Madam Bursage’s face twisted with rage. “How…how dare you? I have never been so insulted.”
She spun around and stomped away without being granted leave. Her daughters followed her. The vacuum left in her wake was palpable with tension. The Queen took her staff and tried to smooth things over as best she could, but even working as fast as she could, still more voices disengaged and fell away from the song of the forest.
With perfect nobility, Captain Tallia walked back up the steps to return to her post.
“Well, that could have gone better,” Nikki mentioned, taking the pulse of the room.
Tallia paused as she passed the throne. “I am sorry for insulting her. Diplomacy is not my strength.”
Queen Forsythia looked at her gently. “Captain Tallia…”
“No, it’s all right.” Tallia looked down, and allowed herself to feel sad. “She’s right, Captain Tallia is dead. I am no longer her.” She looked at her brass hand, squeezing it into a fist. “I am fused with Lliun. From now on, just call me Talliun.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I can’t explain why, it just feels right to do so.”
“Very well. If that is your wish, I will respect it.”
The room went quiet, and Dahoon stepped up, nervously trying to fill the void. “Court will reconvene in four hours.” A pair of housemen set out the first of the hourglasses and flipped them over.
This seemed odd to the Queen, but this wasn’t the first time she had lost track of her schedule. That’s what having a staff was for, after all. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise.”
Alder stepped up, Bunni Bubbles sitting on his shoulder and carrying her clipboard. “My Queen, the next item on your agenda is a special planning session in the banquet hall.”
“Ah, yes, thank you.”
She held out her hand and Alder took it, elegantly assisting her to rise in the traditional fashion, smoothing out the train of roses that followed her as she exited the throne room. The Wysterians bowed their heads in reverence until she left. Even some of the navy did as well, as a sign of respect for her.
Housemen and officers parted as the entourage walked down the corridors, the Queen protected on all sides by her guard.
“Alder, why are your hands bandaged up?” The Queen noticed.
Alder linked them at the small of his back as he walked to hide them. “A minor cooking incident. Nothing major. I’m happy to report the crème brulee was salvaged.”
“I am concerned for your health, husband. You assured me your condition had been brought on by the curse I was under.”
Alder coughed painfully. “And it was. Now, would you like me to bring you up to speed for this next appointment?” he asked formally.
She nodded as she walked. “I had seen this meeting on my schedule for some time, now. I must admit, I cannot recall making the appointment. Could you refresh me?”
“Of course, my Queen. The purpose of this dinner is to plan your future.”
“My future? Dinner?”
“Yummy food,” Bunni cheered, making a mark on her clipboard.
As they turned the corner to the banquet hall, they found Captain Evere and Mina were standing there, grinning from ear to ear.
“Hello, Queen Forsythia,” Mina said knowingly, coddling a happy Ash in her arms.
Now the Queen was very suspicious. “What is this?”
“Why not go inside and find out, lass?” Captain Evere said as he bowed, his white teeth contrasting starkly with his peppered mutton chops. It was so out of character for him, she wondered if they had all suddenly gone mad.
The doors were opened, and the air was filled with the delicious scent of jasmine and cinnamon. It felt so warm inside, Athel stepped in without realizing she was doing it.
She could not recall the banquet hall ever looking so beautiful. Hanging clusters of lavender roses like bouquets, crystals woven amid their stalks glittering like starlight. The branches overhead parted just enough to let little cracks of light break through, falling to the ground like pillars of honey through the sweetly spiced air. The floor was covered in the softest layer of tender clovers. It felt like walking on a cloud, like breathing in serenity. It reminded her so much of sailing through the skies, that for the briefest of moments, she felt like herself again.
“What it this?” she asked softly.
“You don’t recognize a courtship dinner?” A smooth voice answered.
She turned to find Privet standing there. Dressed in a flawlessly tailored formal suit with a long split-tailed coat. His muscular physique radiated unfiltered through the layers of fabric, his epaulettes glittering in the radiance that descended upon him. He brought his white gloved hand up and bowed formally at the waist.
Athel felt her heart skip a beat. “A…what?”
Talliun deftly reached out and plucked Athel’s staff from her grip. She was so engrossed at the sight of Privet, it didn’t even register at first.
Athel turned just in time to see her guards closing the doors behind her.
“Hey, wait!”
Talliun gave a sly wink. “Enjoy yourself, my Queen.”
Mina pumped her furry fist in the air. Ash mimicked her and did the same. “Go get him, sweetie!”
Athel ran to the door, but it slammed home before she could get to it.
“What are you doing? Open the door. Give me my staff back.”
She raised her hand to strike the door, but then realized it was a useless gesture. Her own attendants had hoodwinked her. Without even turning around, she could feel Privet standing behind her. Even from here she could feel his warmth, like a crackling fireplace. Her heart began to beat faster in her chest.
“Looks like you’re trapped in here,” he said, clearly pleased with himself. “Might as well enjoy it.”
Athel comported herself as best she could and turned around. It was all she could do to not stare at him. She couldn’t believe how nicely he cleaned up.
“Ahem…Mister Tamarack, when did you get back?”
Privet gave a sleek smile and took out a bottle of wine from the chiller. “Ah, so there are things that escape the queen’s notice, after all.”
“Where is Setsuna?”
He poured the bubbling amber liquid into the waiting flute. “I’m not sure, and I can’t tell you how refreshing it is to say that.”
Athel caught herself staring at him. While she had long ago lost the tan she had acquired in the navy, save for some faded freckles, he still had that healthy glow one gets from working outside in the sun and fresh air. “Look, I don’t have time for this. I’ve got things to do.”
“Not for the next four hours, you don’t. I scheduled this time.” He set the bottle down and stepped close to her. She could feel herself blushing.
“Right now, you belong to me,” he said.
Her heart pounding, she turned her face from him. “You should have stayed away.”
“Why?”
Her voice became soft. “It would have been easier that way.”
“Easier for who?”
“You had her; you could have been happy.”
He stepped closer, so close she couldn’t help but take in his intoxicating scent. Like fresh hickory wood, just after a light rain. It nearly took her breath away.
“Athel, I didn’t want to be with her. I want to be with you.”
Hearing that made her gasp. For years, she had fawned over him like a love-struck teenager. At night, she had dreamed of hearing those very words. In her youth, she imagined them being said over and over again, rehearsing the moment. Now, it was here. He was actually saying it, and he actually meant it.
She lowered her eyes sadly. “That’s not possible.”
“Why not?”
She could feel her resolve eroding. His aura felt irresistible.
She clamped down on her heart, ordering it to be still. She reinforced the layers of steel she had covered it with. It struggled beneath the smothering weight.
“The forest needs that gate, Privet. We need the water it brings.”
“And you have it.”
“And if it breaks down? And if something goes wrong? The forest can’t take that risk.”
Privet shrugged, as if it were no big deal. Dismissively, he turned around and walked over to the table, uncovering the first dish.
His disregard actually made her temper flare up a little bit. “What are you doing?”
“Serving up your plate, of course.”
The smell coming from the food was irresistible. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a real meal. Rather than the traditional menu, he had instead prepared all of her favorite dishes. Shrimp remoulade, veal issi ravioli, harvest bisque, and, of course, roasted quail smothered with cherry glaze and tapioca pudding.
The presentation was flawless, the aesthetic immaculate. “Did you make all of this?”
Privet pulled out her cushioned chair and offered her a seat. “Alder did most of the work, but I insisted on helping with each dish.”
“Hopefully you didn’t ruin them.” Reluctantly, she stepped up and allowed him to seat her, pleased that somewhere along the line Alder had taught Privet how to tuck the fold of her gown behind her knees as she sat.
Privet pulled out the silk napkin and snapped it taut before gently settling it into her lap. She had never thought of him as being the formal type. In fact, it was his casualness compared to other men that was deliciously appealing, but seeing him able to step up and do so when the situation called for it was incredibly appealing.
I’ve got to be careful. If I don’t control myself, I could really fall for him all over again.
“Please understand that just because I accept the meal, does not mean I accept your hand. I am merely famished.”
She knew he didn’t believe a word of it, and she wondered if she did, either.
“Well, if I poison you, Deutzia is nearby to heal you up again.”
The food was scrumptious; the amber wine was subtle and smooth. It pleased her to no end that after her second glass, he poured her water instead. The fact that he wasn’t trying to get her drunk made her feel at ease, and brought her defenses down more than any amount of alcohol would have.
They spent the time having a pleasant conversation. Not awkwardly trying to avoid the subject at hand, but rather genuinely enjoying one another’s company. She found him remarkably easy to talk to compared to what she recalled. Their relationship had always consisted of butting heads and digging in heels, now there was a harmony to it, an ease of presence, a confidence borne not of arrogance, but of experience.
He’s really grown up.
After the third course, his body language changed, and she knew what was coming up. He uncovered a single glass filled with a white pudding and with an eager smile, he stood up and brought the dessert over to her. She could feel her heart racing as he approached. It was an ancient tradition. He would offer her a single spoonful. If she accepted him, she would eat it, and if she did not, she would refuse.
She could feel her whole body heating up. She knew her face must have been as red as her hair. She watched in agony as he stopped before her and delicately spooned the dessert around and around the rim, as if dragging out the moment intentionally to savor it. The spoon left the top of the glass, a perfectly twirled cone of pudding on it.
She looked at it as if it were a pointed dagger. She could scarcely breathe. Her heart screamed at her to simply give in and take it. Even her mind admitted that Deutzia would force her to take him before she could take anyone else. But, her will reminded her of her oath, reminded her of her duty. Her heart and mind yelled, and her duty yelled back just as loudly. It felt like a war inside her, and it tore her apart. She focused her powers, sealing away her heart beneath a mountain of rock. This wasn’t about what she wanted, it was about what must be done. Though her heart and mind hollered in protest, she forced her head to turn away.
“Privet, we are on the eve of a huge battle. We don’t have time for this.”
He was completely undaunted by her refusal. It both irritated and thrilled her.
“You know, when you proposed to me, it was on the eve of battle, and you know what you said? You said that sometimes there is no tomorrow. You’re here and I’m here, and I’m not going to risk spending the rest of my life wondering what might have been if only I hadn’t sat on my stump doing nothing, instead of taking the one chance I had to grab my fate by the throat.”
Athel blinked. Those words seemed a lifetime away. “Who told you I said that?”
“Mina did.”
Privet stood there, patiently waiting, spoonful in hand.
Athel looked at it again. “And when I proposed, you turned me down.”
Still he was unturned. “And I have regretted it every day since then. Don’t make the same mistake I made. Athel; I wasted years running away from you. Now I turn twenty-seven in the spring. I only have a few years left in me. Let me spend them with you. Please.”
There was something so simple and sincere in his words. Her heart beat at the bindings that held it, crying out in protest. Here was a man who wanted nothing more than to stand at her side and make her happy. How could she refuse him? She could feel her eyes growing moist. She could feel her will bending. But still, she resisted.
“Y…you can spend them with me. You could live in the palace as part of my household.”
“Athel, you know that’s not what I mean. And you know that wouldn’t be enough-- for either of us. That would be a cage, looking out into your world but never being a part of it. I want to live in your heart, and I want you to live in mine. I want to be your husband, and I want you to be my wife. Will you have me?”
Athel felt her control slipping. Her mind was being beaten back by the overwhelming emotions. Her heart felt like a dam about to break. The pressure was unbearable.
“But…what if you get hurt because of me?”
Privet got down on one knee and took her hand in his. The sensation was electric, and made her jump in her seat. “Athel, you know me. I’m not some courtroom butterfly. I’m not looking to bend your ear or further any agenda here. I’m not trying to weld families or build alliances. I’m just a man who loves you. Please, let me be with you.”
She felt a tear on her cheek. She was so used to everyone wanting something from her. Every word had an agenda, every gesture masking an insincerity. But, here there was none of that. He asked for nothing, only the chance to be near her and make her happy. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t move. Her feelings had become her enemy. They rose up against her like a great army, washing away her resolve, overpowering her will.
“NO!”
The volume in her voice startled him. He stepped back, a mixture of shock and hurt on his face.
Athel dropped her face into her hands. She dared not look at him in that moment, she couldn’t look at him.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, her voice quaking. “I’m sorry, Privet. I’m not that girl anymore. I can’t just do things because I want to. I…I have to do what is best for the forest.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Something clattered into her lap. She looked down at the silver dueling saber laying there, like the one she used to own.
She looked up in confusion. He drew his own and held the hilt before his face in salute. “Spar with me.”
She looked around. “What?”
“Spar with me, Athel,” he said again. “Show me that you haven’t gotten rusty sitting on that throne all day.”
“Privet, that is ridiculous. I can’t…”
He slashed at her where she sat. Squeaking in fright, she barely managed to bring her own blade up i
n time. The two edges sparked where they touched.
Privet withdrew and attacked again, stabbing at her knee, forcing her to rise to her feet to avoid it. The tip dug into the cushion, then he flicked upwards. Her soul was clouded, but her body remembered what to do. She slapped his tip away, then slashed at his chest, forcing him backwards.
“Good,” he praised. “But, widen your stance. Stay lower to the ground.
“I can’t widen my stance, I’m in a ball gown.”
“Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”
Privet feinted high, and she fell for it, spinning her blade up to block, while he stepped in a slashed low, slicing the petals of her gown. Instinctively, she brought the pommel down to bean him in the head, but he was too quick, he somersaulted forward, letting off two more slashes behind himself as he rolled to his feet.
Athel turned around and a third of her dress broke free. She looked down in horror at the chopped fabric just above her knees. “You twig! This was a one-of-a-kind creation of Mistress Gardenia. A priceless gift…”
“And now you can move freely,” he interrupted, allowing his eyes to lick over her creamy legs just to irritate her.
Athel huffed in anger and ran in, her braided hair shaking loose as she stabbed at his smug face. Rather than dodge, he raised his blade and blocked her cut. Despite putting all her strength into it, he stopped it cold. She felt like she had just connected with a brick wall. She had forgotten how strong he was. He shoved her blade to the side, wrenching it nearly out of her hand, and she was forced to step with him or lose the weapon.
She crashed into the table, knocking dishes about and spilling food. He slashed across her back, and her long train of roses fell away. She grabbed a platter and flung it at him, scattering potatoes everywhere, but he ducked below it and pressed his attack. She blocked a cut at her midsection, rattling her shoulders. His might was simply overwhelming. Rather than get caught in a hilt lock, she feinted a stab and stepped backwards, but he saw right through it and spun his blade right at her in a gleaming streak of light. She thought she had dodged the quick slash at her shoulder, only to have her severed sleeve drop free.
Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles Page 41
