Saltbound and Bloodsworn

The brush her mother used to comb out Isla’s hair trembled in her grip. Though they had closed the heavy drapery around the window hours earlier so they wouldn’t have to witness the siege occurring across the coastline at Mariseth, the capital of Tridea, it didn’t prevent her mother from stealing glances. The siege was reaching its twelfth day. The walls surrounding the fortress where her father fought to hold off the Eredhal army were holding, but the stone brought up from the sea could only withstand the might of Eredhal for so long. They had received word the night before, in fact. The first crack in the structure had been delivered. 

A knock at the door stalled Queen Cecelia’s attention to her daughter’s light hair. She turned and beckoned them to enter. Isla pivoted in her chair and watched Claude, her mother’s personal guard, enter with a look of carefully constructed neutrality. 

“Your Majesty,” he said with a bow. 

“Claude, what has occurred?” her mother asked, gripping the brush in both hands as though it could ground her.

Claude’s dark eyes swiveled from the queen to her daughter. He visibly gulped. “Perhaps it is better if we speak in private.”

The queen nodded. She placed a shaking hand on Isla’s shoulder. “Off to bed now, Isla, dear. Make sure to braid your hair before retiring. We wouldn’t want all my hard work to go to waste now, would we?”

“Of course, Mother,” Isla promised. 

Isla stood and gripped her mother about the waist in a tight hug. She imagined transferring her calming energy into her mother and the love she received back. She stepped away and her mother cupped her cheeks as though it would be the last time they saw each other. Her mother kissed her forehead. 

“Good night, my sweet,” her mother whispered. 

“Good night, Mother.”

Isla nodded at Claude as she passed, while the elderly guard gave a slight bow. She could feel their eyes on her back as she walked. She could feel the energy in the room shifting as she opened the door, as if they were putting on a show for her, as if she didn’t know her country was slowly withering away at the hands of the Eredhal army. 

Isla calmly closed the door, took a deep breath and sprinted toward the next room. It was a linen closet, small and cramped. However, there was a crack in the wall that she’d learned from a young age allowed her to glimpse inside her mother’s room. She crouched down and peeked through the crack. Her mother sighed heavily and sat on the edge of her bed.

“Have you received word from Slade?” she asked.

“No, ma’am, from what we understand, the castle at Mariseth remains strong and impenetrable. King Slade is steadfast in his belief that he will conquer the army before they can breach the walls. The news I have to deliver is not from the king, but rather some scouts we have patrolling the outer woods,” Claude explained, his hands tightly clasped in front of himself. 

“The woods?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Claude said. He took a deep breath. “An encampment has been spotted a few miles outside of Seavale’s walls.”

“An encampment?” Her mother stood sharply. “Are they people seeking sanctuary? We must open our gates to any…”

“No, no, ma’am… They fly the Eredhal flag.”

Her mother stiffened impossibly further. 

“Our scouts… they spotted Prince Sylvan and his closest entourage within the encampment before the ward was erected.”

Her mother deflated, falling back on her bed as if someone had reached inside her chest and stolen the very air from her lungs. “The Mate Killer?”

Claude nodded. “We have sent word to King Slade and requested reinforcements, but…”

“It will be too late.”

Her mother stood again and started to pace the floor. With each step she took, her shoulders rose and pulled back. Within only a few passes of the room, her stateliness had returned and her face was set. 

“He will come for me,” her mother stated plainly. Isla covered her mouth to stifle the gasp. Tears stung her eyes.

“We will defend you with all our…”

“No,” her mother stated decisively. 

“Ma’am…”

“Slade will have already received the Mate Killer’s demands. He will have been delivered the threat and dismissed it as all the others did. The pompous fool. He thinks he can withstand the break of his own mate bond despite the evidence to the contrary. He thinks he can still win.”

“And you will allow it to happen? Without so much as a fight?” Claude asked, his jaw unhinged. 

Her mother stopped her pacing and lowered her head. She turned to her guard and gave him a look of pity. “Mariseth can withstand the might of the Eredhal army. Not forever, but for a time. Seavale, though…” She glanced around at the sanctuary she and Isla had called home from the moment Eredhal stormed across the border separating Eredhal and Tridea. “This home was not built to withstand Prince Sylvan and his specialized forces. If he has discovered our location, he will enact his plans.” She strode toward Claude and disregarded centuries of protocol by clasping his hands in hers. “I will not sacrifice the lives of my men, my people, in the hopes of holding off the inevitable. We will let him come…”

“Madame…” Claude said, shaking his head and dropping it forward.

Her mother raised her chin and tightened her grip on the guard. “We will let him come,” she repeated. “We will let him take me and the war will be over. My people will no longer be slaughtered. They will no longer starve. The sick will no longer be piled in the streets, discarded like rubbish. One life, Sir Claude, for thousands. It is a sacrifice our king refuses, but I shall not turn away from.”

“Your Majesty,” Claude protested, his voice weak, knowing once his queen made her mind, there was no changing it. “I cannot allow you to do this.”

“You can,” she said. Though her face was set, her mind resolute, her eyes shone with unshed tears. “You can and you will because your duty is not just to me, but to my daughter. She is the one we must protect. She is the one we cannot let the Mate Killer get his hands on. Isla, is the one within these walls we must protect until our last dying breath. You will take her, Sir Claude. In the dead of night, you will secure her away from here. You will take her to the boat. You will return her to Ameretta, where she belongs. You will keep the Princess of Tridea safe. Promise me that. Vow it to me now,” she demanded, her voice fierce. 

Claude unsheathed his sword and got down on one knee. He ducked his head and held the sword across both hands to present it upward to his queen. “I vow it, Your Majesty.”