Author's Note: Constructive Criticism is always welcomed. Enjoy!
Fiat Justitia Ruat Coelum
Chapter Two: The Choices We Make
Mako yanked her arm out of the tight grip of the guard, doing her best to glare at him in reproach at his less-than-gentle handling. He scowled back but let her walk on her own as they neared the dais in the center of the room, pausing in front of the pair of thrones.
Two figures sat in the intricately carved wooden seats, cushioned upon crimson velvet. The man was fair of hair, his shoulders broad and his chest well-muscled; a body accustomed to physical combat. His eyes were chips of ice and just as unfeeling except when they were alight with the pain of others. His smile was just as cold as he surveyed her struggles and defiance with an almost eager anticipation.
The woman at his side was one that was all too familiar. Her dark hair hung in ringlets down to her waist. Her equally dark eyes were as dark as a bottomless pit and just as devoid of compassion. She was as beautiful as her husband was strong, but her beauty was severe, as if cut from volcanic glass – and just as ready to cut down those around her with the tiniest bit of pressure.
The woman's smile was as sharp. "Hello, dear sister. Are we finally ready to take our proper place in the world?"
Mako's glare was full of animosity. "You're no sister of mine, Kamilla."
Kamilla's smile froze, her eyes narrowing. "That's Queen Kamilla to you." She eased back in her chair with a forced relaxation. "Although, I suppose 'Your Majesty' will do just as nicely."
Mako folded her arms across her chest. "Of all the men in the world, only you would willingly choose a madman as your husband."
Kamilla looked at the man beside her with an amused smile. "Isn't she charming, Almanzor, dear?"
"It appears that the stories are true, for once," he acknowledged. "As beautiful as she is remote, with all the charm of a pit viper."
Kamilla's smile faltered at the mention of Mako's beauty. She looked upon Mako with malice swimming beneath the surface. "Perhaps if she refuses service we can find a use for that beauty – I hear the field hands are looking for a new scarecrow." Her smile was all teeth. "Don't worry, dear. We'd be sure to stuff you with enough straw that your body would last through the winter."
Mako met Kamilla's gaze with a neutral one of her own, refusing to engage in the queen's games.
"We've been very patient," Almanzor sat back with a sigh. "What is your answer – a lifetime of service for your crimes against your family or will we be hastening your departure from this world?"
"I hear Death is always lonesome." Kamilla's eyes shone like obsidian. "A little harlot like her would be welcome in His house, I would think."
"Patience, love." Almanzor lay a hand on his wife's arm. "As eager as I am to see your justice seek fulfillment, I would appreciate a little cooperation on behalf of her family first."
Mako felt the first bits of unease prick. "What do you want with my home?"
"Your country, particularly its ruler, has been rather, shall we say – difficult in coming to terms with certain trade proposals." He folded his hands together in his lap, the posture of one who was entirely relaxed but his eyes watched her like a hawk does its prey.
"Kaoru has every right to refuse to trade with you. Why would we agree to an alliance with a merciless tyrant and his equally charming," she eyed Kamilla with distaste, "wife?"
"Cute, sister, very cute." Kamilla's tone said it was anything but.
"You are correct, however," Almanzor conceded with a bow of his head. "But now that we have a few more cards in our hands, I believe your young ruler will come to see things our way." He waved to the pair of guards standing at attention at the door. "As will you."
Mako heard the doors being pulled open but refused to turn her back on this pair of rulers until she heard a sound that stopped her heart cold.
The unhappy cries of a young infant echoed off the stone cavern of the main hall as a guard strode in with a tiny bundle in his arms. Mako felt the blood drain from her face.
A large hand clamped down on her shoulder when she tried to rush to her son's side. Terror thrilled through her as Kamilla stood from her throne, every feature of her face shining with anticipation as she motioned for the guard to bring the infant to her.
"Leave him alone," Mako gasped, as the guard deposited her child in Kamilla's arms.
Kamilla studied the infant for a long moment. Mako's heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her, ready to move into flight the instant Kamilla had a thought to harm her son.
"As the threat of harming you seems not to bother you a wit, we thought we'd change tactics," Almanzor continued conversationally, watching the child in his wife's arms with an almost hungry gleam. He pinned Mako with those eyes and Mako felt an icy chill race down her back.
"So we offer one last time – how do you choose to repent for your hand in the murder of the King of the former kingdom of Aduro and the crimes against the rest of your kin?" His eyes shown with an almost unholy glee. "A lifetime of servitude? Or do we drop your child from the ramparts?"
"You've already taken a child and husband from me," Mako bit out, her tears refusing to fall even as the pain of remembrance tore through her heart like a knife. "Isn't that enough?"
"Oh dear, sweet sister," Kamilla's voice was as soft as it was deadly. "It will never be enough."
"What is your choice?"
"That is no choice," Mako glared at the king, a surge of anger coursing through her veins. She held out her arms to the queen. "Return my child and you will get what you want."
"I hardly believe you're in a position to be giving demands," Kamilla warned, her voice cold. She looked down at the child in her arms with distaste, his cries working up into a squall. She cringed in repulsion before thrusting the infant back towards the guard. "And a word of caution, sister. The world has no need of the dirty mutts spawned from a demon mongrel and his bitch. You will obey your every order or your brat's lifespan will be as long as the fall from the parapets to the moat."
Almanzor waved at Mako's guard with a flick of his wrist. "Take her first to the blacksmith. Then see if they can't put her to work somewhere."
Mako clutched her child to her chest, allowing the guard to drag her out of the room as she tried to calm her son, his face flushed from his cries. Her mind raced with the new information.
Our only value is as ransom. She glanced back at the monarchs one last time before the doors swung shut behind her. And how long do we live once that ransom has been paid?
The guard at her side scowled down at the bundle. "Can't you make that thing stop crying?"
"He's a child not a thing," Mako snapped back. "And he's hungry."
"I won't put up with its howling all the way to the smithy and back."
"Then what do you suggest I do with him?"
The guard snagged the arm of a young woman walking by, her arms full of linens. "Take care of it."
Ahim looked up, her eyes wide with innocence. "It, sir?"
"The thing in her arms," he elaborated with a jerk of his head toward the bundle.
Mako relaxed when she caught the sharp intelligence behind the innocent façade of the young woman's face. She wouldn't be surprised if the gentle servant had been waiting around the corner for just this reason.
Without a word, Ahim stepped closer and held her arms open so that Mako could slide the child into her arms. "I will look after him until you return," she promised softly, holding the child close with an assurance and gentleness that set Mako's frayed nerves at ease.
"Thank you," Mako murmured. Their eyes met briefly and Ahim gave her the barest of nods, her smile uneasy but her eyes kind.
"Move it," the guard shoved at Mako, making her stumble.
Ahim bit her lip as she watched the young mother being led away, mouth set stubbornly as she glared at the guard. She touched the silver band around her neck with a faint grimace before slipping down a quiet hallway and out of sight.
Mako breathed in a lungful of fresh but chilled air as her guard led her out into the weak sunshine. She squinted against the meager light even as she welcomed the feeble warmth.
How long had it been since she'd last felt the sunshine on her face? Her mind shied away from the answer.
She fell behind, trying to linger in the open air for just a moment longer – her last under the skies as a free woman.
A wooden door creaked on its hinges as it was opened, the guard standing by it impatiently as she made her way over. The heat inside the enclosed space left her fingers aching as they thawed, the ring of metal on metal making her jump as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light.
As her sight wandered over inside of the stone building, Mako was drawn against her will to the well-stoked fires. She held her hands out to the warmth and shivered as the heat wrapped itself around her like a lover's embrace. She watched the guard and the blacksmith converse in low tones, the latter throwing glances her way as they spoke.
She thought she detected a glimmer of sympathy in his gaze, but when he moved closer, his look was carefully blank. Coarse, grimy hands grasped her chin in a firm but not unkind grip, lifting her head to inspect her neck with a practiced eye.
"King wants another one o' silver, is it?" His voice, roughened after years of smoke and soot was indifferent as he took quick, efficient measurements.
"That's the order," the guard responded. "Want me to stay and keep a firm grip on her for you?"
The blacksmith spared the guard the briefest of glances. "That won't be necessary." He looked back at Mako. "Will it?"
She didn't answer but something in her eyes must have reassured him as he waved the guard aside. "Take a break. I'll send her along when we finish."
The guard looked like he was going to argue, but the lure of a respite was too great a temptation and he left with a curt warning to Mako to not cause trouble.
When the door had shut behind him the blacksmith sighed gustily before dropping Mako's chin and moving to the other side of the room where some tools lay on a counter.
"Don't know what you did to draw the favor of the king, but I suggest you keep your head down after this if you want to keep it attached to your neck."
Mako's arms wrapped around herself – chilled – despite the heat emanating in the room. "There's little else he can take from me."
The blacksmith glanced at her with something akin to pity. "What little you have, he'll claim. Make no mistake about that." The sounds of soft clinks filled the air as he sifted through a drawer. "Keep your head down and what's left close. Maybe then you'll survive a few more years yet."
Mako frowned at his words. "I was told I'd serve for the rest of my life."
The blacksmith pulled out a silver band, identical to the one that rested around Ahim's neck, and made his way over to Mako with true pity in his eyes now. "Aye, but they never said how long that life would be, did they?"
Mako's arms drew tighter around her as she eyed the thing in his hands with dread.
"Folk don't live long in this land to begin with. The king is too quick to hand out his justice for the smallest slight." The blacksmith turned the pretty band over, the shiny metal catching the warm orange glow of the forge. "And after the overthrow of her father's rule, his new queen is more than a little paranoid. She knows all too well how quick things can change." He pinned Mako with a heavy gaze. "How quickly even the lives o' royalty can change."
Mako looked away with a grimace. "Kingdoms rise and fall every day."
He nodded. "True enough." He motioned for Mako to hold her hair out of the way. "And as happy as she is to now have you under her thumb, I believe her Majesty is right to be more than a little wary of you still."
Mako's free hand clenched in the folds of her dress as the cool metal slid around her neck, fighting the overwhelming urge to yank it off.
"Easy," the large man murmured as watched the panic surge in her eyes.
"She has what she wants," Mako's whisper was harsh. "What is left that can possibly unnerve her?"
He tilted her head higher as he began to fasten the band shut. "The fact is, Miss, you have the queen rattled simply by being alive."
Mako couldn't see what he was doing, but the acrid tang of heat and metal filled her senses. True panic threatened to surface as old fears of strangulation surfaced. "How does my being alive scare Kamilla?"
A gentle hand moved her chin from side to side as he inspected his work. Satisfied, the blacksmith released her and began gathering his tools.
Mako's fingers flew to the new permanent jewelry fastened around her neck. The man had done his job well; she couldn't find a single seam in the band to work loose. She stilled when he placed a solid hand on her shoulder and leaned in close to her ear.
"Because," he whispered, his voice covered by the hiss of the forge. "You helped bring down a king's rule once before. What's to say you won't do it again?"
Mako gaped at his retreating back, but the man didn't glance her way as he bustled about the place.
Overthrow Almanzor and Kamilla? Her mind whirled. Are they insane? How would I accomplish that when I can't even protect my own son?
"I've work to do," the blacksmith called over his shoulder. "Best get going 'fore your guard comes to find you. He's not known for his patience."
Mako threw him one last look of confused incredulity before turning and stepping out into the cold morning air, her breath trailing behind her in opalescent puffs where the sunlight refracted off it. Her mind was in too much of a daze to notice the beauty or feel the warmth this time as she made her way back to the door in the castle wall, and the sun slipped behind the clouds once more.