by Amber Jaeger
Alma excused herself silently, leaving them alone. Lian opened his eyes and fixed them on Katiyana’s but she did not risk getting swept up in them. She did not know if they would be stormy or the calm twinkling she loved. Her stomach lurched at that thought.
Since when did she love his eyes when they were happy and shining?
Her face was slowly flushing again and she could feel his eyes tracking the warmth up her neck and onto her cheeks.
“Harder than you thought?” he asked, trying to hold his face firm.
“Not at all,” she murmured, wiping the blade on a towel. “There, rinse your face and you will be presentable.”
Lian splashed water over his head and Katiyana flinched away from the spray, for the first time in her life caring about the condition of her dress. With exaggerated carefulness, he inspected his skin and with obvious surprise, found it perfectly smooth.
“How did you do that?” he asked. “I can never get it just right.”
She shrugged. “Like I said, practice.” The room seemed even smaller than it had been and she edged to the door. “I will let you get dressed now,” she mumbled.
He glanced away from the mirror and she was glad to see his eyes were bright. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
She spent the next hour pacing in her room, not trusting herself to go out onto the roof. Her hands were shaking and besides, she did not want one of the approaching royals to see her perched atop the roof, to have that be their first impression.
Finally a coach arrived and Katiyana watched it with curiosity, trying to guess who it held. Several more coaches followed, just as nice but not as regal. From her vantage point she could not see them exit and so slunk out of her room to listen to whatever she might be able to hear.
To her disappointment, there was nothing to hear and she went back to her room to watch the other coaches roll in. She had counted seven in the first hour and none since. There came a knock on her door and she rushed to answer it before remembering herself and calling, “Enter.”
Alma poked her head in. “Refreshments in one hour. They will all be present.”
“One hour?” she groaned, flopping back on the bed. “The wait is killing me, I just want to get this over with.”
“It will be here sooner than you know, and I suspect you will hate every moment of it.”
“You are most likely right,” she agreed, not getting up.
“Perhaps Lian will keep you company, if you ask,” Alma suggested lightly before slipping out the door. Katiyana swore softly under her breath, wondering just how transparent she was.
With another groan, she sat up and put her head in her hands.
“Now is the time to focus on getting support to help my people, not on some cranky man,” she whispered to herself.
There was another knock. “Come,” she called, exasperated with herself. It did not help that her anxiety was rising. Expecting Alma again, she stretched back out, kicking her feet out off the bed.
“Are you sulking?” a very unfeminine voice asked. Katiyana gasped and sat up, her hand at her throat.
“Iago, you startled me,” she accused, sliding off the bed and trying to straighten her skirts at the same time.
“Easy, child. I only brought you some tea, I thought you might need it.” Balanced on one hand was a polished wooden tray and a small plain cup and pot.
“Oh,” she said, recognizing the smell of the soothing brew. “Thank you, you are quite right.”
He laughed and slid the tray onto the small table and poured her a cup. She accepted it gratefully, warming her hands around the smooth porcelain. “Is it so obvious that I needed it?” she asked ruefully.
Iago shrugged and smiled. “You have seemed a bit… distracted.”
That was not the word she had expected to hear and she turned to him with a frown. “You mean uncomfortable. Or tightly wound perhaps?”
“No, I meant distracted. Your kingdom needs you now, other conquests can wait.” His words felt sharp but they were light and he was smiling.
Nonetheless, Katiyana narrowed her eyes and set the cup down. “What is that supposed to mean?”
The slant of his brows betrayed his own discomfort at the conversation and his smile wavered just a bit. “I only meant it would be best if you were viewed as a strong leader and not a love sick girl.”
Her stomach lurched, threatening to squeeze up its contents, but she kept her face perfectly smooth. There was nothing she could do about her burning cheeks but thankfully they flamed at any emotion, including anger.
“Did you know,” she said quietly, and he winced at her tone, “that you are not the first servant to approach me about my nonexistant love life? I think it would be best if none of you were so forward in the future.”
Against all odds, his face cracked into a smile. “Yes, like that, exactly.” He stood and clapped a hand on her shoulder. “You will blow them all back, without a doubt.”
“I—what?” she asked, confused by it all.
But yet another knock came and she nearly swore out loud.
“Ah, ah,” Iago warned, wagging a finger at her. “Calm, confident, mature.”
The door opened and Lian came in. His eyes narrowed as he took in Iago. “Is all well?” he asked. His voice had a strange edge to it.
“Fine, fine,” she huffed, ushering Iago out before he could say something embarrassing in front of the king.
“Calm, confident, mature,” he repeated over his shoulder as she pushed.
“Right, absolutely, it will be fine,” she snapped, shutting the door behind him.
Lian stood awkwardly in the doorway right behind her and she crashed into his chest as she spun around.
He grabbed her elbow to steady her and she heart began thrumming in her chest. After a deep breath, she gently pulled out of his grasp. “Thank you.”
“Are you sure you are alright?” he asked again as she swept past him into the room.
“I am. He was merely bringing me tea before meeting everyone one.”
“Oh,” he said with same unfamiliar edge to his voice. “You could have asked me, I could have brought you tea.”
She stared for a long moment, trying judge his words. “I cannot ask the Sun King to bring me tea, you are not a servant—to anyone,” she scoffed.
“Are we not friends?” he asked softly, not meeting her eyes. “Surely I could bring my friend tea.”
Her hands at her sides began to tremble and she tucked them across her belly to hide the movement. Why did he have to be so calm and kind right now? She would have much preferred him angry and snarling. At least that did not seem to tie her insides in knots.
Suddenly she realized he was still waiting for an answer and she was standing there like an idiot. “Friends, of course,” she said with a smile that felt too wide for her face.
His own fell a bit but he extended his arm.
She looked down at it, confused and he sighed. “Can I at least properly escort you?”
“Oh,” she mumbled. Then, “No, I can walk, I am not some simpering idiot.”
His eyes slid closed and she watched him struggle to control his breathing. “Of course you are not, it is merely good manners.”
“I stand on my own,” she said firmly.
Without another word, he motioned her out the door.
As she made her way down the stairs with Lian’s warmth at her back, the sound of voices came up. She paused on the last step and he paused with her. “You can do this,” he murmured.
Panic was fighting to be free but she pushed it down and made her way down the long, white hallway, the voices and tinkling of china growing louder. Just outside the door, panic won and she froze in her tracks, her knees threatening to shatter and spill her on the floor.
Lian stepped up beside her and once again offered his arm. His face was hard but his eyes were kind and after a moment, she slipped her hand around his arm, trying not to crush the smooth fabric in h
er shaking fist. Lian smoothed it over his forearm with his free hand and bent to whisper in her ear. “Stand up straight, lift your chin and smile.”
With more effort than she would have thought, she did it and let him lead her into the grand hall.
People in elegant clothes were everywhere. Ladies in jewel toned gowns and men in suits of fine silk glided about with elegant stems of sparkling champagne. Servants slipped around them with silver trays held high. A few eyes turned to them as they entered but Valanka, with Calia on his arm, was the first to approach.
“Lian,” he greeted warmly, extending a hand. Lian took it and jerked his head at Katiyana. Valanka peered down at her, his eyes twinkling. He leaned down to brush a kiss on her cheek and whispered, “Stand tall, my dear.”
She straightened her back and took a small step away from Lian without releasing his arm. Calia stepped in with kiss to the cheek for each of them. “It will be fine,” she said under her breath.
A polite cough caught their attention and they all turned to the regal woman standing on the edge of their gathering. Her silvery hair was piled high on her head, giving the impression of a height she did not possess. Somehow, she still seemed to be peering down her nose at them.
Katiyana was surprised at the warmth in her voice. “Lian, I had not expected to see you here. And with such a lovely escort.”
Lian smiled and inclined his head. “Queen Mae, it has been many years.”
“It has,” she agreed, her eyes still on Katiyana. “I am glad to see you, that I might offer my condolences on your father’s passing in person.”
Katiyana felt the king stiffen next to her and she gripped his arm, letting him know she was there. He relaxed. “I thank you,” he said, his voice only a little hard.
Her sharp brown eyes moved from Katiyana, to her hand, to Lian’s face. “And are you going to introduce your escort?”
“I am afraid I do not have the privilege of being her escort, rather I present her in lieu of her father. May I introduce Princess Katiyana?”
Queen Mae’s sharp eyes softened a bit. “Princess Katiyana? It is a pleasure to meet you. I am afraid I am unaware from where you herald. Or who your father is.”
The question was clear and Katiyana pulled in a small breath before answering. “My father, King Kenan, ruled from the Forest Throne until he was murdered by my stepmother, Sula.”
Queen Mae gasped and clutched at her chest, slopping champagne from her crystal flute. Curious eyes began to turn their way. “That cannot be,” Queen Mae whispered, her eyes searching Katiyana’s face. “His daughter ran away, only to die in childbirth years later.”
Anger flared deep her chest, giving her the resolve she needed. Katiyana straightened her back and lifted her chin. “I would never have disgraced my father in such a way. Sula tried to have me killed the night my father died but with help, I escaped. Only the kindness of many strangers allowed me to live.”
People began edging towards them but Katiyana kept her eyes on Queen Mae’s. The woman was taking in every plane of her face, every wave of her hair. Her own face was slowly paling and after a long moment, she reached up a shaking hand to brush her cheek. “My word,” the queen whispered, pulling a long strand of hair over Katiyana’s shoulder. “It really is you.” The tears glistening in her eyes spilled over and Katiyana nearly bolted when the woman surged forward to take her in her arms.
Lian slid his arm around her back, pressing her forward and Katiyana obliged, allowing the woman to hug her. When the queen pulled back, color was back in her cheeks and she was smiling widely. “You look so much like your mother, she was so lovely.”
“I—thank you,” Katiyana murmured, suddenly aware of everyone looking on. The queen caught her hand and pulled her out into the crowd. “Come, come, let them all see. We mourned for you so, such a precious child you were.”
Panicked, she shot a look over her shoulder, only to find Lian directly behind her. He placed a warm hand at her back and gave her a gentle nod. She nodded back and took another deep breath.
People swarmed and buzzed, their faces alight with curiosity. “Queen Tamere, come, see who I have to meet you,” Queen Mae called. Another older woman glided through the crowd, her hair a shining white fountain down the back of her emerald gown. “It is Princess Katiyana, Kenan’s child.”
A few people gasped but Queen Tamere smiled. “I always wondered where you had gone.”
Her words gave Katiyana a bit of strength. “You did not believe what my stepmother said about me?”
“Sula?” the queen snorted indelicately. “I would not believe that witch if she told me the sky was up and the earth was down.”
There were a few titters at her remark but also a few scared looks, as though people feared unfriendly ears in the crowd.
A thin man with a thin, gold crown set over his glassy, straight locks came forward. “If that is true, then where have you been?”
The question was not at all unexpected but Katiyana still tensed at the words. She could not betray her friends. “I lived in the woods, in a very small community. They knew they sheltered an orphan, but not who I was. I lived in fear of Sula’s wrath for many years.”
Another man came forward, his eyes narrowed in disbelief. The gaudy silver crown on his head seemed a size too small, as did his unflattering light blue jacket. “It cannot possibly be true. A princess hiding in the woods? And even if it was, what do you want now? Your kingdom belongs to Queen Sula now. I doubt she would take in the ungrateful step daughter that abandoned her on her husband’s funeral day.”
Anger was morphing to fury but she controlled it, let it feed her confidence and burn away her weak thoughts. “I would never have betrayed my father, in life or in his death. And his kingdom belongs to his people, not to her. Had she not murdered him, they would still have a caring ruler to guide and care for them. Instead they live in fear and poverty and squalor.”
The unpleasant man scratched at his chin. “No one will argue with you there. So what is it you want, why come of the woodwork now?” He chuckled at his own stupid pun but no one else joined in.
“The throne is rightfully mine and I intend to take it. The people need homes and food and work. I intend to provide it for them.”
The king laughed and threw his head back, his jowls bouncing. The man next to him, a younger thinner version of the king, scowled. Katiyana lifted her chin. “I am afraid I do know your name,” she said, her voice thin and cold.
“You, little girl, have the great pleasure of meeting King Olaf, Ruler of the Silver Throne.” His fit of laughter over, he had taken on a shrewd look, as if sizing up a piece of cattle.
Forcing down insults of her own, Katiyana gave the man a shrewd smile of her own. “King Olaf, do I have your support in my mission to free the people of my kingdom?”
Again he scratched at his chin. “A bit of a girl like you? No. What you need is a husband. Let him fight off Sula and rule the kingdom.”
The man beside him, his son, Katiyana had decided, groaned and shook his head, his eyes down on the floor.
“Christopher, step forward.” Reluctantly, Christopher did. “Allow me to introduce my son, heir to the Silver Throne. Perhaps you would have a better chance at—”
“Finding support if you circulated the crowd,” Christopher interrupted smoothly, shooting his father a dark look.
“No, no, with a fine husband, I was going to say. My Christopher is quite unattached.”
Through gritted teeth, his son disagreed. “No, I am not.”
King Olaf sighed and his breath was stale and sour. “Why do you still mope about for that cinder girl? She took off years ago and even her family has not seen her.”
Though her heart had been beating furiously only a second before, now it felt it was a frozen lump. Cinder girl? Gone for years? Surely they could not be speaking of Cidra? Quickly she smoothed her face, grateful everyone was focused on the argument between father and son.
“Yes, and
I am sure you had nothing to do with that,” Christopher was saying, his voice full of accusation.
“Of course not. But why pine over some cleaning girl when you could have a real princess?”
“So you do believe me?” Katiyana interrupted.
Olaf looked her up and down and she struggled not to shudder. “I do. I’ve seen your mother and your father. You could not be any anyone else’s child.”
“And you support my right to the throne?” she pressed. Everyone leaned in to hear his response.
At that he glanced around, relishing the attention. He primly cleared his throat and spread his hands. “In the means that it would evict Sula, yes. But another woman ruler? That is a thing no one needs.”
It took a second for his words to process but he was speaking again before she could open her mouth. “And so I offer you something much better than having to sort out the troubles of your broken kingdom. Marry my son,” he said, sweeping his arm out to a cringing Christopher, “and we will bring you into our fold. You provide an heir and we will see the more complicated matters.”
Katiyana had expected to be disbelieved, to be told no, even to be laughed at. But not insulted. And a glance at the other women, and most of the men, in the room told her she was not the only one. “You, King Olaf, are a disgusting example of a man. I pity your wife and am thankful to see your son clearly does not agree with your sentiments.”
The room was absolutely silent. Even the servants had stopped, their mouths open and their trays slowly dropping to their waists.
Olaf’s face flushed an ugly red and his mouth twisted into a snarl. “Girl, what you need is man with a strong hand, not the reins to a kingdom.”
Katiyana barely registered the shuffle behind her before Olaf was on the ground, holding his spurting nose. Lian was before her, leaned over the man, his chest heaving. Alma, having appeared from nowhere, had her hands on the king’s arm, shooting Katiyana distressed looks. She gaped mutely, frightened again by her kings temper.
Valanka stepped forward with a nudge from Calia, who then moved to take Katiyana’s hand. He did not touch Lian but stood with him, shoulder to shoulder. “We stand with Princess Katiyana and support her right to the throne,” he said, his voice so cold and hard Katiyana shivered. “Any who do not are welcome to join King Olaf.” The threat was not veiled but it was also not needed. There were no angry faces, no objections voiced.
