~ Prologue
Walter Elias polished the chestnut box and set it on the table. At last the secrets it held could be broken with the testament of his grandfathers will. He had to know the true story. His fingers trembled as they touched the lid, tasting something profane as he pulled back the cover. There rested a human skull. Claw marks etched the bone, and above the brow laid a partial inscription, The king eats-. Walter set the specimen down, staring at the soul through those haunted sockets, and drafted a letter.
You may ask, Did the king kill his people?, to which I must admit no. It wasnt as grandfather said in those stories of enchantment and wonder. No, it was much worse. Walter Elias looked back at the relic, rereading the cryptic words bitten off of the skull.
~ 1
My liege! a young voice called. The vizier watched the sunset when a boy came in, panting for breath.
What is it? The vizier asked, but the boy turned to the queen.
My pardon, queen; I didnt know he was in so great a company.
Be quick, Henry.
Theyve declared war.
Not a truce? The queen turned toward the boy. What a tender look she thought.
Thank you she bowed. The boy smiled, returned the gesture, and left as her eyes became deadpan. So it is true.
Who do you think sent this? The vizier asked, walking toward the bench holding the declaration. He picked up the arrow and broke the twine binding the note to the shaft.
Whoever it is hides in the shadows.
Do we ignore it?
We dont. Her husband was the king, but she was the crown. We must respond. It is apparent that this is a challenge not of one kingdom against another, but of a throne against a woman. Cowards; I will show them the reach of my rule.
And the prince? The queen stopped. She loved Adam, the child dear. But could the world?
Soon he will lose his father. He may lose his mother too. But it is not necessary that he loses his kingdom. She birthed the prince in her elder age; a province long expected but never thought possible. But to the king and queens rue he wasnt born a natural boy. What came to them appeared to be a little wolf. Hair stretched from his ears to his brows, and from his brows to his neck to his belly. The pads of his infant feet were coarse, and his teeth jagged. A mane consumed him whole.
But when he let loose his first guttural cry, the king and queen were no sooner in love again with this strange child. But what would it be? Can a king, fashioned more like a beast than a man, bear the crown? Without an elder, or any sibling in succession, in what hands would the kingdom rest? What did it matter to a mother. The queen took a firm love to him, having him groomed, even giving him a pompadour. Once, and only when the child slept, was he be sheared. What lay before them was a baby, porous, wonderful, yet follicles scarred his infant flesh from head to heel. It was a matter of days before the growth returned, and the baby once again became the cub.
The queen left her reverie and spoke, I must see my son before we go. A king is to know what broods in his kingdom.
~ 2
17 years later.
Adam sat on his throne, reminiscent of the day his mother led a fleet of knights to become martyrs of time and mystery. He looked across the hall but all his servants kept their eyes diverted to the floor. This boyish age was devilish. People thought their king more mutt than man and mocked him by crowning strays. Many left, foregoing their posts to find riches. The young and younger gave up their souls to the winter as the harvests thinned. Grains died back into the frosty soil, leaving tombstones standing higher and denser than the wheat. Cattle grazed for food but found none. As the famine deepened, their rotting carcasses turned the strong frail, sending many into deaths cold grip. Adam found nothing but hunger as he stared across the empty hall. Winter took many souls, but despair and wicked rumors of the queens death claimed even more.
His eyes watered seeing the specters carrying racks of spit meat turn into pallbearers. Nothing could revive what was lost. The marrow of life was deplete in the bones of the kingdom.
Adam stood from his throne and staggered through the cold till he was outside. The air was brisk and punishing, booming in echoes against the castle wall. He rubbed his furry arms, grateful for his condition, and saw an elder maid sitting at the end of the court pulling the soil to bits with a wooden trough.
Miss Lena Adam called. The ground is freezing. Winter is upon us. Im sure youre best beside a hearth. She returned him a warm smile, resting against the handle with brittle, liver spotted hands. A shawl framed her cheeks and pared the eyes and lips that sagged to a point. Her teeth were sparse, wanting of beauty.
My king she curtsied. We may see a seed yet.
Even so, the winter will claim it.
Even so. She rubbed the frost off her knuckles. Worn hands need be busy. How handsome the king could have been she thought. Merciless . Miss Lena bowed once more then withdrew to her work.
Adam stared at the field through the gate where rich embers of grain once grew. Am I beast in a cage? he wondered. Natures crime? Then he heard a distant gallop. Could it be a messenger from his mother? Hope and misery raced in his breast, dueling princes for the throne of his heart. He never bid that his mother died because no note reached him telling this secret. The excitement was excruciating. Slurry became fire on his skin. The palpitations of his heart turned into chaos. He ran up to the gate and gripped the wooden slats. His breath exploded into the autumn air.
A rider came up the path with a horse whose head swung unhinged in a wild bob. Adam summoned the gatekeeper to sprain the pulley and lift the gate. The rider pulled in and ripped the faceguard off his chin. Frost faded his brow. He kicked the stirrups off his feet and patted the horse as he dismounted.
My lord the rider said as he kneeled.
Sir Adam returned the bow. They will live to the degree in which you treat them his mother taught. Be wise, Adam.
What is your bidding? Adam asked. The man opened his satchel and handed the king a letter. What is this?
I am a worker, my lord. I have a very young child, a daughter, and we are in need of food. I charged a nurse to care for her in my absence. With your permission, I will labor in your guard and send my notes to her. It is all I ask- for my daughter. Adam folded the voucher, promising nothing.
Crafter? The man nodded. Can you invent warmer weather?
I can mimic it he replied, blowing hot air into his hands. Ah, humility Adam thought. The lost jewel of my crown .
How much recompense do want, and what ration of food? Things are portioned, even in the kingdom. Look about you. The hands of winter have touched us all.
Yes, sire. Adam began toward the castle. The rumors are true the man thought. Our king is a beast. He heard it in a dying mans confession, but disregarded it as a hallucination commonly abjured in death. Then he stopped. How does it walk upright and speak as native as a man? Caught in disbelief, he stared on when the king stopped a few paces ahead.
Inventor? Adam asked. Adrenaline burned out the cold in his veins.
My pardon he cleared his throat and dropped his eyes to the floor. Was the winter so blinding? Then the messenger grasped his chest and fell to his knees, overtaken by a heavy cough.
Come now, theres warmth inside. The king reached out but the rider jerked away and stumbled into the mud. Adam stood over him with eyes glistening with sorrow.
Im just short of breath. Adam responded with a nod and continued toward the castle. Forgive me. My name is Jakob. I was told, but I didnt expect. Forgive me, sire. Adam stopped again.
Were the rumors true? Adam turned his head halfway back, unable to look at the man lying in the mud. Guilt fastened his tongue shut with fear and loathing.
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