Page 64 of Autumn Queens & Shadows

Chapter seventeen

Blue Belladonnas

Malik

No one was giving me any answers at all. It wasn’t because they were entirely unaware as much as it was because they had no care to know anything at all. They preferred it that way.

The White Veil had turned into something more than just a strange occurrence. By the time I saw someone do the holy greeting at the mention of the phantom creature, it had become part of Isjordian folklore. They feared it, but they respected Thora.

Kneeling on the thick snowy ground, I dug a hand through the snow and felt the cool wet earth beneath my fingers. Along with the traces of death and odd life, there was something else.

The Isjordian soldiers accompanying me looked uneasy, surveying the empty and silent village as if it would grow teeth and swallow them whole.

“How do so many Isliners get into the villages without being noticed?”

They exchanged glances, but ultimately knew they couldn’t lie their way out of this one. “We believe,” one piped up, “some of our own are letting them through. Or at least the villagers who keep mind of the guard rotations or know some of the guards and their habits.”

Another stepped forward. “Also, they attack certain villages. Mostly the ones who are majorly against our queen.”

“Against?”

They all winced despite my calm tone. “I…I didn’t mean it like that. Not in support of the way she rules,” he quickly corrected. “She had adapted methods that we as a kingdom have always strayed away from. They’re…eccentric some would say.”

“Eccentric?”

“We worship the God of War, and for our armies to be reduced to not even a quarter of what they’ve always been is seen as abnormal. Some fear we are no longer following our ways anymore. Boys and girls do not need to be taught about strategies, tactics, and philosophies of war, they need to experience it while holding their steel and learning to fight. We are born with tactics and strategies, it is the Isjordian way.”

We were all born with them, it wasn’t a matter of being born with them. It was a matter of knowing how to use them. “Worship? You? Since when?”

“Our beliefs might not have been strong, but our ideologies are. All which stem from our faith and our blessing.”

“Clearly, since you let war ridden thoughts rot the very soil you stand on. So much so that it was going to kill the entire realm. Do you know who brought life back?”

They all exchanged some more uncomfortable looks. “Queen Snowlin, I believe. After she defeated the White Flame Guardian.”

“Wrong. Your queen, her magic and her damn tactics. You talk about worship, yet you worship the wrong god.”

Walking deeper in the village, I inspected the house painted with blood and the words our famous mythical creature in a white cloak had taken time and patience to write so neatly and with excellent penmanship. Any more perfect of an execution and I would have thought a god themselves had done it.

The old gods are gone and so are their kings.

Where had I heard that before?

She had waited for me. Standing against her room window and leaning on the sill while wind blew snow inside, coating her long hair and the ground. On the small table by the sofa I slept in were a few dishes covered with silver domes to keep them warm.

“Were you nice to my poor soldiers?” she asked, sipping her drink one last time before setting the crystal tumbler on the windowsill.

“I’m always nice, sweetheart.”

She pushed away from the window and took a seat on a velvet stool across from me. “Any traitors?”

I sighed, leaning back on my seat. “Only confused subjects.”

Her head tilted to the side, studying the whole of me for a moment. “What does that mean?”

“They knew who they served, but they weren’t past finding loyalty elsewhere.”

“And? What happened to them?”