Chapter 13 - The Whispering Courtyard
While the King and Queen fought in the treacherous terrain of the Eastern Wastes, a quiet poison was spreading through the grand keep of Aldoria.
Lady Catherine Whitmore sat in her opulent private solar, sipping spiced wine as she watched the snowfall outside her window. Her daughter, Isabel, paced nervously across the Persian rug, her fingernails dug deep into her palms.
"Mother, this is insanity," Isabel whispered, her voice trembling. "If King Kaelen discovers we sent the secret bird messenger to the Eastern warlords, he will have us executed for high treason! You saw what he did to Lord Reginald!"
"Quiet, you fool!" Lady Catherine hissed, slamming her crystal goblet onto the table. "Reginald was weak and arrogant. He relied on crude dungeons. Warlord Malakor possesses ancient blood magic from before the founding of Aldoria!"
Lady Catherine stood up, her silk dress rustling bitterly. "Rowena was supposed to die in that dungeon! Instead, that dirty bastard child stole everything that belonged to you—the crown, the glory, the reverence of the realm! If Malakor slays Kaelen and Rowena in the Wastes, Malakor has promised to make you the high duchess of the capital!"
"And what if they survive?" Isabel asked, her eyes wide with terror. "Rowena isn't the weak girl we locked in the scullery anymore. She wields magic that frightened the High Priest!"
Before Lady Catherine could answer, a heavy knock echoed at her chamber door.
The door swung open, revealing Lord Harold Whitmore. His face was pale, his eyes hollowed by guilt and exhaustion. Behind him stood four heavily armed royal shadow-guards, their swords half-drawn.
"Harold?" Lady Catherine stammered, smoothing her dress. "What is the meaning of this intrusion?"
Lord Harold looked at his wife with a mixture of pity and utter disgust. He held up a small, scroll-carrying metal capsule—the very capsule Lady Catherine had dispatched to the eastern border two nights prior.
"The royal spymaster intercepted your messenger bird at the river gate, Catherine," Lord Harold said quietly, his voice breaking. "I spent nineteen years turning a blind eye to your cruelty toward Rowena because I was a coward. But I will not let you destroy this kingdom out of sheer, venomous envy."
Lady Catherine’s face drained of all color. "Harold... husband, listen to me—"
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"Take them to the subterranean cells," Lord Harold commanded the guards, turning his back on his wife and daughter. "They will await the judgment of the King and Queen."
As Isabel shrieked and Lady Catherine cursed her husband's name while being dragged away in heavy iron shackles, Lord Harold stared out the window toward the dark eastern horizon. "May the Moon Goddess protect my daughter," he whispered into the cold night.
