Rosalyn made it into the castle.
She could hear screams and moans, heavy furniture being moved to blockade a
door to prevent Arkadiy’s entry. Over it all she heard his chanting. She made
her way to the great hall. A scene of terrible slaughter met her as she pushed
open the heavy double door.
The young lord sat on the chair
that had been his father’s, his face white with terror. All around him, his
advisors were screaming in agony as their bodies were slowly ripped to shreds
by Arkadiy’s magic. “Arkadiy, stop,” Rosalyn cried. “What are you doing?”
“He was preparing to send his
soldiers to our house, Rosalyn,” Arkadiy said. “Their orders were to kill all
seven of us. He was getting ready to order the deaths of our children, all
because these men flattered him and called him a prince.”
“I wouldn't have done it,” the
boy on the dais said. “It was them that were giving the orders, not me. I
didn't want anyone to hurt your children.”
“But you would have stolen us
from them, just like your parents were taken from you,” Rosalyn said softly,
seeing a copy of the orders lying on the floor. “Why? We served and protected
you for your whole life. Why have you abandoned everything your parents taught
you?”
“It was because of you and your
ideas that my parents died,” the boy said. “They would never have tried to help
the peasants if you’d just left well enough alone. But they did and they caught
the plague and died from it.”
“It was because of us and our
ideas that so few ended up dying,” Arkadiy said. He finished dispatching the
men who’d been trying to facilitate the murder of his children. He turned his
cold, burning eyes on the young lord. “Now, for you.”
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