Queen of Savon

by Tricia Andersen

  “Good,” Malicar concluded. “We will coronate tomorrow evening at sunset.”

  The three spent the rest of the night alone, away from each other, as they prepared for the ceremony. Time passed quickly, and the lords and ladies of Savon arrived at the palace the next day as the sun set in the horizon.

  Cassandra held her breath as her fingers fidgeted with the gold stole that caressed her bosom. She glanced down at her crème colored royal gown, the robe that clung to the gold clasps on her shoulders and her gold satin slippers, her ceremonial garb.

  Victor pressed close behind her, dressed in his formal crimson military uniform, as they both stared out from their position in the front of the palace cathedral. The large church, decorated with long, thin, gold candles and crimson and crème roses, was filled with the lords and ladies from throughout Savon.

  “I am not worthy to dust the dirt from these people's feet,” Cassandra whispered to Victor.

  “Yes you are,” he answered deep and low in her ear. “You may not have been born to it, but you were bred—bred for one of the highest positions in the land.”

  Cassandra took a staggered breath as the cathedral doors opened. Matthew stood at the entrance, his shoulders hunched over in defeat. He is incredibly handsome and regal clothed in his crimson dress coat trimmed in gold. Across his chest, he wore a gold sash tied at his hip, his father's large silver sword dangling from his side. He slowly walked forward down the golden-lit aisle and bowed before the bishop.

  The bishop bestowed a blessing on the kingdom, preaching words of greatness before ceremoniously beginning the coronation ritual. Cassandra felt Victor hold his breath along with her as the bishop gently laid the crown on Matthew's head. He looked up, his dark eyes meeting theirs. The act signifying what they all had been training for, what they had been dreading—his reign had begun.

  Chapter Six

  Matthew poured over the map of Savon that was pinned to the easel in the throne room. Victor looked over his shoulder, suggesting possible military maneuvers and pointing out positions with his riding crop. It had been a year since Thomas' death and the coronation, and Matthew had lost himself in the war and all the bloodshed that dominated his kingdom—bloodshed he still did not fully understand.

  Nightmares of his father's death haunted him, causing him countless nights without sleep. He was not ready to become king nor did he want to be, especially one at war.

  Victor, however, was too happy in his new position. He was fully content to turn Savon into a military state. He stomped his foot as he slapped his crop against the throne. “Where is she? It is well after breakfast,” he demanded.

  Matthew glanced up as he felt something brush gently against him. Victor jumped back, startled, as Cassandra suddenly appeared between them, nursing a mug of cider.

  “Cassie, stop doing that for love's sake!” Victor shouted.

  Cassandra smiled, pleased, as she sipped her brew. “Good morning,” she sang before turning on her toe for the direction of the kitchen. She stopped to peek over her shoulder at them, her long, soft brown hair bouncing against her shoulders, before she slipped through the door.

  Both men stared at her as she departed. Matthew's heart sunk in his chest. His passion for her had cooled as the confusion of the war overtook him. He noticed that Victor's passion seemed to die also as he relished his new position. But every once in a while, as she tossed her hair or smiled at him in her coy sweet way, Matthew found himself in the year before—his heart raging, his mind spinning. If things had not changed…

  “Come on, Matthew. Let us get back to business,” Victor stated coolly. Matthew nodded as he reluctantly broke himself away from his thoughts to turn his attention back to the map. He rubbed his eyes and forced himself to focus, finding it futile.

  Reaching towards the throne to pick up another chart that Victor indicated was lying on the seat, he jumped back suddenly as he watched it affix to the easel, the pins securing it floating in the air. Matthew spun around to find Cassandra behind him, still cupping her mug in her hands.

  “Cassa!” he shouted as he gritted his teeth. She stared at him innocently. “Put them back now!”

  Cassandra waved her hand, bringing the items to rest again on the board. He glared at her, his frustration over his lack of concentration turning on her.

  “What were you doing?” Matthew demanded.

  “Nothing.”

  “What were you doing?” He shouted, louder this time.

  “Just trying to lighten the mood,” she answered quietly.

  “Well,” Matthew spat, “unfortunately some of us have had to become adults and do not have time for games.”

  Cassandra stared at him, hurt. “Forgive me, your majesty.” She turned and rushed from the throne room, out to the garden.

  Matthew watched her go, a pained look of guilt spreading across his face. He looked to Victor.

  “I will talk to her,” Victor volunteered.

  “Thank you,” Matthew whispered.

  Victor strode away, leaving Matthew alone. After a few moments, he rushed up the stairs two at a time to his bedchamber, the one his father used to sleep in. He silently stole out to the balcony to listen in on them.

  Cassandra sat on a bench in silence. Victor stood over her, smiling.

  “So, Cassie, are you not speaking to me either?”

  She glared at him. He softly chided, “Cassie.”

  “This war is eating him alive. I hate it,” Cassandra blurted out. “I cannot watch him turn into some stone hearted man I do not know. Not him.”

  “Why, Cassie. Why not him?”

  “Because…”

  “Go ahead. Say those ludicrous words I am dying to hear. Tell me.”

  “I love him.”

  Matthew sucked in his breath at her confession.

  “So why is it so ludicrous?” she demanded.

  “Because, Cassie, he cannot love you. You will never hear him tell you he loves you, or that he needs you, or that he would die for you.” Victor took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “But the queenship is not what you really want, is it?”

  “How do you know what I want?”

  “I have watched you in the village. Close your eyes and let me paint you a picture.” Cassandra looked at him uneasy. “Just close them,” Victor assured.

  Cassandra’s eyelids fluttered shut as he began.

  “You are rocking next to a roaring fire in your modest cottage with a babe nursing at your breast. Once he is asleep, you slowly rise and once more kiss the sleeping little ones you have already tucked into bed. You lay your babe in his cradle and then crawl into your own bed into the arms of your waiting husband. He holds you close, whispering words of eternal love and undying devotion in your ear as you drift off to sleep.”

  Victor watched Cassandra clench her fists in desire, her breath growing deep and rapid. She opened her eyes, softly gasping for air. Matthew silently growled in rage. Victor wishes to be her husband? Liar.

  “Do you think Matthew is the only man who can offer you all these things?”

  Cassandra turned towards Victor as he took her hands in his. “Let me give them to you—a home, children, marriage.”

  “You? What do you get in the deal?” she asked dumbstruck.

  “Who says I am looking for anything? You are what I get—your beautiful eyes, your smile, you.”

  She blinked at him, unable to speak for a moment. “What about Matthew? Our vows?”

  “Your grandfather will not leave him without. My second-in-command, Otto, is by far capable enough to take over. We will run away to Gavoy and start new lives together, just you and me.” Victor gently tilted her head, capturing her lips with his. As they parted, he whispered, “So? How about it?”

  “I need to think about it. Please?” Cassandra breathed.

  He gazed at her then smiled. “Of course, my sweet. It is sort of unexpected, is it not?”

  Cassandra smiled as he kissed her again, deeper and har
der than the last. “Meet me out here in the garden tonight, and we will talk more,” Victor continued. She nodded without a word. He let her go seemingly reluctantly as he looked over his shoulder to the palace door. “I need to go back in. I will see you later.”

  Cassandra stood still as he ascended the steps. Victor met Matthew's cold glare as he entered.

  “You lied,” Matthew accused.

  “Matthew,” Victor began, “You can have any beautiful royal in the world. You cannot have everything you want, unlike what you have been told all your life. For once, maybe I will get what we both have always wanted. For once, maybe I will win.”

  Victor strode into the throne room, slamming the door behind him. Matthew seethed in anger at Victor’s deception, feeling Cassandra suddenly slip through his fingers.

  The next day, Matthew wandered the garden aimlessly as he tried to push the scene he had witnessed the night before from his mind. He had snuck into the garden to witness Victor and Cassandra's rendezvous.

  He tortured himself, watching them engage in soft, passionate kisses and caresses. Victor had unlaced her gown as he urged her to give herself to him. Cassandra had pulled away from him, presumably still confused and unsure of their new affair. She had quickly fastened her clothing and rose, parting with one final kiss before leaving for her home in Sebrone.

  The whole event broke Matthew down, causing him to search for refuge. He opened the rusted gate and ascended the hill to the oak tree, not realizing until he reached its peak that the spot was already occupied. He stared at the crème-clad figure lying in the grass.

  Cassandra glanced over towards him then turned her attention to the sky. “Your majesty,” she greeted flatly.

  “What are you doing?” Matthew asked softly.

  “Indulging in my childish frivolities. How may I serve, my lord?”

  Matthew paused. “May I join you?”

  She ticked her gaze to him again and then away as he sat.

  He continued, “I am sorry for what I said. I certainly did not mean it.” Matthew sighed. “I hate what this war is doing to me. I do not feel the same way anymore. It is leaving me cold and tearing me away from those I care about.” He regarded her. “It is tearing me away from you.”

  She looked at him suddenly, awestruck by his words.

  “Can you forgive me for being such a fool?” Matthew begged.

  She sat up. “Of course.”

  Matthew smiled as he lay back in the grass. Cassandra lay beside him, her head resting on his chest and her arms wrapped tightly around him. He caressed her hair, softly breathing in its fragrance.

  “I am terrified,” Matthew confessed in Cassandra’s ear. “I cannot win this battle. I hate this war.” He laughed. “I told you I would not be a good king.”

  Cassandra ran her finger along his upper body lovingly. “Find something to be brave for.”

  “Oh, Cassa,” Matthew murmured as he kissed her forehead, struggling to say what tradition forbid him to tell her. Cassandra’s deep sigh in response told him that she understood.

  * * * *

  Cassandra waited patiently in the entrance room of the palace as soldiers of every rank hustled past her. She glanced up as Matthew and Victor emerged through the doors of the throne room and marched towards her.

  “Cassa, your tower,” Matthew reminded gently.

  “When are you going to let me go to battle with you?” Cassandra demanded. “That is part of my responsibility, to protect you.”

  Matthew kissed her cheek then laughingly whispered in her ear, “Never. Now go.”

  Cassandra huffed, dismayed, as he walked away. Victor touched her arm as he also brushed his lips across her skin.

  “Stay safe,” she told him solemnly.

  “I will. Go.”

  Cassandra watched him pull the door open and step out into the sunlight. She narrowed her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “That is what you both think,” Cassandra muttered.

  She scampered up the steps and raced down the hallway of the living quarters. Rushing up the spiral staircase to the north tower, she slammed the wood door behind her. She settled on the cushion beneath the window. Then, resting her head on her folded arms, she watched the army wind past the palace and up the hill. She waited. And waited.

  Suddenly, she smiled smugly to herself. There it is. On instinct, without warning, both Matthew and Victor stopped their steeds in their tracks and turned to search her window. Just like every time they leave me. They both stared at her for several long moments before they nudged their stallions back into motion and disappeared behind the mound.

  Still, she didn’t move from her place. She didn’t trust the two men not to turn around and return. They had before. It was well past lunch before she rose from her seat.

  She swept from the tower, down the hallway, and descended the steps as she made her way to the throne room. Slipping inside, she locked the door behind her.

  First, she studied the battle plans Matthew and Victor had drawn up the past three days, analyzing where they were meeting Gorgon’s troops. Then, she noted the number of soldiers they had taken with them. She scrunched her nose. Not nearly enough by my standards. Not enough to insure their safe arrival home to me.

  Cassandra once again wandered her way up to her tower. She mixed a few potions to pass the time. Carefully cutting herbs and seeds, she scooped them into small, glass bottles. She sealed the bottles with corks then gathered them into a satchel.

  Picking up several tomes of spells, she dropped onto the cushion again. She researched several incantations, quickly memorizing them in case she would need assistance in battle.

  As the sun blazed a brilliant orange red against the horizon, she stood and set the books on the wood table before stretching and yawning. She glanced out the window to the garden below, finding it empty.

  With a smile, she crossed her arms over her chest. A flash of white, pure light enveloped her. In her place, a butterfly with iridescent wings fluttered, looking for a breeze. It slowly flapped off in the same direction the army had gone.

  * * * *

  Matthew and Victor rode silently across the field, analyzing the ranks of Gorgon's approaching army. Matthew smiled to himself as he suddenly thought of Cassandra. She had worked past his fears and his hatred of Gorgon and once again conquered his heart.

  He glanced around to see the commanders of his army flank to his side. His eye caught something against a tree—a butterfly fluttering in the breeze and coming to rest on a branch, its iridescent wings softly fanning in the wind.

  “Victor,” Matthew growled as he pointed.

  “We should never underestimate her, should we?” Victor chuckled.

  “How dare she risk her life like this? When we return, she is going to hear about this.”

  “Right. When you set eyes on her, you will forget your righteous anger.” Victor met Matthew's sudden glare. “I know you.”

  They turned their attention back as Gorgon's men rushed their front line. Matthew sighed deeply. For now, fate had Cassandra in its hands.

  The battle took several days. In that time, Matthew often caught sight of the brilliant butterfly. Finally, worn and confused at the mysterious assistance the royal army was receiving, Gorgon’s army retreated. Matthew and Victor led the journey home. After many hours, they returned to the palace in time for supper.

  Matthew, Victor and Cassandra ate their evening meal quietly in the dining hall. Victor glared at him. As Victor had predicted, Matthew was calm and gentle with Cassandra the minute she appeared before him, instead of being angry and indignant as he meant to be. Matthew looked up at him then back to his plate, ignoring Victor's piercing eyes and concentrating on his food.

  “Matthew,” Joseph announced, “Lady Aurora, daughter of Lord Burkoff of Porvo, has arrived.”

  Matthew sighed as he pushed his chair away from the table. “Here I go again,” he laughed as he stood.

  “Maybe this is the
one,” Victor replied encouragingly.

  “I am sure,” Matthew responded sarcastically. “Maybe this one will not run away in terror.” He followed Joseph from the room.

  Victor pushed his plate away, rising and taking Cassandra's hand. “Shall we, my sweet?”

  Cassandra held Victor’s hand as he led her to the library. He pushed the door closed, never noticing it was still open a sliver. He steered her toward the fireplace.

  “So, have you thought?” Victor asked.

  “When would we leave?” Cassandra replied with her own inquiry.

  “We will leave as soon as Matthew chooses his bride. I would not force you to withstand the wedding.”

  Victor held Cassandra close to him as she hesitantly wrapped her arms around him. “Soon, love. Soon we will begin our life together.”

  Matthew sighed as he watched through the crack in the door. He slumped against the wall as he fought the frustration ripping at his heart. Cassandra accepted his offer. She is going to be his bride. She is leaving me forever.

  He fought his imagination as visions of their life together played in his mind. The two of them sharing a bed, her pregnant with his child, their evenings of sweet kisses and touches and loving smiles…

  Matthew struck the wall with his fist before he stormed away.

  * * * *

  Cassandra slipped through the halls of the palace silently as the occupants of the chambers prepared for bed. She knelt in a corner then crossed her hands over her heart. Suddenly, a scream echoed through the palace. Cassandra rose to her feet in a fit of laughter as she ran from Lady Aurora's bedchamber and her terrified cries.

  Cassandra looked behind her as Joseph, Matthew and the palace squires emerged from their chambers and raced to Aurora's aid. She fell back, jostled, as she collided with a large, muscular body. A hand grabbed her arm.

  “Cassie,” a familiar voice hissed in the dark.