A Queen Among Darkness: Chapter Fifty-Three - Isolde

A Queen Among Darkness: Chapter Fifty-Three - Isolde
I can feel the pain increasing, and if I weren’t trapped inside my body, I’d be screaming this prison down. But every cry of agony is buried deep inside me unable to escape. Much like me in this cell. I have no concept of time, so I have no idea how long I’ve been down here, or how long I have till this poison wins, but if Manon is right, it won’t matter.

“It’s time,” I hear a soft voice say as the gate of my cell opens.

I look up to see the sad golden eyes of Müjde. Her long mousy blonde hair looking rather unkempt around her mixed-race features. From what I remember of her, she was always peaceful. She can fight just like her sisters, but she does her best to avoid it, even more so than the others. She’s always bordered on a hippy if you ask me.

She walks into my cell and lifts me by my elbow and stares up into my eyes, “Please, Isolde. Just say you’re sorry. An apology doesn’t make up for what you have done, but it can help others to heal if they can believe part of you feels remorse. There still has to be some good inside you somewhere,” she beseeches.

I’d love to say I’m sorry, but not for the reasons she would think, but once again no sound leaves me. Müjde continues to look at me, patiently waiting for words that will never come, when she sighs and decides to give up. She places nuummite cuffs around my wrists adding more pain to my torture, then proceeds to escort me from my cell. This time, we take a different route out of the cell and come up through a stone passage that opens into the grand hall or ballroom depending on the occasion. I haven’t seen this room in centuries. It hasn’t changed a bit.

The room is gargantuan and lit by bright torches all around. Black columns hold the room up and the marbled floors and walls are varying patterns of black, cream and burgundy. It’s rich but open. The ceiling is incredibly high, with a glass dome allowing the moonlight in and making the marble floors glisten. At the far end of the room is a raised platform with steps that lead to a grand throne. A symbolic seat for the Goddess Zarseti. The throne looks radiant as the glass windows behind it allow the moonlight to illuminate it. I suppose there’s some comfort in knowing I’ll die somewhere so beautiful.

“I’m just asking that you give us more time,” I hear Yildiz beg.

“You did your test, and it was negative. You have to let this go,” Elif says in exasperation.

“I can’t let this go. This isn’t right. Why hasn’t she said anything? Why doesn’t she react to us? She doesn’t even react to the nuummite or mercury in her cell. That’s not normal,” Yildiz presses.

“Perhaps she’s been practising, trying to grow a tolerance to it,” Taahira suggests.

“She’s a makkari, not the King of Pontus, for crying out loud. It doesn’t matter if she exposed herself over the last century, it’s still a supernatural weakness. You don’t grow a tolerance over time,” Makbule scoffs.

“Can we please stop arguing over this?” Vesile sighs, rubbing her temples, “Even if we can only prove she committed half of the crimes listed against her, that’s still a ludicrous amount that cannot go unpunished. The one thing the masses can agree on is that she deserves to be executed. It’s not pleasant, but it is our duty to enforce law and justice,” she continues.

“This isn’t justice,” Yildiz counters, “Killing her doesn’t change anything.”

“Nothing was changed by any other execution we carried out, but we still did so because it is our sacred duty,” Doga adds.

Yildiz takes in a breath and looks deep in thought before a confident smile comes over her face. She folds her arms and juts out her hip, “I will agree to the execution if you can explain to me why I saw traces of magic on the samples while we were performing the test,” she offers.

I’d frown if I could move the muscles in my face. What does that prove?

“She’s. A. Makkari. Has all that Godly sex knocked sense out of your head?” Dilara says, rolling her eyes.

“How about you tone down the sarcasm long enough to use your brain,” Yildiz snaps, “She was cuffed with nuummite during her journey here. She has been sitting in a cell surrounded by nuummite and mercury. The magic should be completely drained from her system by now. Meaning her blood sample should have no traces of magic around it, and yet I saw the presence of magic. So answer that one for me, smartass.”

Her sisters all fall silent, each one looking thoroughly unsettled by the revelation. I completely forgot Yildiz can see the presence of magic! She must have been able to see Manon’s magic when she switched the samples. I look over and can see Manon struggling to keep a straight face. She was never good at it, in my opinion. Then again I always spotted it better than others, and right now I can tell she is festering under the surface. If there’s even a chance the grand plans she was acting so smug about are about to unravel, she might go off like a powder keg, and that is something I would love to see.

“Ladies, whether we agree she is guilty or not, I think it would be foolish of us to dismiss that there are some elements to her capture that don’t quite add up,” Defne chimes in.

“Not you too,” Dilara groans.

“I’m with them. From all witness accounts Isolde has been reported to be smug, sadistic, and maniacal, but look at her,” Ceren says, gesturing over to me, “Do you see any evidence of these traits? She has been mute and docile and in a highly suspicious way.”

“She didn’t even react when I put the cuffs on her,” Müjde declares from beside me.

They’re not singing my innocence, but there is enough dissension starting between them all, that they’re no longer able to agree on a course of action. As long as they can’t agree, they can’t execute me. Which means, if the hemlock kills me first, Manon is screwed. Something good might actually come from my death.

“Enough of this!” Manon shouts angrily, storming over.

“Manon, stay out of this,” Arthwin says in warning, taking a break from leaning lazily against a nearby wall to walk over and involve himself in the debate. “You don’t have a position of power or authority in the matter. This isn’t up to you.”

“It’s not your family that was burned alive,” she says pointedly, “How many lives is she meant to be accused of killing before you take action?” She asks enraged. This woman is a master at minding her words, it’s almost impressive. “I have spent centuries waiting for this day, and I won’t let you and your indecision delay it. She dies today, one way or another.”

“Did we just hear you attempt to dictate a legal course of action to us?” Asks Eylül angrily, as each irshiust turns to face Manon with displeasure all over their faces. Oh, how I hope I can photograph this moment and take it with me to the next life.

“I mean no disrespect,” Manon says, bowing her head.

“Well, that was a load of shit,” Feray snorts, “You meant every ounce of disrespect, no point lying about it. We understand your anger and frustration, but we will not become executioners just to feed your need for revenge,” she says in disgust.

“All I’m saying is that if you let someone capable of killing an irshiust, get away with it, then the crimes they are willing to commit are endless. Do you want to take that risk?” She says in a more diplomatic tone. She truly has mastered the art of lying to an irshiust.

“She is in our custody, and she is powerless. As long as she is here, she cannot hurt anyone. I’m surprised to see a makkari so bloodthirsty,” Makbule says suspiciously.

Manon stares her down, not backing down even a fraction, “You must have tuned out the last two centuries then, Makbule, or you wouldn’t say such a thing.

I swear you could hear a pin drop. The look of shock on everyone’s faces is beyond obvious, and the tension is so thick it’s permeating the grand space like a bad smell. That being said, every moment they argue is another moment I stay alive.

Suddenly, the agony in my body intensifies, and despite my body still being under Manon’s command, my knees give out and I drop to the floor landing on my knees, my body no longer able to hold me up. Heads whip to me and several irshiusts are at my side in an instant, looking me over with concern.

“Listen to her heart,” Setia whispers with concern.

“She’s sweating like it’s a hundred degrees even though those cells are freezing,” Ece frowns.

“Something is definitely wrong,” says Esma, laying a hand on my forehead.

I would thank the Gods that my body decided to break down at this moment, but because everyone is distracted by what is happening to me, no one is noticing Aulen behind them beginning to use her magic. I’m in utter shock and dismay that Aulen would do anything against the wishes of the Delegation, but a glance at Manon makes things more clear.

Aulen is being controlled by Manon, and it looks like my execution has finally come.