by C B Samet
As that comment did not make me feel less embarrassed, I blushed. I mumbled a “thank you.”
Looking up at him, I noticed a peaceful, distant look as though he were thinking about a love of his own. I wondered if a woman in love reminds others of what they once had. If Baird had been alive for over a hundred years, as I expected, then he must have known love. With that, he must have also known loss.
How does one find love again, having such tremendous longevity, vast experience, and immense wisdom? Perhaps one does not. Perhaps one only becomes a monk living on a mountain ... a hermit.
“You’ve been training me in dance for several days,” I commented, changing the subject. “You hardly need to come by for formal congratulations. You are always welcome to visit.”
He nodded, accepting the tea I handed to him, but did not sit opposite me as I lowered myself into the chair.
I smoothed my dress and waited for his response. “I have been considering our earlier conversation about how you may find yourself in a position of difficulty, perhaps helping others as you have before or perhaps for other reasons...”
I frowned. I liked him better when he was straightforward and not playing mysterious.
He set down his tea and pulled a brilliant silver necklace from in- side his coat pocket. It was made of thick strands of moonlight-colored metal. Rolling it over in his hands, he clasped the pendant. I looked closer, noting the silver pendent was hollow.
“I had this made from Taxco silver,” he explained. “It is designed to hold the Warrior Stone. I wanted you to have a way to always keep it close so it is available at a moment’s notice.”
Standing, I walked to my dresser and opened the first drawer. I pulled out the red stone and carried it over to Baird.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, handing him the stone. He slid it into the hollow pendant, then squeezed the silver tentacles around the stone, holding it firmly in place.
Then he reached around my neck and fastened the necklace. It was not a subtle piece of jewelry but very stunning. I could feel the cool rock and smooth silver against my skin.
“Thank you.” He looked at me for a moment, something of admiration in his blue eyes. Then, bowing slightly, he left.
I had one final visitor that day. The Queen entered my chambers wearing a cream-colored dress with a high collar that flared above her neck. With a wave of her hand, she dismissed the doormen. They closed the door and we were alone.
She walked silently to the window and peered out at the clear sky.
I stood, waiting.
“I want to express my congratulations at your success and finding your mother and your marriage. I am very grateful for everything you have done for the kingdom and for myself. We are all indebted to you.”
I shifted my weight uncomfortably as she continued.
“I know that we may never be able to achieve reconciliation given the egregious turmoil I have put you and your family through, but I will always respect you, Abigail.”
Her eyes were sad and pained when she turned to look at me. The indecipherable mask of neutrality she usually wore had vanished.
I could tell there was more she would say very soon, but I could not stand to see her anguish any longer. “When you told me the decisions you had made,” I began softly and deliberately, realizing my feelings even as I expressed them, “I was very determined to never forgive you. But I find it requires far more effort to cling to my anger than to release it. Unintentionally, I have been slowly releasing my pain and anger.
“All that happened is unfair,” I added. “But it is done. The results are what they are, which seems to be better for most. I think we can exist on amicable terms.”
She nodded and appeared relieved. She poured herself a glass of water from my refreshment tray.
“Abigail, your success and fame have made you very powerful. I tell you this because I believe beneath your cheeky exterior is a woman who does not feel the enormity of her own value. And I take risk in raising your awareness of the power you could seize should you choose a path of greater ambition.” She sipped her water.
“Ambition and power?”
Did she know me at all?
Confounded, I added, “I want to be a teacher, a professor someday. I don’t want to lead or rule or hold power.”
She smiled at my revulsion toward her life’s work. “I thought as much. But I wanted to hear you speak your mind.”
Speak my mind with my cheekiness?
Just to be clear, I added, “I respectfully decline any government leadership roles.”
She nodded approval. “I envy your freedom,” she confessed. “You have a long life ahead of you surrounded by people who love you. The fame of being the Champion—which seems to thrust attention at you that you find more obtrusive than illustrious—will subside in time.”
That was a relief. I walked to a nearby chair and leaned my weight on the back of it.
“However,” she added, “I cannot guarantee a lifetime of tranquility even though we are both in agreement that it would be well deserved.”
I stiffened. Mother Moon, there is always a catch.
She continued, unfazed at the way I began to rub my temples, “I would like to secure assurances from you that I may call upon you on occasion for assistance on matters that affect the sovereignty of our kingdom.”
I stared at her, mouth agape. “You want me to agree to be at your disposal at any moment?”
Preposterous!
With lips taut, she assured me, “I would not abuse your trust and confidence.”
“What if I didn’t like or agree with what you ask of me?” I shot back.
No. Why didn’t I just say no?
“Should I attempt to impose upon you a task which conflicts with your ethical or moral standards then I implore you to decline.” She sipped her water again.
I thought for a moment. “So you are asking permission to approach me in the future for a favor—or favors—with the caveat that I may refuse to help without repercussion?”
Her eyelids fluttered slightly at the word “favor” as though she found the term annoying or offensive. She had used the term “assistance,” but I preferred “favor” as it did better to imply that I would be within my rights to ask for something in return should I agree to do her bidding.
“Yes,” she agreed.
“I accept,” I said quietly, though I felt a vague anxiousness about agreeing to something (or multiple things) so amorphous, so intangible, in the future. My future. A future which could be very long, unless I was performing hazardous “favors” for Queen Rebekah. Then, it might be very short.
“Thank you,” she said graciously. She set her water down on the table.
There was so much weight in the way she spoke those two words that I found myself believing her remorse, her sincerity, and her affection toward me. A wave of reassurance washed over me, and I felt the warm sensation of a bond—a trust—that I would be there to help her in need and she would not ask unless she must.
It was considered unprofessional, uncouth, and a violation of personal space that was punishable to hug the Queen. I did it anyway. With three long strides, I was in front of her, wrapping my arms around her despite the fluffy dress.
Her surprise melted into a warm embrace.
The morning of my wedding I woke up staring at the sunlight streaming in through the window and dancing on the silvery blue wed- ding dress standing at attention in my bedroom. I was excited about the ceremony, but I was more excited to be leaving the castle and starting a home with Joshua. We had talked about living outside of Meredith. There was vast farmland between Karnelik to the north and Meredith to the southeast. The seasons were mild, and proximity to either of our parents was not a priority since I could transport us.
Before the Queen’s herd of tailors and beauticians could stampede my door, I dressed and vanished. I appeared in the village on Misty Isle in a simple dress and sandals and walked toward my mother’s ho
use. A few of the villagers were awake. The smell of baking bread wafted through the air, and I nodded at the baker stoking his fire. A grocer was laying out fresh produce. They were no longer startled by my sudden appearances but just waved as I walked down the center of town.
I knocked on my mom’s house door and let myself inside. The smell of cinnamon filled the air; my mom was cooking oatmeal in the kitchen. Looking up at me, she smiled as she continued to stir. My half-brother was sitting at the table, waiting for breakfast. My stepdad was reading a novel in the adjacent room. It was a quiet, peaceful household so unlike the Queen’s castle where I had spent too much time these last few weeks.
“Hi, Abbey,” he said cheerfully.
“Bellok.”
I joined them for breakfast. We had a tranquil meal together, which I knew would be the last undisturbed moments I would have for most of the day and into the night. Unlike our marriage on the boat, Joshua and I couldn’t run off together after the ceremony. There would guests to mingle with and dancing to be done.
I stirred the raisins in my oatmeal.
“Nervous?” my mother asked, sipping her tea.
“Anxious,” I replied. I was anxious to get through the day and welcome the freedom in the end. There would be a crowd, but I had already faced most of them during the Champion’s coronation ceremony, so that part did not make me nervous. Besides, most of the day would be spent gazing into Joshua’s eyes and that was not in the least bit intimidating.
When breakfast was done, I transported my family—my new wonderful family—to Marrington Castle. I left Bellok and Trad in the courtyard and escorted my mother to my room. We walked past the large wooden doors and into my castle room, which was now filled with tailors and beauticians. They turned to me with annoyance as though clearly my absence and pursuance of things important to me on my wedding day were an impedance to their planned activities.
My mother circled the room in awe. “This is where you’ve been staying?”
I followed her gaze. The room, sitting area, dressing area and bath- room combined were bigger than her entire hut. I shrugged and smiled, deciding not to remind her I had been half starved and sleeping under a wagon prior to these accommodations.
Before we had time for any conversation, I was swept into a chair with a man fussing over my hair and a woman fusing over my face. For what seemed like longer than the climb up Mount Kapri, I sat still, aching to move, but afraid to do so lest they decide to torture me longer for failing their commands.
The air in the castle was filled with the smell of fragrant lilies and sweet roses. Flowers aligned the path I walked through the halls of the castle to the outside grounds. I exited the wide, open doors, and my eyes adjusted to the sunlight. Hundreds of people were standing on either side of a blue stone pathway that led to Joshua and our wedding presider, Aman. Joshua was dressed handsomely in a gold and blue suit. He was clean-shaven with tidy brown hair. His eyes danced merrily, and his smile was wide and welcoming. A blue sash at his waist neatly held a sheathed Ballik blade.
As I had promised him, I was wearing the billowing iridescent blue dress with flowing blue ribbons that matched my eyes. His princess, his bride. My hair was neatly pulled back and curled. It, too, had blue ribbons streaming down from it. I wore the silver necklace with quiescent stone. In the palm of my outstretched hands, I carried a red box.
Walking carefully on the narrow path, I kept my eyes locked on Joshua. I refrained from running to him. My instructions were quite precise—walk slowly and leisurely for all to look upon the bride. Hadn’t they seen enough of me? The battlefield, the funeral, the ceremony. Here I was again, on display yet wanting nothing but intimate time with my husband.
How fun would it be, the sprite in me wondered, to sprint past this parade, stirring up the ribbons and knocking flowers into the air as I rushed to Joshua’s side? Or better still, to vanish and simply appear next to him. Instead, I gracefully sauntered along, feeling like the sun would set before I reached the end of the blue cobblestone path.
At last I was at Joshua’s side. Aman took the red box from me and gingerly set it on his podium as though it were made of fragile crystal rather than sturdy, though ornately decorated wood.
He instructed Joshua and me to join hands. We obeyed. Then he launched into a long dialogue about the growth of a relationship built on a foundation of love and trust. It seemed more substantial than the story of a lion, a deer and a river. I’m certain there were valuable messages buried in his dialogue about how to strengthen our relationship together, but I was overly distracted by Joshua’s stunning appearance.
The gold and blue accented his tan skin, as the design enhanced his broad shoulders and tapered waist. I fantasized about what lay beneath his fancy clothes. Then it occurred to me I could vanish us from this place and this crowd to somewhere secluded, perhaps the emerald shores of Misty Isle. There, we could shed these pesky garments, and he could be entirely mine for the taking.
I felt Joshua squeezing my hands, and my eyes focused back on his face. He gave me a crooked grin as if to imply he knew I was daydreaming about us. I raised my eyebrows with a slight shrug of my shoulders. He narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously, not fooled by my plug for innocence, forcing me to smile in confession. I felt my cheeks flare in warmth.
At last Aman’s voice came to a rolling halt. We took turns retrieving rings from the red box and placing them on each other’s fingers. Then I felt Joshua pull me to him. Our layers of clothing kept us from feeling intimate; nonetheless, I enjoyed the warm sensation of his lips against mine. Hand in hand, we broke apart and then turned to our audience. There was applause and cheers, which were quite loud given the size of the gathering.
I looked at the front row and saw the Queen wearing an amber dress with her great beehive of gray hair pulled higher than ever. I was not sure how anyone seated behind her for several rows could even have seen the ceremony.
Baird, wearing a light brown suit, was a few seats from her ruffling dress. He nodded at me, and I smiled back. I lifted my hand to my neck and felt the Warrior Stone, securely encased in the silver tentacles of the necklace he had given me.
I saw my mother’s face, tears of joy streaming down as she clutched Bellok’s hand for strength.
Suddenly, a great voice bellowed over the noise of the crowd. “I challenge the Champion!”
Onlookers fell silent as all eyes turned to the entranceway to the courtyard.
I looked down the length of the blue walkway at an enormous man-like being scantily clad in a brown leather skirt and cream-colored sash across his chest. He was nine feet tall, with rippling muscles and a scowling, angry face. Condensed sweat from his arms and torso glistened in the sun.
He was too large to be human. He must have been a Hunju from the south, and given his size, he was not mixed like Arturo. The Queen’s guards flanked him on either side but did not draw their weapons and attack. In fact, they seemed to be more of an escort than an offense.
With Joshua at my side, I took several steps closer. I stood beside the Queen, who had risen from her seat and turned around when the beast had spoken.
“What is this?” I demanded. The creature should have never been allowed past the gate.
She snapped back at me without turning her furious gaze from him. “His right.”
I sensed she was more irritated with his intrusion than she was with my question.
Baird was suddenly by my side opposite Joshua. “Abigail,” he began with haste, “it is written that anyone may challenge the Champion without cause and without provocation.”
“And who wrote this nonsense?” I asked, glaring at the Queen. Of course, it would have predated her rule, but she could certainly undo such folly.
She gritted her teeth. “You must accept the duel.”
“On my wedding day?”
“This is elliptical,” Joshua added.
Baird put a firm hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “It must be done, and it can only be
done by Abigail.”
But I was already walking toward the creature, burning with outrage.
“Your name, Hunju?” I asked in a roar.
“I am Windish,” he bellowed at me.
“And you wish to die, Windish?” I snapped, craning my head up to look at him.
Looking down at me, he laughed. “I had thought that a possibility until I saw the small child in a pretty dress before me.”
Anger flared within me, and I could see the red light of the Warrior Stone shining through the silver necklace. Kicking off my shoes, I sprinted toward Windish, my dress and ribbons flaring behind me.
As he pulled a sword from behind his back, he let loose a battle cry. He was a bit excessive but his showiness slowed his overall motion, which worked in my favor. He swung his blade—not a Ballik blade unfortunately—but something larger, jagged and more sinister-looking. The trajectory seemed to be intended to take my head off at the neck. I bent my knees and slid on my smooth dress over the blue cobble- stone, ducking below the sword as it passed over me. I came to halt several feet beyond the Hunju.
“Abbey!” I heard Joshua call. He was unsheathing his sword. He launched it high into the air, but Windish was between me and the much-needed weapon. I leaped into the air and spun, feeling for an instant like I was performing the dance Baird and I had practiced.
Windish swung again, but I used the Traveler’s Star and shifted higher in the air opposite my opponent. The Ballik blade came into view, and I grasped the hilt. Then I landed on the blue walkway in a crouch. Hearing a sharp ripping sound, I knew I had torn part of my corset.
Well, I had never been explicitly instructed to return the dress intact. Furthermore, if the Queen wanted it back in one piece, she should not have allowed this animal inside the gate to assault me. She might have also mentioned that becoming the Champion would paint a tar- get on my back for the rest of my life. All of these things considered, I felt no remorse for ruining the garment.
