The Fire King

by Amber Jaeger

  The girl groaned and stopped her pacing. “Maybe if I had lived that life, learned these rules and customs. But I didn’t. My life was so much different than it would have been and while it taught me how to survive in the wild, it has given me no clue how survive in this world.”

  “Maybe you could start with that bath?” Alma hinted.

  “What does that even do?” Katiyana complained. “I am to defeat my stepmother by bathing and wearing dresses and being polite?”

  “No, that is how you win people over to support you,” she called over her shoulder as she went in to fill the tub.

  “I am never going to be able to do this,” Katiyana whispered to herself as she dejectedly walked towards the bathing room.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The dressing room was absolutely silent as Katiyana stared at herself in the mirror. The green and maroon gown she had been tied into felt overwhelmingly restricting. The top was cut lower than anything she had ever worn and the corset pinched her ribs. The skirts were terrible just because they were skirts.

  “I made it as the king commanded,” the dressmaker said dryly.

  “The king commanded this?” she forced out.

  “He did. The color, the cut, the original design were mine and absolutely perfect. If you are unhappy, I dare say it is because of his input.”

  She picked up the skirts and stepped down the stool in front of the mirror. “Excuse me a moment,” she said, barely containing her outrage.

  The guards at the king’s door moved to bar her as she swept across the hall to his room. “Madam, if you please—”

  “If I please?” she said in an icily smooth voice. “I want to see the king. And I believe he instructed you that I am not to be restricted in anyway.”

  One guard looked to the other and they both shrugged before stepping away from the door.

  Katiyana gave a slight nod and burst in through the door. The bedroom was empty and she angrily rounded to the massive sitting room. Also empty. The door to what must have been his bathing room was cracked open and she kicked it back.

  Water and bubbles slopped out of the tub as Lian jerked up from his reclining pose. “What are you doing?” he roared, reaching for a towel.

  Katiyana ignored his attempt at modesty and dropped the skirts. “This? This is what you ordered? I hate skirts, I hate gowns, I hate wearing impractical clothes. And I really hate being handed a gown that could have easily cost enough money to feed my people for half a year. And yet, this is what you had made, this is what you decided for me to wear?” Her cheeks where stingingly hot and the humidity of the room made her loose hair stick to her chest. Annoyed, she brushed her it back and followed his eyes. “And this!” she nearly shouted. “I may as well go topless.”

  Lian’s eyes jerked back up to her face and his own cheeks began to flush. “You cannot wear gowns up to your neck, it is not fashionable. And yes, I did have that made for you.”

  She stuck her fisted hands on her hips, waiting for his explanation.

  The king cleared his throat. “Perhaps we could finish this conversation with me not in the tub.”

  Katiyana turned around and folded her arms over her chest. Lian sighed and she could hear the splashing of water as he climbed from his tub. “That is not what I meant,” he said under his breath. A little louder, he asked, “Could you at least hand me my dressing gown?”

  Angry, and refusing to allow him to escape without explanation, she grabbed the garment from where it hung on the back of the door and threw it over her shoulder. He pulled it on tight it around his waist before walking over to face her. He held the door open and ushered her out into the sitting room.

  “Clearly Mr. Gace did not explain the changes I specified?” he asked, an infuriating smirk playing on his lips.

  Her mouth was set in a firm line, shut to prevent her from yelling at him. She shook her head.

  “I see. Well, to start with, this gown did not cost a fortune. He had chosen the colors and fabric, but I already had fine fabric of colors representing your kingdom.” He reached out to finger the sleeve. “Green, for your forests, deep red for the apples.”

  “You just happened to have all this extra fabric lying around?” she asked sarcastically.

  He glanced up with deep blue eyes and a little fear wiggled in her belly. “My mother and father attended your parents wedding. My mother was quite taken with your homeland, particularly the array of colors. She wanted the bedroom redone, a break from all the yellows and golds here. The project was put on hold after she unexpectedly became pregnant and after that… my father did not have the heart to make the changes she had planned. He could not sleep in a room she had wished for but never got to see.”

  Her anger retreated a bit but her face flushed even darker. “I am sorry. Thank you for the gift.”

  “I was not finished,” he said, reaching up to adjust the neckline of the gown. “Mr. Gace wanted a much lower cut. I forbade him making it any lower than one inch below your collar bones.”

  Embarrassed and confused by his kindness, she merely nodded.

  “The cuffs he wanted tight and adorned with lace but I know how you love to hide knives up in them, so I demanded they be a bit looser. But I nearly lost the argument on the lace and so you must suffer with decorative ribbons.”

  “They will be fine,” she muttered.

  He lowered a hand to her waist. “And I know how you feel about skirts but society dictates that you must wear them if you are to be taken seriously as a woman, let alone a queen. These skirts, however,” he said, dipping his hand in the wealth of fabric, making her jump, “have many hidden pockets. I know you like to carry all sorts of things around with you.”

  Feeling very ashamed of herself for assuming the worst, Katiyana tried give her thanks but he stopped her.

  “And lastly, these skirts that you hate so much.”

  Katiyana swallowed dryly.

  “They are completely detachable.” He slipped a finger inside the waist band and pulled up, releasing a hook from its eyelet on the corset. “So should you feel the need to remove your skirts and, I do not know, climb a tree, you can take them off and put them on again later.” He examined her face. “You did not think it was normal for pants to be worn under skirts? I apologize, the pants are more like leggings, but the dress maker won that fight.”

  He waited for her response but she could formulate none. Every concern she had, he had taken into consideration. All the while she had been thinking the worst of him, he had been thinking of ways to make things easier for her.

  “Thank you,” she finally managed to mumble.

  “I do not understand you,” he replied, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “But I believe you are the one who should be ruling over your kingdom, for the people’s sake and for everyone else’s. I will do my best to guide you, to help you along. If I can, I will make things easier for you. I realize you have been out of this way of life for a long time. But,” he said, reaching out to tip her chin up to see her eyes, “you must also bend a little. If you truly want to help your people, I would not think a little thing like sometimes having to wear skirts would get in your way.”

  Katiyana nodded, pulling her chin out of his hand. “I should see what else the man has made for me.”

  Cheeks flaming, she rushed back across the hall. The tailor was waiting with an amused little grin on his face. “Satisfied?”

  “I am,” she said, forcing her voice to be strong. “Please show me the rest.”

  The rest of the clothes were just horrifying to look at but hiding secrets. Most of the gowns had skirts so thin and light and also detachable she wondered if she would hardly notice.

  Mr. Gace pulled them to rights as she looked in the mirror. “The queen’s gowns are tacky, pastel disasters. It has made her a bit comical, such a thin, severe woman in such horrible, puffy skirts. That is why yours are thin and slim. No bulk, nothing extravagant.”

  “So you want me to be dressed op
posite of her?”

  He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No. Not dress the opposite. We want you to be the opposite of her and clothing is a symbolic way to let people know that is true. She is extravagant, overdone and icy. You are modest and simple and warm.”

  Katiyana looked at the plain green gown (with the pants underneath) and wondered if it was possible for an article of clothing to say so much.

  She decided to wear that dress to dinner and the king was pleased. She interrupted him looking over paperwork at the table and at first he looked up with unfocused eyes. When he finally noticed, he gave a wide grin. “Perfect. It is lovely and completely understated.”

  Katiyana arched an eyebrow. “Is that what Mr. Gace told you it was?”

  Lian laughed. “Yes, he did. Right after he told me to shave and change my shirt.”

  “I can see that you did not take his advice,” she said, sliding into the seat next to his.

  “I haven’t the time,” he replied, bending his head back over the papers. Ink stained his cheek and Katiyana licked her thumb and rubbed it away.

  He looked up in surprise and she snatched her hand away. “You could have at least washed your face. If I have to make a good impression, so should you.”

  The king reluctantly slid the papers away when dinner arrived. “What are you going over?” Katiyana asked as she waited for her soup to cool.

  “I am trying to put everything in order before we leave tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” she exclaimed. “I thought we had many days yet.”

  He shook his head. “I cannot properly communicate with King Valanka and trust that it will stay private. The queen has spies and loyal followers everywhere. And I must speak with him and plan for your safety, all of our safety, before we reveal who you are.”

  She pushed the bowl away. “I do not think I am hungry anymore.”

  Lian pushed the bowl back. “You must eat. You must have strength. And do not fear, I will not leave your side for a moment.”

  “Is Alma coming?” she asked hopefully.

  “You prefer her company to mine?” he asked.

  “Yes. I mean, no! I mean… Sometimes I do.”

  He grinned. “It is quite all right. I think I would prefer her company to mine as well.”

  She fiddled with her spoon. “When you are like this, then it is pleasant to be around you. But when you are angry, I would rather be anywhere else. I cannot believe Alma can bear to be so close to you when you are having a fit.”

  “’Having a fit’? What a kind way to put it. Alma has been around since she was just a small girl. I am lucky to have her as my own.”

  “Do you love her?” Katiyana burst out. The second the words were out, she clasped her hand over her mouth.

  The king turned his blank blues eyes to her. “Very much so. I know my terrible display a few weeks ago does not support my claim, but yes, I do. I never had the chance to have a sister, but if I had, I imagine I would feel about her the same way I do about Alma. But am in love with her? No. And good thing for me, with the way she looks at Bennett, I would never have a chance. King or not.”

  “You know about that?” she asked, pulling her hand away from her mouth.

  “I have known that for years,” he said.

  “Years?” she repeated sadly. “And nothing has come of it, how painful.”

  The king waved his hand. “I am sure one day it will come to fruition. He is just too wrapped up in his duty right now to see what is in front of his face.”

  The rest of dinner passed quietly and Katiyana finally excused herself to go back up to her room.

  Alma was busy packing. “I can do this,” Katiyana protested.

  “I do not mind, I already have the kings things packed. Hopefully he does not peek and see what I put in for him.”

  “Fancy clothes, like me?” Katiyana asked.

  “Yes, fancy clothes. King Valanka is a bit more of a ‘proper’ king. He has never been offended by Lian’s casualness, but this is his wedding.”

  “I still cannot believe someone is willing to marry him,” she said, dropping into a plush chair.

  “And why is that?” Alma asked, folding garments into a piece of leather luggage. “And how do you even know of him? I thought you have been out in the woods the last several years.”

  “Everyone knows of him. The cursed king up there in his mountain castle? Taking people from the town as his servants, whether they want to go or not, no one ever seeing his face? It is creepy, the stuff of nightmares. When children are bad, parents threaten to send them to him, forever.”

  Alma was not amused. “I hope you are getting that talk out of your system right now. I do not want to hear it again.”

  Katiyana was wounded by her sharp tone. “Why? I am not saying what everyone else is thinking?”

  “And who of us truly knows him? It is unkind. And in light of how I hear our own king spoken about, I do not take kindly to it.”

  “How is our king spoken about?” Katiyana repeated, noticing her slip.

  The servant stared at her blankly. “Surely you know that he is called the Fire King, because of his temper.”

  Katiyana burst into laughter and nearly fell out of the chair. “That is the best thing I have heard in the months! The Fire King,” she snorted.

  Alma threw a wadded up nightgown at her. “I did not tell you so you could make fun.”

  “I am not making fun, I am merely appreciating what a true statement that is.”

  “Do not let me hear you calling him that,” Alma warned, pointing a finger at her.

  “I can make no promises,” Katiyana said lightly. “He has earned his reputation and nick name, I cannot pretend otherwise.”

  Alma grumbled and finished her packing.

  Katiyana found herself nervously awake before the sun came up the next morning. It had taken all of her courage to come out of the woods and to the Sun Palace. Now she had to leave it and go to a new place. Though she somewhat trusted the king, she did not feel safe.

  Alma brought up fruit and rolls after she dressed but the sight of them turned her stomach. “Eat something,” she called over her shoulder as she rushed from the room with a bag in each hand.

  She eyed the plate again and groaned. Not steady enough to climb out on the roof, she snuck out of her room, down the stairs and through the front door. The air was cool and refreshing and the wind dried the perspiration on her brow. Her hands shook and she twisted them together in her skirt as she took in deep breathes.

  Servants pulled around a wide, black carriage led by pairs of dainty horses. Lian came out the front door, searching the grounds. He relaxed when he caught sight of her.

  “I thought perhaps you had changed your mind and run off,” he said and she could not tell if he was serious or not.

  Katiyana ignored the comment and eyed the carriage warily. “We have to ride the whole way in that?”

  “Unless you would prefer to walk,” the king replied. Her eyes snapped to his and she was surprised to see them a calm, twinkling blue.

  “Will we all fit?” she asked, turning back to the thing. It was large and black, trimmed with gleaming silver metal and thick velvet curtains. It reminded her of a tomb, which in turn reminded her that she was most likely on her way to her death. She did not know what her stepmother would do when she realized she was alive, but it would not be good. And it would not be long until she found out

  A warm hand cupped her shoulder and she jumped, spinning away to face her assailant.

  Lian stood stone still, his hands held up in “no harm”, his eyes wide and alarmed. “Easy, tree girl. I was speaking to you, did you not hear me?”

  Her heart dropped in rate as she took a few calming breaths. “I did not.”

  “I asked your aversion to my carriage,” he said, still frowning.

  Katiyana bit her lip. To not answer would anger him, to answer honestly and say she found his carriage macabre would anger him as well.
>
  Seeing the tension build in her shoulders and in the line of her brow, Lian spoke again. “It is not to my liking either. But it will get colder as we travel north. The dark color attracts what warmth there is and the thick curtains keep it in. We will ride in that one, I have another for Alma and the luggage.”