by Amber Jaeger
With a nod and a deep breath, she braced herself and swung up into the carriage. Lian sighed loudly and she looked out the door to see him with his hand over her face. “Please, from now on, allow the footmen or myself to assist you in.”
Offended, Katiyana narrowed her eyes and snapped, “I do not need help getting in.”
“I can see that, tree girl,” he said wearily. “But any woman with good manners would accept assistance in and out avoid any chance of humiliation.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, settling herself into the thickly padded bench. It was terribly ugly but wonderfully comfortable.
“It means any proper lady would accept help rather than risk falling and having her skirts flipped over head.” The carriage dipped as he sank his weight on the low step to climb in. The door groaned as he put his massive hands on either side to pull himself in. For a moment Katiyana wondered if he would fit through the small entrance, but he did and settled on the bench across from her, their knees nearly touching.
Her mouth unusually dry, Katiyana swallowed before finally responding to his barb. “I am not clumsy, and besides, I have pants under my skirts, as you well know.”
He arched an eyebrow and both their cheeks flushed. “That is not what I meant,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and slouching in her seat.
The king cleared his throat and looked her up and down with a discerning eye.
“And now you do not like how I am sitting?” she ground out between clenched teeth.
The carriage jerked to a start, throwing the unprepared Katiyana off her bench and into the king’s lap. The girl could fall from a tree gracefully but it felt as if the ground had been ripped from beneath her feet while being shoved at the same time and she ended in an awkward tumble, her face against the king’s chest, putting her in a perfect position to feel his laughter before she could actually hear it.
She struggled to right herself while laughter boomed out of him. His shoulders and chest heaved and he threw his head back. Stunned by his unexpected mirth, she sat where she was, on his knees with her hands fisted in his shirt to keep her up in the sickening sway of the carriage.
“Why are you laughing at me?” she demanded.
Lian wiped the tears from his eyes and finally lowered his head, bringing his face within inches of hers. Her perfect dark eyes were narrowed in anger and he had to fight back another fit of laughter.
“I am so used to seeing you so sure of yourself. If I had known a mere carriage could topple you, I would have taken you for a ride a long time ago.”
Katiyana’s face was already burning but when she finally realized she was perched on the king’s lap, her fingers sunk in his shirt, she was sure it had burst into flames. Agility somewhat regained, she released the fabric and shoved back over to her bench hastily.
The groan he let out as her knee connected with soft flesh made her smile.
“Careful Tree Girl, I still need to produce an heir.”
Katiyana grumpily shifted her stupid skirts about her legs. “Good luck doing that with your scruffy face and war monger clothes. And stop calling me that.”
His wicked grin was back. “And what should I call you? Princess?”
“Only if I can call you the Fire King,” she snapped back, instantly regretting her words. She watched his eyes warily, waiting for them to darken.
To her surprise, they did not. “Fire King? I am the Sun King,” he said, his confusion evident.
Glad to finally have the upper hand, she did not bother to conceal her smirk. “I guess ‘Tree Girl’ knew the kings nickname before he did.”
Lian straightened the wrinkled cloth of his shirt. “Explain,” he demanded.
“Your tempter,” she hinted.
“I am passionate about the things I believe in,” he argued.
“You lose your temper at the slightest provocation.”
To her satisfaction, his jaw clenched and his fingers dug into the soft bench beneath him.
“See, you are angry right now.”
The effort he put into relaxing was evident. He took a slow breath, rolled his shoulders and pried his hands from the seat. “You would test the resolve of any reasonable man, Princess,” he said, his jaw still tight.
“You are not reasonable. And do not call me Princess.”
They tore their eyes from each other at the same moment and glared out opposite windows. Despite her own anger, Katiyana watched the passing scenery with interest.
The grasslands were shrinking and the golden glow was fading to a low cover. She had never seen such barren, flat lands and curiosity and despair warred. Since Cidra had found her, she had never been so far from them. Fall was near and soon after that, winter. She wondered if they were prepared.
The king cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, causing his knee to brush against hers.
“Someday very soon,” he said, his voice low and smooth, “I will call you Queen. Everyone will call you Queen. But I must ask myself over and over, are you ready for it? I know you spent the last half of your life in hiding, doing what you must to survive, but it is as if you do not remember the first half of your life. You were a princess, your father was a strong and wise ruler. Do you remember nothing of your previous life, are there no memories you can bring forth to guide your behavior now?”
The thing that Katiyana hated most in the world was that grief could still strike her unexpectedly. One moment she could be happy or gardening or having an argument and the next… That old heartbreaking sadness she thought she had long conquered would return and transform the moment into heartbreaking pain.
Lian watched in horror as her face crumpled and her chin began to quiver. He began to reach for her then snatched his hand back when she flinched.
Katiyana drew her legs up to hide her face behind her knees. The carriage continued to rock side to side, adding to her despair and nausea. She knew the king was no longer waiting for a response but it was still sitting there, right on her tongue, waiting for her to spit it out.
“I remember,” she finally said, her voice broken. “But there were no classes on manners, or how to sit like a lady. I remember, almost, losing my mother. More clearly than that, I remember almost losing my father to his grief. He pulled himself out of that dark hole, but I was alone while he did it. I remember being alone, and then I remember being with Harem when I could no longer take the loneliness. I remember my father coming alive again when he thought he could make our family whole again. I remember waiting for Sula, hoping and dreaming she could make everything right again.”
His eyes were dark again, just as she thought they would be.
“My father loved her the instant he saw her. I thought she would be the mother I had always wanted.” Her stomach clenched as she made her next confession. “She looked like me. We are distant cousins, somehow. Did you know that? We were family even before my father married her.”
Her chin quivered again but the king made no move to comfort her.
“I thought we would have an instant connection, that she would fill the voids in our lives. But she herself was a void. I never thought her evil, not until recently. But she was always cold, always dark, always alone.”
Painful memories flooded in, and she could not hold back. “You want me to be queen? You want me to be perfect and proper? Everything a self-assured ruler should be? How can I? I never learned. You look down upon my exile as if I spent that time digging up grubs and living like a heathen. I did not. That time in my life was the only time I was shown how to survive, how to be strong. The friends I met taught me how to live and love and laugh again. They showed me grace and patience and forgiveness.” The tears were now pouring from her eyes. “They did not have the luxury of teaching me to be a lady. Sula and my father did but chose not to. So tell me, what is more important, existing or surviving?”
Lian took every care not to startle the distressed girl before him. He had never expected such a torrent o
f emotion and pain from the lost princess he thought held the key to his revenge. She had transformed from a flippant child to a grieving woman so fast his mind was whirling. Even as bad as he felt for her, he was angered by the mere mention of Sula. But despite his temper, his heart softened as he took in her heaving shoulders over her bent knees. The dark curtain of her hair hid her face from his eyes but he didn’t need to see it to know she was still crying.
Miles passed before the Fire King worked up enough courage to speak to her. “I am sorry,” he said.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she said, her voice thick.
“No, maybe not, maybe so. But I am sorry I upset you. You have been so strong, I did not think it had its limits.”
She barked out a loud, un-lady like laugh. “I miss Cidra. She was always so much stronger than me.”
“Who is Cidra?” he asked, genuinely curious.
Her eyes shuttered and he knew he had crossed a line.
“I do not feel well,” she answered, before throwing herself at the door.
Lian banged on the ceiling of the carriage and it pulled to a halt before she was able to get out the door.
Still, she stumbled and cold, wet grass met her face as she leaned down, sure she would lose her stomach. Everything inside her heaved painfully but she could not vomit. The carriage behind her creaked as the king exited it. Katiyana tensed as she felt his warmth come over her back.
She thought he would make fun of her or touch her in her weak moment, but he merely stood, waiting.
Finally she was able to stand on her own. Lian didn’t try to help her back into the carriage but when he came in after her, he slid in next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders before pulling her close.
“You and I have a long way to go. You should rest,” he said, settling his chin on the top of her head.
She wanted to slide away from him, to move to the other bench but the carriage jerked back to a slow start and her stomach clenched with nausea again. Defeated, she resigned herself to the king’s warmth and prayed for the sickness to end. The king was strong and held her more securely than she could have held herself and eventually she drifted into an uneasy sleep.
Lian let out a sigh when she finally relaxed enough that he could tell she had finally gone under. He had not expected such a volatile conversation to start their journey and had been unprepared for her passion and emotion. At times she reminded him of the wild animals that inhabited her forest.
They rode for hours that way, her lost in her sad dreams and he lost in his sad thoughts. But she didn’t pull away from his side and he did not take his arm from her shoulders.
When the horses slowed, she stirred and sleepily rubbed her face against his chest. He held his breath while she oriented herself to the now still carriage. Dark, drowsy eyes finally peered up at him. “Praise be, the hell ride is over,” she mumbled.
“Not quite,” he said apologetically. “We are merely stopping to rest the horses. We will ride through the night and arrive sometime tomorrow. I suggest you stretch your legs while you have the chance.”
Needing no encouragement, Katiyana opened the door, swinging a foot out. She jerked when the king grabbed her wrist. “Careful,” he warned.
To his surprise, she actually acknowledged his warning and allowed him to exit first. When he reached a hand out to steady her, she accepted and climbed out on shaking legs. “I am afraid I will not be getting back in that thing.”
They had stopped on a road in a sea of short, bluish grass. The sky looked bigger than it ever had and she tilted her head back to take it all in.
Alma stepped up next to her. “What are you looking at?”
“Nothing. Everything.”
Unsurprised by the bizarre statement, she pushed on. “Are you enjoying the ride?”
Katiyana rolled her head over onto her shoulder. “Are you insane? This must be the worst way to travel possible. My stomach has protested it every moment.”
Alma smiled. “I was wondering why we had stopped earlier. I used to get the moving sickness as well.”
“What did you do to stop it?” Katiyana asked, desperate for some relief.
“Nothing to do,” she replied with a shrug.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A small luncheon was prepared and Katiyana refused it all. Alma tried to press her but stopped when the king shook his head discreetly.
As things were packed up and the men began to drift back to their horses, Katiyana felt she might burst into tears. She was fully prepared to fight a full-fledged battle against the king in order to not have to ride but he surprised her by going to the horseman and speaking quietly. The man’s eyebrows rose almost to his hair before he began shaking his head. The king spoke again and the man pointed at the carriage in disbelief. Lian nodded.
Katiyana edged away as he began walking to her and he held his hands up in supplication. “We must continue on but perhaps if you ride with me in the front you will not feel so ill.”
She looked from him to the bench on the front of the carriage where the reins dangled. He left her to consider and pulled out a blanket before turning back to her.
She sighed and went to him, allowing him to help her up even though she did not need it. The coach man swore quietly before heaving himself into the carriage. “He must get sick in there as well,” Katiyana commented sourly.
Lian laughed and took up the reins. “No. This is highly improper. I had to promise him we would ride up to the castle on the inside.” He heard her groan and quickly added, “We will wait until the last possible moment.”
He tucked the blanket over their laps and raised a hand, signaling to Bennet to lead the way. Her stomach lurched with the carriage when the horses started walking but it didn’t worsen as they picked up speed and became steady.
Relieved, she let out a breath she had not known she was holding.
“Better?” Lian asked.
“Much. How did you know this would help?”
She saw his smile from the corner of her eye and turned to take him in. “I got sick from riding as a child. My father would let me sit up front to help.”
Curiosity overcame her. “What was he like?”
“My father?” he asked, hedging the question. She noticed his hands tighten on the reigns.
“You do not have to tell me if you do not wish to,” she said quickly.
He was silent so long she was sure he would not answer but finally he said, “He was a good man. Very strong. He came from a long line of wise and intelligent rulers and continued the tradition.”
“Do you look like him?” she mused.
“I do,” he said.
“Was he in the habit of dressing for war as well?” she teased.
Lian grimaced. “My father was never at war, not until the end, not until Sula. He had the loyalty and respect of everyone who met him. So no, he did not. One day soon, I will have the time to fulfill all of my obligations as the king.”
Katiyana bit her cheek before asking, “You do not have time to shave because of your conflict with Sula?”
“I do not have time for a lot of things because of my conflict with Sula,” he corrected, his tone sharp.
She knew she should leave it at that but did not. “What will you do when she is dealt with?”
“Prepare the kingdom for my father’s funeral ceremony. Shave. Find a wife.”
At that, she stopped her questioning. She could not imagine any reason to postpone the final goodbye to a father, a king, but wisely kept that to herself.
They rode until almost full dark. The conversation had never picked back up and the world around them filled the silence. Katiyana watched with wonder as they passed by plants and trees she had not seen before. Birds of strange colors flew overhead and she was content to take this new world in. It did not seem so long before they stopped for the evening.
Despite a day of sitting and riding, she was exhausted and fell into the small canvas tent Alma showed
her that night and did not stir until morning.
Camp smoke wafted to her along with the popping and snapping of bacon cooking. The soldiers spoke in low voices and a glance at the part in the covering over the doorway showed it was just before dawn.
She stuck her head out to look around and was unsurprised to find she was the first one not a soldier to be up. Bennet sat on a log by the fire and she shuffled over to him, struggling to right her skirts. He glanced up when she sat down next to him.
“Your hair is a mess,” he said, not looking at her.
“Who is there to see it?” she asked, not bothering to even run her hands through it.
