A King's Game: Chapter Thirteen
I spent the next day locked in my room.
I didn't want to see anyone, not the king or the prince or Roland, not even Interra and Amatha.
The image of their gruesome tapestry weighed on my mind, and when I closed my eyes I could see the picture in vivid detail. I feared the king's reaction when he saw what they had created, for surely he would answer with a swift blade. The twins had spoken of their eagerness to be married, but their creation was nothing less than a threat to their groom's life.
It was not a gift, it was treason.
What did they intend with such a thing? Were they so proud that they believed themselves above reproach?
There was no one, I decided, that I truly understood in the castle.
Even the whelp, as gentle as he was, could not see the horror of it all, and the terrible wrong that had been done to him.
Roland did not come to take me to the dungeon, and for that I was grateful. Had he appeared, I may have fought him—or worse, allowed the wolf to take over. An image of the animal roaming the castle and devouring anyone it came upon crossed my mind.
No, I wouldn't be a monster like my keepers.
I intended to skip dinner and go the whole day without eating, but a servant came at dusk to fetch me, and no amount of arguing or pleading would sway her. The king had commanded all to be present, for there was a special surprise after the meal. I knew right away what it was.
My nerves were on fire as I sat beside the king. He didn't notice my trembling and carried on as usual, while the twins behaved as if nothing was wrong. My stomach was unable to stand more than a few bites of food before it shuddered with nausea.
What would I do if I had to watch Interra and Amatha die? Would I flee the hall and attempt escape? I thought of begging them to destroy their work, to never let another pair of eyes look upon it.
The moment came when the king rose from his seat and raised his hand to silence the room.
"When my brides first arrived, they explained it was a tradition in their land to present me with a gift. A tapestry, woven in honor of our union, that had to be finished before we wed. At first, I wanted to ignore their request, but now I believe the anticipation was worthwhile. My brides have completed their work, and wish to present it to myself and the court. It will hang in this hall as a testament of their love, until the end of my days as king."
Polite applause followed his announcement, and the king turned to his brides with a grin stretched across his face.
"I'm eager to see how my patience is rewarded."
At the clap of his hands, several servants entered the hall. In their arms was an enormous tapestry, which had been rolled to prevent anyone from seeing it until the proper moment. Whispers rose as one end was tied to a hook that descended from the ceiling. A thin rope kept the shape of the roll, waiting to be severed when the king gave his command.
Once it was properly secured, the king nodded and a servant cut the rope. The hook began to rise, allowing the tapestry to unfurl as it was lifted into the air.
I looked down at my plate, not wanting to see the disturbing image. My stomach turned and I was certain what little I had eaten would return to the table. There was a collective gasp from the court. From the corner of my eye, I saw the king's smile fade, replaced by a look of bewilderment. He moved from the table, his footsteps carrying the only sound in the hall, and walked to where the tapestry was displayed.
Almost too quiet to hear, I heard him utter, "What have you done?"
I glanced at the twins but their faces held no emotion.
"You...you have created a masterpiece!" I raised my head. The king was beaming at his brides. "It's beyond compare, more splendid than I ever imagined. Thank you, my loves. Thank you."
The room erupted into cheers and clapping, and every courtier left their seat to approach and praise the art.
I was astounded.
Without thinking I rose from my seat and joined the king. The image was just as ghastly as I remembered, and made all the worse by subtle movement within the threads. The tapestry looked alive, like it was shivering or breathing. Uneased by that thought, I convinced myself it was the wind blowing through that gave it the appearance of motion. Courtiers gathered around, excited to have a closer look, and they laughed and exclaimed in delight when they found their face in the picture.
Did they not see their own corpses?
"Oh, look! There I am!"
"There's my face!"
"Don't I look radiant?"
"They even got the color of my eyes, how lovely."
For the better part of an hour, they took turns pointing themselves out. I returned to my seat, utterly perplexed, and could not help but say something to the twins.
"They like your gift." There was a hint of bitterness in my tone, for the twins were keeping something from me.
"Yes," Amatha answered, "they seem to be enjoying it very much."
"What do you think?" Interra asked. "Is it as splendid as you remember?"
The tender sympathy was gone from their eyes, replaced by a dark look of mischief.
It frightened me.
"The king is right, it's unlike anything else. It's just..."
"It's just what?" snapped Interra, a little harshly.
What could I possibly say that wouldn't sound ridiculous? An hour ago I was dreading their demise. Should I now speak the truth of what I saw and be the one who condemned them?
"I don't see the prince in the tapestry."
It wasn't a lie, for the royal child was noticeably absent in the picture.
"He's there," Amatha said. "Look again."
"I'll search for him later."
"We forgot to give you your gift last night," Interra said. "We brought it to dinner."
"I thought the dining hall wasn't the proper place."
"We'll be safe while everyone is distracted by our work."
I almost wanted to refuse them.
Amatha produced a glass vial. It had an elegant body, and on it was a decoration made of silver, shaped into the image of a flower. There was a loop at the top and a length of string going through it to create a necklace. Inside the vial was a glowing liquid.
"Thank you," I said as I took it.
"It's for protection," Interra explained.
"Protection against what?"
Amatha sighed. "Everything and everyone."
I pulled the string over my head, then held the vial up to get a better look at the liquid inside.
"It's your tears," Amatha continued, "collected the first time you came to see us. We hope you don't mind. They've been enchanted."
"The string has an enchantment, too," Interra added. "It will grow when you change, so the wolf can wear it."
The twins knew magic. That made sense, though I wasn't sure why. The way they danced implied a sort of power, as did their ability to move in tandem. Perhaps in their kingdom magic was common. I tucked the vial under my shirt where no one would see it. I did feel more safe, like there was a shield or aura around me, but it might have been my imagination.
"Please remember never to take it off, Josiah. One day you will need it."
I did not make it to bed after dinner. At the door to my room a hand grabbed my arm, and I turned to find Roland scowling at me.
"You kept me and Gran waiting all day. We've too much to accomplish and no time left. If you choose to waste the sun, we'll have to work at night. This is an order from the king."
Odd Gran was waiting with an iron shackle. Without a greeting, she pulled me to a corner and locked the shackle around my ankle, then put her hands on hips.
"Change," she commanded.
As she waited for the wolf to appear, she scrambled around the dungeon collecting cloths and filling buckets with water. Roland moved with her, gathering scrolls. Their movements were hurried and their attitudes manic.
When he noticed the wolf was still absent, Roland approached me.
"The king's mind will not be changed. He wants the prince bitten tomorrow, which gives us one night to test. If the king is wrong, it will be a disaster, and we must make sure he's not leading the prince into death."
"Is the boy going to cooperate?" Odd Gran called from across the room.
"The king said he would."
"We've no time for delicate sensibilities. Where is the subject?"
"Should be here within minutes. Took more than a little convincing for the king to allow it."
The crone snorted. "He's the best possible substitute, and it's not like anyone cared for the creature in the first place."
"The prince has an odd kinship with him."
"Could've fooled me."
Roland turned back to me. "Help us, please. This could save the prince's life."
When Odd Gran's apron was filled, her eyes met those of a wolf several times her size. The vial the twins had gifted me was hidden beneath a thick coat of fur, and I was thankful it wouldn't be seen and potentially taken away.
A bony finger pointed at the animal.
"No arguments tonight," Odd Gran demanded. "When he arrives, you're going to sink your teeth into our guest." The wolf cocked its head to the side and Odd Gran cackled. "We're not frittering about with blood and fur anymore! You'll show us how it's done in nature. Bite gently. Don't maim, only infect."
"If you follow instructions and the experiment succeeds, we can talk about your freedom," Roland said. "The prince might demand your head, but the king won't be able to deny you saved his son's life. Do you wish to leave this castle and never look back?"
A knock on the door turned all our heads.
"At last," Odd Gran mumbled. "Greet our guest, Roland, while I change."
She drank one of her shapeshifting potions. Her ugly form became a dazzling beauty, though to me she looked no less wicked.
"Welcome," Roland said to the visitor, then addressed another at the door. "Leave us, but speak of this to no one or your life will be forfeit."
Roland closed the door and led his subject into the dungeon. The glow of blue fire lit upon the round face of the whelp. He was in jovial spirits, and when he spotted the lovely Odd Gran his face brightened as if he'd just won a glorious prize.
"Hello, child," Odd Gran cooed in a sweet voice. "I hope this evening finds you in good health."
The wolf snorted but no one noticed.
The whelp bowed. "I'm well, my lady. I hope you are likewise."
"Tell me, are you really the prince's whelp? His closest friend and confidant?" Odd Gran's feigned awe was easily recognized by everyone in the room but the boy.
"I suppose I'm his friend," the whelp said with a shrug.
"You've seen him in his best and worst days, haven't you?"
"Don't know if it's polite to call any of the prince's days 'bad'."
Odd Gran hummed in thought. "Would you say he's a weak boy? Or is he strong, like his father?"
She put her hand on his shoulder and the whelp shuddered, torn between his duty to speak well of the prince or telling the truth to the beguiling enchantress.
"We all have weaknesses and strengths."
Clever, I thought.
"But it is common knowledge that the prince suffers from an affliction," Odd Gran nudged.
"I suppose."
"There's no need to be delicate here, sweet boy. We're all friends, aren't we?"
The wolf snorted again, and this time it was loud enough to call attention. The whelp looked over and his eyes grew wide.
"Is that—"
"You've heard about the king's special guest, haven't you? The boy found in the woods?"
"Yes. I met him once."
"This is that same boy. His gift, you see, is to change at will into the wonderful animal there. Why don't you give him a pet?"
The whelp's expression suggested he wanted to do anything else, but Odd Gran pushed him forward.
"Is it dangerous?" the whelp asked.
"You've met him. Did you think he was dangerous?"
"No. He was nice."
"Then you have nothing to be afraid of."
"Why's it got a chain on its foot?"
"For its own safety. If something were to scare the wolf it might try to run off, and there are many potions that could easily spill. We don't want it to harm itself."
"I don't think anything could scare that."
Odd Gran clucked her tongue. "Even the biggest monsters know fear."
The whelp approached the wolf. When he was within reaching distance he paused and leaned down to stare into the animal's eyes.
"Are you in there?" he asked, referring to me.
The wolf nodded.
"Amazing," he whispered. "I would like to pet you. Is that all right?"
He held out his hand but made no move to continue without permission. The wolf lowered its head in a clear invitation.
Slowly, carefully, the whelp stretched his arm until his fingers connected with fur. He was tentative at first, but quickly grew bold and began to run his fingers through the mane, and gave an innocent giggle when the wolf licked his hand. I felt a pang of regret for the joyful boy. Odd Gran and Roland were standing a short distance away, watching with hungry anticipation. The wolf would have to betray the whelp's trust and bite him. I hated the idea of hurting him, and the wolf was likewise hesitant.
But people more powerful than us were waiting.
The whelp laughed as the wolf bathed his fingers in drool. The boy turned to Odd Gran.
"He's quite gentle, isn't—"
His smile fell. He turned back to find the wolf's mouth around his arm, and sharp teeth embedded into his skin.
I'll never forget the haunting look on his face.
The dungeon was so quiet I could hear the drops that fell from his arm splash against the stone floor. The whelp did not try to shake the wolf loose, but stared in horror. With blood on its tongue, the wolf had an urge to pull and rip the flesh, and I begged it to ignore instinct and remain still.
The wound would be painful, but I hoped it would not prove deadly.
"You may let go," Odd Gran commanded softly.
The whelp's arm was released, and the boy winced at the sharp sting of teeth retracting from his body. Red poured from the bite. With a gasp, the whelp fell onto his back and held his injured arm to his chest.
He began to sob.
Shame ran through the wolf, and it retreated into the corner with its tail tucked between its legs.
You did what you had to, I tried to soothe it. Just like at the circus.
A deep voice coated in regret answered me.
No.
Odd Gran took a cloth from her apron and dipped it into water, then dabbed it on the whelp's wound.
"There, there," she said to the boy, "it's only a nip."
It was a lie, obvious in the punctures left behind after she wiped away the blood. The holes had already begun to form bruises around them. She tied a fresh strip of cloth tightly around the whelp's arm.
"I n-need the physician!" he cried as his eyes rolled up to Roland.
"I saw the marks," the man replied stoically. "Nothing to fret over."
"I'll keep you here tonight," Odd Gran said, "just to make sure infection doesn't set in. I'll make a bed for you, nice and soft, so you can rest."
She gathered the boy into her arms and held him, and her tenderness made the whelp cry harder.
"Am I going to die?"
"I hope not," Odd Gran replied.
"It hurts."
"Yes, it will for a bit. But I promise you'll feel stronger than ever in no time."
"Give him a potion for the pain," Roland suggested but Odd Gran shook her head.
"We can't have anything potentially interfere with the venom. Is there something he likes to eat, perhaps?"
"I'll have a servant bring a pie from dinner."
Odd Gran nodded. "That should help ease him." She turned to me. "Off to bed. If I require anything else, I will send for you."
Roland was ready with a blanket after my change. I glared at him, wanting to throttle the man for forcing my participation.
"Don't be angry," he said as he took the shackle from my ankle. "You've done what we asked and we are grateful."
I cast a sympathetic glance at the whelp, who was still cradled in Odd Gran's arms.
"I'm sorry," I said.
He didn't reply, only stared at me with a mixture of confusion and resentment. He probably hated me for what I did, and I couldn't blame him.
***
"What will happen if he becomes a wolf?"
I posed the question to Roland as we were making our way back to my room.
"Then you will repeat it with the prince," Roland answered.
"But what will happen to the whelp? Will he be free to leave?"
"The whelp is not the same as you. The prince needs a companion, and Gran will welcome the opportunity to keep her stock supplied with rare wolf ingredients."
"What if it doesn't work?"
"I will have a conversation with the king that he won't like. But let's hope it doesn't come to that." He paused. "How long did it take before you had your first change?"
"I don't know."
"Of course. Goodnight, Josiah. I hope we all wake to a brighter day, where we can put this nasty business behind us."
It was obvious Roland was just as worried as I was, and he left with an uneasy energy.
I had bitten the whelp, but the worst was yet to come.
I may have killed another innocent child for nothing.
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