-Chapter Six-

Timothy Goulding was just as I remembered him. He hadn't changed much in the years since I had seen him. His face looked sour, but his eyes were sharp like silver daggers. He had never been quite as refined as the other noblemen of Millfields, but he was easily the most powerful and well respected. He walked into the room slowly with a soft limp, and his eyes darted between Reaver and myself. His expression displayed his extreme displeasure at Reaver's presence, and he stooped into a quick bow before me. "Your Majesty," He greeted, his rough voice curt and to the point. He raised up, and he glanced back to a guard. "Can't an old man get a seat?"

The guard looked quite bewildered at being addressed in such a way, and his eyes found mine.

I nodded, and I moved back to sit on my throne. The fit was indeed tight, as Reaver had foretold, but I managed to look dignified while my excess skirts spilled out on all sides. I folded my hands into my lap, and I looked to the Duke. "You and I both know that there is a reason you requested this audience."

"Yes, I suppose we do," He said as the guard returned with a chair. He sat down in it, and he leaned back into the cushion. "Though, I am not sure why you've chosen to involve him." He jabbed a finger in the direction of Reaver. "He is the dirty little sod that's been perpetuating these loathsome rumors I've come to discuss."

Reaver looked as if he wanted to speak, but I raised a hand. He pressed his lips tightly together, and I sat straighter in the throne. "I would very much like to hear what you have to say, but you must allow me to speak first."

"Very well," He replied almost disrespectfully. "You're The Queen. That's your right, isn't it?"

"You would do well to watch your tone," Reaver interjected.

"Wise advice," Goulding replied. "Maybe you should do the same."

I shot Reaver a sharp look, and I bade him to silence himself without a word of my own. "The documents, please, Reaver."

"Documents?" Goulding snorted.

"Documents incriminating you," Reaver said sharply. "Proof of your treachery."

The Duke crossed his arms over his chest, and his foot tapped nearly impatiently on the floor. "Let's see 'em, then"

Reaver produced the papers, and he stepped down from his place at my right side to thrust the papers into Goulding's reach. When the other man snatched them, Reaver remained nearby, as if to be sure he wouldn't try anything. He looked down at the man with such a black look of disgust, but he stayed his twitchy hand that I could tell desperately wanted to coddle one of the Dragonstompers at his hips.

"So it looks like I'm a traitor, then," Goulding said bitterly. His laughter was dark, and he thumbed through the papers. "My seal or name is on every one of these documents. They must be legitimate."

"Your own wife has stood witness against you," I said, sitting straight.

"My wife is a conniving little trollop," Goulding said. He shot a glare over to Reaver, and he raised his eyebrows. "You would know that, wouldn't you, Reaver?"

"I have no idea of what you are speaking, Your Grace," said Reaver steadily, but his eyes told a completely different story. They burned with dark humor and ill-will. He directed his gaze toward me, and he shrugged. "The man is obviously senile, Your Majesty."

"Senile, my eye," Goulding spat. "Alright, Your Majesty. What's your judgment, then? I can see that you will not see reason, for you've never been very reasonable in the past."

I was taken aback by both his statement and his disrespect. I tried to keep the shock off of my face, and I pulled in a breath. "You have the right to explain yourself."

"Oh, come, now," He chuckled. "Don't pretend to be noble, Your Majesty. You've got no honor left in you." He brought the papers back up into his view, peering at me over them. "You've killed your own blood. You let thousands die when that Darkness came to Albion. You didn't stop it when you promised you would. I'd say you deserve all of the things contained in those documents. Maybe more."

"So you admit it," I said steadily.

"Would it make a difference if I denied my involvement?" He asked, raising a grayed brow at me. "Would you spare me? Let me return to my little corner of Millfields to die in peace?" He shook his head. "I don't think you would. It's obvious you've let that snake slither 'round your nethers." He pointed at Reaver, who said nothing, merely stood with a solemn look on his face.

"Now, that is uncalled for," I said, my anger flaring.

"It's true, then," He laughed, as my outrage had confirmed his suspicion. "What skill you must have, sir...to ensnare a Queen, of all people." He narrowed his eyes at Reaver, who looked nearly baffled for reasons unknown to me. A soft smirk fixed itself on his weathered lips. "The Queen of Albion is selling herself to a wretched man." He shook his head. "Your mother would be ashamed and disgusted."

I rose from my throne. "You do not know anything, you old fool."

"You are the fool, My Queen," He said, raising from his seat. "You'll realize that one day. You are nothing more than a child with a fowl temper. Tempers get people killed, Your Majesty."

"Take him away," I seethed.

"And what are we to do, Your Majesty?" asked Gregory, the new Guard-Captain. He strode forward to take Goulding into custody.

"Come now," Goulding said. "Don't lose your nerve now, little girl." He spat in my direction, and Reaver's Dragonstomper was out before the glob of saliva even touched the hem of my dress. "You'd like people to believe you're merciful, wouldn't you? All you are is-"

"Silence him," I snapped, my pulse throbbing rapidly in my veins. I could feel heat and anger melding within me, burning a hole through patience and restraint.

Gregory put his elbow into the old man's stomach, and Goulding fell forward, gasping for breath.

"Timothy Goulding," I said through a tightly clenched jaw. "You have admitted to plotting against your Queen. You've not denied hiring mercenaries to have me killed. I hereby declare you a traitor to your Queen and the kingdom of Albion. You and your family are hereby stripped of any lands and titles you may hold. You will be executed immediately."

Even Reaver's eyes widened in shock. There was a pronounced murmur among those present, and the guards took hold of Goulding, dragging him away.

His striking steely eyes fixed directly on mine, and he was grinning. "You'll see me again in The Darkness, Your Majesty." He laughed grimly. "I look forward to seeing how the shadows will judge you." He inclined his head at me, and a pair of guards moved to close the doors to the throne room as he was dragged across the threshold.

"Well, Your Majesty," Reaver said, clearing his throat. "That went..." He trailed off, obviously at a loss for words. I might have laughed at his speechlessness had I not been so furious.

"Reaver," I said quickly as I turned to look at him.

He looked up at me, his eyebrows furrowed, and he tilted his head to the side.

"Kneel," I said, pointing to the ground before me. I figured I'd get this over with before other nobles started sniffing around for a better title and lands.

He obeyed, his mouth struggling to restrain a smile. He bent his head, but his eyes fixed directly on me. His smile won the battle, but it was obscured to all but me by his deeply bowed head.

"In turning in Timothy Goulding, you have saved my life. It will not go unrewarded. I bequeath you with the title of Duke of Millfields along with the lands and wealth that go with it," I said, glancing to the scribe that scribbled every word I said. The rest of the formalities could be taken care of later. I was far too agitated for all this pomp and circumstance. "Rise, Reaver." I offered my hand, and when he took it, I tugged him roughly to his feet. "Court is dismissed."

I burst into my bedchambers, and I felt bathed in the blackness of my anger. I could almost feel myself, the girl I used to be, disappearing beneath its inky surface. My ears detected footsteps, and I whipped around to see that Reaver had dared follow me inside of my room without so much as asking permission. He closed the door behind him, and his beaming smile was a huge contrast to my scowl of discontent. My lungs struggled for breath in my anger, and I found myself huffing and puffing, trying to steady the thrumming rhythm of my heart in my head. I pulled the crown from my head and tossed it carelessly at the vanity, cracking one of the pots full of cosmetic powder, eliciting a slight wince from Reaver. He cleared the expression on his face, and it was once again a smile.

"Well, Your Majesty," Reaver said, stripping his coat off. "I must thank you, for you have certainly made my century. I have always wanted to be a bona fide nobleman, and now, thanks to you, I can boast that with great pride."

"If you are going to be here, then do something useful," I snapped. I turned away from him. "Take me out of this dress."
"With pleasure, my pet," He said, stepping forward. He worked quickly to unfasten the buttons that ran down the length of my spine, and when I was free of the dress, he lifted me out of it, leaving the numerous skirts and petticoats behind. He set me down, and he asked huskily, "The corset, too, darling?"

"Yes," I said shortly, and when the laces loosened, my breath pulled easily into my lungs. When he stripped the corset away, I bent over, trying to dissuade the dizziness that threatened to take over. I felt Reaver's hand drift beneath my chemise, caressing the bare skin of my back in an attempt to soothe me. It almost grated my nerves. "Stop it."

He persisted, and he even used his other hand to stroke my hair. "There's no need to be coy, Keira. We are alone. I saw to it that no one would follow you in your dark little mood."

I whipped around, and I gripped him by his thin black tie. I tugged his face down to sit level with mine, and my voice tore out of me before I even knew what I was saying, "I don't relish the fact that I sent an old man to his death. I did what was necessary. I did-"

"You know as well as I do that is not true. You can claim duty and selflessness, but in that moment, you hated him," Reaver said, his voice low and sultry. He put a hand over mine, but he didn't remove it from his tie. "You hated that he insulted you, disrespected you. He deserved his fate, ma petit cherie. You gave a despicable old man a just death."

"And his replacement is every bit as despicable as he was," I snorted.

"Well, I never claimed to be anything but what I am, Keira," said Reaver, drawing away. "But you trust me."

"I do not," I said.

"Oh, come now, pet," He chuckled. "Do not lie to me, and do not lie to yourself." He leaned in, his mouth touching briefly to mine. "If you did not, you would never have let me...what was it Goulding said...slither around your nethers?"

My hand flew angrily, but he caught it before I could strike him. He pressed his lips against my palm, and he smirked.

"Let us save the violence for another date," he said. "There has been enough anger today. Can you not simply help me celebrate my new position?" His devilish grin didn't melt my heart, as was his intention. "Perhaps with various other, more creative positions?"

I drew away from him, snatching my robe on the way. I needed air. I slipped the thick warmth of my robe around my body, and I tied the sash. I walked out onto the balcony, and I heard Reaver's footsteps following me out. I pressed myself against the railing, closing my eyes and drawing in breath from the chilled breeze that swept past.

"If it is fresh air you require, there is an abundance of it in Millfields," Reaver said as he pressed his body against mine. He wrapped his fingers around my wrist, bringing my hand to his mouth. "I plan to hastily throw a proper celebration together one of these upcoming nights. You will be my guest of honor, of course, pet."

"Pardon me if I do not feel like celebrating," I breathed, yanking my hand away. A storm of gunfire penetrated the otherwise quiet that had taken over the castle grounds, and I closed my eyes, exhaling. "It seems that you have a widow to comfort, Reaver." I turned to face him, looking up to him.

He sneered, very displeased with my dismissal. "I suppose."

"I have other business to attend to," I said. I moved to my wardrobe where I looked within. I was still itching to leave the castle, so I pulled out a thick, warm burgundy doublet, the underclothes to go with it, and a pair of brown leather leggings.

Reaver closed the balcony doors as he reentered my bedchambers. His expression had changed from a sour one to a smirk once more. "Are you going somewhere, Keira?"

"Somewhere I can sink a blade into something," I murmured. "Once this business with Hobson and the ledger is through, I do not plan to linger around the castle." After tossing my clothing onto the bed, I reached to struggle with the clasp to my necklace. My fingers trembled, unable to unfasten it. I heaved a grunt in frustration.

"Hmm...someone is rather antsy," Reaver cooed, reaching to remove the necklace with ease. He also took the liberty of unhooking the earrings from my lobes and leaning down to press his cheek to mine. "You know, that excess energy could be put to other, more pleasurable uses."

I stepped from his embrace to pull the silky chemise over my head. "Letting you have your way with me again is not going to fix this, Reaver," I said, a raw edge to my voice.

"Well, getting undressed in front of me does not exactly dissuade me, dear." As he stowed my jewelry on my vanity, his eyes were fixed squarely on my naked breasts. He moved toward me once more, persistent as ever. He cupped a breast in each of his cool hands, and a soft bubble of laughter escaped him when I closed my eyes, folding into his touch. "Things are much less complicated when I am inside of you. We both know that. It is only fire and passion and pleasure. Give in, Keira. You shan't regret it."

I opened my eyes, gently pushing him away. "I regret not throwing you out of my room as soon as you entered." I crossed my arms over my chest, obscuring his view.

"I will leave you, then, if that is what you wish," He said, an exaggerated frown fixed on his handsome features. "But allow me to leave you as you have left me in the past." He pulled my body tight against his, a hand dipping beneath my small-clothes and cupping my awakening desire. His mouth was hot against the side of my neck, and my body melted into his embrace as he sunk a digit inside of me.

I panted softly as my pulse grew more speedy, and my arms fell to my sides. I licked my lips, and I groaned softly as he withdrew his hand and stepped backward, a wicked smile set upon his features.

"Good day, Your Majesty," He said, bringing his hand to his mouth and sucking his finger into his mouth, as if licking of the remnants of a delicious meal. He turned and left the room, giving me a smirk and a heated stare over his shoulder.

When the doors closed, I sat on the bed, catching my breath and trying to calm my raging desire. I pulled the undershirt over my nudity, and I worked at pulling the leather pants up my legs, though it proved to be difficult because of my skin's heat. My doublet went on easily enough, and I pulled on a pair of knee-high leather boots. I would equip my Will gauntlets in The Sanctuary when I retrieved my weapons, and I set off to kill something.

I took my hair from its elaborate style and merely pulled it back, holding the chestnut waves out of my face with a leather band. I observed the damage I'd caused to the crown. A gem in the Guild Seal had nearly become dislodged in my anger, and I cursed under my breath. I lifted it gently, and I exited my bedroom still feeling fairly flushed.

I walked in a hurry toward the treasury, and I pushed the doors open to find Hobson with his nose buried in the ledger. "What is this problem, Hobson?"

"Well, it appears there as an accounting error that was made nearly a month ago," Hobson said nearly excitedly. "The treasury is not nearly as depleted as we once thought."

"What exactly do you mean, Hobson?" I asked, curling a brow and crossing my arms in front of my chest. I wasn't completely sure I had the patience to deal with his roundabout way of explaining things. "Be to the point."

"We are twenty-thousand gold richer than we thought," Hobson almost squealed with pleasure. "There was an error with a donation, and-"

"Twenty-thousand..." I suddenly felt my stomach drop. Twenty-thousand gold. I put a hand over my gaping mouth, and I closed my eyes. We had lost a little over five-thousand people in our struggle against The Crawler . The numbers still were not confirmed. That gold might have outfitted the army with better weapons. That gold might have bought their safety. I felt sick and dizzy and angry all at once. My anger won the inner struggle, and I balled my hands into fists.

His beady little eyes widened. "Y-Your Majesty...Please. Please do not-" He knew and feared my strength, and he had every right to. I was close to using it.

"How precisely does one lose twenty-thousand gold, Hobson?" I asked in a growl, my body trembling with my anger. "How?!"

"The donation was made with bank-notes," He croaked with fear.. "They were misplaced until recently. I b-beg..." His face purpled slightly. "I beg mercy."

"Your incompetence cost more than five-thousand people their lives," I sneered, lifting a hand, showing him the back of it, as if to strike him.

He stumbled backward, landing on his large backside. "I-I'm sorry, Your Majesty. It was not intentional."

I closed my eyes, and I exhaled. "See to it that nothing like this happens again, or it is your freedom that you will pay with."

"Yes, My Queen," He said, kowtowing and groveling. "Thank you, My Queen. You are most merciful."

I stormed out of the treasury, the rage swelling within me once more. I didn't know I could feel such black anger. Nothing could compare to the failure I felt. I'd failed to save those people as Goulding had pointed out, and their deaths were all in vain. We had the gold to save them, but it was lost. I nearly spun back around and fired Hobson, but I didn't know of a suitable replacement at that moment. I would need to keep him around until someone more suitable presented themselves.

I needed to let loose all this excess anger before it ate away at me, before I sank beneath the surface and disappeared in it.

The night's air was chilled and biting. I made my way through the thick, sticky mud that still had not dried from the past day's rain. I was hunting for a small band of mercenaries which I'd heard were haunting the stretch between Mourningwood and Millfields. Jasper tried to stop me from going out, but I needed time to myself, time to contemplate all that had happened in this long, hectic day.

Dealing with Page seemed like it had been weeks, months ago, but I still had to act as a buffer between Reaver and her until a proper arrangement could be made. I figured being The Queen would exempt me from this sort of pettiness between an old friend and a new lover.

Lover. The word didn't feel like it fit mine and Reaver's relationship. There was no love. There was understanding and an ease that I hadn't expected, but it was not love. I could imagine that carrying on with Reaver long-term would come easily. We would fulfill eachother's needs—though, I doubted any one person could ever sate Reaver's lust—and he would keep me from my loneliness, as I imagined I kept him from his. Perhaps I would never love. Maybe I had quashed any chance of happiness the day Elliot had made me choose those rebelling factory workers over him.

I adjusted my belt, the Dragonstomper hanging at my side bouncing against my hip. I steadied it, and I dropped my arms to my side. This was proving to be more difficult than I hoped. I thought that they would come searching for me, as I'd made my presence very apparent when I entered the area. Maybe this meant they were watching me, ready to ambush in an instant. I would be ready.

As I continued further down the winding trail, I thought briefly of Timothy Goulding. I hadn't expected him to bait me so. It was almost as if he wanted to be a martyr against me to prove the wickedness he'd been so sure of. I sucked in a breath. He wanted me to look like a tyrant. He threw his life away to prove a point. Foolish old man.

I heard the faintest snapping of a twig to my left. I could feel my anger rising like bile inside of me, and I reached a hand for my blade. I would put both my anger and cutlass to good use. I continued forward, my feet falling silently against the dirt path, but I heard more rustling to my left.

"Oi!" yelled someone from behind. So much for the possibility of an ambush. "What're you doin' 'round here?"

I spun on my heel, and I inspected the approaching man. He was dressed in the red and black altered uniform of Albion's army—the uniform of a mercenary. He had a wicked-looking scar across his left eye, leaving it a blind, milky blue.

"You gonna answer me or do I have to get violent, girlie?" He obviously did not recognize me. Any mercenary that knew my face attacked on sight. This poor man was about to suffer for that ignorance.

"I'd prefer the violence, thank you," I said lowly, drawing my sword.

"We've got a fighter!" he yelled.

Eight of his fellows leapt from the shadows, and I quickly surveyed the situation. The battlefield was tight, and that would prove to work to both of our advantages. I was heavily outnumbered , but they were grouped so tightly together that I would be sure to be able to strike at more than one of them at a time. I would also prove to be a difficult target to hit. I would have to fight wisely.

Gunfire bellowed through the woods, and a bullet just barely whizzed by my head, as I dodged out of the way. I thrust my sword forward, impaling the nearest mercenary, the first to show himself, on its blade. One down, eight to go. I drew the Dragonstomper from my hip, and I fired it at a the burliest, most muscular mercenary, who was lighting a little bomb off of his cigar. He dropped it, and he struggled to move backward.

I was faster, and I threw myself back, out of the explosion's range. It had injured him and one of his fellows, but it hadn't proved to be fatal, as I'd hoped. Another blast of gunfire, and I felt the burn of the wound in my shoulder immediately. I yelped, and I whipped myself around, the Will inside of me burning to get out. My vision was cloudy, red, and I stowed my Dragonstomper to summon a circle of hot, red flame was paired with the white-blue crackle of lightning.

"She's a bleedin' witch!" one of the thugs cried in pain.

They were disoriented by the Will attack, and I threw myself into the air, landing squarely on the large man's shoulders. He struggled to dislodge me from my position, but his neck snapped between the strength of my legs. As he crumbled beneath me, I managed to land gracefully on my feet. I beat back another man's melee attack and shot him squarely in the face with a blast from my Dragonstomper. The odds were slanted more in my favor now. Only 6 remained, and they were burned and still slightly unbalanced on their feet.

With my pistol back in my hand, three shots erupted from its elegant barrel, striking the chest of a charging mercenary. I could hear someone approaching from behind, and I skidded around. The enemy's blade sunk into my side, and I cried out, bringing my blade up in an arc. His hands flew to the wound at his gut, trying to stop his insides from escaping his body, but he dropped to his knees, then face first into the mud. I had to stop to pull the dagger from between my ribs. The slightly serrated edge made the removal all the more painful.

As the dagger fell to my feet, I felt a man tackle me to the ground, and we landed in the mud. The wind knocked out of my lungs, and I struggled to breathe against the pain in my abdomen and beneath the man's weight. His hands pinned my arms above my head, painfully stretching the wound at my side, and he grinned, as if victorious. "Well, aren' you pretty. Idn't she pretty, boys?"

The other three of those that remained agreed, and one of them came forward to collect my sword and Dragonstomper from the ground to toss them out of my reach.

"You put up a bit of a fight, didn' you?" He said maliciously. "I like a fight. Gets me excited, you see."

I spat in his face, then thrashed beneath him, trying to upset his balance on top of me. My rage quivered within me, but I couldn't unleash my Will at such a close proximity. Being so angry, I wasn't sure if I could properly shield myself. "Fuck you."

He merely grinned. "No, y'see, I'm gonna fuck you. Then he's gonna fuck you, then he's gonna fuck you, then...well, you get the idea. We've got plenty of mates back in Mourningwood, too, you little bitch, so don't faint from the pain yet." He released one of my hands to rip at my doublet and stick a finger in my wound.

The pain wracked my body, and I cried out, my vision spotting. His hand drifted away from me, and to the fastenings of my leggings. I tilted my head to the side, looking around desperately for a discarded weapon. The dagger that had wounded me lay nearly within my reach, but I would have to twist to reach it. I lifted my hips,the mercenary able to shimmy my leggings down, but not very much due to the moisture of my perspiration. As he worked avidly at trying to undress me, I managed to wrap my fingers around the blade, pulling it toward me.

"Gareth, watch it she's got a-"

Before my would-be-rapist could heed his friend's warning, the blade had swept across the soft flesh of his throat. Blood poured, and I closed my lips tightly to avoid getting any in my mouth. I shoved him off of me, and I pushed myself quickly to my feet, pulling my leggings up the best I could.

"You little bitch!" said a thin, gangly man as he rushed me. I grabbed his arm, twisting it behind him, and I jabbed the dagger into his chest. He fell, but I was struck by another bullet, in the leg. I jerked backwards, and I summoned the rest of my Will out of anger. I was bathed in a bright crimson light, and I threw my energy outward, burning the remaining two men alive.

I stumbled forward, my energy suddenly sapped, and I surveyed the are for my weapons. The Dragonstomper lay out of harm's way, untouched by my vicious show of Will, and I stooped, wincing as I did. I collected it, and I stowed it at my hip once more. I limped over to see that my blade, too, was mostly unharmed, merely blackened from the heat. I picked it up gingerly, and I sheathed it.

There was another rustling in the distance, and I heard a man gasp.

My Dragonstomper was out and it fired faster than I could survey the situation. I turned to see who I had struck, and my heart fell. It was a boy, no more than fourteen, dressed in mercenary colors but unarmed. The bullet had hit him in the gut, and he sank to his knees, clutching at the wound. The benevolent part of me cried out to help him, but I could not. I had no health potions from the alchemist, and the wound would definitely prove to be fatal.

The boy sputtered, and he sat backward on his haunches. His eyes were wide and gray, and his face paled. "Y-you killed everyone..."

A terrible tremor ran through my body, and I felt tears building in my eyes. My feelings battled each other. Comfort the boy so that he would not have to die alone or to leave and seek help for my own wounds? My legs shook, and the pain surged through my body and soul, as I turned my back on the boy and started down the path toward Millfields.

A/N: Thank you guys for the reviews and favorites and follows that I've been receiving lately! Don't be afraid to leave a review if you haven't already. I don't bite, but Reaver might.