Castle of Time and Ash

CHAPTER LII

CHAPTER LII

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It was Valentine that threw himself on top of Zephyra, the chair and ropes and bruises going with him. All Althera could do was stand there in shock, watching the two of them grapple with one another, Zephyra's sword clattering to the floor yards away from her reach. She growled in frustration as he slammed the back of the chair into her side, his arms and torso still bound.

But he was fighting back, anyway, and it was the courage and fury in his eyes when he glanced at her from underneath Zephyra that sent her hands soaring to her knives and her feet skidding against the floor before she tossed herself onto Zephyra's back and pinned the blades into the woman's collarbone. It made hardly even a scratch as Zephyra rolled and flipped into a crouch, managing to snag one of Althera's knives from their leather straps. She bared her teeth angrily, hair like straw and embroidered gold.

"You know you are making a big mistake. You are choosing a life of shame and internal abuse over a world we could build together and watch as it flourishes over time. You could become a goddess, a saint to the people; you could become a Guardian, too. We would all welcome you as one of our own." Althera knew every word was the truth, but the thought of working for someone she knew she could never trust again... That outnumbered every other reason for her to join Zephyra.

"You are the one that is mistaken, Zephyra," she said through gritted teeth as they both stooped down with knees bent, waiting for one another's opponent to strike the first blow. "Joining Rhaye and serving under him – that is the biggest mistake any of us will ever make."

Zephyra scowled at her, body tensing. "You don't know anything."

"Do I?" She argued, loosening the muscles in her shoulders and clenching her thighs. "You are a queen, Zephyra. Since when did queens begin serving under cowardly princes?"

She had hit a nerve, she realized as soon as Zephyra charged toward her, the knife in her hand like a razor piercing the air and shredding the light, a balanced and structured movement Althera barely dodged in time.

"He promised me my tribe's – my kingdom's – resurrection. He promised the Sacred Lands will be restored and cultivated once again." She swiped upward, and the blade narrowly missed the leather covering Althera's upper body.

She groaned and slid her foot to the right, ducking under Zephyra's moving arm and gained momentum before pushing herself into the rebel's side, sending both of them smashing into an armchair, the wood and material collapsing underneath them.

Althera's hand pinned Zephyra's. "He promised me many things, too, but did he ever fulfill them?" Zephyra was thrashing against her weight, her brown eyes stormy but still holding a wisp of curiosity. "No," Althera grunted, "he never did."

"We made a bargain – a deal. He will not back down on it, or I will have all his kin and blood relatives decapitated." Zephyra sounded too confident. If only she knew. If only everyone knew.

Althera felt a violent pull on the tip of her braid and she arched her back with another groan, Zephyra immediately twisting her to the side, her chest against the ground, and straddling her, the knife between them and aimed at the Althera's neck, her pulse still hammering and thundering symphonically.

She struggled to breath, her chest shoved down by Zephyra's pressing hand. "He doesn't care," she croaked, "that his family members will lose their heads. He never will – because he has no more family, Zephyra. Valentine is his last living relative, and he wants him dead so he can take the throne. There is no one left for him to care about, or for you to kill."