Sins of Basilia (Shrouded Thrones Book 4)

by Jeanne Hardt

  “She is my wife, and I am permitted to bed her.” He gave Jonah’s back a firm smack. “But yes, it greatly improved my disposition.”

  Jonah frowned. “Five months, Sebastian? Will you please reconsider?”

  Sebastian pointed at the castle. “Go see to the men.”

  “Yes, Highness.” Jonah bowed fully at the waist, then walked away, shoulders slumping.

  His sarcastic tone likely should have been corrected, but where Jonah was concerned, it did not bother him. They had bantered this way for many years, and it felt comfortable.

  Sebastian continued on to Baylor’s, all the while contemplating Jonah’s request. The poor man had been cheated of his dubbing, banished to Padrida because of his loyalty to Sebastian, and believed he had failed Sebastian’s father, resulting in his death. He had every right to be frustrated, as well as glum.

  Five months truly was no time at all, and Allana would surely be open to the idea of an early marriage. The two had become exceptionally affectionate, and it might be best to rush things along.

  He would speak to Olivia about it and if she agreed, Jonah’s life would take a happy turn.

  Sebastian knocked on Baylor’s door, greeted by the sound of a crying baby. It cut deep into Sebastian’s soul, yet he could not allow it to weaken him. He had to place trust in Olivia’s vision that one day they would see their child again.

  Jena opened the door barely more than a crack. “Prince Sebastian?” Fear rested in the one eye exposed in the opening.

  “Worry not, Jena. I have come for good, not ill. Is your husband within?”

  “He is resting. He woke early to tend the fields and is spent.”

  Sebastian had hoped to be invited in. “I regret having knocked. No doubt I disturbed your grandson, and therefore, troubled your husband as well. I will return at a later hour.” He politely nodded and turned to leave.

  “Wait!” The cry came from a man, and before Sebastian took a single step from their stoop, Baylor appeared. “Why have you come? Am I to be accused once again of a crime?”

  “Far from it.” Sebastian smiled at the man, hoping to reassure him. “I seek your help.”

  Baylor looked over his shoulder, then stepped from the doorway and secured the door behind him. “Randal is nursing and should not be disturbed. In what manner do you require my aid? Since Reginald’s death I have more than my share of work and have little time for anything else.”

  “I wish to be taught to farm.” Sebastian held his breath, waiting for a reaction.

  The man let out a hearty laugh. “You jest. Please, tell me you have more to do with your days than render pranks.”

  “Truthfully, I do not, and that is why I have come. It is no prank. I want you to teach me all you know about the land.”

  No longer laughing, Baylor tipped his head to one side and studied Sebastian. “Have you ever used a hoe, or perhaps a shovel?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Do you know the difference between a weed and a stalk of wheat?”

  “I believe so.” Sebastian let out a long breath, looked at the ground, then put his eyes on Baylor’s. “I was raised in privilege, but I am not incapable of learning. Will you please teach me?”

  “Hmm…” The man stroked his rough, unkempt beard. “I do not deny, I need help. Yet I fear you will be more of a hindrance. When others see you in my fields, their curiosity might bring them out and put them in the way of necessary work.”

  “If that is your only concern, I will order them to their cottages.” Again, Sebastian smiled. “As a prince, I have authority to do so. As a man, I want only to learn.”

  Baylor firmly crossed his arms. “Very well. Come at sunrise on the morrow and…” He wiggled his fingers at Sebastian’s tunic. “Wear something less formal and expect to get dirty.”

  “I cannot thank you enough.”

  “When your hands are blistered and bleeding, you may change your mind.” Baylor curtly nodded. “Good day, Highness.”

  “Good day.”

  Sebastian remained frozen on the man’s stoop, while he went into the cottage, shaking his head. The man obviously doubted Sebastian’s capabilities, but he intended to prove himself.

  With a much lighter heart, he made his way back to the castle.

  Olivia gazed out at her people. All had gathered for the evening meal, and the usual sound of clanking cups and utensils—along with hushed chatter—filled the large space. Yet one thing differed from the many other times she had sat and watched them eat. They lacked joy.

  At least her husband was smiling. Upon his return from Baylor’s he had spoken endlessly of his excitement over weeds and wheat. Truthfully, it charmed her. She in turn had shared the success she had had with her mother. Proof of it sat within inches of her. Her mother had taken the seat on the other side of Olivia.

  “I can endure this no more,” Olivia whispered to Sebastian, then stood.

  Her action turned every head in the room, and all eyes were on her. Nearly four hundred souls sought reassurance.

  “My people!” she boldly cried out.

  Every fork was set aside, and every voice went silent. Her people showed her the greatest respect, but she despised the fear in their eyes.

  “You have been worthy of more than my silence,” she went on, praying to say the words they needed to hear. “Your concerns have been made known to me, and I want only to put them to rest. This kingdom is like no other. We work together as one body. Each of you contributes that with which you have been gifted. You are farmers, wood workers, seamstresses, and bread makers. Others of you are teachers and mothers of children, and there are those of you skilled in swordplay and archery.”

  She lifted her head a bit higher. “When I last addressed you, I insisted you men cease learning the art of war and the skills it requires. Although I feel we have no cause to believe we will be besieged, I know it will bring you comfort to continue training.”

  Some of the men leaned toward one another and whispered. The concern she had earlier seen changed into something else. Relief.

  “When our ancestors fled Crenia and discovered Padrida, they constructed a hidden realm, and for decades, we remained unknown.” She glanced at Sebastian and smiled. “Some fault my husband for bringing change, but hear me now…nothing has happened that was not God’s plan!”

  “How can you say that,” a woman yelled, “when our king and many of our loved ones were slain and your child was taken?”

  Olivia could not see who had spoken, but felt confident to address her. “Weeks ago, I could not have uttered those words, bitter about our losses. Yet I have had a vision of Amina, and God has assured me, she is well. His plan for her is unknown, but I trust Him to see it through. As for those we have lost, they are celebrating in the glory of God’s presence. They no longer suffer the pains of this world.”

  “What visions have you of us?” The question came from Lily. Dear Lily, who had almost died at Frederick’s hand.

  “Padrida will flourish. We will care for one another with love, and we will look to God above all else. If we trust in Him, He will not fail us!” She cast a genuine smile, confident in her proclamation.

  While her people cheered, she sat and grasped Sebastian’s hand.

  He leaned over and kissed her cheek, and everyone present shouted even louder. Their acclamations held a renewed joy that had been absent far too long.

  Jonah walked up behind them and bent close. “Very well said, my queen.”

  “I am glad you found it sufficient.” She eyed Sebastian, and he nodded, so she proceeded. “Would a wedding on the next full moon suit you?”

  “Wedding?” His mouth dropped wide. “Are you referring to my wedding?”

  “One month,” Sebastian said, stone-faced.

  Jonah squealed and rushed off, straight to Allana. Within moments, she, too, let out a sharp gleeful cry. Queen Helen had been informed of their decision prior to the meal, and she simply dabbed at her eyes. Hopefully out
of joy, yet she had expressed concerns over Allana’s youthfulness.

  Olivia believed a wedding was exactly what the realm needed. Hope for a promising future, and the greatest symbol of love.

  Chapter 22

  The scent of cinnamon no longer lingered. It had been replaced by an odor that grew increasingly less pleasant.

  Carmela held the sheet to her nose and grimaced. “Tesher?” She poked her sleeping husband in the ribs. “We cannot stay in our room a day longer.”

  His eyes slowly opened. He looked at her and grinned as if they had just finished one of their many episodes of lovemaking, though it had been hours since they had last entwined.

  He pulled her to him and caressed her bare back. “What did you say, my love?”

  His increased devotion charmed her, yet their daily life required more than intimate gratification. “Our bedding reeks. I must find a chambermaid to launder it.”

  “Are there not more sheets in the wardrobe?”

  “No.” She giggled. “We have used them all.”

  “And what a joy it has been in doing so.” He rolled atop her and stroked her cheek. “You have fully transformed me into a man. I have been reborn.”

  She laughed harder. “Your words seem quite contradictory.” Aside from their initial coupling—which had proven to be more awkward than painful—she had come to enjoy herself. However…“Tesher, we cannot keep going at this pace. I know not how you have seed left to sow.”

  He chuckled and glided his hand fearlessly over her breast. Much had changed since the night of their vows. “Did I not ask for two days of joy?”

  “Yes, but the third has arrived. We must prepare ourselves for Dekker’s news.” She shut her eyes, attempting to ignore the tantalizing way Tesher swirled his fingertip around her nipple. “Tesher, please. There are many other things we must do.”

  “Just once more.” He rapidly blinked and playfully protruded his lower lip. “If you oblige me, I vow that after, we can arise, strip this bed of its foul-smelling coverings, and dress for the first time since we shed our clothes on that blessed day I will treasure forever.”

  Her head spun at his quickly spoken words. His eagerness was evident in more than one way.

  “Very well. Once more.” She pointed a finger in his face. “You must keep your promise when we have finished.”

  He wiggled his brows and grinned, broader than ever. “I love you, Carmela of Thanwine.” Significant action followed his proclamation.

  Although she was trying to be sensible with their time, she became lost in his arms. She had learned how it felt to be a woman, and as much as she had complained, she reveled in sharing herself so intimately with him.

  As had happened countless encounters before, shortly after releasing his seed, Tesher fell asleep.

  “I suppose we will not be rising as you vowed,” she mumbled and cuddled against him.

  She had just started to doze, when someone knocked on their door. They had not been disturbed since their arrival, so the interruption startled her and set her heart pounding.

  Tesher’s body jerked, and he sat upright. “Did someone knock?”

  “Yes.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed, put on a robe, and went to see who had come.

  Wynne stood before her, looking as pale as a bedsheet. “Forgive my intrusion, but you and Tesher must come at once. Dekker has returned from Basilia, and his tidings are grave.”

  “What did he say?” Carmela’s throat instantly dried.

  “It is best told by our father. He is gathering the family together in the dining hall to discuss how we will move forward.” She lurched forward and hugged Carmela. “I love you, Sister.” With that, she spun around and ran off.

  Carmela stood frozen to the floor and jumped when Tesher put his arms around her from behind. “We must dress,” he said, “and boldly face what we are about to hear.” No playfulness remained in his tone.

  The ache in Carmela’s chest grew by the moment.

  How we will move forward? Wynne’s words alone indicated something horrific.

  Carmela twisted around in Tesher’s grasp and clung to him. “I fear the depth of Angeline’s wickedness. Death hovers at the front of my mind, and I cannot dismiss it.”

  He tightened his hold. “We live and breathe, and I will do all in my power to keep it as such. Let us hurriedly don our clothes and go to the king. Not knowing, troubles me more than the dread of what we are about to hear.”

  She shut her eyes and nodded, then left his embrace and crossed to the wardrobe. If only something black could be found to match her impending mourning, yet every garment was bright and cheerful. She chose the least offensive and prepared her heart for the worst.

  Each lost in their own thoughts, Tesher and Carmela walked in silence the entire way down the many steps to reach the dining hall.

  He could not dismiss the image of his father, and he tried all he could to remember their last conversation. While they had been together in Basilia, Tesher had been so focused on carrying out Frederick’s murder, he had given his father little regard. He could not even recall bidding him farewell, when his parents left to go home to Oros.

  Just as his thoughts rested on his family, no doubt, Carmela had her brothers in her mind.

  Hushed whispers greeted them when they entered the dining hall. No food had been laid out, only goblets he assumed to be filled with wine. The youngest of the children were not present, which in itself proved the upcoming conversation would be adult in nature and likely grim.

  Pasha sat beside Yakar, clinging to him in a manner much different than before. She looked as frightened as Tesher felt. As for Yakar, he had lost some of his smugness, yet his eyes still held a trace of deviousness.

  Carmela had confided in Tesher that Mesha—Yakar’s own mother—had advised her not to trust him. No warning had been necessary. Tesher had the sense to be cautious from the time of their first introduction.

  King Imran motioned for them to sit, so Tesher helped Carmela into a chair, then took his own.

  “Now that everyone has arrived,” the king solemnly said, “I will proceed.” He had been sitting, but stood, lowered his head and paced, mumbling.

  “We cannot understand you, Father,” Yakar said. “You told me men died, but not whom, nor how many.”

  The king rubbed across his chest and kept moving.

  Yakar huffed. “Can you please stop pacing and reveal all?” No compassion lay in his words, only disrespect.

  Imran walked to the head of the table, stood tall, and folded his arms. “Today I stand as the only king remaining in the realms.”

  Carmela gasped and grabbed hold of Tesher’s leg beneath the table.

  “No!” He could not keep from crying out. “Do not tell me my father is dead!”

  Imran looked at him with genuine pity, frowning. “He was slain by Talman.” The words pierced Tesher’s heart and sucked every bit of air from him.

  “That cannot be!” Carmela shot to her feet. “The match was to be bloodless!”

  Imran held up a single hand and motioned her down again.

  She did not obey. “And what of my brother?” She pressed her palms to the table and leaned across it. “If you are the only living king, how did Talman perish?”

  “By Eural’s hand. He accused your brother of treachery, for there was poison on Talman’s blade. The deadly concoction crept into his blood through a cut rendered on Callum’s arm, and in a short span of time, stopped his heart and ended him.”

  “Poison?” Carmela’s head snapped toward Tesher. “This was Angeline’s doing!”

  “Angeline?” Yakar grunted. “The queen had no hand in this. Did you not hear Father? Your brother put poison on his blade to purposefully end Callum. Surely, he knew he could not best the man without cheating.”

  “You know nothing of this!” Carmela leered at Yakar, then turned to Imran. “Did my brother deny treating his blade?”

  The king eased into a chair. �
�From what Dekker told me, yes, Talman denied it. He claimed a Basilian polished his weapon prior to the match. He was one of the queen’s sentries, but Dekker could not recall his name.”

  Carmela slammed her fist on the table. “You see? It was Angeline’s doing!”

  Yakar rolled his eyes and waved a hand. “Why would your own sister cross her brother in such a way?”

  Visibly shaking, Carmela dropped into her chair. “I do not have the strength to tell you all I know.” She sat back and covered her face with her hands.

  It would have been right to comfort her somehow, yet Tesher could scarcely get beyond the word of his father’s death. The man he loved above all others had died as horribly as Marni.

  He roughly cleared his throat. “Has Eural taken my mother home to Oros?”

  The king’s frown deepened. “No.” He looked downward, then lifted his head and stared at Tesher. The pain in his eyes had substantially grown. “There is much left to tell. When your brother slew Talman, Varlan charged him with a battle axe. Dekker described the scene as horrific. Eural was beheaded with a single blow.”

  Tesher clutched his stomach and doubled over. Had he eaten, he would have lost every bit of it.

  “You, Tesher, are the only remaining male in the royal house of Oros.” Imran’s voice cracked as he spoke. “I cannot comprehend your feelings at this moment. Your loss is great.”

  “I should go to my mother…”

  “No!” Carmela jerked around and grabbed his hand. “Do you not realize the danger? Now more than ever, Angeline will want to kill you—especially if you are foolish enough to claim your father’s throne.” She whipped her head in Imran’s direction. “What of Varlan? Who slew him?”

  “It was rumored that Varlan was wounded and taken from the field and into your sister’s care. You see, the realms had come with men in armor, likely to display support of their king. When all went awry, the men charged the field. Dekker said the bloodshed was unimaginable. Women and children ran amok, weeping and screaming. Even so, there is hope that Varlan still lives, since he was removed from the fray.”