The Inquisitor - Epilogue Ch. 05

"What have you done with my mother... what have you done with the rightful Queen?" he shouted back. Laurel shifted her gaze anxiously from Tarquinne to the King, and back again.

"Belladonna is gone, my son." Answered the King, his voice once again calm and serene. "Too long did she plague MY kingdom with her lust and deceit."

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER!" screamed Tarquinne, his face straining and crimson with rage. The fearsome outlander guards stationed in the Throne Room tensed, expecting a fight.

The King nearly shot out of his throne. His leapt to his feet, mighty and golden and full of vitality. The air around him seemed to shimmer and crackle, and his fierce eyes took on a frightening bluish glow.

"And where was your righteous indignation whilst I was held captive, my dearest son!" he fired back. "Where was all of this mighty bellowing in the name of your own father?"

The King thundered on, as Tarquinne said nothing, a look of sincere hatred forming in his eyes.

"Tell me, boy!" the King lashed out, stinging Tarquinne's pride. "Did you ever once try to free me? Ever for even one moment abandon your naïve belief in the feeble excuses of Belladonna!"

"Where is she!" shrieked Tarquinne. Several of the guard felt sure they would very soon have to seize the pair and drag them apart, or perhaps even draw swords and put the Prince down.

"SHE... IS... GONE!" thundered the King. The Prince was suddenly propelled backward by some unseen force, as if someone had shoved him, hard. His breath expelled in a whuf.

As quickly as it had come, the King let his rage slip from him like a receeding tide. He held up his hand, palm flat.

"Her reign is done, Tarquinne." He said smoothly. His face seemed softer, kinder. But Tarquinne was a mask of hate. He bared his teeth at the King.

"Villian!" he hissed. "You have destroyed her."

"Yes..." said the King at last. Laurel thought she detected a hint of deep sadness in his voice. "There was no other way, my son. Belladonna was consumed long, long ago... perhaps even before I ever came to know her. The creature that took her place... was not your mother."

"Liar!" shouted Tarquinne, raising his sword high, rushing forward. Two of the outlander guards tackled him at once, one smashing into his midsection, the other wrapping his burly arms 'round Tarquinne's legs. They crashed to the floor. The guards were surprised by the strength and fight in the young prince. He thrashed like a netted animal, biting, kicking, tearing at their eyes and skin. One of guards pummeled him with blows, forcing his sword from his hand, metal on stone. The other seized a huge clump of Tarquinne's flying hair, making ready to smash his face upon the stone floor.

"ENOUGH!" commanded the King, and instantly all three men flew apart from each other, sliding along the floor on their backs. They were blasted from their brawl by some impossible ripple, like a boulder thrown into a pond, as a thunderclap echoed throughout the hall. All eyes returned to the King, who stood abjuring his outstretched hand, fingers still splayed wide. The crackle in the air around him was almost a visible thing. "Enough!" he said again. The guards lay blinking and shaking their muzzy heads as Tarquinne struggled to his feet.

The two remaining guards drew in close to the King, ready to thwart another attack. But Tarquinne shakily ran his hands through his hair, smoothing it. On his face was painted a mask of calm.

"This bickering is pointless!" spat the King. "I had hoped to speak plainly with you, Tarquinne."

Softening, the King tried again. "It would bring me great joy if you would help me govern this realm."

Tarquinne was very quiet for many long moments. However, the princess could see the anger in Tarquinne's eyes turn to ice. There would be no peaceful reconciliation here. Slowly, carefully, he bent and retrieved his sword.

"Help you govern?" said Tarquinne at last. "I'd sooner see your skin torn off by carrion birds than live under the rule of a murderer."

The King let out a long, terribly sad sigh.

"So be it." said the King, his voice heavy and final. "Prince Tarquinne... You are hereby banished! You shall leave this realm before the rising of another sun."

The princess, soon to be Queen Laurel, let out a gasp as the King pronounced the sentence. The guards regained their posts and glowered menacingly at Tarquinne.

"My son, Tarquinne, is stripped of his lands and titles." decreed the King. "You are no longer princess of this realm. Upon pain of death, let not your face be shown again in the lands or this kingdom."

The guards looked from the King to Tarquinne, expecting another outburst. But instead, Tarquinne calmly sheathed his sword. It slid home with a snik as he fixed his father's eyes with his own.

"Hearken to me, my Father..." spoke Tarquinne. "Stripped of title I may be, but know this. The death of my mother shall not go unavenged. There will come a day when all who had a part in this wicked plot..." His eyes landed upon Laurel, and his gaze was hot daggers upon her skin. "will be brought low."

His words hung in the air like heavy smoke. With measured movements, he loosened each finger of his right-hand glove. With a flourish, he whipped the glove from his hand, casting it down at the feet of the King. With that, Tarquinne turned upon his heel and strode from the throne room, head held high and defiant.