Chapter Nine: Cheryl
How she managed to sleep, Cheryl never knew. All she knew was that sleep she did, and when she woke, Maskin's arms were around her. His eyes were closed, his breathing deep. He was still wired as though ready to strike, but he was sleeping. Bjorn was at the door, watching out of the little window. His face was lit by a ghostly glow.
The plan was fully formed in her head. If their attackers were really after her as Maskin suspected, then there was only one way to ensure her two men walked out of here safely. She had to turn herself over to them. Maskin was already sleeping, so he wouldn't be a problem. Which left Bjorn.
Cheryl slipped out of Maskin's arms and tiptoed to the spice cupboard. She had had a hard time sleeping at the shrine for the first few nights, and the acolytes had made a special tea to help her sleep. If she could make some for Bjorn, then he would fall asleep and she would slip out.
There! Hogroot. It was perfect for putting a man to sleep. She reached for it—
"We need to keep our wits about us, Lapis Lazuli." Maskin's hand closed gently around hers. "I know you must be frightened, but you can't sleep except naturally."
Cheryl turned to face him, guilt written all over her face. He tucked a finger under her chin and brushed his lips against hers.
"You weren't meaning to make yourself sleep, were you?"
She glanced at Bjorn. The prince was still looking out the window, but from the rigidity of his stance, she knew he knew. Her eyes burned. "I just thought… if I gave myself up then they would let you live."
"It won't work like that. I–perhaps we–are still threats to whoever is commanding these warriors. If he wants to be king, we must be killed. And if he wants Bjorn to be king, then I must die."
"No." Cheryl wiped her tears away angrily. In a fit of frustration she stomped a foot. "No, I won't accept it. I won't. I am the one who has the final say in who my king will be. I won't have some random Lord who doesn't have the bravery to face the tournaments. I won't let them dictate my fate. I am the queen!"
She stomped her foot to each word. Maskin just smiled at her, as though she was the first star he had ever seen. Clearly, he didn't take her seriously, and that just made her angrier. She put her hands on her hips and shook her head.
"I won't be queen unless I have you both as my kings. I don't care about tradition or whatever might stand in our way. You were both chosen by the Gods in the tournament, and I choose you both now. You are my kings."
"It's beyond choice now, Cheryl," Bjorn reminded her softly.
She shook her head again, moving away from Maskin as he reached for her. The sunrods brightened as a result of all the movement in the room.
"No. I refuse. It's not beyond my choice. I will not be queen. I always did as I was told, I was never given a choice. I didn't know what choosing was. I didn't know what love was."
Both men were looking at her at this point, their expressions mirroring each other's. They looked so sad… Why did they look like that?
"I never knew love was real. Not until I met the both of you. And if I can't have both of you… well, then nobody will have me."
Maskin wrapped his arms around her. His head fell to her shoulder, and his massive body shook. Cheryl was so surprised that she didn't know what to do. Out of every response there could have been, this vulnerability wasn't something she had even considered. Her heart rate spiked.
What had happened while she slept? Had Maskin already decided to sacrifice himself for the sake of the other two?
She opened her mouth, but before she could ask, Bjorn spoke.
"You won't have to. Hang tradition! It's practically unheard of for a woman to have only one husband, why can't the queen choose to have two kings? Did the Gods declare one of us had to die? No. A priest did. Do we want to usher in a new era? I say we start now."
Cheryl turned away from Maskin. Bjorn's face was hard with determination. He marched from the window and pulled her into his arms with one hand while gripping Maskin's shoulder with the other. He looked between the two of them, eyes glittering, his dark blue skin even darker in the dim light.
"I will find a way for the three of us to be together. I promise. I will do everything in my power to ensure it."
Cheryl buried her face in his shoulder. Relief flooded her body, so powerful she began shaking.
A tremendous noise screeched through the walls. The door and all that barricaded it burst inward, making Cheryl scream. Shards of wood flew towards them. Maskin grabbed her and Bjorn, twisting his body to shield them both from the explosion.
His hand squeezed hers one moment and then it was gone. Before Cheryl even realized what was happening, the clash of swords rang through the kitchen. Maskin stood against a dozen warriors, muscles straining as he parried their blows and drove his own blade through their bodies.
The enemies made no sound as they attacked, their eyes glowing, expressions blank. One darted in at Maskin's side, but Bjorn was there in an instant, stabbing him in the gut. The prince flanked the warrior-slave, helping him to drive back their attackers step by step.
Cheryl found herself useless once more. Her hands clenched, but there was nothing she could do but watch. Her men were fierce, fighting with every ounce of strength they had. Bit by bit they drove the attackers back, out of the kitchen. Cheryl was drawn forward to the jagged hole, unable to take her eyes from the battle.
Once outside the building, the attackers regrouped. They pressed harder against the two men, those terrible blank expressions still on their faces. Bjorn was barely able to deflect a blade. It sunk deep into his arm. Maskin blocked a killing blow meant for his neck and pushed his way forward, his movements frenzied as he cleared the way for Bjorn to retreat.
"Find their ship and return to Thoutle. Get her out of here!" the warrior-slave roared. He drove into the midst of the attackers, both arms swinging, driving them back. A look of terrible concentration was on his face, his teeth bared. "Protect her!"
Cheryl cried out as Bjorn slung her over his uninjured shoulder. She held her arms out to Maskin and screamed his name as the prince carried her away.
The last thing she saw was the ranks closing in on him.