Sentinel

Chapter 32 - Poison

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Chapter 32 - Poison

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Tayne leant back in his chair, musing over the King’s cryptic words.

The Silverborn are free to continue their duties. I will not bind you -- but the Sentinel must remain, for a time at least.

He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. None of the other topics had.  Yet, in the past three hours following the meeting’s conclusion, he hadn’t been able to shake that sentence. The words replayed in his mind, renewing the cold, prickling sensation with each repetition.

I will not bind you -- but the Sentinel must remain, for a time at least.

Tayne’s brow creased in thought. He pushed further back into the chair, causing the front two legs to lift from the ground as he replaced them with his own.

Was he to interpret that as the King binding Skye to Alguarde, the city where she was barely connected to her element? The place where fanatics stalked her and those that sought her harm could remain hidden within the crowds?

More to the point, what would become of Skye if he and the Silverborn were to pick up and leave? Would she end up disappearing into the wilds, alone and hunted if he left her behind?

You’ve always known she could never come with you. The moment she steps outside Alguarde’s walls, the shadow will hunt her.

The thought bounced around inside his skull. In an odd way, he’d never actually expected this moment to come. That somehow, things would just work out.

When you should have been making plans. Plus one for leadership, Tayne. You’re an idiot.

Tayne sighed and returned the chair’s legs to the floor.

His eyes glanced over the paperwork he’d been left with after the meeting, darting from one pointless figure to another. All statistics and horse manure ‘facts’ that had no significance besides their ability to distract the King from the matter at hand.

Tayne ran his thumb over the pile. It was almost as thick as his hand.

The Advisor would have spent hours weaving the details of these together... the carefully presented order...

With a devious grin, Tayne picked it up and threw it over his head. It fluttered to the ground, settling like giant, statistically-decorated butterflies on the rug.

“And after all his work, the bastard didn’t even bother to turn up,” muttered Tayne.

He was only beginning to regret his decision when the door to his study slammed open. Instinct took over and Tayne leapt to his feet, turning to face the figure who hunched over in the doorway. They leant heavily on the handle, as if out of breath. Tayne recognised the garments immediately.

The man was the King’s messenger.

Tayne half ran, half walked over to the man struggling to stand. He grasped his shoulders and led him to a chair, despite the man’s gasped protests that he was fine, and it was too urgent.

“Silverborn, his... his majesty the King... reques... requests your immediate presence at the... at the royal courts,” said the messenger between heaving breaths.

Tayne buckled his sword to his belt while he spoke. “What could be so urgent? I met with him mere hours ago.”

The messenger straightened slightly. “It’s the Queen.”

Another deep breath. He sat up straight and looked Tayne in the eyes.

“She’s been poisoned.”