"I will speak only to Her Majesty," the seer declared. His voice was no loud but it’s was firm.
Since the guards had seized him for interrogation, the questioning had yielded nothing. The man refused to answer, his body frail and trembling, already seeming to teeter on the edge of death.
The Queen demanded answers. The men feared that if the seer died without confessing, the queen would deem them incompetent. Thus, though they dared not offer him medicine, neither did they resort to torture. Instead, they allowed his illness to ravage him.
It was only after relentless questioning that he finally spoke but with one condition: he would utter his secrets only in the Queen’s presence.
"What rank or claim do you possess to demand an audience with the Queen?" the interrogator asked, his voice dripping with disdain. Of course he knew that this seer was favored by the king but now the king was dead and the queen suspects him.
Yet the seer, unbothered, met his gaze. "Tell the Queen," he said, "that if she wishes to learn the truth of the King’s death, she must come herself..." The seer looked at the ma "or should I tell you instead, she might silence you," he said with a smirk. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs novelꜰire.net
A chill ran through the interrogator. Though he could not fully trust the seer’s words, neither could he ignore them. After a moment’s hesitation, he sent urgent word to the Queen.
Upon hearing the message, Her Majesty was incensed. She understood well enough: her husband’s hands had not been clean. The King was dead, the royal seal and scepter missing , she had little choice but to go.
Changing into plainer garments, she made her way to the dungeons where the seer was confined.
"What is it you have to say?" she demanded, her voice cold. A barred door stood between them. She had no relationship with this man. He was always close to the king and apart from greeting her they have never had a conversation.
The seer lifted his weary eyes to her. "Are you certain you wish for others to hear what I am about to reveal?"
The Queen frowned, glancing at the guards stationed a few paces away. After a pause, she gave a sharp command: "Leave us."
Reluctantly, the guards withdrew. The Queen remained, her expression steeled. She was not worried the seer who harm her. After all, it would do him no good.
"Speak," she ordered.
"Your husband was not poisoned," the seer began in a low, even voice.
The Queen’s eyes narrowed. It was clear she did not believe him.
A faint smile touched the seer’s lips. "I am a worshiper of the Old Gods. Our lives are sworn to sacrifice, not deceit. Your husband’s death was retribution. He who kills by the sword dies by the sword ; is that not the teaching of your own faith?"
The Queen’s heart tightened. "What retribution?" she demanded. "What crime did my husband commit?"
The seer held her gaze. "He slew his own brother to claim the throne."
The Queen’s face paled, though she fought to maintain her composure.
"You lie," she said. "Prince Christopher died from a bear’s attack."
The seer gave a small, knowing shrug. "As you say."
He saw no need to argue. Time would prove him right or history would bury the truth with him.
"Before I die, I shall leave you with a secret," he said. "Your husband arranged for your son to marry that girl to cleanse the heavy karma he had incurred. I calculated her fate: she may bring your house great fortune... but—" He broke off, coughing harshly.
The Queen’s frown deepened. Until now, he had not shown such weakness. Why did he suddenly seem worse?
"But what?" she pressed.
The seer wiped the blood from his lips. "She is a double-edged sword. She may bring prosperity... or utter ruin. You must take care of her."
Another fit of coughing overtook him. Blood trickled from his mouth.
"Summon a physician!" the Queen commanded sharply.
Physician Nathan, already nearby, hurried to examine the dying man. His face turned grave as he completed his inspection.
The Queen, unwilling to watch the seer’s final moments, turned and left the cell. Not long after, Nathan emerged.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing deeply. "The seer has perished."
The Queen’s brow furrowed. She sensed there was more.
"Speak," she ordered.
Nathan hesitated, then said, "His symptoms they mirror those of His Late Majesty. Even in death." Nathan said, he found the situation very strange.
The Queen’s heart skipped a beat. The seer’s words came rushing back: her husband’s death had not been mere chance. It was karmic retribution a sword for a sword.
Memories of the King’s injury during Prince Christopher’s fatal hunt surfaced. At the time, she had dismissed any doubts. The two brothers had been close or so she thought. Yet after years of marriage, she knew the King was not above ruthlessness. Deep in her heart, she knew the seer had spoken truth.
The King had killed his brother. And perhaps the gods had demanded payment.
But what of the seer’s cryptic warning? Sacrifices. A double-edged sword.
And what of his sudden death? Was it divine judgment for old sins? Or had he too been entangled in the treachery of years past?
The Queen pondered, but no clear answers came.
Her thoughts returned to the girl .. Anastasia.
The seer’s final warning echoed in her mind: A blessing or a curse.
"What did he mean by ’take care of her’?" the Queen mused.
The King and the seer were gone. Now, what mattered was the future. The seer had died with his secrets half-spoken, leaving her to unravel them alone.
She regretted her delay in meeting him. Had she come sooner, perhaps she could have drawn out the full truth.
In the end, she made her decision. She would watch Anastasia closely. Should the girl bring fortune, she would be nurtured. Should she bring ruin — she would be destroyed first before she can hurt the royal family.
As the Queen reached this grim conclusion, her gaze turned cold as ice.