Chapter 5: The Scorpion's gift

༺♥༻CANNA༺♥༻

Gazing at the weapon as though it were some monstrous object, she blinked before gathering herself together.

“No…” she whimpered, shaking her head violently from side to side. I cannot do that; I will not take the life of my daughter with my bare hands.”

Kaal's eyes shrank, then he placed the knife aside before turning to take his leave.

“I will double the offerings to your temple,” she interrupted his steps with those words while rising halfway from the bed.

“I will raise new shrines in your name. Your bloodline shall know wealth for generations. Only do not let Joya die. I beg you.”

Kaal’s expression did not soften, as he brought his hand to the ancient necklace on his neck.

“It is beyond gold coins and wealth, Your Grace," he mumbled. "The words of the gods are beyond temples, herbs, and all the things riches can offer. You were there, your grace. You remember.”

And she did remember.

She remembered that cursed night with terrible clarity.

She had labored for hours, suspended between life and death, only to be told at last that one of her daughters was destined to die for the other to live.

“The girl might make it.” He continued, turning around, his searching eyes finding the maiden on the bed, Joya.

“But standing on these very words of mine, Ryalyn will bear the cost. How many more years must pass before you cease warring against fate? Twins bound by blood and spirit are better left on the street; you brought this upon yourself.

There was no time to answer; the convulsions that had taken hold of the maiden on the bed ceased at once. Her ragged breathing smoothed out, and her chest began to rise and fall in a calm, steady rhythm.

Yumi released a long, trembling breath, relief washing over her in quiet waves.

For another day, the child had been spared.

So the cruel cycle endured, as it had for nineteen relentless years. The gods were still yet to decide which of the twin sisters would be granted life and which would be claimed by the cold hands of death.

Yumi bent over the narrow bed, her breath stirring the loose strands of hair upon the girl's pallid brow. With trembling care, she brushed them aside and pressed a kiss against her forehead.

"My lady, His Majesty requests your presence. At once."

Pelima's small whisper broke the silence. The maid remained at the doorway, her head bowed, one hand resting against the frame. She had kept watch over the passage, ensuring no wandering soul drew near the hidden chamber.

Drawing out a linen from within her bodice, she dabbed the tears from her cheeks until no trace of them remained before folding it away. One final look settled upon the sleeping girl, then she turned and left.

By the time she reached the great hall again, her facial expression had turned into a fierce countenance.

“My lord,” she said upon entering the throne room.

King Jether reclined upon his throne, utterly at ease, one arm draped over its carved armrest while the other held an unfurled scroll.

As duty required, Yumi lowered herself into a respectful bow. Still, the king's eyes never lifted from the scroll he was reading.

Only when he reached for his cup of wine did he notice the long shadow stretching across the polished floor. His hand paused, and at last, his gaze rose to meet hers.

She stood motionless before him, her expression unreadable.

"What matter was so pressing," he asked without concern, "that it could not wait until the council meeting was concluded?"

There was unrest within the concubines' quarters," she answered evenly. "I saw to it without delay."

The lie left her lips as effortlessly as breathing. She had long mastered the art of false answers. She had worn it through years of marriage. Worn it even while he made love to her.

Before more could be said, a guard rushed into the chamber, breathless from haste.

"Your Majesties," the messenger announced, dropping to one knee, "a gift has arrived from Decreash."

The words drew both of them from their thoughts. Jether and Yumi exchanged a brief glance, each searching the other's face for an answer. Neither found one.

"Bring it into the throne room," Jether commanded, setting his wine aside.

Moments later, the great doors groaned open and five guards staggered inside, their boots scraping across the stone as they hauled an enormous chest between them.

Veins stood out along their necks and forearms as they strained beneath its weight. With a final heave, they lowered it onto the floor before the throne with a heavy thud that echoed through the hall.

A satisfied smile tugged at Jether's lips. He lifted his golden cup, took an unhurried sip of wine, and leaned back upon his throne.

"I told you," he said to his wife, unable to conceal his pride, "giving Ryalyn to Ragaleon was the wisest course."

Yumi offered no reply. Her eyes remained fixed upon the massive chest. Something about it unsettled her, though she could not have said why.

"Open it," Jether ordered with a wave of his hand, his chest bubbling with excitement.

The guards knelt at once. One produced the key that had arrived with the gift while another steadied the iron latch.

The key was slipped into the lock, and a click echoed through the hall. The cover of the chest gave way, and the moment their eyes fell upon what laid inside, every man froze.

One stumbled backward. Another's grip slipped from the lid, and a dreadful silence settled over the throne room.

Yumi's brow knitted when she read the expression on their faces. She stepped forward, her voice cutting cleanly through the silence.

"What is it?"

Her gaze swept across the frozen guards once more before landing on the box.

"What lies inside the chest?" She asked, but not one of them found the courage to answer.

At last, the guards tipped the chest, and something fell from within, a corpse!

It tumbled out, rolling on the floor before stopping right in the middle of the hall. A thick stench of rotting skin spiraled into the air, instantly fouling the grand hall.

Time seemed to come to a standstill, and the excitement that had been evident on Jether’s face only moments ago disappeared.

He rose from his high seat, his composure shattered. Slowly he made his way down the steps, brushing past Yumi as his feet carried him towards what seemed like the dead body of a woman.

He stared, his fingers hovering inches above the ruined garmet, unable to bring himself to touch the corpse.

But Yumi's hand flashed past him from behind, rough and decisive, rolling the body onto its back until the face of the lifeless body was fixed on the ceiling above.

A scream tore from her throat when she caught a glimpse of the face of the rotting corpse, and her hand flew to her mouth as she turned away almost immediately.

“No…” she choked. “No… Ryalyn…”

She darted her gaze back to the body before dropping to the floor, and then she gathered the corpse into her arms.

“My daughter... who…” Her voice broke into a scream. “Who did this to you?”

She sank to her knees, gathering Ryalyn's lifeless body into her lap with trembling arms. She clutched her daughter to her breast as though warmth alone might call her back from the afterlife, her fingers brushing the strands of hair away from the girl's pale face.

Jether stood rooted where he was. His lips parted, yet no words came. He could only stare at the daughter he had surrendered like a tribute, now lying cold in her mother's embrace.

“No...” he mumbled at last, shaking his head. “This... this cannot be.”

Disbelief gave way to anguish, and his facial features crumpled, and he forced himself to look away.

“My sweet child...” Yumi murmured, bending until her lips hovered beside Ryalyn's ear. “Speak to me... please. Just once... speak to your mother.”

Tears blurred her vision, but she fought them back with stubborn resolve. Slowly, she lifted her grief-stricken gaze to the king.

“Look at what you have done.” Her voice echoed with fury.

“You did this, Jether.” She pointed at him with a shaking hand. “You killed our daughter!”

Her words made the king even more unsettled; his gaze returned back to her, and he watched as she folded over the body once more, clutching on to Ryalyn’s corpse.

“Ryalyn!”

A heart-rending cry burst from her lips, her body shaking violently. The tears she had held could no longer be contained.

They spilled freely, streaming down her cheeks and falling onto the lifeless face of the daughter she cradled in her arms.

Jether stood motionless, forcing himself to master the storm within. When at last he found his voice, he spoke.

"Take the body away."

Yumi froze, her breath catching in her throat as the full weight of her daughter's death descended upon her. For a heartbeat she simply stared at Ryalyn, as though expecting the girl to draw another breath.

One of the royal guards stepped forward to carry out the command of the king, but the instant he reached for the body, Yumi yelled at him.

"Get away!"

Her voice rang through the hall, eyes wide with desperation.

"Do... do not touch her." She threatened drawing Ryalyn closer against her chest, shielding her with her own body. "She is not dead... she is only asleep."

When Jether saw that his wife was beginning to lose her mind, he closed the distance between them in big strides and seized Yumi by the shoulders, gently drawing her to her feet.

She tried to resist him, but he held her to himself, refusing to let go.

"I told you," she cried, beating her fists against his chest. "I begged you not to send her away. I warned you not to give her to the Scorpion King."

She struggled again, trying to wrench herself free, but his arms tightened around her, keeping her from falling apart.

"I pleaded with you not to make Ragaleon her husband... but you would not listen!"

The words broke into a scream. She glared into his eyes, her face twisted by grief, before her strength deserted her, and then with a broken sob, she buried her face against his chest.

Jether closed his eyes, and with one hand rested upon the back of her head while the other slowly stroked her hair, he spoke again.

"Take the body away."

"No!"

Yumi writhed against him, clawing at his arms in frantic desperation.

"No! Don't take her from me!"

Jether did not loosen his hold; he kept her pressed against him as the guards carefully lifted Ryalyn's lifeless body from the floor and bore her away.

Yumi watched helplessly over his shoulder, and at that moment, something inside of her awakened.

She slowly lifted her head. Her bloodshot eyes settled upon the man she had called her husband for twenty years.

"Avenge her."

Her jaw clenched, and her teeth gritted as she spoke.

“You will avenge the blood of our daughter Ryalyn and see to it that the people who did this to her never live to tell the story."