Forced Into Tyranny

5. Hopeless Salvation

Elderham City,
Home of Lord Bailiff Syagros.

       Gracious gods.
        With her heart no longer pounding and her senses no longer functioning, Lyra was left numb and motionless. Her vision had blurred, and she felt something frenzied and icy upon her skin, a sensation far more frigid than the harshest wind from the northern mountains. She tried to move, but her body was unresponsive, as if frozen in time.
       Queen of Thevalon...
       It was impossible.
       Young Lyra had but recently come of age, a mere fortnight past. Her parents' search for a suitable match had only intensified since that fateful day. Though her own thoughts on marriage had only begun to take shape after her encounter with her mother, the prospect of ruling Thevalon was a dream she dare not entertain.
        "You did what, Father?" She glanced at her mother next. "You, too?"
         Gertrude acted quickly, lest Pillus chastise her for her child's behavior. She knew all too well the consequences of his wrath, having felt the sting of his hand across her face before. "This is what you have been trained for," she reminded her daughter, steeling her nerves. "Opportunities will present themselves to you, Lyra. We talked about this; you bringing honor to the family. This is the opportunity."
        "You speak for yourself, Father, and Thymotes," she spat. "For if I ascend to the throne, Father will meddle in state affairs more than he ever has in the city's, you will become the mother of a queen and boast of your status among your associates, and Thymotes...he will be forced into the council at my behest."
         She was smart. Doris might've been intelligent on the matters of the heart, Lyra, on the other hand, had always been privy to the details of state affairs in Thevalon, as her father and brother insistently nagged over her.
       "You are not wholly incorrect, but that is not—"
        "I am right, Mother, and you will concede as much."
         The space between them stretched taut, fraught with tension and unspoken anger.
        "So what?" Pillus interjected from his corner, his voice laced with poison. He yanked Gertrude by the hair, forcing her out of his way so he could confront Lyra directly. "Yes, you'll put Thymotes in the council. Yes, I'll be involved in state affairs a great deal. Yes, your mother will boast among her fellow matrons. Yes, yes, yes, Lyra! What of it?"
        Lyra lost her balance as her once frozen body melted from the heat of her father's harsh words. She was left blinking back surprise. Pillus was cruel whenever he wanted to be, yet he'd never acted so unemotional to Lyra before, or any one of his daughters.
       "Your maidens are waiting outside. You must proceed to your chambers where your governess will assist you in packing your things, as you are to depart for the castle before sundown."
       Did her father just jest? For King Hagnon had no business with the daughter of the Baillif of Elderham. Though she was of noble birth, she certainly was not his preferred type.
        Merely looking at Lyra would have told anyone how unfit she was. Her hair was a plain and unremarkable black. She lacked the charm of Queen Morgana's captivating eyes — a true Queen. She was not obedient to commands and lacked the firmness required to rule as a queen, making her an unfit match for a king, let alone the Queen of Thevalon.
       "There is an extensive list of women," Pillus continued. As King, it was only natural. "Once you arrive at court, you will encounter them all, they've traveled from Lilliputian, Asheville, Silvercrest, and even from Elderham, as in the case of the Lord Ruffbrock's daughter."
        Lyra's focus was shuttling between what her father was saying and the priestess's prophecy. Her fate was sealed - she was destined to love a man who the people looked up to, a man who had taken lives. Was this not the quality of a king? The King who had beckoned to her was the only man so far that fit the narration. The priestess's prophecy had foretold of pain, too, a result of her lover's hunger for vengeance. Against whom?—she wondered.
        She shook the thought off and refocused on her father's voice.
        "...the Lords, Bailiffs, Shaman, Aldermen, and even the highest ranking Sablethons, will not be lenient, and it is your responsibility to make a good impression."
        "Do I want to be Queen?" That wasn't all that troubled her; did she truly wish to be confined within the four walls of Thevalon Castle, amidst its bountiful orchards and meticulously tended gardens? Did she yearn to bear heirs to the throne, to raise princesses and princes, or even to rule as a tyrant? These were the weighty questions that truly plagued her heart.
         Her father brushed the tip of his nose with his thumb and said, "Sovereignty is determined by fate, not by choice."
        Lyra's nerves were on edge, leaving her with a persistent headache. The weight of her father's expectations bore down on her like a heavy cloak. She was faced with a difficult decision: if she shook her head then, her father would have hit her and ensured she still went in her coach by sundown. If she nodded, it would please him and her send-off would be one of joy and not sadness. She was smart enough to nod in agreement, which made her mother burst into loud laughter that turned into full-blown tears.
        Surely, Pillus was proud of her and tapped her back, full of that pride. "You shall look back to this day and be grateful to me."
        "Go to your room, my dear," Gertrude said. "Prepare yourself. In no time, you'll meet your maids of honor as you'll all be riding together."
          It was customary for Pillus to select two women around Lyra's age to attend to her every need, be her companion, and serve as her ears even before she arrived at the royal court. The two ladies were chosen with the utmost care, as a traitor or someone with dubious intentions could not be the next Queen's maiden, lest they lead her astray before she was even crowned. Additionally, it was expected that a whip boy would be appointed. According to customs of the court, the King could not lay hands on the Queen in anger. Instead, if she ever did anything to provoke the King's wrath, her whip boy would be punished in her stead, ensuring that the Queen remained above reproach.
         All three people, sworn to servitude, were outside in their coaches, ready to journey. Pillus had chosen them a sennight ago, awaiting when Queen Morgana would send for Lyra. Certainly, Pillus hadn't chosen them from Elderham, for he considered its residents too desperate and cunning to be entrusted with the fate of their next queen.
        He had scoured the length and breadth of Eldridia, and even ventured into the formidable lands of Navaría, searching for two maidens whose strings he could pull. Such was the extent of his power, that he could bend the will of any who caught his eye.
         As for Lyra, she had little time to prepare for the journey ahead. She could only pack the most essential items - her finest dresses, scarves, jewels, surcoats, and slippers - all chosen with the utmost care and attention to detail.
         Then, her legs carried her to the table, upon which she had hidden the item given to her by the priestess in Khiortos with the command not to open it until she was ready.
        She was ready now.
        Leaving Elderham without a glint of hope for her destiny would push her over the edge. It would destroy her. As her fingers met the strings of this object, the last whole part of her heart shattered. She pulled it out and gazed at the amulet's surface. It had the sculpture of Balius himself, etched on its ancient surface — the strong face of a lion and an arrow deep inside its neck, from an end to the other. The only problem was that this sculpture of Balius was not full, but rather a half image of the god. The amulet was jammed in place, and didn't open, no matter how hard she tugged.
          It's because it wasn't complete. Finding the second piece was like finding the key to her destiny. Life had never confused her more. If the priestess had said she could not open it until she was ready and ceased to tell her that it was not complete to even start with, did that mean that finding the second half was a sign of preparedness?
         The approaching footsteps jerked her forward and she tossed the amulet inside her box.
        Her governess eventually came knocking, announcing her presence as she stepped into her chambers. "Lyra, you must leave at once. The coach is waiting outside, and your father has sent me to fetch you."
         Lyra's heart sank as the realization of the long awaited moment finally kicked in. She had known that her father would never allow her to marry the man she truly loved, and now it seemed as though he was taking drastic measures to prevent it.
        With trembling hands, she gathered up her dress and faced the governess. "But, Geer, we have not finished our lessons on consummation—"
        Geer smoothened out the worried frown on Lyra's face with both her thumbs. "There, there." She pushed the girl's hair behind her shoulders and rubbed down her arms to install a squall of confidence into the trembling young woman. "You need not be taught how to make love, Lyra. When it is time, you certainly will know what to do."
        With a final, resolute speech, the two ladies emerged from their chambers, silken gowns rustling with the wooden floor under their sandals. They made their way to the coaches outside. As they stepped out onto the darkening cobblestone street, a trio of young faces greeted them, each one eager and full of wonder.
        Both Lyra and her governess beheld the girls that would be following her, their eyes taking in their bright, curious faces and the sturdy stance of the young boy who stood with them.
        "My Lady Lyra, Monima Basileides of Alvandor," Monima introduced herself with a graceful bow, her voice ringing with the authority of a noblewoman, even though she looked not to be. However, Lyra shifted her attention to the next person to pick up quickly, wanting no more than to get rid of the girl at once.
          "My Lady Lyra, Hecuba Damasos of Navaría." Hecuba bowed, immediately catching Lyra's attention at the mention of that village, and also the humility of her voice. The lilt of her voice was far stronger than anything she'd heard, as her name and title sounded more 'Mee Lahdee Lee-rah' than My Lady Lyra.
         The air was dense with anticipation as the two women locked gazes, each one sizing up the other with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
         Hecuba was riveting and charming, Lyra could not lie. She had the eyes of a sufferer, yet possessed the beauty of a goddess. Brown lengthy hair draped over her shoulders and dull grey eyes held intimidation and fear. Immediately, Lyra urged to know more of the woman.
        Before Lyra could repeat Hecuba's name as a symbol of her delight to have her as her maid of honor, the boy had started his own introduction.
       "Gurgos," he said.
       Lyra frowned. "Gurgos...who?"
       "Ahem. It is just Gurgos." Pillus stepped in, jerking the boy's shoulders for him to get off the cobblestone and fill up the coach with Lyra's luggage.
       The governess saw Lyra's confusion when the question of the boy's duty plagued her. "He's your whip boy."
        The whisper hadn't passed Lyra's ears certainly. She leaned closer, gasping. "It is true? A queen is given a whip boy?"
        "It is, dearest. At the very least, you needn't worry of a black eye or sore lips. That is the duty of...is it Gurgos..." Geer drifted, stepping away to beckon to Doris and Anais.
         The girls ran to their sister, giving her the opportunity of warmth, as her parents had refused to indulge in anything delicate.
       "Is it true what Geer told us?" Anais asked.
        "They could have her head for a lie like that, Anais." Doris's warning penetrated both Lyra and Anais before she pushed Anais aside to face the real question. "Are you ready?"
        For what exactly? Lyra asked herself. To marry the King, to be queen, to fall in love, or to seal her fate?
        So far she didn't know what exactly Doris had requested to know, her nod couldn't be called a lie. Throwing her sister a nod, Lyra said, "As long as I shall not be riding alone tonight, the omen is good."
       The girls' laughter and chatter ceased as Pillus issued a stern command, causing Lyra to fall back from the group.
       Pillus and his guards would be riding in the carriage in front, but at least she had two now familiar faces in her own carriage to accompany her on the journey ahead. Even if they couldn't speak much on what they hoped to encounter in the nearest future, they could at the very least speak of the life they were leaving behind.
       Lyra's sisters' waving hands and her mother's trickling tears were the last things she saw before the carriage doors closed, separating her from her family. Perhaps forever.