. Save my queen.” Marcus
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