The Wicked House of Caroline

“You exiled her to the Forbidden Valley?” The Third Consort’s eyes were large, and Iris also couldn’t help but look at Luther with surprise as he took a seat on a large, plush chair in the parlor. His eyes were red and his lips pulled into a tight frown as his hands rested on the arms of the chair and clawed into them. “I thought she was exiled to the Southern Jungle.”

“The Southern Jungle is too good for her!” Luther replied, appearing to grow more agitated as he spoke. He turned his head towards his father. “You were right about her.”

To an unassuming eye, the Third Consort’s face didn’t fluctuate, but Iris could see the satisfaction in his eyes at his son’s words. “Was I?” he asked, sounding half-surprised.

Luther grit his teeth. “She wanted power and influence. Not to stay at my side.”

There was bitterness in his voice and Iris wanted to lift her head and tell him that she told him so, although she hadn’t said anything about Lady Rebecca. Luther had been wracked with guilt upon sentencing exile. Iris didn’t think it was terrible considering her preferred punishment for that entire wretched family was death.

But she supposed it was different from Luther, who grew up with Lady Rebecca.

He agreed to the Southern Jungle because it was the closest southern border. While humid, there were still villages along the border of the jungle and along the river that cut through it that Lady Rebecca could depend on. Iris had even overheard Luther telling Chamberlain Wilton to ensure that Lady Rebecca had a place to live and a means to protect herself.

Iris had gone to sleep furious, that night and in the morning, had gone directly to the Third Consort to replace all of Lady Rebecca’s guards with men under her control. The Third Consort reminded her that they needed to be cautious, as Lady Rebecca was familiar with many royal guards and could be able to tell they’d been replaced.

Who cared if Lady Rebecca noticed? By then, it would be too late. Even more so now that she’d heard the wonderful news that instead of the Southern Jungle, where they’d have to kill her after settling her and do so carefully because there were villages and possible witnesses, Luther had exiled her to the Forbidden Valley.

It was cruel considering its reputation. It was an untamed jungle still filled with untamed, rare, and dangerous beasts. Their haunting roars could be heard just beyond the mountains surrounding it. Everyone knew that anyone who went in did not come out. She’d heard that the Second and Third Princes were likely lost there. It had been months, and their whereabouts hadn’t been confirmed.

They hadn’t been lost for so long in her past life.

A small glimmer of hope grew in her heart. Perhaps they were finally dead? Those two arrogant princes. Despite one not being able to have children and the other missing a limb, they had the audacity to look down on her and Luther. She almost let a sneer appear on her face.

“I told you she would be stubborn,” the Third Consort said as he took a sip of warm cider. “What is the use of going to see those criminals?”

Luther shook his head, his eyes narrowed. “I thought I knew her,” he said in a tight voice. “All these years, I thought I knew her. I went, swallowing my pride as a ruler, to offer her a way to stay, and she refused. I didn’t know her at all.”

The Third Consort lowered his cup and looked at him some with pity. “Of course, you thought so. You’re young,” he said in a reassuring voice. “It is different for me. I’m older. I’ve observed more in my life and can see people more clearly. Lady Rebecca was spoiled by your mother and only had eyes for power.”

Luther shut his eyes and leaned back against the chair. “Mother had trained her well. I can’t deny how useful she was.”

“There are others who are just as educated and competent as her,” the Third Consort told him. “She is not so special that she can’t be replaced.” His eyes flickered to Iris and she held back a scowl.

She wasn’t replacing that woman. She was getting that woman out of the way.

“There is so much to do.” Luther looked exhausted just thinking about it. “And now, we’ve lost a ducal family.” He tensed and suddenly sat up, his eyes wide. “Does the Northern Pass know?”

“There is time to reorganize the Northern Pass. The soldiers there aren’t controlled by the Carolines.”

“But the biha users are mostly from Sagittate, aren’t they?” Luther asked. “What if they refuse to guard once they find out that Duke Caroline and his family have been...deposed?”

The Third Consort frowned at the suggestion. “Luther, they may be from Sagittate, but they are still citizens of the kingdom. They are bound by duty to the kingdom, not to a traitor family!”

“But what about the ice beasts?”

“The next eruption won’t happen for another two years,” Iris spoke up, drawing attention to her. She sat up straight and smiled at Luther with reassurance and affection. “That is enough time to ensure loyalty.”

The Third Consort let out a laugh as his eyes crinkled with mirth. “Did you hear that, Luther? If the Great Oracle says that there won’t be an eruption for two years, then there won’t be an eruption for two years,” he said.

Luther nodded his head. “I suppose that’s true. Then, we can make sure those guarding the Northern Pass are still loyal to the kingdom.”

“If you’re concerned about other responsibilities, let me remind you that you will need to appoint advisors,” the Third Consort told him.

“That’s right....” Luther’s eyes lit up, as if he’d forgotten. Monarchs could select up to three advisors to assist him with governing. Their task was to help lessen the load on the king or queen by overseeing day-to-day concerns so that the ruler could focus on new and urgent business. They were also typically more experienced elders who could offer guidance on various subjects.

Selecting an advisor was wholly dependent on what the monarch was looking for in terms of support. As far as Iris knew, the present King Laurence hadn’t yet chosen his, or at least, hadn’t made his choices public.

Her eyes settled on Luther. He had a few aristocratic friends, but didn’t think he had anyone he could use to become an advisor. In the past, she didn’t recall him having anyone to depend on, but his father. Her eyes flickered to the older man. Of course, she was sure the courtiers would be up in arms if the Third Consort became an advisor.

“Your cousin, Edgar, from our family’s side graduated from Kadmus Royal College and is now working with your grandfather in the county. He’s your most promising cousin and a bit older than you,” the Third Consort said, almost casually. “I’d consider him for an advisor, as he has experience helping run a regional government. The scale is smaller, but it isn’t much different.”

“I remember reading that there are three advisors?” Iris asked, glancing over at Luther with big, curious eyes. “Is it one advisor for a specific area? Such as an internal advisor, another foreign advisor. Perhaps one on the military?”

Luther’s eyes widened as he looked at her. His face filled with a bright smile as he reached over and grasped her arm. “I never thought of that!” he said, beaming. “That’s perfect, Iris! Then, I can have an advisor specializing in a particularly complex department. This will surely ease my burden. Thank you!”

Iris leaned over and squeezed his hand, smiling back as well.

It wasn’t her idea, but she didn’t hesitate to use it.

The past King Laurence had three advisors organized in such a way. One focused on internal domestic affairs, such as infrastructure, tax, and policy within the kingdom. Then there was the external advisor, who also dealt with economics, trade, and diplomacy. Lastly was a military advisor who dealt with funding and supply logistics for not only soldiers and royal guards, but garrisons, forts, and support personnel.

Remembering who they were, Iris grit her teeth despite her smile.

That ill-tempered Duke Seneca was King Laurence’s Internal Advisor. King Laurence’s third brother, the Third Prince, was his External Advisor, and despite having no personal military experience of her own, Lady Rebecca was the “Defense” Advisor. Despite having no background as a soldier, or even a biha well, Lady Rebecca was well-loved by the military.

At the time, the Legions were at their peak and there was a surplus of supplies, allowing for substantial support to the soldiers and guards. Though she was ranked third of the advisors, Lady Rebecca maintained her position without question.

Luther had told Iris that Lady Rebecca had initially refused the position, though she’d assist with logistic support in the past, due to the very reason of no practical experience; however, the Second Prince had returned and he aided her where she had knowledge gaps. The two worked very well together.

This was the reason Iris believed why King Laurence forced Luther to divorce Lady Rebecca and pushed him out of the royal family; so, he could marry Lady Rebecca to the Second Prince, as they were more useful than Luther.

Iris pushed the memory out of her head and coldly reminded herself that their time had passed. King Laurence had likely died outside without the live-saving aid of a cleric and Lady Rebecca would die soon, as well. No one would kick her and Luther out of the palace.

“It was something I thought about after your father mentioned it,” she replied with a gentle smile. “Though I’m not as experienced as Lady Rebecca, I have studied some topics. I will try to support you where I can.”

Luther’s face softened in an instant and he brought her hand to his lips to kiss the back of it. “Thank you, Iris.”

“Your Majesty.” Chamberlain Wilton stood by the entrance of the room. He hadn’t taken up all his normal duties yet, in particular the more physical ones, as the wound across his torso was still healing, but Luther appreciated him for his knowledge and was pleased to have him back.

“Chamberlain.” Luther rose from his seat. Typically, as the king, he’d remain seated and Iris caught a faint look of irritation on the Third Consort’s face when he saw Luther stand. Iris wasn’t so strict. Luther was kind-hearted.

He rose to his feet and walked towards the Chamberlain so the Chamberlain wouldn’t need to enter and bow, aggravating his wound.

“I apologize for the disturbance, Your Majesty, but the official document of exile must be updated to reflect Miss Caroline’s change of exile location. Your seal and signature are required to validate the change,” Chamberlain Wilton told him.

The slight smile on Luther’s lips fell when he heard that woman’s name, but he still nodded. “I understand. Follow me to my office.” He looked back at his father and Iris, giving them a small bow of his head. “I will see you at mealtime, Father, Iris.”

The two rose from their seats to see him off. Once he disappeared through the doors, Iris’ bright smile faded.

“Who were Laurence’s advisors?” the Third Consort asked in a low, muted voice.

“Duke Seneca, the Third Prince, and Lady Rebecca.”

The Third Consort’s face twisted with disgust as his eyes narrowed. “Duke Seneca may still be useful.”

Iris didn’t know what that old man was capable of, but if he helped Luther, she wouldn’t complain. Ensuring Luther’s reign was successful would ensure that their lives would be, as well.

“There were no major problems with infrastructure at that time,” Iris replied. She sat back down.

“Are you sure your people will succeed?” The Third Consort glanced down at her. He’d arranged for the guards escorting the Carolines to have been royal guards stationed outside the palace in order to keep them from growing sympathetic with the exiled. She’d given him a handful of men to use as ‘royal guards’. Over half of the real guards got food poisoning at the barracks, so he had them replaced by these ‘new’ guards.

She looked up at him and gave him a cold smile. “I am not so foolish as to have come this far and not commit. Aside from the former Duchess, nearly all the guards for the others were replaced with men loyal to me.”

The Third Consort raised a brow. “The former Duke and his son, I can understand. Even with their biha well suppressed, they can fight.” He smirked. “Are you afraid that she’ll come back?”

Iris narrowed her eyes, her grip on the cup tightening. Her eyes rose. “There is nothing wrong with taking extra precautions. Let’s not forget she’s the Daughter with Dawn in her Hair.”

The Third Consort snorted and looked out toward the window. “How confident are you that the prophecy can be stopped?”

She glared at the table. “I don’t question the ability of my men.”

They weren’t half-hearted, unorganized thugs off the street. They were Temple Paladins.

Not just any Temple Paladins, but orphans she grew up with. The Temple believed that only those with no earthly ties could fully devote themselves to guarding the Temple and its people, so the highly trained paladins were all orphans. They were selected in their youth and then groomed for service.

Iris had made a point to remember who all the high ranked, superior paladin officers were, and in this life, befriended them before they were selected and held a sword. Her efforts weren’t in vain. The current commander was her childhood friend and a sworn brother. He was part of her escort.

When she expressed her fear that Lady Rebecca would come and retaliate or that her powerful family would hear of it and come for her because she and Luther had fallen in love, her sworn brother assured her that all she needed to do was find a way to let them escort the exiles and they would take care of the rest.

After all, at that moment, Iris was on track to be the next Great Oracle. Her safety and well-being were a priority for the Temple. In this way, the paladins were acting as a precaution by eliminating a threat to her before it happened.

Knowing the Carolines’ backgrounds, the paladins were concentrated amongst the former duke and his two adult children. The former duke and his eldest son because of their fighting prowess, and the eldest daughter because they couldn’t risk her remaining alive.

Iris was confident that Rebecca of Caroline would die after the final checkpoint.

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Beks tucked the urapearl back into her cleavage, adjusting her chest so it nestled comfortably within. The other contents that had been hidden by the eldor shark cloak were placed into the various pockets of her dress. She’d need them to buy supplies and survive outside.

She took a deep breath and leaned back against the cushions in the prison carriage provided for her. It had been several days on the way to the border and she wanted to know the status of her family. Unfortunately, they didn’t have urapearls with them and even if they did, they’d face the same problem she had.

Urapearls could not be used on their own. They required a special base to be used to connect to other urapearls. At the very least, all her contacts were synced to the urapearl. If she could buy a base, then she could contact Nexus and have them check.

It wasn’t that she feared for their lives, but she wanted reassurance that they weren’t suffering. When they parted, all of them maintained a certain arrogance, as if to show that their dignity had not been diminished by mere exile and title stripping.

They weren’t worried about Sagittate, either.

Every day, her parents would contact the Sacred Valley while they were visiting her. If they did not contact the Sacred Valley, the entire duchy would be on alert. By now, after no contact for several days, it was likely that they knew what happened and had moved to protect themselves in case the hands in Kadmium dared to reach too far.

Sagittate was a peninsula connected by a very narrow land bridge to the mainland. It could be easily defended. The water surrounding the duchy was dangerous and required skilled sailors. If people were able to get through the waters, the coastline had a network of sentries.

As for internal matters, the Carolines weren't just her father and his wife and children. Beks had aunts, uncles, cousins, and other extended family. Her father’s younger brothers, Erik and Harald, assisted in running the government and her father’s younger sister, Hilga of Caroline, was a master water biha user who specialized in ice biha.

She was the current Commander General of the Northern Pass.

The duchy’s security and rule weren’t a concern as a result. It was why Beks’ father was so excited to take them on a trip around the kingdom to see sights, as there was no immediate need to return and they could take their time as a family to reconnect with Beks.

She let out a heavy sigh, lamenting that the journey her father had already started planning would not come to fruition. Wrath had been the most excited for it, as she wanted to see animals. The child had been quite intuitive with the various birds and small animals around the Old Tower.

Beks suspected that Wrath’s spirit core allowed her to understand animals, or at least, read their nature easily enough for them to become comfortable with her.

Beks pursed her lips. Her paternal aunt was a master ice biha user, her younger sister could likely talk to animals, and what about her?

I’m useless outside my head. She scowled. No, don’t think that way.

There was nothing wrong with not having a biha well or a spirit core. It didn’t make a person of less worth. She clenched her jaw. Her brother and father had been suppressed, and they didn’t lose any grace.

They were the most talented fire biha users in Sagittate, from what Beks could remember. Her brother could heat the air around them and her father was the only person she heard of who could do distanced ignition. As long as he could see an object, he could set it on fire without touching it.

The further away it was, the more his biha well was drained, but at least he could do it.

Beks stared at the ceiling of the carriage. Prisoner carriages were unlike normal ones. There was one entrance, towards the front on the left-hand side. The door had a double-sided lock, as in some cases, royal guards would sit inside to watch a prisoner.

The only windows were narrow ones on each side with metal bars over them to prevent escape. There were various metal fixings along the walls, including metal loops fixed to the corners, ceiling, and floor where chains could be attached in order to secure a prisoner. The wooden bench went all the way along the sides.

Her chamber pot was a literal hole in one corner with a bucket that could be removed from the outside. She didn’t need to leave the inside of the carriage to relieve herself. The ride was bumpy, but at least she had cushions.

She was sure it was Chamberlain Wilton who prepared a thick, folded cushion along the back seat bench. It was just wide enough that she could spread it out like a mattress on the floor. She could still feel the metal loops beneath her jutting out, but it wasn’t too bad. At the very least, she could sleep laying down.

She had a thin blanket and pillows, even a water jug with a cup for her to drink from. Beks hoped the rest of her family, at least her mother and younger siblings, had similar treatment.

She scooted to the side of the prison wagon and looked out, through the metal bars. If she craned her neck at an angle, she could see some of the half dozen royal guards escorting her to exile. She frowned.

She didn’t recognize these people. She knew practically every royal guard stationed at the imperial palace, but none of these men.

That useless eggplant probably made sure the royal guards escorting me didn’t know me personally so they wouldn’t be sympathetic. Beks let out a small snort. They didn’t need to be sympathetic, but they could at least talk to her.

Or to each other, for that matter. Something to alleviate the sheer boredom of days of travel on the road. It seemed even longer when no one was willing to talk and the entire journey was done in silence. It was almost maddening.

The only person she could talk to was Mr. Cleary, the driver, but when he was under the intense gazes of the guards, he could only be quiet. Beks found herself resenting the guards even more. Mr. Cleary had been a prison carriage driver for years. He was a seasoned servant and was kind, but every time they started a conversation, he’d be sent a withering glare.

Beks had cut the conversations short, reminding him that they should limit their talking in front of those men. He was already doing more than he should for her sake.

While most prisoners would get tasteless, flaky dried food during transport, and perhaps a bowl of whatever water they could get from a stream, Mr. Cleary had ensured that she received decent food.

Beks shook her head. No, it was more than decent. She ate what Mr. Cleary ate. The kind, plump man would give her a share of whatever food he’d purchased at the last town. He’d get her water when they stopped both for drinking and for washing herself.

“Sir, you need not spend your money,” Beks had told him the first night. “I can live on dried meal.”

He had smiled warmly and shook his head. “The task is long, so I was given a bonus by the Chamberlain.” He needn’t say any more. Who heard of getting a bonus for a single task that was part of one’s job?

Chamberlain Wilton had given him money to buy food for Beks and in order for it to not look so suspicious, Mr. Cleary made it seem as if he were just sharing his food with her out of pity. She could accept that. Still, before they parted, she wanted to give him a gold plat or two as thanks. She still had plenty in the pockets of her petti skirt.

If people were good to her, she was good to them.

Her eyes darted to the window once more. She may have had good feelings towards Mr. Cleary, but not those guards. She couldn’t wait to be free of them.

The Forbidden Valley was far south with jagged cliffs on all sides that made it difficult for passage. It was those jagged cliffs that likely kept whatever was inside from leaving and creating havoc outside the valley. Difficult to get out, difficult to get in.

The border of Kadmus nearest to it was approximately a day’s journey away, and in order to reach it, they had to round another mountain range. Beks narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

She knew where all the buried stele were located. There was an old map in the late Queen’s study. While outdated with borders growing and shrinking since the map was made, it outlined where the stele were buried. She’d stared at that map so much; it was burned into her mind.

Stele was buried twice its height into the ground with an effective radius of three hundred paces. Each was about as thick as an adult human and were carved with script to trigger the exile mark. That period of time was considered the peak of bihar scripting and it took three generations of royals to get the old border surrounded by stele.

Beks didn’t know if there were any gaps, as measurements were made so that their effective area overlapped a bit, but she didn’t want to waste time trying to find out and possibly causing herself harm in the process.

She knew that their effectiveness was mainly on land and while there were stele buried along the coasts, their radius was severely affected. This meant that trying to sneak in via land was not a wise decision and sneaking in from the coast could only get her so close.

She could not cut through Kadmus in her search for her family.

Her father was in the east, in the high desert. If she could make it out of the Forbidden Valley, then she would go east for a certain distance and then north. From there, she and her father could continue north and once past the northern borders of Kadmus, go west to find her brother. If they traveled west far enough, they would reach the sea.

From there, they could go find her brother and siblings.

They’d essentially circumnavigate the Kadmus Kingdom, which would take a significant amount of time on foot. She had enough gold on her to buy some horses and a modest carriage, but she couldn’t do so until she was in an area where they could maneuver.

Which brought about another problem. Even if she were outside of the stele range and dealt with villages and settlements outside of the kingdom, she would still have to reveal herself when getting supplies. A small thought of her stealing them in the dead of night crossed her mind, but she frowned.

She couldn’t bring herself to steal from commoners. What was more, life on the border eras, away from a host of resources was difficult to begin with. She was in a desperate situation, but not desperate enough to harm innocent people.

Buying it is.... She lifted her hand and touched the orange length of hair over her left side. I need to do something about it.

How many people had black hair and an orange streak? No one. It was abnormal. Her orange streak was her identification marker, and even if no one knew who she was upon seeing it, it would attract attention, which was not what an exile trying to find her family under the nose of an oppressive regime wanted.

The cloak Chamberlain Wilton gave her had a hood that could be clinched and the collar was high, able to reach high enough to cover her nose. That would obscure part of her face and her hair, but she would look incredibly suspicious trying to blatantly hide her face. The best idea was to dye her orange streak.

Which was yet another problem. It’s one thing after another, isn’t it?

While it wasn’t the first time she wanted to dye her hair, she’d never actually done so, as it was a symbol of her identity so the late Queen forbade it. Beks had also considered shaving it off at one point, but it would only grow back into an awkward patch of orange fuzz. She may have been considered casual about her appearance, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have any vanity.

Not to mention a section of bald hair would attract questions and she’d have to continuously shave it to ensure that the orange didn’t show up. Dying it really was the best way.

While she’d grown used to her hair and didn’t consider dying it for some time, she still remembered asking her maids what she could dye it with. There were dyes available for purchase, but they were expensive.

As well as not readily available everywhere. She’d be lucky if she could find such a dye in a rural supply store.

Dyes were extracted from plants and minerals, but she didn’t know how or even what made what color. Considering her luck recently, there was a good chance she could grind some rocks and make her orange streak even brighter. She gritted her teeth and pressed her hands against the sides of her head.

She’d learned so much as a child and yet it was useless where she was now. When was memorizing law books and historical records, planning supply chains and budgets going to help her as an exile with so little resources? Why didn’t she learn more outdoor survival techniques when Lady Eleanor offered?

She could make a fire and boil things, but that was it and it as a struggle. Hunting? She injured her arm with an arrow once, so the late Queen made her stop. Making a shelter? She was going to be a princess, was that necessary? Cooking outdoors? She once set a piece of pork on fire and Lady Eleanor had ended the lesson at once.

She was going to face many challenges when she was thrown into the Forbidden Valley and they weren’t limited to feral beasts and dangerous terrain.

Beks looked down at her clothes. Chamberlain Wilton had also given her and her mother simple leather flats, as they had been arrested while wearing embroidered heels. They we would become a hindrance in exile. She had a cloak for outerwear, but what about her dress?

The corners of her lips curled up into a sneer. She supposed she had to thank Luther for his lack of foresight. The dress he got her for the coronation, which she was still wearing, was rather plain to begin with. After a few days in the dungeon, and then several more on the road, it had lost much of its luster.

If she ripped off the lace, it would look even more worn and plain, so she wouldn’t stand out. She leaned back against the carriage and let out a heavy breath.

The carriage began to roll to a stop and Beks opened her eyes and looked out the window. One side was just barren brown with a few small shrubs, but the other side was a wall made of stone. It was likely an old garrison town. Her eyes narrowed.

It had been several days and if she were right, this was the last checkpoint. That meant they had one more day to reach the coast road around the mountain range, and from there, less than a day to reach the mouth of the Forbidden Valley. She’d heard about it, read about it, but had never seen it.

Her heart quickened at the thought of what she’d find and how she’d survive. What if the royal guards guarded the mouth of the valley in case she tried to escape? How long would she need to hide? What if they went with her to make sure she entered before leaving?

She hated that she didn’t know and could only try to make plans for all possible outcomes.

She heard Mr. Cleary speaking to the gate house and not long after, they were let into the settlement. Passing carriages and escorts could not go into the heart of the garrison, where there was a small village, but there were small trading areas around the outer areas and close to the barracks from what Beks had observed from other checkpoints.

Once more, they were parked near the wall. The guards split into two groups, with two remaining with the carriage while four went to look around.

“Miss, I will go and buy some supplies and food for dinner,” Mr. Cleary said as he peeked inside.

“Wait!” Beks rushed to the window and looked out. The window was higher than the man was tall. “Mr. Cleary, can you get me more water?” She shoved out a small cup. Thinking nothing of it, the man received it and didn’t conceal his surprise when he saw two gold plats. “Get some water for yourself, as well.”

He looked up with a soft expression and nodded. “Of course, Miss. I will return soon.” He gave her a comforting smile and Beks nodded. She made a mental note to give him another plat when he brought her back food as thanks for his attentiveness.

She sat back in the carriage, folding up the cushion into a pile so that she could sit on it and use the bench as a low table for her food. It was quite homey for a prison carriage if she were being honest.

It didn’t take long for Mr. Cleary to come back. He handed her back her cup and in it was a fresh bread roll and a scoop of fruit preserve next to it. He then began to push through other things. A brown wrapped package was partially opened to show the guards the yellow contents.

“There was some local cheese and they gave me a deal for taking it off their hands.” The burlap wrapped package looked like part of a wheel of cheese, but when Beks opened it, she found it padded with some flat bread, a whole fruit, and a small bag with jerky. She smiled sadly to herself. He’d been constantly sneaking her additional food and had whispered for her to hide it and bring them with her.

Mr. Cleary then separated the food he’d bought for their dinner under the sharp gaze of the guards, as if to assure he was only passing food. Considering that he had been doing so with each meal, the guards seemed to accept it without much question.

Beks got part of a pheasant, some roasted root vegetables, and a fist-sized chunk of bread. She thanked him and as they began to eat, she asked him if he’d been to any tropical area south of the kingdom and if so, what she should expect. Aside from humidity and to be careful of her footing, as well as not to eat anything she doesn’t recognize, there wasn’t much he could offer her.

“I apologize, Miss,” he said with some regret. Beks shook her head inside the carriage.

“It’s all right. I’m afraid I’m just lacking in information regarding my exile location,” she said.

“I’ll ask around while we’re here and let you know,” Mr. Cleary told her.

“Even if it helps me survive another day, a day longer is welcomed,” Beks replied. Mr. Cleary let out a heavy, melancholy sigh.

“Miss, give me your cup,” he said. Beks wiped the last of the fruit preserve off the side of the cup with the fresh roll and stuffed it into her mouth before handing the cup to him between the bars. She peered out and watched the man kneel down and untie a jug from his waist.

“What’s that?” A sharp voice cut through the air and Beks snapped her head to the side. She could see one of the guards approaching with a frown on his face.

“It’s local spirit,” Mr. Cleary said, a bit defensive. “I thought the lass could use a drink considering we’re driving her to her death.”

The royal guard narrowed his eyes, but drew his head back. “Where did you get it?”

“At that booth over there.” Mr. Cleary pointed towards the cluster of booths selling drinks and food and other supplies to travelers passing through. This seemed to satisfy the guard, who gave Mr. Cleary a nod. “Here, child. Have some.”

Beks’ chest was tight and she didn’t want to take the drink as her heart began to quicken. She forced herself to focus and without a word, she reached between the bars to receive the cup. “Thank you.” She tried to keep her voice steady as she spoke.

She sat down, holding the cup in her hands as she shut her eyes and took low even breaths to calm herself.

It was the first time she had heard the guard talk and now she knew the reason why.

He spoke Jasper with an accent, and not an accent from a region of the kingdom.

Beks was trapped in the palace grounds, but this also meant that she had met many people as dignitaries coming to see the late Queen, as well as various nobles coming from other parts of the kingdom. She was familiar with regional accents. The closer one was to Kadmium, the more standard their Jasper.

There were very few regions that still maintained the language of their ancestors before becoming part of the kingdom, like Sagittate.

That guard wasn’t from the kingdom.

That’s an Esuser accent. She took another deep breath. Esuser was spoken in the Great Rivers Basin. While the wide, vegetation-rich region had several principalities clutching on to a few pieces of territory, the heart of the basin was the location of the Great Temple. These bastards are paladins.

No wonder they didn’t speak to her or even acknowledge her in any way. No wonder she didn’t recognize a single face. The royal guards in the dungeon had been talkative when escorting her; it didn’t make sense that the guards escorting her to the border stayed silent for days.

Temple Paladins were highly respected and known for their discipline, but they lived and breathed for the Temple. Deception wasn’t something they were known for, but Beks didn’t have to question why they were there.

Her eyes narrowed as her heart calmed. Her hand tightened around the cup and she tossed back the fruity wine before nearly slamming it down.

She could blame the Third Consort all she wanted, but he couldn’t move Temple Paladins who had no affiliation to the kingdom. Only High Priests, High Priestesses, and oracles could move them.

That heinous little.... Beks grit her teeth. So, exile wasn’t good enough. They wanted herdead. And if she was being escorted by paladins, then her family was likely being escorted by paladins as well. They wanted her entire family dead! Does she think I’ll go crawling back to that disappointing turnip of a man and take him from her? She can have him!

She shut her eyes again and began to count to calm herself. She couldn’t lose control of her emotions now. Loss of control was a disadvantage and one she could not afford in her position.

This changed her end situation from exile to death. Forget survival against nature. Now she had to survive against six highly trained men with weapons.

All she had was a dagger.

For the first night in several, Beks couldn’t sleep. The situation wasn’t in her control since the coronation ball, but she knew that she just had to get past the current situation to get to a goal where she couldregain control. How could she regain control if she were dead?

She doubted Luther had allowed this. Even if she screamed at him, he wouldn’t order them to kill her. She would give him that much credit. This had been planned.

Beks laid on the cushion, trying to calm herself as her mind raced through possible scenarios and how she could react to them.

Her chances were slim.

The next morning, she was quiet and tried to stay calm. At the very least, some paladins would die by her parents’ and brother’s hands, as they wouldn’t go down without a fight, if they went down at all. If she could at least give one a significant stab, then that would give her some satisfaction.

She sat on the back bench of the carriage and looked ahead of her, at the wall separating her from the driver. Her instinct told her that Mr. Cleary didn’t know about the change of guards and either she would be taken out to be killed out of his sight or they’d kill her whenever convenient and Mr. Cleary would become a witness who also needed to be silenced.

Beks’ lips pulled into a wry smile. “Honorable knights of the gods indeed.”

“Miss have some breakfast before we leave,” Mr. Cleary said. “There won’t be any warm meals from this point on. After our stop tonight, we’ll reach the edge of the Forbidden Valley.” He was upset as he passed a large cup through the bars with steam coming from it. “Be careful now.”

Her eyes flickered towards him. She didn’t want him to die.

She stood by the window and just as she accepted it, she let out a low hiss and spilled the cup. Half poured out of the window while the other fell inside and splashed on her. “My apologies!”

“Are you all right? Don’t touch it, Miss. It’s very hot!” Mr. Cleary rushed to the front of the carriage to get a rag. As he moved close to wipe at the spill on his side, she leaned towards the window and lowered her voice.

“They’re not royal guards, they’re men sent to kill me. That’s why their accents are foreign.” She prayed he’d believe her.

Mr. Cleary’s wiping came to a stop. His face paled and he seemed to want to not believe it, but as his eyes flickered to the guards and then at her, he dropped his eyes. “That is why I didn’t recognize them....”

Her chest tightened. Mr. Cleary was a prison carriage driver. He would be familiar with royal guards because they’d escort him. Not recognizing two or three was one thing, but all six? And it must’ve been strange that none of them had spoken to him. The man must’ve felt something off, as well.

“When you can, leave. Don’t get involved or I fear they’ll silence you.” Her voice trembled as she watched the top of the man’s head slowly nod.

“And you, Miss?” He swallowed hard and looked at her with reluctance on his face. His job was to take her to the border to be exiled. Whatever happened then was out of his hands, but from his actions and the bits of dry food he’d sneaked to her to put away, he seemed to have hoped she’d survive.

“I will run.” Beks smiled and lied. He searched her eyes, but slowly nodded. He slid another rag inside so she could wipe her hands, waiting until she passed it back. The rag was heavy and she’d given him another two plats of gold. “Thank you, Mr. Cleary. Be safe.”

His eyes reddened and he stepped away without question.

The carriage bounced along and inside, Beks cut off layers of her petti skirt, thinning it out so it would be easier to move. She didn’t know what would happen, but she knew she wouldn't let her dress constrain her. She wrapped the layers around her upper body, beneath her dress, and then cut and tied additional skirt layers to ease her movement. The remaining gold was carefully placed into slits in her inner bodice.

If she were lucky, if they stabbed her, it would hit gold instead and buy her time.

By nightfall, all she could do was sit on the cushions and practice even breathing for whatever came next.

“Where are you going?” She opened her eyes as she heard someone yell. She looked out the window. The paladins were around a fire, appearing to cook their meal, while a few steps away, Mr. Clearly was staggering and drinking from the jug. “Old man, you’ve been drinking all day!”

“I never had to leave a child to die,” Mr. Cleary slurred as he fell back against the side of the carriage, making it shake. “A good girl...the Lady is a good girl....” Muttering nonsense, he swayed back and forth. His face was red and as he slammed his side against the carriage once more, he grabbed on to the bars to steady himself.

He let out a groan, muffling the sound of two keys falling into the carriage. Beks’ eyes widened. Obediently, she played along.

“Mr. Cleary, I’ll be fine! It’s only exile, not certain death!”

“Good girl...good girl....” Their eyes met for a moment and she saw the clarity in his. “Good-bye, my lady.”

She felt her eyes mist over. They were so good to her. Even in exile, they wanted her to live. When she was being good to them, it wasn’t so they would be good to her in return, but they were.

“Good-bye.” She smiled at him. “Until we meet again, good sir,” she replied in a strained, quiet Sagittater so that the guards wouldn’t question her words.

His eyes crinkled up as he stumbled away. He continued to mumble words that didn’t make sense in Jasper as he seemed to stumble towards the forest. She understood his mumbled words as heavily accented Sagittater: Then, until next time.

“Now where are you going?” The harsh voice of one of the paladins filled their small campsite beside the road at the foot of the mountain rage.

“Going to piss!” No one questioned him.

Beks tried to force herself to sleep, but her dozing was light. No noise loud enough woke her, and when she woke up, she knew that Mr. Cleary didn’t come back.

The paladins were yelling at each other and they must’ve no longer cared, as they were speaking in the Esuser dialect. As Esuser directly followed the traditional pronunciation of Temple texts, it was considered a prestige language, so Beks had learnt it as a child.

The paladins were in a frenzy because they couldn’t find Mr. Cleary. Four were sent to search the surrounding forest and it wasn’t until midmorning that they came back. They huddled in a circle and Beks strained to listen to their conversation.

Mr. Cleary wasn’t found, but they found a broken jug, the same jug he’d been drinking from last night, downstream from the river where they’d gotten water the night before. They also found one of his shoes and from what Beks gathered, they think he got drunk, tripped into the river, and drowned; his body was swept away.

Beks took a deep breath. She’d seen the focus in Mr. Cleary’s eyes the night before. He knew what he was doing. In a way, it was rather impressive. She assured herself that he faked his death and went to hide as she sat by the door, dagger gripped in one hand.

She waited for them to throw open the door, drag her out, and behead her.

To her surprise, the paladins got back on their horses, except for one. One climbed onto the driver’s seat of the carriage and it jerked forward. Her eyes narrowed. Were they going to keep going and take her all the way to the Forbidden Valley despite the main witness having gone missing?

Then again, this road had traffic. Nothing like the city, but while they’d been waiting for Mr. Cleary’s search party to return, two other carriages and some people on horseback had passed. Killing her there was messy and they might not have enough time to clean it up. If they took her to the woods, they couldn’t just leave the carriage unattended.

She frowned, somewhat irritated that she was still waiting for her doom. She’d been tense for over a day and it was becoming tiring.

The carriage continued on the road for some time. Beks shouted out the windows where Mr. Cleary was and asked why she hadn’t had breakfast, but no one answered her. She could only look out the window to try to estimate where they were going.

She could smell the sea air before she could see the sea itself and knew they’d reached the coast that curved into a gulf. It was tropical, so despite the sea breeze, the air was heavy and humid. The plant life and landscape outside had changed. However, they’d only be by the coast for a moment before they followed the road north again to go towards the jagged mountains in the distance.

Beks swallowed hard.

She’d run. That was her best option, wasn’t it? As soon as she could get out, she would run towards the forest that would likely kill her, but not before six men with swords would.

That is the stupidest plan. I never thought I’d have to make such a plan. She let out an irritated groan.

The carriage led out a creak and suddenly began to jostle more violently. Beks looked out the window and noticed that they had left the main road of hard packed dirt.

“What’s going on?” Beks shouted. She could see the tips of the jagged mountains in the far distance and they weren’t going towards them. “Where are we going?”

“It’s clear there. We can’t be seen from the main road. The drop is high enough.”

“Is the water shallow? Rocks below? The water is foaming.”

“That’s not rocks, those are whirlpools.”

Beks heard the paladins speaking and rushed to the opposite window. She craned her neck to see the edge of a cliff and frothy ocean water slamming into the cliff below. In her mind, she could remember the map in the late Queen’s study. A small portion of the coast had odd lines around it and she had asked the late Queen why.

“There is a section of the gulf that is littered with whirlpools and violent swells. No one passes through, as ships will be slammed into the shore or marooned on rocks hidden by the water.”

Of all the places for her to die. It seemed that they hoped her body would be lost to the sea, as well.

The carriage slowed to a stop and she readied herself to be pulled out and forced to jump.

The door didn’t open.

She saw the paladins get off their horses and walk to the front of the carriage. Fumbled clanking was heard and then one of the paladins led away the horses pulling her carriage.

Her eyes widened. If they weren’t going to make her jump....

The carriage creaked as it moved forward and she braced herself. There was a crash and the front part of the carriage suddenly fell forward. Despite herself, Beks let out a scream and grabbed onto the door handle. The blankets, cushions, and other things that were piled at the back of the wagon slid forward.

“Let the horses go! We need to push! The front wheels are over the edge!”

“What is wrong with you? You’re going to push me into the ocean?” Beks yelled. She pulled the key from her bodice and unlocked the door. If the fall didn’t kill her, then she’d be trapped in the carriage and drown.

She grasped the handle and threw the door open, only to come face to face with a paladin. He didn’t seem to expect her, as he was reaching for the window bars to help push the carriage. She took it as an opportunity to jump out.

A firm hand grabbed her shoulder before she could set foot on the ground and threw her back into the carriage. Something snapped around her neck and she saw a glimmer of silver as her necklace with her pills was snatched off and thrown into the carriage.

She let out a scream as her shoulder slammed into the wooden bench as she fell. The pain shot down her arm and a thud sounded in front of her. The door was pushed closed, but as there was only one key, it couldn’t be locked.

Yelling was heard outside as the carriage rocked forward and back, slowly teetering further off the edge. Beks grit her teeth. She saw the pale hand reaching through the window and clamped against the wood for a hold to push the carriage.

She grabbed the hairpin from her hair and rushed forward. His scream filled the air with an iron scent as blood splattered across her dress. She pressed the pin down, through the back of his hand and into the wood.

His wide eyes met hers as he seemed to collect himself and try to pull away. When he couldn’t his other hand reached in to pry her hand off. She released one hand and grabbed the dagger tied to her calf and sliced at his other hand.

As he yelled, the carriage began to lean forward. One or two more pushes and the weight of the carriage would send it over. Beks grit her teeth. She met the paladin’s eyes through the bars with defiant ones.

“Pray to whatever gods you believe in that I don’t survive, because if I do, you'll be praying for death!” She ripped the hairpin out of his hand, taking out some more blood splatter and a few pieces of skin and flesh. She didn’t bother to watch his reaction as she shoved her weapons into her clothes and grabbed the folded cushion.

She wrapped it around her body. She laid down beneath the front bench, wedging herself against the pillows and braced herself.

The creaking of the carriage drowned out their yelling and roar of the water below. Back and forth, back and forth, and then the weight of her body was pulled towards the bench. She shut her eyes as for a moment, she felt weightless.