by John Marco
Akeela swept an arm over the room, moved by the celebration. “This is wonderful, my lord,” he said. “I’m grateful.”
“It’s well deserved,” replied Karis. “All Reec should celebrate tonight. Now sit, my new friend, and enjoy yourself. Tonight is for getting drunk.”
Akeela sat down next to the king, then Lukien took his own seat beside Akeela. Trager and Breck, who had been waiting for them beside the table, sat down next to Lukien. A pretty serving girl offered him some ale. Lukien held out his goblet, giving her a wink. Trager noticed the flirting and shook his head with disgust.
“What?” asked Lukien.
Trager scowled. “Why would you pretend to want one of these Reecian she-wolves, Captain?” he asked, careful that Akeela did not hear him. “Once she got you in bed she’d emasculate you with her teeth.”
“Sure,” Lukien scoffed. “And how would you know that? Has a Reecian wench gotten to your stones, Trager?”
“They’re our enemies,” said Trager simply. “Piss-filled bags of misery, the lot of them. You of all people should know that, Captain.”
“Times are changing, Trager,” said Lukien simply. “Have some ale.”
The lieutenant folded his arms over his chest. “I won’t drink with these swine.”
“Suit yourself.”
Turning his attention toward the floor, Lukien noticed a clearing between tables. The space just in front of their own table had been left bare, but an instant later an acrobat tumbled into it. As the crowd laughed and clapped, the man somersaulted backwards, landing on his feet again and again. A juggler joined him, then a violinist, and soon the floor was full of entertainers. Lukien settled back to enjoy the show.
From a tiny alcove just beyond the banquet room, Cassandra peered out from behind a velvet curtain, breathless with anticipation. In a moment the soft music would start and her father would call her forth. Cassandra smiled inwardly. She was a fine dancer, and the dress Jancis had made her was tight in all the right places. Even if Akeela was accustomed to beautiful women, she knew she could seduce him. Men were like that when she danced, so pliable, even the hardest of them. Next to her, Jancis was smiling mischievously, enjoying the excitement. From their place in the alcove they could barely see Akeela past the crowds, catching only glimpses of him and his bodyguard, the Bronze Knight. The Liirian king was drinking and laughing. He had dark hair, not unlike Cassandra’s own, and his smile was blinding. Cassandra thought him handsome. Not stunningly handsome, but serviceably so, and that heartened her. She had heard too many stories of duchesses married to beastly brutes, who did nothing but breed them for sons. From the little she knew of the Liirian, he didn’t seem that type at all. And, to Cassandra’s great surprise, neither did his knight.
Lukien of Liiria was easily the more handsome of the pair. He was tall and lean, with the look of a wolf about his sharp face, and his hair was honey-colored, making him seem less threatening than Cassandra had imagined. Like everyone in Reec, she knew the stories of the legendary knight. On this side of the river Kryss, they were evil tales. Yet as she spied him from behind her curtain, Lukien didn’t look evil. He looked remarkably tame.
“Look,” Jancis whispered, pointing toward the head table. “The tumblers are leaving.”
As the entertainers left the floor, Cassandra finally got an unobstructed look at her husband . . .
No, she corrected herself. Not her husband. Not yet. He would have to accept her first, and for that she needed to be perfect. How many women had Akeela been with, she wondered? And she, still a virgin, had to seduce him. The challenge made her pulse race.
“God’s death, what’s taking Father so long?” she muttered.
“Easy,” bade Jancis. “The musicians are coming, see?”
Cassandra craned around the curtain and saw the violinists moving toward the floor. When they made their soft music, her father would call her out. She closed her eyes, summoning her skill, and waited for his call.
Lukien watched with interest as the acrobats cleared the floor. He had been enjoying their antics, and they gave the Reecians in the room something other than him to stare at. A group of musicians were taking the floor, a lute player and a pair of violinists. The lute player tested his instrument, plucking off a string of gentle notes. The sight of them made the knight groan.
“Oh, no,” he muttered softly, prepared to be bored.
Next to him, Akeela still had a smile plastered on his face. He was talking to King Karis, but when the musicians came forward their conversation abruptly stopped. Karis seemed distracted.
“More music, my lord?” Akeela asked him. Strangely, the room had quieted. The violinists drew their bows across their strings, readying themselves.
“King Akeela, I have a special treat for you now,” said Karis. “The sweetest date in my orchard—my daughter, Cassandra.”
“Daughter?” said Akeela. With his chin he gestured to the nearby table. “Aren’t those your daughters?”
“They are. But there is one you haven’t met yet.” The monarch’s face glowed with pride. “She is the most special thing I have, King Akeela. Now she will dance for you.”
Before Akeela could reply, Karis clapped his hands loudly. The violinists began to play, drawing out a soft melody. The lute player joined them, plucking slowly on his strings, and the music they made was beautiful. Lukien felt suddenly calmed. Like candlelight, the music bathed him. Even Trager was pacified. The glower on the lieutenant’s face melted away, replaced by a blankness. Akeela looked around the chamber, wondering where this prize daughter was hiding. Then, from behind a velvet curtain, she emerged.
Gliding into the center of the chamber came a lithe and delicate figure with raven-black hair and a twirling dress of green and crimson. She floated, barely grazing the floor in her passage, her face lightly flushed, her dark eyes lustrous. Lukien slowly lowered his goblet, his eyes narrowing. She was a vision. Perfect in every way. The folds of her dress wrapped around her flawless figure, showcasing her hips and perfect breasts, and as she spun slowly toward them her hair twirled in seductive ribbons about her face. The music drew her nearer, filling the room, and every eye watched her, admiring her grace. Lukien glanced over at Akeela and saw his king mesmerized. He too had lowered his goblet, and now was clutching the arms of his chair, entranced by the lovely girl.
“Cassandra,” Karis whispered. “My youngest daughter.”
Akeela nodded dumbly. “Cassandra.”
The music grew. The dancer drifted closer. As the rhythm quickened so did she, her movements bewitching. Soon other instruments joined the song, another lute and a flute player. Cassandra tossed her body into the music, twirling and falling and throwing back her head as though an unseen lover caressed her. Lukien swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes from the girl. She radiated beauty, and her seductive turns made his blood race. She was very near their table now. Lifting her face toward them, she gave Akeela the slightest smile. The gesture made the young king swoon. He tilted toward Lukien slightly, whispering in a starstruck voice, “Look at her. She’s beautiful.”
Lukien nodded. In that moment, Cassandra of Reec was the fairest thing he had ever seen. Her seductive movements touched something primal in him, something dark and carnal. And, to his surprise, something gentle stirred within him too, longing for the love of a woman. He sank back in his chair, and suddenly he was on the streets of Koth again. Alone and afraid, he could never hope for a woman like this. Princesses were the purvey of princes. Lukien picked up his drink and sipped at it distractedly. He had bedded beautiful women before, but never a royal one. Close as he was to Akeela, he was still kept from such finery.
“Oh, she’s lovely,” said Akeela. This time, he was speaking to Karis. “Such a fine dancer, my lord.”
“My daughter dances constantly,” said Karis. “It is a gift she has.” He gave his guest a curious look. “You like her?”
“Like her? She’s a treasure. Your daughter—all your daughter
s, really—are lovely.”
Karis moved in closer. “Ah, but Cassandra is the fairest of them all, don’t you think?”
“She’s splendid,” agreed Akeela, then said no more, concentrating instead on the dancer and letting the world fall away around him.
Cassandra danced until sweat fell from her brow and her long hair straggled across her face. She twirled and twirled without end, and when the music finally climaxed she collapsed to the floor in a dramatic finish, tossing back her head and panting, a giant smile on her face. Her eyes locked with Akeela’s as the room came alive with applause. Akeela’s gaze lingered on her. Lukien sighed breathlessly.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
Akeela rose to his feet. “Beautiful!” he echoed, clapping for the girl. His approval made Cassandra glow. Still on her knees, she tilted her head to the Liirian king.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said. Out of breath, her voice was soft as a breeze.
“Rise, daughter,” said Karis.
Cassandra did as her father commanded, getting to her feet. She did not look away from them as Lukien expected, but rather faced them head on, still looking at Akeela. Then, oddly, her eyes flicked toward Lukien for a moment. The gesture startled Lukien and it was he that looked away, but by the time he looked back her gaze had returned to Akeela.
“You are a very fine dancer, Princess,” said Akeela. “The finest I’ve ever seen, I’d say. Wouldn’t you agree, Lukien?”
Lukien said, “I would, my lord.”
“Good!” said Karis. “Then you will be pleased with what I have to tell you. Sit, my lord, please.”
They all returned to their chairs, and while Cassandra stood before them, Karis picked up a pitcher of ale and began refilling Akeela’s goblet. Akeela put up a hand to stop the king.
“No, no more for me yet, my lord.”
“Oh, but we may have something to toast, I think, King Akeela,” said Karis. He filled the goblet to the brim, then sat back. A pensive expression crossed his face.
“My lord?” Akeela probed. “What is it?”
“King Akeela,” began Karis, “you have given all of us a great gift. You have brought gold to us and the goodwill of your people, and have given us the river Kryss to use as our own. Most of all you have brought us peace, a thing I had never expected to see in my lifetime.”
Akeela shifted, embarrassed by the praise. “Thank you, my lord.”
“You are remarkable, King Akeela. For such a young man, you are very wise. So different from your father.”
“Please, my lord . . .”
“No, let me say this,” Karis interrupted. His face was grave. “I never met your father, not even on the battlefield. But I know from my advisors that he was a brutal warrior and a hater of Reec, and I think it’s extraordinary that a man like that could sire such a wise-hearted son. You are remarkable, King Akeela, and I have almost nothing of equal value to match the gifts you have given me.”
“I ask for nothing in return, my lord Karis,” said Akeela. “Just the chance to rule Liiria in peace.”
Karis nodded. “I believe that. I know you want nothing from us but peace. And to seal that peace, I offer you the greatest thing I possess, something that means more to me than anything.” He pointed at the waiting Cassandra. “I give you a queen. My daughter, Cassandra.”
Akeela’s ubiquitous smile faded. “How’s that?”
“A wife, King Akeela. To seal the peace between us.”
Lukien was stunned. Akeela looked at him for an explanation, but the knight merely shrugged. Before them, Cassandra wore a confident smile.
“A wife?” blurted Akeela. “For me?”
“You are surprised, I know,” Karis admitted. “But you are young, and unaware of how we do things in Reec. Peace is made in such ways, my lord.”
“Yes, but . . .”
“She is the greatest gift I can give you,” said Karis. “And if you accept her, she will please you. She will give you children as beautiful as herself, and a link to Reec, so that we will never war again. Isn’t that what you want, my lord? Peace?”
Unable to speak, Akeela looked at Cassandra. She was still breathing hard from her dance but met his gaze head-on. Akeela chewed his lower lip, overwhelmed by the offer. Lukien put a hand on his shoulder.
“It is a great gift, my king,” he said diplomatically. “But a surprising one. And surely you will need time to think on it.”
“Yes,” agreed Akeela quickly. “Time to think on it, consider things.”
“Of course,” said Karis. There was a trace of disappointment in his voice. “Such a union shouldn’t be entered lightly, and while you’re my guest you can think on it.”
“It really is a great gift, King Karis,” said Akeela. “Truly, I am humbled. But what does your daughter think of this, I wonder?” He turned toward Cassandra. “Princess Cassandra? Do you agree to your father’s proposal?”
The questions shocked Lukien. Was Akeela actually considering the offer? He kept his hand on Akeela’s shoulder, giving it a cautionary squeeze. Surprisingly, Akeela shook it off.
“My father is very wise,” said Cassandra. “And I don’t object to his offer. If you will have me, King Akeela, I’ll be your queen.”
Akeela grinned. “Very well, then. I will think on it. Thank you, Princess. And thank you for your beautiful dance.”
Cassandra curtsied and dismissed herself, disappearing back behind the curtain. Akeela watched her go, admiring her all the way. Once again Lukien put his lips to the young man’s ear.
“Steady,” he whispered. “She’s just a girl.”
Akeela shook his head. “Not just a girl, Lukien. Perhaps the girl.”
“You’ve had too much ale,” said Lukien. The music had started again, and the servants went back to work, delivering steaming platters of bread and meat. Akeela’s eyes lingered on the velvet curtain. Lukien sighed. “Fate above,” he muttered. “What have we gotten into?”
If Akeela heard him, he didn’t show it.
3
Night fell on Koth with a hammer-blow of rain. Wind from a summer squall shook the panes of glass in the single window of a tiny bedroom. And Beith Toms, in her thirteenth hour of labor, turned her eyes toward the storm outside and began to sob.
“Easy, now,” said the midwife, Gwena. The old woman’s hands touched Beith’s thighs, massaging the aching muscles. Next to her, Beith’s friend Meri squeezed her hand, so hard that Beith thought her fingers would crack. But that pain was nothing compared to the agony inside her. Beith choked back her tears and concentrated on Meri’s earnest face and the rain pelting her window.
“Oh, yes,” said Gwena. The old woman was peering between Beith’s legs as if looking at something fascinating. “Not much longer, girl. Push now!”
“I can’t!” groaned Beith.
“Yes, you can. Do it now. Not much more.”
Beith shut her eyes and tried to expel her infant, wailing with the effort. For thirteen hours she had been like this, first losing her water, then crying for Meri and Gwena while the contractions overtook her body. Eventually, they had come like the storm, quickly and with unexpected fury. Beith bit down hard as she gave the infant another push. Sweat fell from her face. Meri put a cool cloth to her forehead, wiping away the perspiration. Her friend was smiling, but Beith could tell she was afraid. These days, Beith recognized fear easily. It always stared back at her from mirrors.
“All right, breathe now,” directed Gwena. She nodded, satisfied with Beith’s effort. “Not much longer.”
“You keep saying that,” gasped Beith. “For god’s sake, how much more?”
“Not much more.”
“Argh!”
“Be easy, girl,” said Gwena. She had a towel in her hand that had once been white but was now stained with blood. The sight of it made Beith queasy and she looked away, back toward the window. The hard rain frightened her—she wished it would stop. She wished the baby would come out and stop torturin
g her, and she wished that her husband were with her, but he was dead. Meri kept squeezing her hand, but Beith felt profoundly alone. She had no one else now that Gilwyn was gone, and she wondered if King Akeela would let her remain in the castle. Her child was being born fatherless, and that was the greatest pain of all.
“Damn it!” she cried.
Old Gwena ignored the outburst. She had been the castle’s midwife for years and had heard far worse from her charges, even from the royal ladies she tended. Beith wasn’t royal but she could swear like a devil, and as a contraction seized her she let out a string of curses. Her emotions were galloping in all directions. Gilwyn’s face came to her every time she closed her eyes. He had been a good man and had died too young, and some were saying his death had sparked Akeela into talking peace with the Reecians. He had been one of Lukien’s best. Lukien himself had brought her the terrible news, which had shattered the pregnant Beith and drove her to depression. But Akeela had promised her she could remain in the castle, and Akeela was a good man, wasn’t he?
“I don’t know,” moaned Beith, tossing her head back. She felt delirious, and didn’t care what she said or who heard her.
“Beith, stop now,” said Meri. Her friend wiped her face, blotting up the perspiration. “You’ll be all right. It’s all going well, right Gwena?”
“It’s going perfectly,” said the old woman. “This child’s sliding out smoother than the devil in velvet trousers. It hurts, I know, but this is nothing. I brought King Akeela into the world, you know, and if there was ever a child that didn’t want to come out, it was him. Twenty hours of sheer agony . . .”
“Gwena!” snapped Meri. “Watch what you’re saying!”
For the first time in hours, Beith laughed.
“Don’t laugh, breathe!” the midwife commanded. Once again she tucked down to inspect the birth. Beith could see the top of her head bobbing. “Yes, it’s good. You’re doing well, child. That’s it, now. Keep helping it along.”
