Chapter 7

Aftermath

The sound of a voice penetrated Darian’s slumber, pulling him back to the waking world. “Wake up, Prince,” the voice commanded.

Darian slowly opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings. He found himself locked behind bars, with Lokir standing before him in his customary black coat. Darian’s overseer, stationed nearby, opened the gate.

“You are free,” Lokir declared, extending a hand to help Darian to his feet. Darian rose from his cage, his body stiff and sore from the confinement.

“Come with me ... and dress up,” Lokir continued, offering Darian some clothes.

“Is this the order of the king?” he asked, pretending not to know what was happening.

“Did I say it’s time for questions? Get dressed, lunatic,” said Lokir, before leaving the cell and granting him some much-needed privacy. Thirty minutes later, they both descended the stone steps. The circular staircase was infused with the sweet fragrance of mint and basil, undercut by an unpleasant odor – a putrid scent of illness. They had arrived at the healers’ floor.

Lokir stepped forward and rapped on the wooden door. “I’m here with Prince Darian.”

The next moment Gertrude, queen’s servant, opened the door and the prince found himself in a small room with a stone table in its center. The pale and lifeless body of King was located on it. Meanwhile Narim, Braga and Nymira were around. His Mother was pale in face, dressed in black dress, hair loose.

“I’m glad you’re still alive,” the queen said briefly. The image from the dream reappeared before his eyes, and he turned away, staring at the cold dead body of the bearded king.

“What happened?” he asked his voice barely above a whisper. “Who did this?”

“I wish someone knew ... Perhaps it’s done by our very spy that we still unable to find.” Hastly said Braga. “And look ... The king is dead know. I just can’t believe it”

“It was your job to guard him, baldhead!” snapped Lokir.

“He was with queen” Braga glanced at her and immediately regretted what he had said. ““My men saw an unknown man on the wall last night. I am sure the murderer has already fled, and it is the work of barbarians.”

“There is no time for quarrels,” Narim wheezed with his aged voice, his face wrinkled with concern. “The kingdom cannot afford to be without a ruler. We must decide who will now replace the king.”

“Nómé will take his place,” Nymira declared confidently.

“If he is still alive, Queen,” Narim said, his voice carrying a note of caution.

“I am sure my son is alive. Send a pigeon with a letter.” Nymira replied.

Lokir coughed, drawing Nymira’s attention. “I must remind you of the rules, my lady,” he said carefully. “If Nome does not reply to the letter within half a month, then...”

“Darian will be king.” Nymira finished for him, cutting him off abruptly. “I know, Lokir. In the meantime, I want you and Narim to take over the governing functions of our king.”

“Can’t I do that?” Darian asked.

“As long as you’re not king, boy, no,” Lokir said firmly.

“The assassin may target you as well, Darian,” Narim added gravely. “And you may suffer the same fate as our king.” He lightly kicked the king’s body with his stick, and Darian caught a whiff of persistent corpse odor. “You must take care of your own safety.”

“I need to leave the castle,” said the queen again, sighing, her breasts flirtatiously lifted. “It is too dangerous here now.”

Braga, who had been standing quietly in the background, stepped forward. “I will protect you, my lady. I promise.”

Nymira fixed him with a steely gaze. “Just as you protected my husband?”

Darian’s mind raced as he contemplated the possibility of his mother leaving the castle. He couldn’t allow it. Everything he had worked towards would be for naught if she left.

“You can’t go,” Darian retorted sharply, his eyes locked on his mother.

“And why is that? Tartuf and I would be safer elsewhere.”

“Because that’s exactly what they want. Leave the castle and you’ll be attacked on the royal highway, ambushed by those who seek to harm us. The castle, despite what happened, is still the safest place for us.”

The queen squinted as she looked at her son, pulling her head away as if she were seriously considering his warning.

“I think Darian is right, my lady,” Narim interjected, stepping closer to the queen.

“As much as I hate to say it, I agree with the prince. I will ensure your safety within the castle walls.” Braga nodded in agreement

“Then it is settled. You stay with me, mother,” Darian declared firmly, his eyes flickering to Lokir, who had been silently listening to their conversation. “Now I better go,” he muttered, eager to escape the smell of death that still lingered in the air.