Moving Pieces
1066 Words
Xalvador leaned against the high arched window of the solar, staring out at the perpetual twilight. The gray sky never shifted, mirroring the coldness in his own chest. Behind him, the rustle of heavy parchment broke the silence.
"The eastern border lords are complaining about the tax distribution," Vaelen said, shifting the thick scrolls on the table. "They feel the crown favors the inner rim."
"The eastern lords always complain," Xalvador replied without turning around. "Let them rumble, Vaelen. It keeps their blood moving."
"This is different, Your Grace," Vaelen said, his voice dropping to a serious, low register. He stepped closer, his silver armor catching the dim light. "There are reports that the humans are getting closer with the vampires. Whispers of secret treaties along the neutral zones."
Xalvador stiffened, his knuckles tightening against the stone sill until the granite groaned. "The vampires? Humans are fragile, but they are not usually that stupid."
"They are desperate, King," Vaelen countered. "And if you do not choose the village chief’s daughter, Vivian, the consequences will be catastrophic for us. Her father controls the largest lands and the most manpower in the human realm. If he aligns with the night walkers because his daughter was slighted, we lose our primary supply."
Xalvador turned slowly, his gold eyes locking onto his commander with a sharp, dangerous intensity. "You worry too much."
"We need humans to reproduce, Xalvador," Vaelen pressed, his pure-blood glamour perfectly mimicking a stressed dragon lord. Not a single silver hair was out of place. "Without them, our lineage dies. You cannot cast aside a strategic alliance for a woman in your bed."
"Do not dictate my marriage bed, Commander," Xalvador said coldly, brushing past him. The silk of his robe hissed against the floor. "I will handle the human chief when the time comes. This meeting is over."
He strode out of the solar, leaving Vaelen alone in the quiet room. As Xalvador walked toward his private wing, he leaned back into his own mind, feeling the sudden void in his chest.
“Are you missing her?” Xalvador asked internally.
Inside his chest, the dragon spirit stirred with an immediate, restless roar that shook his thoughts. *“Yes. She is away from our scent. Go to her, King. The bond demands it.”*
Xalvador didn't argue. With a sharp flicker of dark magic, his form dissolved into a cloud of black mist, teleporting directly toward the western pavilion.
---
In the communal pavilion of the human maidens, the air was thick with tension. The three remaining girls sat on low velvet cushions, their faces pale, while Vivian paced the floor. Her bandaged hand was tucked tightly against her waist, a stark white contrast against her vivid gown.
"We came here to be chosen," a girl named Elena muttered, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "But the King already has someone. We are just ornaments now."
"Do you really think a king's whim lasts forever?" Vivian asked, stopping her pace to look down at them. Her voice was sharp. "He is amused by a stray. That is all."
"He said she was his chosen, Vivian," another girl whispered, her eyes wide. "In front of the entire court. The lords heard it."
"Then we change his mind," Vivian said, her voice dripping with absolute confidence. She stepped into the center of the circle. "You will all work under me. When I take the crown, I will ensure your families are taken care of in the human realm. Follow my lead, by hook or by crook, and we all survive this."
Elena looked up, her expression skeptical. "And why should we help you become queen? My father has lands too. Why shouldn't I try to take the position?"
Vivian didn't yell. She slowly walked over, kneeling down until her face was inches from Elena’s. Her eyes hardened into a chilling, dead gaze, entirely devoid of any human warmth.
"Because if you try," Vivian whispered, her hand dropping to Elena's throat, her grip tightening just enough to bruise, "you won't live long enough to see the coronation. Do we understand each other?"
Elena swallowed hard, her breath catching as she stared into the terrifying emptiness of Vivian's eyes. She nodded rapidly, her cheeks losing all color. "I... I understand."
The other two girls quickly nodded, terrified of the sudden, monstrous shift in the room.
Vivian stood back up, smoothing her skirts, her chilling expression melting back into a flawless, sweet smile. "Good. Do not worry, sisters. I will definitely be the queen."
She walked toward the grand double doors, pausing at the threshold to look back over her shoulder. Her smile turned sharp. "Though, it is highly uncertain who will remain king."
She slipped out of the room, leaving the girls shivering in the silence of her cryptic threat.
---
Outside the window, the thick, ink-like shadow detached itself from the stone wall. It didn't follow Vivian down the bright corridor this time. Instead, it slid downward, moving slowly down the exterior stone of the palace, descending past the grand balconies and into the deep foundation of the castle.
It kept going, gliding through the cracks of the heavy iron grates, entering the deepest bowels of the dungeon. The air here was frozen, smelling of ancient dust and damp earth.
The shadow slithered past the cells where the regular prisoners slept, pushing deeper into an old, forgotten wall. It slipped through a microscopic crevice, entering a long, narrow secret passage that hadn't seen torchlight in decades.
At the end of the dark tunnel, the shadow finally stopped.
A woman sat bound to a heavy stone pillar, thick, glowing silver chains wrapped around her torso and arms to suppress her power. Her clothes were tattered, and her long gray hair hung wildly over her face, obscuring her features.
The shadow flowed upward, pooling on the floor right in front of her like a loyal pet.
For a long moment, there was absolute silence in the dark chamber. Then, the bound woman slowly raised her head, her sharp, piercing eyes cutting through the gloom as she looked at the darkness before her.
A slow, twisted smile spread across the Vengeful Witch's face, her cracked lips parting.
"The pieces are moving," She whispered into the dark, her voice scratching like broken glass against the silence. "The trap is set."
- Writer
