The Mended Crown

Absenia.

We die with dignity. We do not weep. We do not beg.

We die with our heads held high.

Mother said that to me before they tore us apart. Before our home was reduced to ash.

Our titles, riches and innocence blew away into the night air.

Even with iron shackles cutting into my wrists, I kept my fingers tightly threaded together and my back straight.

If she was still alive, I hoped she would be proud knowing I heeded her words until the very end.

Rain fell steadily onto the open carriage and soaked through the thin fabric of my gown. It clung uncomfortably to my skin.

It was a small mercy. The cold kept my thoughts from lingering too long on what waited at the end of the journey.

I listened for hours about what various sentences the Queen Mother had doled out for captured enemies of the realm.

Stoning. The gallows. The sword. I did not know which awaited me.

There was another prisoner beside me, a man bearing the sun insignia of the fallen emperor across his chest. A soldier, then. Perhaps a commander. I had never seen him before.

But if he was on this trip to be sentenced, he was likely someone who carried out the emperor’s brutality with pride.

I wondered if he was as afraid as I was. Neither of us spoke. As it was, he kept to his end of the carriage bench and I kept to mine, curled into myself for fleeting warmth.

Two knights rode beside the carriage. One was older, perhaps in his fifties, with a balding head and hard eyes that lingered on me too often.

Every time our gazes met, I forced myself not to look away.

I would not spend my last hours cowering, even if I was terrified.

The younger knight beside him was handsome. Black hair swept away from his face, broad shoulders, and the kind of posture that came from years of discipline rather than vanity.

He looked close to my age, late twenties, perhaps a little younger.

I found his expression difficult to read. It was not cruel, nor particularly warm. Simply observant.

When our eyes met, he did not stare at my torn gown or the chains around my wrists as the balding knight had.

He looked at my face.

If I were not being carried toward my execution, I might have wondered what his smile looked like. The thought almost made me laugh.

What a ridiculous thing to consider on the day I was going to die.

The older knight grunted, breaking me from my thoughts.

“How do you think she'll have them killed? The Queen Mother ordered public stoning for the last poor soul. Place a wager, Gale.”

I looked away.

“Nevel,” the younger knight warned.

“What?” Nevel scoffed. “Don’t feel bad for them. It’s fucking justice.”

My fingers tightened against each other.

My personal vote was for the gallows, it seemed quicker.

I recalled the emperor beheading for sport. He told me if the blade was not sharp enough, it would require several hacks to fully sever the head from the neck. Like taking down a tree with an axe.

I shuddered.

The carriage eventually slowed before a towering castle of dark stone. In the gray rain, it looked almost black.

The sun emperor had covered his fortress in gold. Gold everywhere. In the floors, the facades, even on the damned plates we ate from.

Highton’s royal fortress rose from the cliffs composed entirely of gray stone. Its walls were dark, severe, but sturdy. I imagined it had been built generations ago and withstood its share of war and storms.

The gold fortress was in ruins. And I was not sad to see it crumble.

The gates to Highton's castle opened with a low groan and the two knights dismounted.

The younger one– Gale– I heard Nevel call him, left to speak with other guards.

The two of us prisoners were left alone with Nevel and the driver who was tending to his horses.

“Climb down,” Nevel ordered.

The other prisoner moved first. I followed carefully, but my boots splashed into the cold mud beneath the carriage. It splattered over my gown's and his armored boots.

I wanted to apologize, but Gale was already leading us towards the castle.

We were taken through a narrow servant’s entrance and into a dimly lit corridor. I could hear people working in the kitchens nearby with the alluring, tantalizing smell of fresh bread being baked.

Saliva formed in my mouth and I couldn't remember when I last ate. Two days perhaps. Not that it really mattered.

“Shoes off,” Nevel ordered.

The prisoner beside me frowned. “What?”

“The Queen Mother does not like mud in her throne room.”

Humiliation warmed my cheeks as I bent and removed my shoddy shoes and the other prisoner did the same. My gown was still soaked and nearly transparent.

Standing barefoot in a foreign castle, waiting to be judged by strangers, was another small dignity the war had taken from me. I should not have been surprised by this point.

“First one,” Nevel said, shoving the male prisoner toward the door that was flanked by two guards.

When I stepped forward, Nevel grabbed my shoulder.

“One at a time." His lip curved. "Her Majesty likes to personalize her judgments.”

My stomach turned as the door to the throne room closed.

Silence stretched on agonizingly slow. I could feel the knight’s eyes boring into me but I kept my attention fixed on the opposite stone wall.

“So, what were you, then?" he asked conversationally. "Handmaid to the Empress? Or a lady in waiting?”

I shook my head. “No.”

Something shifted in his expression. Understanding, his chin lifted.

“Ah,” he said slowly. “I see. You were one of the infamous harem.”

My throat tightened.

As the emperor conquered kingdoms, he collected women as though they were jewels or trophies. Some would call us mistresses. Some called us concubines. We did not hold any status or titles.

In my time with the Emperor, I had never been anything more than a beautiful prisoner.

When I did not answer, Nevel chuckled. His boots scraped against the stone floor and edged closer to me.

“I've heard rumors. The emperor would put you all together in a room, wouldn’t he? Make you perform for him. On each other. Is that true?”

My stomach twisted.

The emperor’s face flashed through my mind. His smile, his hands. His voice telling me I should be grateful.

“I did whatever the emperor asked of me.”

Because I saw what happened to those who did not listen. The emperor was depraved, for certain, but his penchant for violence and punishment was… revolting. Inhumane.

And those who refused did not live long enough to refuse a second time.

Nevel’s eyebrows rose.

“So it’s all true then? Great big orgies?”

His fingers caught a strand of my black hair in taunting and every instinct in me screamed to pull away. I could feel his hot breath on my cheek.

But I did what I had with the Sun Emperor.

I went perfectly still. I turned inside myself, to a safe place in my mind. My old home on a warm summer night, the fragrance with salty sea air. The sounds of the ocean just outside our windows. Seagull calls.

Do not show fear, Mother’s voice reminded me. Do not beg.

“Nevel.” The deep voice carried through the corridor more sharply than a shout.

Gale stood at the opposite end, his eyes were severe, but they weren’t on me. “Leave her be. She’s shaking.”

Nevel barked a laugh.

“As she should be,” Nevel snapped. He grabbed my jaw roughly and forced me to look at him. “Do you know how many good men were lost taking that bastard’s fortress? His whores should do far fucking more than shake.”

“I said enough.”

Gale stepped forward and firmly shoved at his shoulder.

The gesture was not dramatic, even as both men stared at each other. Neither drew their sword.

Still, for a moment, I thought they might fight. Then Nevel laughed.

“Oh, I’m only playing with the girl. No need to get your balls twisted, Gale.”

He stepped away from me and I felt the tension in my shoulders lessen a fraction.

Gale looked at me.

The anger left his face was replaced by something I had not seen directed toward me in years: concern.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

Such a simple question, one he likely did not know carried significant weight to me.

I merely nodded, once.

His mouth opened as though he wanted to say something more, but the throne room doors suddenly swung open.

The male prisoner was dragged out by two guards, struggling and thrashing like an animal caught in a hunter’s trap.

“No. No, please. Please!”

His screams for mercy echoed down the corridor long after he disappeared.

Gods above.

I was next.

Gale’s expression turned grim as the doors remained opened for me.

“Do not speak unless you are addressed. Do not look the Queen Mother or His Majesty in the eye. Keep your eyes on the ground. Kneel. And..." He hesitated. "Pray.”

His gloved hand touched my shoulder as he turned me toward the doors. Pathetic as it was, I absorbed his warmth and committed the sensation to memory.

It would likely be the last kindness bestowed upon me.

I glanced up at him. “Thank you,” I whispered.

Gale blinked at me, his brow creased as I looked away and stepped inside.

The throne room of Highton was nothing like the emperor’s.

Brightly lit. Gold dripped from every surface. Marble statues immortalized him as a god among men. A harpist in the corner.

Highton’s felt like the polar opposite.

Dark stone covered the walls. Dusty banners that hung from the walls were old and faded. The fire in the sconces did little to warm or light the room.

The Queen Mother stood beside the throne.

I only saw her from a distance before remembering Gale’s warning and lowered my gaze.

I walked forward slowly. When the rug ended, I lowered myself to my knees, only feet from the stone dais.

“Her name is Absenia,” someone announced.

“She looks young.” The Queen Mother’s voice was gravelly. “What was her association with the emperor?”

The question was directed toward the advisor who had announced my arrival, not me.

I kept my eyes lowered, but found this scene strange.

The King did not act. His Mother spoke on his behalf. But he was clearly able bodied.

I watched him shift in his seat, my eyes focused on his polished black boots as he crossed his legs.

“Your Majesty,” the advisor said with the sound of shuffling parchment. “Absenia was part of the emperor’s private… ah, harem.”

The Queen Mother made a sound of disgust and I could feel judgement boring into my skull.

“A personal whore.”

Not always.

I had been educated, respected, and promised a future. I was told one day I would marry a prince and become Queen.

Then my father offered me to the emperor in exchange for his own life.

My Mother’s departing words still haunted me as I was wrapped up in a cloak and sent to my doom.

I still wondered if she was spared.

We do not show fear. We do not weep.

Despite Gale’s warning, my head lifted a fraction to the King.

Long silver hair fell around his face like a curtain. His gaze remained fixed on the floor. His expression was unreadable.

Physically there, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.

My brows began to knit together.

There was something… about him. Something painfully familiar.

“Anyone who served the emperor is an enemy of this realm,” the Queen Mother continued, as if reading from an edict she memorized.

“The Sun Emperor killed himself before he could see justice for his crimes. His punishment, quite fairly, is now left to those who were loyal to his kingdom. That last prisoner was a knight in his court. I sent him to be stoned to death. The public deserves reparation for their suffering.”

Her gaze traveled slowly over me, over the soaked dress that likely showed everything of my body, then back to up to my eyes.

“You have gall, to hold my gaze, girl. I should leave you in the square for the men to leer and humiliate you.”

My stomach turned as she waved a hand. “Then again, if you were the emperor’s whore, perhaps you would enjoy the attention.”

My hands shook and I dug my nails into my palm.

We do not weep. We do not beg.

“I hereby sentence you to—”

“Wait.”

The entire room fell silent as the Queen Mother half-turned toward her son.

“Your Majesty?” she whispered.

The King was looking up, now, fixed on me with wide eyes.

And then I knew.

The silver hair. The hollow expression. The shame. Oh, Gods, the shame. I knew it.

The emperor’s harem had not only been filled with women.

The King of Highton had been one of us.