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A Winter Grim and Lonely
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Nicki Chapelway
Copyright © 2018 by Nicki Chapelway
All Rights Reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in print or electronic form without prior permission of the author or publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents bearing any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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For Hannah Schuck for giving me the idea. I blame you for all the heartache you caused me.
And for Grace Morris.
Thank you both so much for all your support.
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Prologue
“Snowflakes flutter in the sky
Let me tell you why you died.
Why did you choose her over me?
Farewell, my love, my darling.”
A solitary tear trickled down Ismena’s cheek as she stood alone on the mound, whispering the small rhyme as a final goodbye. She did not have the heart to put her tune to it, so she whispered it, not stopping when her voice cracked and sobs wracked her frame. All the mourners had already left. She was free to weep without fearing it would be taken as any kind of weakness.
The only people within view in this open desolate field outside the city where the royalty had been buried for generations were her guards and she had instructed them to wait a far enough distance away that not even they would witness this.
Ismena stared at the mound beneath her feet, it had been freshly dug, but in time the barren land could be covered with flowers signifying a new life. Or at least it could be if not for the winter. She considered allowing the brief respite, for flowers to grow on his grave, but finally decided against it.
This was his fault anyway, why should she honor his burial?
It was bad enough that she should mourn him, but she knew that was unavoidable. She had loved him too deeply to escape this unscathed. A part of her was buried in the ground next to him. Her broken bleeding heart.
But she was better off without that anyway.
She was queen now, she was expected to rule until her stepdaughter turned twenty-one and inherited the throne. How was she supposed to raise up the girl to be the queen she had to be when Elisabeth despised Ismena, and Ismena despised her? How was she supposed to hold together a crumbling kingdom?
How could Stephan have left her?
Of course he had no choice in death, she was the one who had killed him after all. But he had already left her long before that.
She glanced down at the faded white paper clutched in her hand. It crumbled with age, but she already knew the contents by heart.
My darling,
As I was walking in my courtyard this morning, I stopped to watch the sunrise. It was beautiful, almost as beautiful as you. The sky turned so many different shades of orange and yellow. It was so bright. Despite the cool air of the coming fall, it made me think of summer. And summer made me think of you and how much I missed you. It was in that moment that I realized, you are my summer. With your golden hair and your perfect smile and the way your eyes sparkle, I could need no more warmth than that. You are my daylight. I do not want to live in a world without you, just as I could not live in a world without the sun. If you could put me out of my anguish, then please accept my offer to be my wife, my queen, and my equal. I apologize for having to ask for your hand through letter, but you understand all too well how I cannot drop everything and ride to Alain, even if that is my heart’s desire. I’ve enclosed a ring. If you refuse then feel free to toss it away, or put into your royal treasury, or do whatever you like with it. Just as you are free to do whatever you would like with me. Know that I am yours. Always and forever.
Your humble servant,
Stephan, King of Havenkeep
With a deep breath, Ismena released the paper. It fluttered once, almost reaching the ground before a bitter wind picked it up and swept it far away from her.
Chapter
One
Humming, Ismena pressed her fingers against the warm glass as the sun shone brilliantly through. Her eyes skimmed over the snow covered garden surrounding the iced over waterfall. Beyond the garden, she could just make out the thatched roofs of the quaint cottages of the city beyond. Her kingdom. Of the three kingdoms, Alain was the most beautiful. She huffed a small laugh. Just as she, its queen was the most beautiful.
In the distance, rose the Skalvanian mountains, purple shadows on the horizon. Even though they were not technically within Alain’s domain, instead ruled by the dwarfs, their majestic beauty only served to lend Alain more splendor.
“What is that song you are humming?”
Ismena turned and grinned at her sister Roskva. “I don’t know. It is a tune that I came up with. It doesn’t have any lyrics yet.”
Roskva smiled back. “You should make up lyrics for it. It is beautiful.”
Ismena hummed the tune once more before nodding. “Perhaps I shall. Maybe it will be something that I sing to my children.”
Roskva rolled her eyes. “You are not even married yet and already you are planning the nursery rhyme that you will sing to your children?”
Ismena laughed as she moved away from the window. She knelt in front of her sister and smiled at her youngest niece Eirwen who was sitting in her mother’s lap.
“How could I not dream of the day when I have children of my own when I have such lovely nieces and nephews?” Ismena lifted her young niece into her arms.
The toddler giggled and reached up and grasped at her face. “Auntie pwetty.”
“Thank you young one. You are rather fetching herself.” It would be a lie to tell her young niece that she was prettier than Ismena when every day her mirror, an heirloom she inherited when her mother, the previous queen passed away, told her that she was the fairest in the land. A Nytheran Mirror knew everything, and it could not lie.
“You have an admirer,” Roskva said as Eirwen played with Ismena’s blonde curls which cascaded around her shoulders.
Ismena laughed and handed Eirwen back to her sister. “I’m sure that Stephan and I will have a whole brood of children. They will have the golden hair of the royalty of the Alains and they will have Stephan’s eyes. They are such a deep blue, like the sea.”
Roskva arched her brow. “Are they now? And what if they had Stephan’s dark hair and your pale blue eyes?”
“Well, I suppose that I will have to find some way to love them,” she replied teasingly.
Roskva shook her head. “I just cannot believe that you are finally marrying. And to the king of Havenkeep no less. Relationships between Alain and Havenkeep have been tenuous at best these past hundred years.”
“This marriage will change that,” Ismena replied, sitting down on the brocaded seat across from her sister and lifting a small tea cake to her lips.
Roskva pinned Ismena under a steely stare. “You have yet to tell me how that even came to be. How did you become engaged to the king of Havenkeep? Nay, more than that, how did you even come to be engaged? I was beginning to even wonder if you had any wish to marry.”
Ismena pursed her lips. She had always desired to marry. She had simply been waiting for the right man she could trust both her heart and her kingdom to.
Roskva let out an impatient breath, leaning across the distance between them while keeping Eirwen balanced carefully on her lap. She grasped Ismena’s hand. “Come now, sister. The wedding is only in a few months. Surely you will tell me before you are married.”
Ismena blushed and ducked her head. She was not completely willing to share the story. She treasured it close to her c
hest and she feared that if she dared to say it aloud, even to her sister it would cease to hold its magic.
“I am your best friend am I not?” Roskva continued, staring up at Ismena through her lashes in a way that she knew that her older sister could not refuse. She jostled Eirwen on her lap. “Come now, baby, ask Auntie Mena to tell us the story.”
Not knowing even what the story was about, Eirwen clapped her hands together and cheerfully cried out, “Stowy! Stowy!”
“I’m assaulted on all sides!” Ismena cried throwing up her hands. “Very well, I know when I’m defeated. I will tell you.”
Roskva settled back in her seat, smiling smugly while Eirwen continued to chant, “Stowy! Stowy!” obviously unaware that she had already gotten her way.
“Shush you,” Roskva said affectionately jostling the girl. “Or else Aunt Mena won’t tell the story.”
Eirwen quite comically covered her mouth and stared at her aghast, forcing Ismena to laugh. She wiped at the mirth causing tears to form in her eyes and shook her head. “It started last summer. Do you remember the hunting party I went on with my men?”
Roskva nodded. “Yes, the annual one. You went missing, I thought I was going to have to take over the throne,” she said with a laugh, but it was obviously forced. The few days that Ismena had been missing had been hard on her sister. “What happened? You wouldn’t open up to me about it at the time.”
“I’ll tell you what happened,” Ismena said with an amused chuckle as she traced her finger across the brocade of her pale green dress. “A unicorn.”
Roskva gasped. “No.”
But she knew that it was true. While unicorns did not stray down south to the more populated lands of Havenkeep and Mooraven, there were still some that dwelt in Alain, directly at the foothills of the Skalvanian mountains. Alain had always been more enchanting than the other two kingdoms, with more magical creatures living there while they had already gone extinct farther south. It was probably due to its proximity to the Skalvanian mountains, home of the last great race of non-humans to not pass into the Otherworlds— the dwarfs.
The only area with more magical creatures than Alain and the Skalvanian mountains, was a small strip of forest that lay between Havenkeep and Mooraven. That forest was the last place where the fae dwelt before they entered the Otherworlds, never to be seen again.
“Yes,” Ismena said forcefully.
Her sister blew out a breath. “But… you should have been fine.”
It was true that unicorns did not harm pure maidens, and she very much hoped that she could be considered one. But they were ruthless killers of everyone not considered a pure maiden and when one entered her camp, the pandemonium of her men fleeing for their lives, praying that the majestic creature would not hunt them down, Ismena had somehow been left behind.
“I was separated by men,” she said simply. “And I had not managed to snag myself a horse.”
“How do you always end up in these messes?” Roskva asked with a snort. Ismena smiled back. Roskva was right, she did make for a rather accident prone queen. It was a great wonder that her reign had lasted as long as it did.
“Anyway, I had to trek on foot, trying to find some city or even better, my way back home. Unfortunately, I fear that I just ended up going in circles. Evening was falling and I was quickly growing desperate. I could hear wolves beginning to howl and I knew that I would become their meal for certain so I did the only logical thing that I could think of.”
“You built a fire?” Roskva asked, resting her chin in her hand. Eirwen appeared to have grown tired of the story and was now playing with her mother’s necklace, completely ignoring her aunt. Ungrateful child.
Ismena smiled. “No, I climbed the nearest tree.”
Roskva shook her head. “Oh, Ismena. You don’t know how to climb trees.”
“I was aware of that fact,” she replied stiffly. “Besides, I managed. No sooner was I sitting in the tree than someone came riding up. As he passed underneath me, he glanced up and saw me sitting there.”
A sly smile began to spread across Roskva’s face. For all her pretended practicality, Ismena knew that her sister was a romantic at heart.
“He seemed quite surprised to see me there, but when he finally recovered from his shock, he managed to ask, ’Excuse me, but I simply must know, do fair maidens often grow in trees here? Is that the fruit of this land?’ I was feeling flustered so I did not reply. But he apparently was far too interested with the story of the maiden in the tree to ride on so he drew his horse to a stop at the bottom of the tree and asked me what I was doing up there. To this I finally had a reply. I told him that I was hiding from wolves. At just that moment, a wolf began howling and the young man glance over his shoulder. With a grin he replied, ‘Wolves do not frighten me.’”
Ismena smiled at the memory. “There was something about his tone that made me feel like I should defend myself and my courage so I asked, ‘And what of unicorns, sir? Because that was chasing me before the wolves.’ He smiled devilishly and replied, ‘Well, I don’t see how you would have any reason to fear unicorns, unless you are wed. Now a person like me on the other hand, I have a great deal to worry about.’ And then, still grinning from ear to ear, he climbed right up the tree and perched on a branch by my side.”
Roskva giggled and clasped her hand over her heart. “Oh dear, this is turning out to be a greater tale than even when I met my Arnold.
That was high praise indeed since Roskva was always telling the bards that they should write some epic about her romance with her husband. Ismena grinned and continued, “Once he was up in the tree, he turned to me and asked, if I saw the unicorn. Dutifully, I turned around and scanned the rolling hills in front of me, with no sign of white. When I turned back to him, I found him staring at me. I asked him what he was doing and in return he asked me if I was really married, like the world hinged on my very answer. I told him no and when he asked me what I was doing out here all by myself, I had to admit to losing my company. That was when he invited me to come stay with him at least until the night.”
“And so he took you to his castle right?” Roskva asked suddenly, interrupting her. “And that was when you learned that your handsome rescuer was actually a king?”
Ismena chuckled. “Yes, but first we had to get down the tree. Stephan did it so easily, but when it came time for me to do so, I slipped, or maybe my foot got tangled in my skirts. I don’t remember which it was. I thought that my reign was over for certain, but then Stephan caught me. I had scraped my arm on the way down and he even tore off a section of his cloak to bind it.” She smiled wistfully at the memory. “He was so gentle. But yes, after that, he took me to his Summer Palace where he had been staying with his court and that was when I first learned his identity.”
Roskva sighed. “Oh that is a wonderful story, but what was he doing in Alain to begin with? I know that Havenkeep’s Summer Palace is along the border of Havenkeep and Alain, but weren’t you still in Alain when you met? Surely you did not wander that far!”
Ismena nodded. “We were still in Alain, but he had been on his way to see me actually before we met. He had wanted to speak to me about safe passage for his merchants traveling to the Skalvanian mountains to trade for gold and diamonds. They are often waylaid by brigands along the way. When he learned who I was, we spent the next several days of my stay there discussing how to make the ties between our countries stronger. My men finally found me some days later, and they certainly were in no joyous mood when they learned where I had been all that time. They arrived ready to declare war, but we had already negotiated peace.”
Ismena’s eyes dropped to her finger where white gold and sapphire blue glistened up at her. “Before I left, Stephan pulled me aside and asked if he could write to me. I told him yes. After exchanging several letters, he sent me a letter and a ring. In the letter, he asked to marry me.” Her cheeks ached from how widely she was smiling, but she could not help it. “And here we are. You have
the full story now.”
Roskva sighed happily. “And what a wonderful story it is. I wasn’t sure at first when I heard that you were marrying the King of Havenkeep, but now that I know everything I give you my full blessing. It is obvious that you two are destined for a lifetime of joy.”
As the words left her sister’s mouth a knock sounded on the door. Ismena rose as her steward peaked his, wizened old head in. “Someone here to see you, My Queen.”
She waved her hand. “If it is my seamstress then just send her in.”
Roskva eyed her suspiciously. “I thought that you had already finished your wedding dress.”
Ismena shrugged. “I’m not certain that it is completely perfect just yet so I told Rosemary to come back for another fitting.”
“Give the poor woman a break. You could wear a sack and still looking beautiful,” Roskva said with a snort.
Ismena wrinkled her nose at her sister before glancing back to her steward. “Well, bring Rosemary in?”
The steward shook his head slowly, a hacking cough taking over his lungs. Once he had recovered, he straightened as much as his gnarled back allowed. “Begging your pardon, My Queen, but your visitor is not your seamstress. It is a messenger from Havenkeep.”
“Oh,” Ismena said with surprise. News from Stephan? Her heart leaped in anticipation. “Well for goodness sake’s send him in.”
The steward dipped his chin and turned away. A few minutes after the door shut it opened again revealing a young man wearing the white crest of the Tree of Life that Havenkeep treasured so. He dropped into a bow and swallowed hard as he held the letter out in a trembling hand He was obviously nervous. Ismena was not surprised. Her beauty had often intimidated people before. But never Stephan, he appreciated it of course. But he had never been intimidated. It was another thing that she admired about him.
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