The Crowned Captive

The king’s chambers were exactly how Morana remembered them: dark, dreary, and terror-inspiring. She sat in the chair Rowan had last sat in when he had been delivered punishment, stiff as a board. She merely watched as the king poured the liquid amber into a glass. When he nodded his head towards it, she forced herself to take a sip, schooling her face into blankness against the burn. She tried to relax, tried not to look so much like she was being interrogated, but she struggled to control her body.

“Morana, you are not in trouble. I have spoken to Rowan since he awoke, and was informed that you acted most bravely and were, in fact, the saviour of the day. Is this true?” The king began, swirling his whiskey idly.

“I would not class it as such, your Majesty. I simply did what was required to try and survive with as few casualties as possible. It was not a heroic act, but one of necessity,” she replied, lowering her head. Never in her wildest imagination had she thought that King Victor would sing her praises.

“You have proven yourself well enough to call me Father in all but royal councils. Titles are otherwise not needed. Now, child, can you swear to me that you will not lie today?”

The words were like a slap in the face, and Morana had to blink in surprise. Today truly was a day of oddities. “Thank you, Father. I swear that no intentional falsities will pass my lips within our discussions today,” she replied, the word feeling alien in her mouth.

“I see Rowan has at least taught you some lessons in structuring promises. Good. Now, of the attack. Is it true that you aimed to kill Draigh?”

With a frown, Morana emptied the rest of her whiskey, knowing she would need the drink to dull her nerves. “Whilst killing him would be a bonus, no, the dagger I threw was not truly aimed to kill. I didn’t think it would be possible. I hoped to paralyse him so that Cordan may be able to finish the job.”

“You still aimed for his death by the end of the fight. Now, how did you end up with the poison and the weapon?”

Morana frowned and looked at her shoes, wondering if she was about to undo the little goodwill she had gained with the man who decided her fate. She sighed as she replied. “Both were to be used in an attempt to get through Rowan’s thick skull. The dagger was won from Cordan when I disarmed him on my first attempt to do so, and the poison was brewed from plants in the castle gardens. Neither was acquired with the intent of true harm.”

“Your ingenuity would be more appreciated aimed at less important people, Morana. If you must attempt to harm someone, choose the other guard. As for your other achievements, I commend you. We suffered significant losses in the attack, and it was aimed as much as a humiliation as a plight to steal you away. That is not the story we present to the people, though. You woke up, you protected those you could until the alarm could be raised, and you landed the strike that finally staved off the enemy. It was for your bravery that the gods gifted you the chance to save the lord who had won your affections.

“I have also decided to allow you your freedom within the castle grounds as long as you have your appointed guard with you. I will lend you some of my Kingsguard, but Lord Greenfeld has been tasked with hiring you a new retinue. At least once weekly, we will have dinners together where you will discuss your progress. At this evening’s council meeting, you are to be present, and you are to be announced as the overseer of the castle fortification attempts. Rowan must help you with that all, although credit will be yours in the end. Finally, later in the week, we hold a ball in your honour.”

“Thank you, Father,” Morana replied, shell-shocked. Never had she dreamed of such responsibility being placed upon her so soon. Did Rowan know the extent of this? Did Cordan? “May I make one request? May Cordan be part of my guard still?”

For a long moment, she thought he would refuse. His look turned dark, and the power behind it made her want to do anything but hold his stare. She knew this would be a battle of will, a battle of how easily she would submit, however. Against every thought she had in her head, she kept the king’s stare, showing nothing but sincerity in her gaze.

“Fine, keep him on your guard. I warn you though, you are to be heir of this kingdom. You have started on an appropriate path, so do not taint it by getting entangled with the lesser folk. Your friends should be found in higher places, or they will bring you down to their level. Whilst I do appreciate the efforts you went to save Lord Greenfeld, do not mistake others’ importance for his. Most of those that protect you are to be no more than that.”

The disdain in his voice sat uncomfortably in her mind, but Morana forced herself to nod her approval. How anybody was below her when she was raised as nothing more than another hungry and unwanted child was beyond her, but she did not want to argue. She had been given far more today than she could ever have hoped for. At the wave of the king’s hand, she bowed deeply and excused herself, more than happy to walk in silence with her guards around her.