The Rising

by Kristen Ashley

  A good queen did not get bored.

  I told myself this repeatedly as my eyes slid to Elpis, who was staring out the windows with an expression on her face that shared vividly she’d rather be anywhere else, say, perchance, having her fingernails torn out by their roots.

  “And as such, we would behoove you, our beloved Queen Silence,” one of the women sitting in front of me beseeched, “to take this matter to our king.”

  Oh, balls.

  I’d already forgotten what matter they were behooving me about.

  “Of course, I’ll speak to my king,” I only somewhat lied.

  I felt Elpis’s regard.

  I ignored it and smiled benignly at the women before me as they rose, repeatedly expressing their gratitude.

  I nodded and circled my hand in what I hoped was a royal way, and my secretary ushered them out.

  “I’m not certain Mars would concern himself much with their plight, mia figlia,” Elpis warned when the door closed behind them.

  “I’ll figure something out,” I murmured.

  “Is this all of our appointments for today?” she asked.

  I grinned at her. “Yes.”

  She grinned in return. “Good, then shall we retire to a bath with some smoke?”

  I could think of nothing better.

  I did not have the opportunity to tell her this, for Angelo, my secretary, stuck his head in and said, “His Grace is between appointments and he asks if you’d join him in his study before his next arrives.”

  I turned to Elpis. “Shall I meet you there in a while?”

  Her face softened. “Of course, cara.”

  We both left my office together, Elpis heading down the hall, me going across it to my husband’s study.

  I knocked and walked in to see him bent over his desk, scratching something with his pen on parchment.

  My, but I loved his thick long hair.

  He straightened, dropped his pen and sat back in his chair as I shut the door and started walking his way.

  “There seems to be a grave issue about a plinth built in the seat of a particular clan, which you gave royal funding,” I said as I moved to him, “that appears to have been erected much smaller than another plinth that was built in the seat of a clan they don’t very much like.”

  I had made it around his desk by the time I was finished speaking.

  And my husband did not reply until he grasped my hips on both sides, pushed his chair back, and pulled me to standing in front of him.

  He kept his hands where they were, but his black eyes lifted to mine.

  “Indeed?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I answered. “Though it also might be an urn.”

  He started chuckling.

  “Elpis shared you would not very much care, but I promised them I would inform you of their concerns,” I told him.

  “You are a good queen, seeing to the needs of your people, even if they’re absurd,” he murmured.

  “I must admit, husband, I, too, think they are absurd.”

  “Because they are,” he stated, then hefted me up so I was seated in front of him on his desk.

  He then scooted his chair closer.

  “Mars,” I whispered.

  “Mm?” he asked, for I had lost his attention.

  He was watching his hands as they performed the act of gliding the silk of the skirt of my gown up my thighs.

  “About that urn,” I teased.

  He was not in the mood to tease.

  I knew this when he told me, “You should really design to wear gowns that are much less attractive, wife.”

  “Why would I do such as that?”

  He did not answer.

  He looked up at me and ordered, “Lie back.”

  “Mars,” I breathed.

  His fingers slipped between my legs.

  My head fell back.

  Then I fell back.

  Mars pushed the material up to my hips, opened my legs, and his head came down.

  And then my king made it so I did not need smoke to make me hazy.

  Though, after he was done with me, I spent the afternoon with my mother-in-law all the same.

  Queen Ha-Lah

  Aboard Her Majesty’s Beauty

  GREEN SEA

  “It’d be nice if you didn’t upstage me once in a while,” my husband groused.

  “You just like to shoot your cannons,” I retorted.

  “I do, indeed,” he said irately, and suggestively.

  Sirens save me from bawdy pirates.

  “It was just a small wave,” I told him.

  “Ha-Lah, we’ll be fishing their men out of the sea for an hour.”

  I shrugged.

  “Cap, we’ve identified their captain,” Tint said from beside us.

  “Excellent,” Aramus muttered, turned on his boot and stomped to the gangplank that led from our galleon to the one we’d just captured.

  Due to my wave.

  All right, so I nearly capsized the bloody thing.

  I also managed to stop that drattedly loud cannon fire.

  I followed after him.

  When we made the deck of the other ship, I saw there were a great number of men on their knees and they were soggy.

  This made me happy, and perhaps a little smug, but I didn’t show that last.

  Aramus followed Tintagel to a man whose clothing veritably screamed buccaneer.

  But he wasn’t.

  He was a killer.

  Aramus stopped before him.

  I came up to my king’s side.

  “Do we have identification on them?” Aramus asked Ore, who was standing over the man at the man’s back.

  “Not yet,” Ore answered.

  “Their stores?” Aramus inquired.

  “So far, they’ve been unsuccessful,” Ore informed him. “They’re empty.”

  I released a breath of relief.

  Aramus studied the defeated captain and stated the obvious, “He’s not Mar-el. He looks Dellish or from the Northlands. Where are you from, captain?”

  “The Vale,” the man spat.

  “Merchant and passenger lanes have been open for some months,” Aramus noted. “And as such, I’m certain you’ve received much news from Triton.”

  The man said nothing.

  “And as King Noctorno is a particular friend of mine, I am aware that, at my urging, he made some proclamations of his own, which I would assume, him being a king, spread very widely,” Aramus said.

  The man stretched out his neck.

  But no words came from his mouth.

  “Including,” Aramus continued, “that it is a punishable act to hunt whale in any of the waters around our continent.”

  The man remained silent.

  “And yet, we came upon you, hunting whale,” Aramus carried on. “Or, fortunately, attempting it, though not successful. As yet.”

  The man still said no words.

  So Aramus did.

  “Now, ignorance of the law is no excuse,” he shared. “But as you took none of my wife’s beloved beasts, I’m feeling generous.”

  Oreti looked to Aramus.

  Tintagel looked to Aramus.

  I looked to Aramus.

  We all did this for, thus far, in matters such as these, Aramus had not felt generous.

  Ever.

  Aramus turned to Tint.

  “Each of his men receive twenty lashes, he gets thirty. Take them to Nautilus. He’s stockaded for a week. His men serve a term of nine months. Him a year. When they’re released, they’re given sailor’s clothing and crewed on a ship bound to The Mystics. There, they’ll be dropped. They can find their way home from that land.”

  Well then.

  My husband wasn’t feeling generous.

  He was just playing.

  “That’s generous?” the captain demanded, not feeling very playful.

  Aramus suddenly bent to him. “I’d have your blood draining from your throat while you hang from a yardarm if you�
��d taken one of my creatures. I am the King of the Sea, arsehole. And I will make it known the waters are safe for my beasts, and anyone who thinks differently will learn how adamantly I disagree.”

  And after delivering that, he turned and strode away.

  I looked to Tint.

  “Save us all from a convert,” he muttered.

  I was smiling when I followed my husband.

  He was on the port side of our ship when I found him.

  He was also leaning over the railings, saying, “You have to wait for her. I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

  I came to stand by his side, looked over the railing, and saw the snouts of three dolphins, all of them chattering up at him.

  “They say there are smugglers hiding booty on an island south of here that is officially in the waters of Triton,” I told him.

  Aramus grinned down at the glistening, gray noses.

  “My beautiful spies,” he cooed.

  I rolled my eyes to the heavens.

  The dolphins squealed their delight.

  My husband turned.

  “Bond!” he shouted. “You and Tint take some men and sail that ship to Nautilus. Impound it. Then set it for auction. We sail south.”

  “Aye,” Bond replied.

  “Sorry?” I asked.

  Aramus looked down at me. “There’s booty to be had.”

  “Husband, you’re king. You’re wealthy. You live in a castle. You have the ear of the gods. You don’t need booty.”

  He then grasped me with an arm about my waist and pulled me tight to his body, dipping his face to mine.

  “My Ha-Lah, I’m a pirate and pirates always need booty.”

  I experienced a lovely tingle.

  It was as if Aramus sensed it for his eyes then dropped to my mouth and he muttered, “Now to shoot my cannon.”

  I really should have been exasperated.

  But instead, I let my husband drag his wench to his cabin.

  And I did it laughing.

  Queen Farah

  Guest Cell, Reception Hall

  DOME CITY

  “Why are we here again?” True asked, making a mess of his neckcloth.

  This was unsurprising, for he detested wearing them, and as he did, he did not do so very often.

  Thus, I moved to my husband, batted his hands away, took over and reminded him, “Mostly to see Ellie and Cass and the girls.”

  “Right,” he muttered.

  “And, say, because you are king of a great realm and history is being made that you’ve been invited to witness. Not to mention, these are your friends.”

  “Mars and Silence didn’t come,” True pointed out.

  “Nyx is close to having her baby. Silence doesn’t want to be far from her and Mars doesn’t wish to be far from Lorenz,” I told him something he knew.

  “Aramus and Ha-Lah aren’t here,” he went on.

  “Because they’re visiting a Mer colony down in the Fotía and they couldn’t get here in time.”

  He sighed.

  I finished with his neckcloth.

  “I bet Cass isn’t wearing a neckcloth,” he muttered.

  This complaint drew my attention.

  And my concern.

  For it wasn’t like my True to be grumpy.

  So I pressed my hands to his chest in order to get his attention, this in order to get to the meat of the matter.

  “What truly troubles you, caro?”

  He held my gaze before he said, “You were visiting with Ellie when they came.”

  “Who came?”

  “Not who. What.”

  I lifted my brows to share that this did not answer my question.

  He wrapped his fingers around one of my hands, took it from his chest, and the other one naturally fell away when he guided me into the sitting room outside our bedchamber in the spacious, well-appointed cell we’d been given by the Go’Doan.

  Definitely a different reception we’d had over the first time I was there.

  Then again, much had changed for the Go’Doan.

  And what was happing that day, and the lovely memorial plaque they’d mounted to G’Ry, were only two of a great many.

  True took me to a bureau and pulled out a drawer.

  Only then did he let me go as he reached in and took out two books.

  He set them on the top of the bureau.

  They were both handsomely leather bound.

  One was maroon, the leather elegantly embossed, the very long title set in gold.

  It said, THE BATTLE OF THE BEASTS.

  And it had a subtitle, THE RISE OF THE POWER OF THE FEMALE.

  Which had a subtitle of, AND THE RETURN OF THE FIRE KING, THE SEA KING, THE SKY KING & THE GREEN KING.

  The other book had a rich, green leather, embossed with leaves, acorns and trees.

  And the title was set in pewter.

  It said, TRUE, THE GREEN KING, & FARAH, THE GREEN QUEEN.

  “Oh my,” I whispered.

  “These are copies. They’re sending the first to all the kingdoms. And they’re keeping the originals of both in their Narration Hall.”

  “Of course,” I said, for this was what the Go’Doan did.

  And this was good, for if they hadn’t done just so over the years, recording history, and protecting books that did the same, as well as books as a whole, we would not have learned so much about the Beasts.

  “The other is unfinished, but presented as such as a gift to us,” he went on.

  “I see,” I said in a way I shared I still did not understand why he was upset.

  “We have our own fucking tome, darling,” he stated, reached to it, flipped it open and then shuffled pages aside until it was lying flat, pages to either side half and half.

  One side held carefully calligraphied words, the first letter in each paragraph much larger than the rest, surrounded by a square, in which, around the letter, lovely vines had been painted.

  “That’s rather beautiful,” I murmured.

  “We’ve got a tome, Farah,” he mostly repeated.

  I looked to him. “This troubles you because…?”

  “It troubles me because it isn’t just about you and me,” he declared.

  I stared up at him.

  “Men died. Pixies died. Fairies died. Gnomes died. Alfie lost his legs. My mother lost her life. If a book has green leather, it should be about Wodell, not about—”

  He stopped speaking when I put my fingers to his lips.

  And then I spoke.

  “There are so many words written in so many books in their library that share about vile things. And tragic things. And unpleasant things. And unjust things. Give them this, True. Give Triton this. Give us a book about nothing but good…nothing but good…and true.” I slid my fingers across his cheek, into his soft, thick hair, to wrap them around the back of his head. “And help me fill the rest of that book with the same so our children can read it. And their children. And onward forever.”

  He looked down at the book.

  “Though I don’t have to ask you to do that,” I said, and he looked back to me. “You’d do it anyway.”

  That was when he kissed me.

  It became heated, as such between us was wont to do, and thus it took a knock on the door to interrupt it.

  “Yes!” True called.

  The door opened and Aelia danced in, followed by Dora, then Cass and Ellie.

  “What do you think of my frock?” Aelia demanded of True as greeting.

  “You’re never anything but beautiful,” True answered.

  “Huzzah!” she cried. Then she asked cheekily, “Will you escort me to the wedding, Uncle True?”

  He glanced my way, and when I dipped my chin, he looked to the girl, offering his arm, “It would be my honor.”

  “Will you accept me as an escort?” I asked Dora.

  She grinned at me and linked arms, saying, “Of course.”

  I gave Cass and Ellie a smile, they returned them, and w
e moved out into the hall. Down it. Out of the building, mounted our horses, and rode down the avenue.

  Our horses were taken at the base of the steps. We entered the temple, and with great fanfare, the royals were seated in a front pew.

  But we would have been given that regardless.

  Or Elena would.

  For we were there to watch the first-ever official marriage of a priest of the Go’Doan.

  And with it, the end to the position of acolyte.

  Witnessing it, it made me happy to see how happy Liam and Saira were.

  They were glowing.

  Faunus of the Trusted

  His New Manor, Fire City

  FIRENZE

  He had no idea what woke him.

  But it did.

  Thus, he untangled himself from the bodies sleeping in their bed, drew on some silk ante pants, and moved silently through the house.

  When his feet hit the floor at the bottom of the stairs, he saw the mantles on the hooks by the door.

  He’d refused his king’s request to become a Trusted.

  Saturn had as well.

  They explained to their king they did this, for they would not be unfaithful to their lovers.

  Mars had then surprised them by stating that, due to their explanation, that requirement would not need to be filled.

  They’d performed the other rituals.

  And earned their mantles.

  He heard a whistling wind, like a whisper, come from the back of the house and his mind was turned.

  As was his body.

  He moved down the hall and out the back door to the courtyard.

  The house was much more grand than he was used to, big rooms, and a lot of them.

  They would need them, he hoped.

  One day.

  But the largest room was the kitchen, for she enjoyed cooking.

  The courtyard, however, was small and intimate with a twinkling fountain tiled in green and peach and red and black, the ground covered in a stunning mosaic of cream and peach intermingled with shapes in bold colors. Yellow and red and pink flowers. Green swirls. An undulating black border broken with groupings of colorful pieces.

  And here and there, small but not unnoticed…

  There was an acorn.

  The fountain was faced with one single, but large and deep-seated daybed covered in colorful blankets and pillows.

  And this was what Faunus stood behind, halted by an overwhelming scent of honeysuckle.

  That happened, even when those vines were nowhere around him.