Disguised Vengeance

Chapter 22

The Old Queen stared out the window with an empty look. Under Edward's command, she was locked away in the Eastern tower of the palace. The room consisted of a bed, a chair and a fireplace. Three times a day, a servant would slide her meal under the bolted wooden door.

The only source of light was from a single window that overlooked the royal cemetery. Even from a distance, she could make out the tombstones of her son and daughter-in-law. Overwhelmed with grief, the Old Queen lifted her hand to stroke the dirty glass; her fingers lingered over the miniature headstones.

Her second son had killed his older brother, Edmund, in the name of power and jealousy. He had indulged in a comfortable life while his kingdom was plagued by poverty and starvation. As his own belly grew, his people were reduced to skin and bones. With merely six years on the throne, Edward had successfully robbed Esyria of decades of glory and prosperity. The blood and sweat of previous monarchs carelessly wasted by one tyrant king.

A single drop of tear escaped.

For Esyria, my beloved kingdom.

Her thoughts moved on to her son and daughter-in-law. They were among the best leaders Esyria had been blessed with. However, their reign and lives were abruptly cut short.

Another drop followed.

For Edmund, my son.

Edmund and Talia had been deeply in love. Their only son inherited his father's inherent fairness and his mother's gentle nature. Jase had a huge heart and was destined to become a great king. However, after a visit from the dark twins, Death and Betrayal, the heart once capable of immense love was occupied by immeasurable hatred.

His childhood was wrecked. While other boys played with wooden swords, Jase wielded a dangerous weapon. They pretended to save damsels in distress; he fantasized killing his parents' murderer.

His youth never began. While young men attended grand balls, Jase spent his nights at the cemetery. They flirted with beauties; Jase courted vengeance. 

His future was non-existent. Unintentionally, Jase had handed the throne to his parents' murderer and had spent six years of his life hating an innocent man. He sacrificed everything to achieve nothing.  

Two drops of tears trickled down her cheeks.

For Jase, my broken boy.

King Damian had suffered empty accusations and meaningless hatred. His people were forced to defend themselves against the angry Esyrians in the war of conquest. Many died unnecessarily. If Jase succeeded, King Damian would die too.

A drop landed on her hand.

For Bellerania.

Nathan's conscience had to decided between his loyalty to his father and his sense of morality. The knowledge drove him from home, but he could not flee forever. The Old Queen prayed that Nathan would find the strength to stop Jase before regret tainted both their lives.

Another drop left its trail.

For Nathan, my dear grandson.

The Old Queen's eyes prepared to release one more drop of tear – for herself. But instead of permitting it to complete its descent, she blinked it away, saving it for another day.

                                                            ***

The elliptical stone amphitheater with tiered wooden benches was crowded with commoners and nobles alike eager to observe the midwinter weapons tournament. Despite the gloomy skies and chilly wind, the people of Bellerania flocked to the village center in anticipation. Some were here for the action while others were excited to catch a glimpse of the royal family. Bets were placed and seats were filled.