Legacy

by Cayla Kluver

  “I will see to it at once,” Cannan answered matter-of-factly. When next he spoke, however, it was with an uncharacteristic touch of anxiety, and I realized that Steldor and Galen must have been leading some of the troops. “And how many died?”

  “We did suffer casualties, but I cannot give a count at this time.”

  “I will send a detail to retrieve the bodies.” His voice had hardened. “Anything else?”

  “There is also the issue of what to do with the Cokyrian dead.”

  “We should stack and burn the corpses,” Cannan replied without a trace of sympathy.

  “I think we would be well served to bring the bodies to the bridge and let Cokyri retrieve its dead. Last night, we showed our strength—today, we can show our compassion.” London spoke eloquently and persuasively.

  Cannan considered his request for a moment. “Very well.”

  “I would like to see to the undertaking,” London continued, and Cannan again agreed.

  London turned to leave, then looked back at his captain.

  “I saw Steldor directing troops at the river’s edge this morning. I did not see Galen, but I have heard that he is also well.”

  Gratitude flickered in Cannan’s eyes, then he dismissed the rest of the soldiers who stood before him and retreated to his office. I knew he would soon inform my father of the details of our military maneuver.

  Now that the Cokyrians had been driven across the river, the mood in the palace and the city improved dramatically. The fighting was far from over, but our troops were managing to hold the enemy at the Recorah’s far bank, assisted by the swollen river itself. As our supplies, even with rationing, were quickly being depleted, many of the men from the villages returned to the fields to plant crops, taking their weapons with them and working the soil closest to the city. Others hunted in the forest, replenishing meat stores with venison and wild boar. We needed to take advantage of the favorable conditions, for the Cokyrians would pose a much greater threat once the Recorah began to ebb with the advent of summer.

  Given our recent military assault and the flurry of activity in the aftermath of our victory, my father had not yet revisited the pressing matter of my birthday. As the middle of the month neared, the matter could no longer be ignored, and I was summoned late one afternoon to an audience with the King.

  I entered the Hall of Kings, aware of my father’s eyes upon me as I walked across the wide expanse of floor to where he sat upon his throne. The hall was quiet except for my footfalls, and it was strange to have no one else in attendance. My father had directed that Destari, and all of the guards on duty in the Throne Room, wait in the antechamber or the guardroom, wanting his words to fall on no ears but my own.

  I curtseyed as I came to stand in front of the dais, and waited for him to speak.

  “Alera, I am growing old and weary, and after almost thirty years, am ready to make way for a new king. I have seen enough of war, and have no heart to fight another.”

  His countenance was troubled as he scrutinized me, his left hand twisting the ring he wore on his right.

  “I never should have ruled at all, but when my older brother died on the battlefield, I shouldered my responsibility as next in line to the throne. There were many things I had thought to do with my life, but duty came first. Perhaps this is my failing as a parent, but I am not convinced that you understand the demands of duty, or the responsibility that comes with being my heir.” He sighed, his heart obviously heavy. “It pains me to have to take this approach with you, but as you cannot seem to settle the question of a marriage partner, I will settle it for you.”

  There was disappointment in his usually kind eyes and I could sense that a horrible fate was about to befall me.

  “It is my decree that Lord Steldor succeed me as Hytanica’s king. A wedding will be held on the afternoon of your next birthday, and it is up to you whether you will be the bride or a lady-in-waiting.”

  I stared at him, unable to discern his meaning.

  “You can choose to marry Steldor and be crowned alongside him as his queen. But if you cannot see your way to accepting him as your husband, then you will forfeit your claim to the throne in favor of your sister. Miranna is prepared to carry out her obligations as Princess of Hytanica and has agreed to marry Steldor should that be your decision.”

  I felt as though he were speaking in a foreign tongue and I stood frozen, unable to formulate a response to his ultimatum.

  “May I talk to Miranna?” I asked, finally regaining my voice.

  “No. She has made her decision. You do not need to talk to her to make yours.” His voice was firm and devoid of compassion. “As your birthday is but seven weeks away, you will give me your answer by this time tomorrow. You have already had abundant time to ruminate over this decision, and I no longer have the patience to wait for you to bring forward a young man of your own choosing.”

  “But Father, can’t you give both Steldor and me more time?” I pleaded, hoping he would show the same compassion toward me that I had often seen him extend to others. “He is young yet to be a king, and no law says I must marry on my birthday.”

  While it was traditional for a female heir to marry on her eighteenth birthday, my father was the King and as such was not bound by tradition. In fact, he would be breaking tradition by crowning Steldor at such a young age, for Hytanica’s kings were not usually crowned until their mid to late twenties. “I am your father and the King. You will not question my judgments,” he said irritably, coming to his feet. “You have until this time tomorrow to make your decision.”

  Although I knew I was being dismissed, I could not force my body to move, my mind still struggling for the magic words that would persuade him without risk of offending or angering him.

  “Alera, you may go now,” he said, breaking the spell that immobilized me.

  I looked wretchedly at him, then turned and hastened from his presence, tears running down my cheeks. Destari watched me as I rushed through the antechamber, but he did not speak or try to stop me. Instead, he followed me as I turned down the corridor toward the spiral staircase. With the palace walls seeming to close in on me, I wrenched open the doors into the garden to run down the pathway, seeking escape from my father, his decree, my thoughts and my raging feelings. I was thankful Destari did not pursue me, and I collapsed upon a bench, burying my face in my hands.

  Time trickled by, and in my misery, it took me a considerable while to realize that someone had approached and was standing a few feet from where I sat. As I raised my head, my eyes fell upon London. I glanced gratefully down the path toward Destari, who I knew must have sent for him.

  “London, help me,” I sobbed, and he came to sit next to me, taking me into his arms.

  I lay my head upon his shoulder, my tears soaking into the leather of his jerkin. After a long time, my crying subsided, and I rested against him, gaining some measure of comfort from the presence of his strong arm around my waist.

  “Do you want to tell me what this is about?” he asked at last, his tone so gentle my tears would have restarted had I had any left.

  “My father has decreed that I either marry Steldor on my birthday or forfeit the throne to Miranna, who will acquiesce to such a union. We are apparently interchangeable daughters,” I explained bitterly.

  London said nothing, choosing simply to listen to me.

  “He demands my answer before sundown tomorrow, although in truth he could give me years for all the difference it would make. I know of no person but Steldor whom he would be willing to accept as King—his list of criteria is designed so that only the captain’s son is a match.”

  My indignation flared, and I sat upright, brushing the tearstains off my cheeks with my hands.

  “How can my father think so little of me? How can he ignore my feelings when it is I who will have to live with Steldor for the rest of my life? And what of Miranna? There is already a young man in whom she has an interest and with whom I believe she could f
ind happiness.”

  With no answers to these questions, I sank into a stony silence. As my initial shock and hurt subsided, I began to shiver, for I had left the palace with no shawl or cloak, and the temperature was falling with the setting of the sun.

  “I had better return you to your quarters,” London observed, “before you become chilled to the bone.”

  He assisted me to my feet and guided me back to the door, keeping me close to his side.

  “Have some hot soup sent to her parlor,” he muttered to Destari as we crossed the threshold. “She is quite cold.”

  A half hour later I was eating vegetable soup, staring vacantly at London, who had stoked the fire and was stirring the embers into a blaze. As he became aware of my eyes upon him, he stood and came to me where I sat upon the sofa.

  “I’m going to leave you now, but Destari will remain outside your door for a few more hours, and your maid will be here soon to assist you in preparing for bed.”

  I nodded, not having the strength to form words.

  “I will have Sahdienne bring something from the doctor to help you sleep,” he continued, brushing my cheek with his fingers. “I will see you in the morning. Maybe the world won’t look so bleak in the light of a new day.”

  He turned from me, but I stammered, “Where are you going? Can’t you stay a little longer?”

  “I have a pressing matter to address.” He sighed, then confessed in response to my distraught expression, “I’m going to have a talk with your father.”

  Grateful tears pooled in my eyes, and he gave me a fleeting smile as he left the room.

  London was wrong. The world did not look any brighter the next morning, despite the hope I now nursed that he had been able to affect my father’s decree. But as the hours slipped by without my former bodyguard’s return, my hope diminished, and the choice my father had put before me began to whirl dizzyingly through my mind. If only there were someone else I could marry, someone with whom I felt comfortable…but also someone to whom my father could not object. I reviewed every potential candidate, but still could not find a suitable alternative to Steldor. I was sitting upon my sofa, bemoaning my circumstances, when London strode through the door, Destari having granted him entrance.

  I eagerly met his eyes, but at the shake of his head, knew my father had been unyielding. He sat beside me and relayed the disappointing account of their conversation.

  “The King is unwilling to give you additional time in which to make your decision, for he has a great desire to step down from the throne. This is especially so given the looming Cokyrian threat. He feels father and son would be best equipped to orchestrate our battle strategy, if it comes to that. He also feels, like most men, that a father should not trust to a daughter’s judgment on a decision as important as the selection of her husband. You well know it is his right to arrange your marriage, and he regards your resistance to Steldor as unreasonable. From his point of view, Steldor has the makings of both a great king and a fine husband.”

  He paused, watching me as tears filled my eyes. “He thinks he is being generous, as he has enabled you to walk away from the match by forfeiting the throne if you truly cannot give yourself to Steldor.”

  “Help me to see what I should do,” I implored in a small voice, almost too miserable to make a sound.

  “I’m afraid this is one decision you alone can make.”

  I dropped my gaze, examining my hands as I wrestled with the choice that had been put before me, then raised my head with a jerk as a fresh idea surfaced.

  “London!” I exclaimed, feeling a bit awkward, although I knew I had hit upon the ideal solution.

  “What?” he said, perplexed by my change in attitude.

  “Would you consider…I mean, what if we…” My cheeks blazed as the words tumbled from my mouth. “My father would see you as having the experience and qualities necessary for a king. I’m sure he would give his permission for us to wed.”

  London looked shocked, then amused. “Are you proposing to me?”

  “Yes, I suppose I am,” I replied, almost delirious with relief. I could not believe it had taken so long for this idea to surface. “Don’t you see, this is perfect! We care for each other, and you have a strong military background, and I know my father trusts your judgment, as he and Cannan already rely upon your advice. And you are a natural leader. The troops are willing to follow your orders as much as Cannan’s.”

  He looked into my eyes, then spoke, slowly but decisively.

  “I am honored, Alera, but I cannot marry you. I do care deeply for you, and I would give my life to protect you, but my feelings are not those of a husband toward a wife. And I cannot be King. I do not aspire to govern, and am too independent to be comfortable in such a role. I am truly sorry.”

  I was not ready to give up, for I was certain that London would make a far better king and husband than would Steldor.

  Giving him a furtive glance, I said, only half in jest, “As Crown Princess of Hytanica and future Queen, I could order you to marry me.”

  His posture stiffened as if he now expected the worst.

  “If you order me to marry you, I will comply, but I ask you not to do so.”

  As much as I wanted to escape matrimony with Steldor, I could not force London into marriage against his will. I would be causing him the same pain my father was causing me.

  “Very well,” I said despondently.

  London studied me for a long moment.

  “I want you to be happy, but I am content with my life as it is,” he said. “If you cannot see your way to marrying Steldor, then perhaps forfeiting the throne would be the right thing to do.”

  I bit my lower lip as I tried to come to a decision, twisting my hands in agitation.

  “I cannot let my sister marry Steldor, irrespective of my circumstances. That would be unfair to her, as Steldor is in love with me.”

  “Don’t you think his feelings for you would subside over time?”

  “I don’t know. After all, we would both be living in the palace and would continually come in contact with each other. I fear he would become bitter and resentful, and I don’t have faith that he would treat Mira well. She has such a sensitive nature that she could never withstand his anger or indifference.”

  “But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” London observed, astute as always. “I suspect that you, who could never be discouraged from involvement in issues affecting the kingdom, would have a difficult time walking away from the throne.”

  I nodded a little sheepishly, for London understood me better than anyone else.

  “Unlike me, Mira pays no attention to such matters. And even if she did, I doubt she would have the ability to influence Steldor’s decision making. On the other hand, I can at least get him to listen to my opinions, although he may not act in accordance with them.”

  I rubbed my hands together, for like the rest of me, they had grown cold.

  “Being the heir is my burden, and I cannot sacrifice Mira’s happiness to preserve my own. All of which means I am the one who must marry.”

  “It would appear that I previously misjudged you. You are quite grown-up after all.” There was no hint of sarcasm in London’s tone; rather, there was a touch of admiration.

  I accepted his compliment with a nod, for it was too difficult to force a smile. While the decision I had come to was the right one, that did not make it any less difficult or painful.

  “Thank you for attempting to intervene on my behalf. But I would like to be alone now. I have only a few hours before I must meet with Father.”

  After London’s departure, I nibbled at the lunch that had been brought to my parlor. As the hours passed, and my despair deepened, I left my quarters to visit the garden, having always found its atmosphere soothing. I strolled among the wide variety of plants, noting the buds on the trees and the first tulips of the spring, until I recollected I had some other unfinished business. With a tiny surge of energy, I walked
toward my bodyguard, who stood by the back entrance into the palace.

  “Destari, send someone to inform Cannan that I would like to see him.”

  My request surprised him, but he nonetheless stepped into the palace to send a guard to find the captain. I turned away and began to pace along the garden path, eventually sitting upon one of the stone benches to await Cannan’s arrival. In no time at all, he entered the grounds, and I rose as he approached.

  “Princess Alera, I have been told you asked to speak with me,” he said, coming to a halt.

  Forgoing the usual niceties, I came right to the point.

  “Do you know of my father’s ultimatum?”

  “Yes, your father and I have discussed his decision. I am truly sorry it has come to this.”

  “You said you would withhold your permission for Steldor to marry me if I were not ready to wed. Would you likewise withhold permission with respect to Miranna?”

  I held my breath as I awaited his answer, for my last hope rested on his response. If Cannan would refuse permission for my sister as well as for me to marry Steldor, my father would have no choice but to give me additional time to find a husband.

  The captain examined me for a moment, and I could tell he understood where my thoughts had taken me. Despite the sympathy underlying his words, his response was not what I wanted to hear.

  “No, as she is agreeable to the marriage. You must understand, both your father and I believe Steldor has the qualities necessary to be King. I made that offer to you so that you might find someone who not only would be a good king, but to whom you could give your love. I didn’t make it because I wanted to prevent my son from taking the throne.”

  I glanced away from Cannan toward the late afternoon sun, knowing my time had run out. He stood patiently by my side while I came to the only decision my heart would permit.

  “Then I am ready to wed,” I declared, my desire to protect Miranna’s happiness outweighing my desire to avoid marriage to Steldor. “Will you inform my father of my decision? I cannot bear the sight of him at the moment.”