Captive's Confession

"Your Majesty, you must come quickly," said the ashen-faced guard. King Turen of Derinkalar knew this guard well; he wouldn't interrupt royal business unless it was extremely important.

"What is it, Captain?" the king asked as they hurried down the half-hidden stairs to the dungeon.

"Does Your Majesty recall the traitor set to die on the morrow?"

"Aye. I thought that she had been allowed to confess and avoid torture before her demise."

"She had." They continued down the stairs rapidly before they came upon her cell. It appeared that the cell was as per usual in the dim torchlight. A slumped figure rested inside, silhouetted in the gloom. The guard took one of the mounted torches and bent to the iron keys left carelessly on the stone floor. As he rose, he put one of those keys in the lock and it turned with a small click.

The door creaked open and to the king's surprise, the prisoner was motionless. As the torchlight illuminated the owner of that silhouette, even the king could not conceal his shock.

Before him was a servant he'd not seen in days, gagged and bound.

"Your Majesty--"

"What is the meaning of this?" King Turen demanded.

The servant tried to speak around the gag a moment before the guard yanked it down.

"She's gone."

"How long?"

"An hour...a day...I know not, Your Majesty."

The king swore.

"There is a message, Your Majesty." The guard handed him a few pieces of parchment etched with the hopeless scratches of a felon. But upon closer examination, it was not entirely as it appeared. . . .

* * *

"The lackey who delivered Your Majesty's unbelievably arrogant request for a ‘confession for absolution' shall be found in my place within the dungeon walls. Undoubtedly, I shall be long past Your Majesty's borders by the time you read this. However, since I, the wrongfully accused, shall likely be compounding my ‘guilt' in escape, I feel that Your Majesty should know who truly betrayed the Royal Person nearly a fortnight ago.

This tale begins a month and a fortnight ago. A festival had come for the Saints' Feast Day, and all attended. It was amidst this cheerful atmosphere that we first saw the traitor -- we being my twin sister Cydneigh and I.

‘Do you see him, Arynne?' asked my sister as I searched for suitable ribbons at one of the vendors' tables.

‘Whom?'

‘The young man over there. The minstrel.'

‘Oh, him. Yes, why?' She had taken a habit lately of pointing out any remotely good-looking man everywhere we went, so my glance in that direction was fleeting.

She hesitated, not answering until she pulled me aside. ‘I think I've seen him before.'

Something in my mind clicked with that look. To think of it, I had seen him before, too -- but where?

I soon forgot about him. After all, our birthday approached. As per Your Majesty's law, we were now eligible for marriage. I lost count of the suitors and their messages that came to our humble manor. Many lords respected our house and line.

There was one, however, that called on us many more times than the others. He was Duke Keral of Lucane, or so I heard. They wanted him for Cydneigh. It didn't surprise me much; she was the more suitable of us for the duties involved in ladyship of a manor. Though I knew I would miss her dearly, I knew that ladyship would make Cydneigh happy. Despite the differences between us, however, there was still someone arranged to see me. As I prepared for this potential suitor, Cydneigh entered my chamber.

‘Dear sister, I've something to tell you.' Her voice had taken an odd quality to it.

‘What is it?' I asked.

‘I...have a suitor.' Her voice was hesitant. Her guilty posture told me something about him was unusual.

I arched an eyebrow. ‘Already? Our lord father has decided on one of them?'

She fidgeted. She wouldn't meet my eyes. ‘Not precisely...'

‘Who is he, then, sister?'

After a pause, she told me. I nearly choked in that instant.

‘Are you mad, girl? Our lord father would never condone such a joining, even assuming his lord father does! The man's notorious from here to Molenhar!'

‘I know that.'

‘Then why continue?'

Again, she paused. ‘I...love him, Arynne. I know lust is a sin, but...he'll be powerful soon and he'll need someone to bear his heirs....'

I gazed at the young woman before me for a moment. Who was she and what had she done to Cydneigh? ‘You're mad.'

‘Perhaps. But I'm also in love--' I clapped a hand over her mouth.

‘Don't let our lady mother hear that.' She pulled my hand away.

‘Whether or not she does, it's true.'

‘Cydneigh, what shall I do with you?'

‘I know not, but...'

‘But what?'

‘Could you...grant me a favor tomorrow?'

‘What sort of favor?' I had suspected something like this was in the works, I knew her far too well to believe otherwise.

‘I shall have need of a double for the meeting with the duke tomorrow. I wish to see...' her voice trailed off.

‘I know not why I should, to be honest.' I saw her crestfallen face and at last relented. I always did. I probably still would, were the situation different.

‘Thank you.' My sister left my chamber as if on a cloud of air.

The next day dawned with a fog thicker than the worst porridge we'd ever had. I knew Cydneigh's escape would be quick...but wait: for today, I was Cydneigh. Arynne had somehow escaped. I had to remember that.

I came to the hall and saw him waiting. As he sat across from me, I understood why she had wanted to escape. He was a perfect bore throughout the few hours he called on me. I finally escaped when his escort feigned illness. I am eternally grateful for that.

Instead of escaping to my chamber, I went to find my sister. Surely she should have been back by now. I saw her in a clearing with the traitor. Unwittingly, I heard them speak.

‘We shall have to make a single attempt before our escape,' I heard my sister say, ‘Too bad my sister isn't in on this, she knows poisons better than I.'

‘It shan't matter how well we get him,' replied my sister's suitor. ‘Even just making him ill enough that I can quietly kill him in his sleep will suffice.' By this point, I was close enough to see the young man smile in anticipation. ‘We shall poison him at the banquet in half a fortnight....' He leaned in for much more than a chaste peck from my sister.

‘But how shall you escape?' I asked, betraying my cover. I couldn't let my sister be killed were she caught in a half-formed plan. I saw the fleeting look of surprise on his face, but he covered it well, and quickly, as he pulled his head from my sister's. I almost gasped; it was the same man as was watching us at the festival, only garbed in the much finer clothing of the major nobility.

‘I shan't. It would be too obvious. You shall get a horse and ride off until I send word that it is safe to return.'

‘How shall you obtain the horse?'

‘He shall talk to the stable boy at his manor and secure it. There will be no questions asked. I shall ride to Molenhar, and board a ship for the uncharted land forbidden by the Church.'

I pulled Cydneigh aside. ‘You do realize that he may never summon you to return, even if you do survive the escape.'

‘He shall. I know it.' She smiled shyly in his direction as she amplified her voice. ‘My lord, you shall have to order two horses saved; my sister knows of the plot and shall have to escape to avoid suspicion.'

‘Very well, my lady.' We separated soon after, returning to our respective homes.

The night of Your Majesty's attempted assassination drew near. Cydneigh became increasingly on-edge as more and more suitors came to call. I do not remember how many came calling before my sister's lover. I merely remember that late in the morning before the banquet, he came to call. Not only did he want to see Cydneigh, but myself as well. I know not where our guardians went. I simply know it worked out in his favor.

‘Everything is ready,' he whispered to us.

‘Who shall actually make the attempt?' my sister asked in an equally hushed tone.

‘You shall, though your sister shall act as lookout.' Wonderful, more involvement in the whole filthy business.

‘How?'

He produced a ring with one of the largest, gaudiest stones on it either of us had ever seen. Only I, however, could conceal my awe. With his thumbnail, he popped a catch on the side and it opened to a clear, thick liquid. Cydneigh instantly pressed her finger to it -- or at least, she tried. Her suitor stopped her.

‘That, my dear, is a very potent poison. To even touch it is death....You must remember to close the lid to the ring firmly when you finish.' He demonstrated, then continued. ‘You are to get yourself to the kitchen as the dancing commences. It will be busy enough you likely won't need an excuse. Find the most ornate goblet; that is the one he uses. It has rubies embedded in its golden base. Do not place the poison in any other cup but his. I shall ask you' he looked at me ‘to dance and together we shall see when she exits.'

The logistics of the plan continued. I watched my twin, trying to decide whether she would actually go through with this. The Cydneigh I knew wouldn't; then again, the Cydneigh I knew wouldn't have had a secret suitor, either.

The night came on with a chill to the air. However, the chill was not nearly as cold as to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand as they did. My sister looked incredible, and she had remembered to wear the ring. I exchanged a nervous glance with her as we arrived; again, I wondered if she would actually do this.

‘Good luck.' I only hope you get out alive.... I don't think I could have been more tense if I was doing the horrible deed myself.

My question was left hanging in the air as I looked at the nobles in their finery. My sister's secret suitor was prominent among them. We exchanged a glance as well even as he smiled at Cydneigh. The anticipation of the night was so thick, it could have been cut. This last thought brought me to think of the dagger I had strapped to my lower leg for when we made our escape. No one would stop us....

My sister quietly excused herself as the dancing began. As he had said, my sister's lover asked me to dance. With my heart beating like a rodent's in my chest, I watched her go in. ‘She's in.'

‘Our plan is foolproof, Arynne, calm down.' As we whirled, I kept as much of a watch on the kitchen door as I could. I could barely breathe as I watched and counted the moments.... One gold coin, two gold coins,... she would be looking for the chalice now. I continued to count. How could he stay so calm? He looked at Your Majesty across the room.

Thirteen gold coins, fourteen gold coins.... She should have found the chalice, it was likely the easiest to spot. We continued the dance.

‘Have you seen her?' I hissed so that only he could hear.

He frowned. I took that as a no.

Twenty-seven gold coins, twenty-eight... I had begun to count after she had gone in. Had she been captured? Thirty-one...

‘She's out.'

We danced over to the edge of the crowd as I saw Cydneigh duck out. I knew my cue. I excused myself and went outdoors. We had agreed to meet the stableboy at a safe distance from the manor itself -- which, regrettably, brought us again to the woods. I caught up with my sister in the garden as we fled.

‘I was almost caught,' she whispered to me. ‘I had to leave quickly.'

‘Hush, let's get out of here.'

As we fumbled along in the moonlight, I heard a soft thunk and my sister muttering an unladylike oath.

‘What happened?'

No reply. I felt the fear rise in my throat.

‘Cydneigh?' As a cloud uncovered the moon, I saw what had happened. She lay there, perfectly still. My heart in my throat, I knelt by my sister's side. In an instant, I knew what had happened. The catch on her ring was open and a thick, clear liquid covered the fingers of her left hand. She had been killed by the very poison she had been sent to deliver. It was like seeing myself lying there: I wish it had been, and that she had lived on in my place.

I had no time to truly mourn, nor to consider the irony of the situation; I had only a few hours, in my judgement, to get to Molenhar. With my sister dead, any witnesses would suspect me of the murder attempt on Your Majesty.

‘Goodbye, Cydneigh,' I whispered before fleeing into the dark. I saw the stableboy in the agreed-upon clearing and picked up my pace.

Taking the reins of one of the waiting mounts, I murmured, ‘The other one shall not be necessary.' The words nearly caught in my throat.

‘Aye, my lady,' the stableboy acknowledged quietly.

I rode long and hard for the better part of an hour, southeast toward Molenhar. I thought I had passed the danger, and finally slowed my steed before we reached the coast.

‘Stop in the name of His Royal Majesty, King Turen of Derinkalar!'

Your Majesty's personal guards had found me. They dragged me off the horse, saying that they had seen me leave shortly before a young servant had died suddenly, stealing a sip from Your Majesty's wine.

A kitchen servant identified me as Cydneigh. And the rest, as they say, Your Majesty, is history. I was thrown in this cell and given naught but bread and water while awaiting my fate -- until now. As I said before, I shall be long gone as Your Majesty reads these words. For as I'm sure Your Majesty sees, the true criminals were my twin and her illicit suitor.

I realize that I have yet to reveal the identity of Cydneigh's suitor. Now that she is dead, she cannot be held accountable for her actions. However, the suitor plays the leading role in this tragedy and is very much alive. I feel that, having cleared my own name, I must furnish the name of he who is truly guilty. To me, he is known as the murderer and lover of my sister. However, the conspirator is known to many others by a grander name: Egrian Fering, the Prince of Derinkalar, Your Majesty's eldest son and heir to the throne."