Chapter XI

The Final Concert

TW: Mention of blood, panic attack, and stabbing

Sickness welled in Soryne’s throat. On and on Fornia read, her poetry piercing the ears of all the kingdom. The syllables rippled through the crowds like a tempest, and the sea crashed below them as if it knew more of rage than any man did. They had not yet reached the principle passage, the one that Soryne had written; and the royal family was not yet there, either. Soryne could only hope that they did not arrive any time soon.

If all went well, then they would not. Epnotides was holding up his end of the bargain so far; and Soryne could not help but recall the reasons why she had involved herself in this business in the first place.

She had felt it her divine duty to aid the prince. She did not want Fornia to get caught within a plot to murder the king. The gods had told her to do this. Wasn’t that right? Or was it her conscience? She did not like to think that she had much of a conscience, but rather strict principles. But perhaps they were the same thing.

That anxiety in her, the fear as old as the world, that one’s secret is about to be found out– it was not founded on just conscience or duty. It was founded on loyalty, such that had been cold before but was now lit aflame like the torches around the amphitheater. It flickered in the wind but could not be put out.

The tightness in her chest faded suddenly, and she was gripped by a firm hope that was her only courage at this time. They would not fail. Epnotides would surely hold the king and queen back until all the poetry had been read; and when the kingdom knew that the queen was the true villain, they would exile her and all would be at rest.

Before Soryne could assure herself any more, the curtains behind the stage were thrown open and the queen stood behind Fornia as if she had arrived with a bolt of lightning. Behind her burst Princess Kechria and King Ophases like thunder; after this came Epnotides, griping at air in an effort to hold his father back.

All this while Fornia was reading:

“For as I said, the king has sinned in his time
As we all have.
But treason is unbearable
It poisons the soul:
And Queen Ponyria wears this poison as a crown.”

It was a spectacle: the king stood with his mouth agape, having clearly heard the whole passage from behind the curtains. The queen was frantically asking for Fornia to stop reading, but the muse paid her no mind. Princess Kechria was looking at her brother with a dark eye, and Epnotides was trying to pull his father away from the queen whilst making sure the princess didn’t try anything. Suddenly every man in the theater was standing up and shaking his fist.

And then Queen Ponyria pulled out a knife and drove it into her husband’s chest.

Then everyone was screaming and running away from the stage, their voices cutting the night like howling wolves.

The king fell back, blood clouding the white fabric of his tunic; and Epnotides, who had been behind him, was kneeling over the already limp and lifeless body. His hands shook and his eyes were wild; and Soryne realized she had been watching without moving.

Suddenly she began to run away with the rest of the muses, who were scattering from the front row where they sat.

But she dared to look back for a moment and saw Princess Kechria with eyes so fiery-red that they seemed too cold to be hot. Soryne watched as if she were frozen, watched as the princess took the knife from her mother’s grasp and plunged it into Fornia’s stomach.

Soryne screamed, covered her eyes, tripped on her skirt as she reached out to the only mother she had ever known; and there was no air in her lungs to breathe. Picking herself up off the ground to find blood on her hands and across her chiton, she ran mindlessly. There was the coppery taste of blood in her mouth, the feeling of it dripping from her nose, tears running down her face. She was blinded by the fear, the immense anguish, the way she felt so empty and hollow and yet there were a million sparks running through her veins.

The crowd was a cloud of chaos, of thunder and lightning pulsing off of one another; and soldiers were there, yelling and pointing their swords at people and at the queen and the princess.

Then, darkness. There was only darkness. Soryne did not know if it was over her eyes or her head, or if it was because she was lost; but she stumbled somewhere, anywhere, away from the echoing images of murder. Glinting knives and twisted daggers, ringing in her ears, gut-wrenching sickness onto a floor that she could not see. And then her head– oh, her head felt as though it would burst outwards and inwards all at once: and she collapsed somewhere, anywhere, and lay shivering.

She did not know how long it took, but gauzy light appeared above her; and then someone was picking her up and kissing her forehead. Then she was coughing and opening her eyes; and it was Epnotides, assuring her that everything would be alright.

“I’ve sent soldiers in, ones who are loyal only to me, Soryne. They’ve got the queen and the princess.”

“Where are we going?” Soryne managed, unable to help noticing the way that Epnotides’ hands trembled even as they held her.

“Away,” he said through gritted teeth, and she fought her way to getting her feet on the ground.

“We must get Thysia!” She exclaimed, clutching his hands and pulling him the opposite way.

“No!” Epnotides cried, and pulled her back. “We aren’t going back there. We’re leaving. Now.”

Soryne let go of him then, and began running back; no matter that her head was still pounding. “I’m getting Thysia,” Soryne declared.

Epnotides began to tell her every reason why she should not go back, but Soryne would not hear them. Instead she sprinted on into the darkness, finding light only because Epnotides had hung the torch some hundred feet down the hall where he had raised her from her stupor. Soryne did not know where they were, but she was going to find Thysia.

“Soryne!” Epnotides cried again, holding Soryne’s shoulder.

“You cannot stop me!” Soryne screamed, whipping around to face him. “Fornia is dead, and I will do nothing if not save the only other person I have loved so much as her!” Her voice was ragged, too weary, too terrified.

Epnotides looked down at her for a moment, and Soryne wished she could also say how much she loved him: but she needed to know that Thysia was safe.

“Fine. I will go and find Thysia. But only if you stay here.”

Soryne looked at him for a moment, tears in her eyes. She did not know whether he could do it. But in the way he set his jaw and gripped the sword at his hip, she saw determination.