by Amber Jaeger
“I am going to retire. It has been a long day and the guests for the wedding arrive tomorrow. I want to be ready for them, for the task ahead of me.”
“I will help you in any way I can.”
She gave a sour smile. “I know. Because you want me to upend Sula.”
“It is more than that,” he protested, his eyes on the ground.
Katiyana just shook her head. “Save your diplomacy for those who might believe it. I am going to bed.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Entering her bedchamber, she realized the folly of her plan. It was several hours yet until the sun set and she would not be able to sleep until it was dark. And until some of her anger burnt out.
Wandering upstairs, she found a small library, very different from the opulent one downstairs.
Curious, she leaned down to read the titles of the books and found they were histories of all the kingdoms. A large map adorned the wall and she studied it, wondering if all the kingdoms shown would send someone to attend the wedding. Deciding it would only be the closest ones, she pulled out the histories of them and took them back to her room.
It was incredibly dry reading but she plodded on, determined not to be entirely ignorant when she met the dignitaries.
The evening wore on and she was only disturbed once, by Alma coming to stoke the fire. Katiyana gave her a grateful smile and stretched. With a frown, she looked down to see she was still wearing the clothes she had to dinner. The nightgown hung on the back of the door and she sighed. Surely no one would know if she didn’t wear the impossible garment for one night.
She slid into Lian’s nightgown, taking in his scent. With sorrow she realized their friendship had been knocked very far off course and she wondered if it could be made right again. Shivering despite the fire, she pulled the sweater back on over the gown.
Settled back in bed, she selected another book to study.
Sleep took over stealthily and her mind shifted from dry facts to familiar images. The walls faded from the ones she truly saw to the one she had grown up surrounded by. She could hear her father talking to someone, quietly arguing and she followed his voice out into the dark hall. The further she walked, the further away his voice became.
She listened in fear as his gentle voice gave way to harsh cries.
“Father?” she called, running down the darkened hall. There were no doors, no lights, no artwork, no carpets underfoot. Just darkness and her father’s frantic voice.
Yelling for him, she almost didn’t see his form far off. With relief, she ran even faster, reaching her arms out.
“Stop,” he cried, seeing her. Blood bubbled from his mouth and he crumpled to the ground.
“Father!” she screamed, pumping her legs faster. But even as she ran, he moved further and further away, lying in the widening pool of his own blood.
A rough jerk knocked the image from her head and she felt warm hands cupping her shoulders. “Katiyana, wake up,” a low voice begged.
A sob bubbled up in her throat and she moaned against it. The warm hands pulled her up and into an embrace and she burst into tears. Knowing his scent anywhere, she rested her cheek on his chest and cried.
“Shh,” he soothed, brushing his hand down her long hair. “It was just a dream.”
“No,” she cried. “It was my father, he was bleeding.”
His arms tensed for a moment and then he grasped her even tighter, letting her cry.
When the tears finally slowed, she leaned back far enough to wipe them from her face and hissed when the salt of them stung her raw hands. “What is it?” Lian asked.
Wordlessly, she showed him her hands. “How did this happen?” he asked, examining them by the low firelight.
Katiyana sniffed. “I climbed the castle to get away from you after… I did not realize the rock was so rough.”
His eyes slid closed, his brow furrowed. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am. I never meant to hurt or frighten you.”
She said nothing, wanted nothing else to be said about had transpired between them.
He pulled her close again and she relaxed her body while her mind still fought against the horrific image of her dying father.
“Do you think you can sleep?” he asked, his murmur bringing her out of the doze she had fallen into.
She nodded and he released her. Seeing the nightgown she wore, he gave a faint smile. “I have several I refuse to wear, if you would like more than one.”
Embarrassed, she shook her head and rolled over to hide her face against the pillow. “Will you stay?” she asked, her voice small. “Just until I fall asleep?”
When she had been at home, with the girls, Adora would climb onto the small mat with her, her arm flung around her waist. But she was not going to ask Lian to do that.
To her surprise, relief, and again, embarrassment, he pulled the covers up to her neck and stretched out beside her, wrapping one thick arm around her waist.
“Sleep well,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.
When she woke, he was gone but her back was still warm. She blinked sleepily at the slowly lightening window, trying to remember the dream that had frightened her so badly. Unable to capture it, she sat up and stretched.
A knock at the door made her jump and she rushed to answer it.
The kings severe butler stood at the doorway and coughed discreetly at seeing her in her nightgown. Or rather Lian’s nightgown.
She frowned then remembered herself. “Yes, um…?”
“Marchello, my lady. You received a package this morning, from a Mr. Gace,” he said, offering her a large, paper wrapped bundle.
“Thank you,” she said, taking it.
Unsure of what to expect, she laid it on the bed and pulled the string away. Inside was a soft, cotton gown. It was of simple fabric and simple design, but embroidered with the foliage and birds of her homeland. She smiled and shook it out.
The moss green skirts were artfully divided to show the fitted breeches of pale rose underneath. A note fell out and she read it. “My dear Princess, the gown I created was to make you beautiful for the wedding. This is to make an impression. I would wish you luck, but you do not need it.”
She grinned and hurried to the bathroom to prepare herself. Refreshed, she combed her hair, letting it dry to soft waves before clipping it back again. Anything to blur the similarities between her and Sula. The dress slid on perfectly and she happily noted the many pockets and places to hide her knives. Unnoticed in the bottom of the package were a new pair of boots, almost exactly as she had but a soft brown. Touched by his thoughtfulness, she slipped them on and appraised herself in the mirror.
She looked nothing like she had when she went to Lian’s castle. Oh, she was still limber, and her hair and eyes still the same color. She still looked a little wild but… there was something more, something she could not quite place.
After rubbing a bit more salve on her healing hands, she went down for breakfast.
All was quiet, and she wondered where they were. She wandered from the dining hall back to the kitchen. Soft words and laughter met her ears and she peeked in, curious.
Valanka was behind the stove, wearing an apron and ridiculous hat. Calia and Lian sat perched on the stools, their smiles hid behind their hands. Klaribel, Iago, Marchello and his wife, Abelina, sat a long table with a rather stout fellow she did not recognize.
As she watched, he complained, “You cook the onions too long. And never put the garlic in at the same time! When the onions sweat, you add the garlic, then just as the onions become translucent, take them from the heat.” He shook his head and wiped at his thin black mustache. “How many times must I tell you?”
“Yes, sir,” Valanka said, not turning from the stove.
Katiyana gaped and Klaribel noticed her. “He insisted on a new cook that would give him lessons. And boy, is he getting them.”
No one complained as they ate their breakfast. The omelet was perfect, as was the thick sliced bread and jam. W
hen they finally stuffed the last of it into their mouths, Valanka stood. “Thank you for allowing me to force my food on you.” His staffed laughed and he smiled. “Really, I want to thank you for all your help. You have always been here to serve me, but I truly appreciate all the help you have given me as I transformed from the Cold King to a man. It has not been easy, but I have been able to count on you all. I cannot tell you how much that means to me, to have all of you, as my family.”
Calia rose, with tears in her eyes, to wrap an arm around his. He kissed the top of her head and Katiyana felt a sudden pang for something she had never really wanted before.
They all began to clap, but he held his hand up. “I think Klaribel and Iago would like to say something.”
Iago rose to his feet with a gentle smile but Klaribel jumped to hers, beating him. “We are going to have a baby!” she cried, pulling her shirt taut over her belly.
Abelina burst into tears and Marchello wiped his own eyes before handing his kerchief to her. Calia went to wrap the woman in her arms. Katiyana hung back, a little uncertain. She had known before they had? But they were her friends.
Lian reached an arm out to pull her close. “You look sad,” he murmured.
She started to shake her head but then stopped. “They all look so happy. And I am happy for them…”
“But?” he prompted gently.
She frowned. “I suppose I am jealous.”
Lian hugged her closer, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You have friends.”
“I do, I did. But we spent most of our time surviving, not living. I wish more than anything they could have the comfort and security that I have now. I wish I could make that happen for them.”
“You tell me so little of them. Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked. After a moment he added, “I want nothing from them. If it would make you happy to see them more comfortable, then that is all I seek.”
She was not going to speak but the answer burst forth anyway. “Seeds, dried fruit, new knives and cloth. A good pair of scissors and new traps. Thread, needles, buttons and shoes. Heavy blankets and dried tea leaves. An axe and a saw. More books. Soap, lots of soap.” She tapped her lip, trying to think of all the things she had wanted for. “Hair ribbons for Adora,” she said quietly. “Hand balm for Cidra. And a felt animal for the girl without a name.”
Lian gripped her even tighter. “I will get that all and more for your friends. And I will never breathe their names to another soul.”
Her breath caught in her throat, realizing she had revealed them in her haste to help them.
He seemed to read her thoughts. “That is what will make you a good queen. More than anything you want to help those around you. It is not a weakness, although I know you feel that it is. I will not exploit it. Everything you have requested, you will have. I will even send you out on your own to deliver it.”
She glanced back at him. “No one following me?”
“No one,” he promised, finally releasing his hold. “Are you ready for today?”
She gave a grim chuckle. “No. Yes. I read up on all the kingdoms, I hope it will help me.”
He turned her in his arms and said, “What will help you is confidence. Hold your head high, do not bow to any one, make your case and press it when necessary. You are doing the right thing and they cannot argue against that.”
Suddenly Katiyana realized the kitchen had fallen silent around them and glanced up. Everyone was staring.
Lian reluctantly released her and she stepped away awkwardly. Klaribel grinned and nudged Iago. “Does she not remind you of Calia?”
“Thank you for the meal,” Katiyana said in rush, inclining her head towards Valanka. Then with burning cheeks, she rushed from the room.
All the halls looked the same- bright and long. She wandered longer than she meant to and eventually became lost.
An unfamiliar cough made her spin around. Marchello stood, his fist over his mouth. “Did you need help finding your room, my dear?”
She bit her lip and nodded. He gestured down the hall. “The back stairway is down there. Turn right on the next floor and your room will be on the left.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asked gently.
Katiyana lifted her eyes to his and studied him. He was old and impeccably dressed. But there was also a kindness in his eyes that drew her question out.
“Why does everyone say I remind them of Calia? We look nothing alike.”
He chuckled and held his arm out for her to take. “Perhaps your features are quite different, but you look very much like Calia did when she first came here.”
“And how was that?” she asked, still confused.
“Wild. Thin. Passionate behind a veneer of cautiousness.”
She frowned again, unaware people thought those things of her. Well, except the wildness.
“Did you know Calia came here as a servant?”
“I did, but nothing else.”
She saw him smile. “It is her story to tell, I am sure she will share it if you ask. But I will say that our king was quite lost before she came. I shudder to think what would have happened to him had she not been able to get under that mask to reach the man inside.”
Katiyana nodded but did not understand. Marchello sighed and pulled her to a stop. “Lian has been a welcome guest here since he was a child. We have not missed how he has changed since Sula took his mother and then father. He truly has become the Fire King, just as our king was once so cold. All I am saying is that perhaps he has found the person that can help him shed his own mask.”
She chewed her lip a minute before asking, “Me? You think that person is me.”
Marchello shrugged but a smile tugged at his lips. “I think that when he is with you, he smiles and laughs more than I have seen him do since he was a child.”
Her heart was beating a little hard in her chest and she turned away to return to her room.
“Think about what I said,” Marchello called softly.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
In her room, Katiyana paced, winding around the furniture at an alarming rate. Unsatisfied with the lack of calm, she threw the windows open and stuck her head out, taking big gulps of frigid air. The wind blew her hair back, cooling her cheeks, but it was not enough. Mindful of the sharp stone, she carefully levered herself out the window and climbed up onto the small overhang.
It was freezing but she immediately felt better, free. Calm.
As her heart slowed to its regular pace, she thought. About everything.
Far off over the horizon of green forest, her friends were in their hut, slaving to keep their secrets and to keep safe. Somewhere on the many roads snaking out before her were the royals coming for the wedding. The royals she had to impress enough to win their support so she could overthrow her step mother and become queen.
Katiyana groaned and put her head in her hands. Because despite all of those things, there was something more pressing in her heart and mind that she just could not fight back, no matter how hard she tried.
For a moment she thought she heard his voice and pressed her hands tighter over her temples. Lately, every thought seemed to lead back to him. Then she heard it again and she sat up straight, everything else forgotten.
“Get off of me!” she heard faintly and was instantly up on her feet. When the yell came again as she scrambled up and scaled the wall behind her, clamoring over the tall peak of the roof.
The shouting came from the balcony below her and for one instant she thought she could have just climbed back in her own window and run across the hall but then she was leaping down, landing lightly on the balcony below her.
She wretched the delicate glass door open and shot in, knife in hand.
Alma screamed and dropped the straight razor in hers and Lian whirled, his hand on the towel around his waist. He relaxed the instant he saw her and rolled his eyes. “Too late, Katiyana, I am alread
y out of my bath.”
Her face bloomed scarlet and she slid her knife home. “I heard you yelling like someone was trying to cut your head off,” she muttered, not raising her eyes.
Alma snorted. “That or trying to shave his face.”
“Same difference when you are wielding the blade,” Lian snapped at her. “I am perfectly capable of shaving my own face.”
She snorted again. “Not if you want all the hair off of it, you always leave little bits by your ears and under your chin.”
“Right, just where you leave all the nicks and cuts.”
“Enough,” Katiyana snapped. “Lian, if I have to wear ridiculous dresses to meet all these royals, then surely you must have your face shaved.”
“I thought you looked rather lovely in you ‘ridiculous’ dress,” Lian murmured, and her heart sped up again.
“Enough weaseling out of this,” Alma said, handing the razor to Katiyana. “You have to shave. You just have to.”
He eye Katiyana warily. “You have never shaved a man’s face,” he said, backing away.
Katiyana reached for the pot of cream. “No, but I have skinned a cat. And squirrels. And deer, when the gods were looking down upon us. You are in good hands.”
His face had paled but he sat on a low seat next to the tub. “Be careful,” he warned.
“Do not gripe at me,” she said, taking his chin with one hand. The softness was surprising and she ran her fingertips up his strong jawline, memorizing the feel of his hard face. Suddenly remembering herself, she snatched her hand away.
Daring a glance up at him, she lost the ability to breathe when she took in all the lines of his perfect face. She wanted to trace each one of them, wanted to—
Katiyana swallowed hard and dipped her fingers in the shaving cream. He closed his eyes as she smoothed it over his face and she was grateful for the reprieve. Her fingers swept over his cheekbones, along his jaw and over his chin. He relaxed under her touch and she smiled.
With a steady hand, she scraped away the days of growth off his cheek with the blade. Examining her work, she turned his chin with her free hand and continued.
