Page 50 of Legacy of the Heirs
Whoever said ‘patience was a virtue’ clearly never had a throne to take from a usurper. Soren leaned against the towering tree, tapping her food against the large, overgrown root. The thick Garridon armour shielded the wind intent on whipping her braids across her face. Soren did not wince, but Varna grew agitated. Perking her ears, she grumbled and paced along the trees. The two matching sable-coloured wolves, whom Soren liked to imagine were twin brothers, Baelyn and Tapesh, huddled by her shins. They had never liked the wind, though perhaps Soren would take them to Nerida one day to enjoy the warm breeze. While the two males remained huddled, Soren could not help but smile at their opposites, Octavia and Serene, who hurtled through the air in their attempts to catch leaves in their jowls. Octavia lunged from a tree trunk for a spinning leaf but was knocked down by a flash of deep grey fur. She growled low when Seiko batted the leaf with his paw. Soren’s smallest wolf. Serene grumbled from Seiko’s other side, and both black females prowled towards him.
“Let him join in,” Soren commanded, and the two black wolves immediately turned their heads before stalking away from the smallest wolf. Seiko glanced at Soren with the leaf hanging from his mouth; his one pale blue eye stared back at her, seeking her approval. “Show me then,” Soren urged, holding out her hand. Seiko padded over to rest his head in her hand but missed and stumbled into her. Soren gave him a sympathetic smile. He had always been half blind, with one eye pale blue and the other milky and glazed. “Do not let them bully you,” she said. Seiko whinedbut it was barely audible over Varna’s deep growl. All six wolves turned their heads in the direction of the tree line.
“Are you going to hide behind those trees for much longer, Sir Cain?” called Soren. She had sensed him following her the moment she left the quarter. The commander cleared his throat and stepped out from the tree; it was a miracle he had found one wide enough to hide his broad frame. He stroked his red beard as he approached, eyeing the wolves with caution.
“Just scouting ahead for the king and princess,” Sir Cain said. Soren assessed him, taking in the armour that so closely matched her breastplate.
She turned her head at the sound of crunching leaves, where Caellum emerged, holding back branches for Sadira, who wrapped her cloak tightly around her. Caellum placed a hand on her lower back to steer her into him rather than her sister. Soren rolled her eyes.
“Why are we meeting here?” Sadira asked, assessing the dark space overcrowded with trees and wolves.
“Would you rather risk the more public path and answer questions about where we are going and why?” Soren asked, her voice monotone. Sadira pursed her lips, and the four stood in silence. Soren was testing them to see who would break first and acknowledge that they needed her guidance. She smirked when Caellum finally sighed and gestured ahead of them.
“After you,” he said. Soren removed her foot from the raised root and stomped it on the ground before turning in the opposite direction to his hand. She flicked her wrist, unfurling the branches and roots to create a path before them. She tried to eavesdrop on Sadira and Caellum as she walked but could not hear their hushed tones over the wind other than Caellum instructing Sir Cain to wait where they had met. The Lord of Night’s words flickered to the front of her mind.Take the throne. We must be quicker.She did not know what suddenly prompted the lord’s rush; perhaps the creatures had failed their mission. Or maybe he was frustratedwith Soren’s failure. Fury propelled Soren’s movements through the upward hike.
“How much farther?” Caellum called, though Soren did not bother to answer. They were close. Sadira would soon realise where they were headed. She glanced over her shoulder to where Caellum held her sister’s hand to steady her footing. Soren rolled her eyes. Sadira needed no more help than she did. They had grown up among these trees.
Soren returned her hands to her sides; she no longer needed to control nature as the path widened into a small clearing at the top of the incline, so she rested her hand on the pommel of her sword. Would anyone really know if she were to kill Caellum here and toss his body over the cliff?Sadira would.Would she try to save him again, like she had at their engagement ball? Soren glanced between them and wondered if she could sacrifice her sister a second time. If she failed again, that would be two assassination attempts on the king and his betrothed. Was that risk enough to stop her?
“We are here!” Soren shouted; she marched over the incline and took in the clearing. The last time she journeyed here was the night she was crowned—the night her parents and grandmother died at her hand. Little remained of the white petunias Sadira had turned from black that night, nothing but a web of tangled roots. It was odd that nature had not reclaimed the space, almost as if it wished to remain desolate as a reminder of the historic event.
Soren strode through the path where the tables had been for the celebrations. So much had changed.
“Soren, wait!” Sadira called, but she ignored her. “Soren!” Soren shook off Sadira’s arm as she reached her and stopped, spinning to face the pair. She rested her hands on her hips.
“What!”
“We need a plan; you cannot just storm ahead,” Sadira exclaimed.
“The plan is: we approach the tree; you and I manoeuvre the roots, and then we reach in and take the talisman. What else is thereto discuss?”
“Caellumreaches for the talisman. There is nowein this, Soren,'' Sadira stressed. Soren rolled her eyes and turned. She was done with conversing. She was unsure if she could wield the other half of the talisman on its own or if it had to be paired with its equal, which hung around Caellum’s neck, secured by a leather rope.
The oak tree loomed above the three standing in its shadow. The vines twisting around the trunk were wider than the three of them combined, and so rooted in place, untouched, that it would not have been unusual to see a layer of dust on them. Soren analysed the worn bark. The painted wreath of blood had since faded. An odd feeling clutched Soren’s heart as she recalled the night she killed her family.Feelings make you weak. That is what the Lord of Night always warned. She pushed away the memory, which was an easier task for Soren than her sister. Sadira watched the ground where the blood had been.Too emotional. Too caring, Soren thought, until her eyes tugged towards two hastily engraved names in childish handwriting.
Soren and Sadira. She did not remember when they had done that, though she did not care to recall. Memories swayed her mind from the plan—her path.
“This does not look like a difficult place to get into,” Caellum said, acting as a buffer between the sisters. “I thought the talisman was somewhere difficult to reach.” Soren looked up at the sky to keep from snapping.
“It likely was when it was in Garridon,” Sadira interrupted gently. “Our grandmother took it when she fled, though I never knew where she hid it.” Sadira looked at her sister, and a smile tugged on Soren’s lips when she realised her family had kept certain truths from Sadira.I was always meant to rule.
“Shall we begin?” Sadira asked. She stepped towards the tree, caressing the green vines and ivy. “I will take the living and you take the dead?”
Seems fitting, Soren thought as she stepped forward and graspedthe thicker, older vines, nearly matching the brown of the trunk. She locked eyes with Sadira as the two stood opposite one another, each with a hand on the tree. Her eyes glowed their usual bright green, and Soren knew hers shone in a similar vein, though darker than her sister’s—always darker than Sadira’s. Soren glanced to her right, where Caellum stood with his arms crossed, flitting his gaze between the sisters. She tossed him a patronising smile and wondered how inferior he must feel.
The vines retracted, twisting and unravelling until they dangled like ropes at their feet. Soren let go as Sadira manoeuvred the final green vines, revealing a small hole in the trunk’s centre just wide enough to fit a hand. Soren instinctively stepped forward, her soul reaching for the talisman—her birthright. Sadira moved to block the opening, her face like stone as she looked down at her sister. Their eyes locked as Sadira reached for Caellum and pulled him towards her. Soren refused to look away, but Sadira turned and guided Caellum to the opening. Scowling, Soren tried to peer around them.
“Just reach in. You should be able to feel it; it will match the half around your neck,” said Sadira reassuringly. Soren observed how vulnerable Caellum was, his back turned towards her. Soren’s hand twitched at the pommel of her sword. It would take only an instant for the throne to be hers so she could get everything she wanted and finally please the Lord of Night. She glanced at Sadira. They were not yet married; Sadira had no claim should Caellum die.I am the oldest; I am the heir.It could be mine before they even realise what has happened.Soren stepped forward and began pulling the sword from its sheath.
“I have it!” Caellum called.Too late.
Soren tried to step around Sadira to look at what would one day be hers. The opening appeared designed for someone smaller as Caellum tugged the talisman from the tree, grazing his hand. He unfurled his fingers to reveal the other half of the talisman lay flat on his palm. The half-moon-shaped piece of wood was palerthan most trees, likely carved from deep in the centre of Ithyion’s oldest tree. Its edge was clean, showing that whoever chopped the talisman had done so with ease. Vaguely, Soren discerned the burnt engraving of a tree and half of another. She felt the tug towards it, like an invisible rope urging her forward. It belonged to her; it was her right. It should be in the hands of a Garridon heir, not this imposter. Soren wanted to inspect and feel it, channelling the connection to her god and ancestors.
When Soren looked up at the face of the hand who held it, his eyes narrowed as if he sensed her hunger to take it. Caellum clasped his hand tightly around the talisman and dropped it into a velvet pouch held open by Sadira. Soren had expected the talisman to repel Caellum’s efforts, but as it dropped into the bag, a gust of wind whipped at Sadira’s hair and cleared her face, exposing the glow in her eyes before the moment passed, and she tied the pouch. Caellum tucked it inside the right breast of his jacket and wrapped his cloak around him. The three of them stood in a triangle on the blood of Soren’s family, glancing at each other.
“Well, that was…”
“Easy,” Caellum finished Sadira’s sentence.Anticlimactic was more like it.
