Book Three of the Flame Series: FLAME WITHIN (eBook)

Chapter Two:
At the Silver Claw Castle

The dining room wasn’t anything grand as compared to the riches of the rest of the Silver Claw Castle. Queen Mori of Azure expected more. Her people had fled the kingdom of Azure to come here through a portal, after the sorcerer, Grimshaw had destroyed it. This world lacked technology and seemed backwards compared to her own kingdom.

The long tables were made of rough wood and had benches for seats. King Roark sat at the highest table that overlooked the rest of the room. His long brown hair fell to his shoulders and many rings sparkled from his hand. He looked down his aristocratic nose at the people.

King Roark of Silver Claw said, “I’ve sent out missives and called for all virgin maids over twelve to attend my ritual. I must satisfy the dragons. They demand a virgin maid sacrificed to them or they’ll kill off the rest of my kingdom.”

Queen Mori sipped her soup and stopped with the bone-handled spoon poised at her mouth at the statement of King Roark. “That sounds barbaric.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” he asked. His blue eyes pierced her with their intensity.

“What about my husband?” Mori said. “That sorcerer, Grimshaw changed Santurin into a dragon. Since you burned the sorcerer at the stake, my husband hasn’t returned to his human form. I’ve heard the longer a person stays under a spell, they become that creature forever. Cannot you do something instead of worrying over a stupid ritual?” Mori glared.

“I’m afraid I do not know much about magic.” Roark wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I expected your husband to return to his human self after Grimshaw died. Are you sure it was his magic that caused this? Prince Aidan, from your own kingdom, possesses magic.”

“You have the word of your man, Quinn as proof, if you don’t believe me. Anyway, Aidan would never change his brother into a dragon.” Mori sipped her soup. She tasted yams, cinnamon, and cloves. If I was not hungry, I’d toss the soup in Roark’s face. Trying to make me sound like a liar. I know what I saw with my own eyes. “When is this ritual?” Mori asked.

“Friday morning. Care to join me?” Roark asked.

“Why not? Perhaps I’ll get a glimpse of Santurin.” Mori plastered a fake smile on her face. I’d like to hand Roark on a plate to the dragons. I’m sure that sorcerer and Roark planned Santurin’s demise together. There cannot be two kings in one kingdom after all. I know Roark yearns for an heir and hopes with Santurin out of the way, that he could use me like a brooding mare. It’s not my fault Roark’s new wife cannot have children. The only reason he got rid of Grimshaw was to show the people he meant business not to practice magic in his lands. I wonder if that sorcerer really died or was it one of his tricks?

“The ritual is not a pleasurable affair, my dear. Best leave the children behind,” King Roark said.

“If I attend, then who watches them?” Mori asked.

“I’ll arrange a sitter.” Roark patted her hand.

Mori removed her hand from his. How dare he touch me! Santurin isn’t dead.

“If you’ll excuse me. I need to check on my children.”

Mori hurried from the room and rushed down the hallway. She climbed up the stairs, at the end of the hallway, to the second floor. Opening the door to her chambers, her children ran to her side, and hugged her legs. Mori leaned down and kissed the tops of their heads. “Were they good, Mrs. Thatcher?”

“The best. They’ve had their supper too. I’ll be going now.” Mrs. Thatcher pulled her wool sweater over her shoulders, then tucked a stray hair back in her gray bun.

The children waved at her as the housekeeper walked to the door. Mori plopped in a rocking chair and pulled the children in her lap. She hummed a song and rocked until they fell asleep. She carried her children to their beds and covered them with a blanket. Mori glanced at the paintings, on the mint green walls, of swans gliding along on placid waters. It looked like a peaceful place. One she would enjoy. She braided her long, strawberry blonde hair, then removed her gown. Washing her face and hands from a basin of water, she patted them dry with a towel, before applying her night dress. Mori climbed under the covers of her bed. I miss the warmth and comfort of Santurin lying next to me.

* * *

The next day, Mori woke to a ruckus outside. She jumped out of bed and peered out her bedroom window. A line of girls formed from the drawbridge to the gatehouse. Mori realized it was Friday and time for the ritual. So many? Mori frowned after seeing Juliana in the line with the other girls. The last words of Santurin’s were about Juliana. Always that girl interfering in our marriage. I thought my worries over after I banished her to Meadowlark last year, then she popped up in Azure when the sorcerer and his demons attacked our kingdom. Yes, Santurin married me, but did he fantasize about the girl? His voice changed when he spoke of Juliana. The ritual was a perfect excuse to get rid of her. Mori smiled at the prospect.

Mori peeked at the children. They still slept. She pulled on a garnet gown with bell sleeves. She brushed out her hair and the fiery red highlights glistened. Someone knocked on the door and Mori hurried to it before the children woke up.

“King Roark sent me to watch the wee ones for ye,” Mrs. Thatcher said. “My, ye look lovely.”

“Thank you. The children are still asleep,” Mori said.

“Do not fret. I’ll fix them a bath and their morning meal. Go on and enjoy yer day.”

“Did the king say where to meet him?”

“In the throne room,” Mrs. Thatcher replied.

Mori slid her feet into deerskin shoes, then flung a knit shawl over her shoulders. The Silver Claw Castle felt drafty in the mornings compared to Azure. She hastened out the door and down the hall to the staircase. She took two steps at a time, then strolled down the long hallway to the throne room. Mori peered in and King Roark waved her inside the room. A candelabra lit up the area. Tapestries of hunting scenes hung from the walls.

Roark sat in his highbacked, cushioned chair and indicated the empty chair next to him for Mori. “I’m happy you are at my side for this event. Care to assist me?”

“What about your wife? What do you expect me to do?” Mori asked.

“Gwendolyn avoids drama. She is more suited to teaching the staff about running the castle. She’s a simple gal. Used to the country life.” King Roark paused. “My butler, Wade writes the names in the record book and assigns the girls numbers. You write those numbers on pieces of parchment. Fold them in thirds and toss them in the basket. I will select a number and the chosen maid is whisked away,” Roark said.

“Sounds simple. When do we start?” Mori asked.

“As soon as the stage is set up behind my chair, then Quinn leads the girls in.”

Men carried a long table up some wooden stairs that led to a stage. A servant placed a wicker basket near the end of the table. Another placed a record book and a writing instrument next to it at the beginning of the table. Wade strode up the steps and sat in a chair by the record book. Mori stood and walked up the steps to her seat. She folded the skirt of her gown under her as she sat down. She nodded to the king.

The girls paraded inside with Juliana at the head of the line. Juliana’s lips trembled and her hand wrung her gown. Some of the other girls wailed or fussed at their possible doom until a guard hushed them.

King Roark, dressed in his purple robes, paced back and forth on the lower step of the stage. His eyes pierced each girl before he spoke. “The dragons spare our lives and help us in battles, but only if we comply with their wishes. One sacrifice for the good of the kingdom. It’s a noble deed required of you. Each of you takes your turn and informs my man of your name. You’ll receive a number. Remember it. Step down after you receive your number and stand by your parents against the wall. If your number is called, come see me.”

The king nodded to Wade. “Begin.” The king sat down in his throne chair.

Juliana climbed the stairs to the stage.

“Name?” Wade asked.

“Juliana of Anwendove.”

“You’re number one.” Wade wrote it in the record book.

Mori wrote the number on a paper and folded it in thirds, before tossing it in the wicker basket. Juliana strode down the stairs and joined her family. The ritual continued the same way with the other girls until the line ended. Mori wrote number one on all the slips of paper, regardless of the different numbers of the other girls. Wade brought the basket to the king.

King Roark stirred the basket of papers, then selected a number. Olivia squeezed her sister’s hand and Juliana gave her a weak smile.

“Number one, please see me!” King Roark shouted.

Juliana leaned her head into her father’s chest. “Why me?” Tears streamed down her face.

“Why doesn’t the king sacrifice himself for the people? It seems the more sensible thing to do.” Olivia glared at King Roark.

“Hush, Olivia before he sacrifices us all,” her father said. He turned to Juliana and hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s out of my hands.” He...