Queen in Exile

by Donna Hatch

  War was imminent.

  Chapter Five

  Jeniah stood in the council chambers, hoping no one could hear the thudding of her heart or see her shaking hands. Since she had received the summons to appear before the Grand Council, a sinking dread had clutched at her until she could hardly breathe. Mora and two other handmaidens had fussed over her with such meticulous care that she might have been posing for a portrait.

  The moment Jeniah had entered the chambers, all conversation had ended and she had found herself the focus of attention. The chairs at the council table were all occupied. All the usual advisors and leaders were present, including the king’s brothers, who had arrived in the castle with their families only two days before.

  Finally, King Darvae spoke. “Princess Jeniah of Arden.” He inclined his head in a royal bow.

  Jeniah swallowed at the unprecedented event of her father bowing to her. She remembered her manners and sank into a well-rehearsed curtsy, grateful that she didn’t wobble or fall.

  “In light of recent events, we, the council, have made a decision with regards to the Hanorans. We call upon your duty as a princess to come to the aid of your country.”

  He paused, and her sense of dread deepened. She’d known all of her life she had been raised for a political alliance, but facing the day her father would pronounce her fate seemed surreal.

  “It has been determined that, in the interest of goodwill and to form an alliance with Hanore, you will marry the prince of Hanore.”

  Aghast, Jeniah stared. Marry the prince of Hanore! The words tolled like a death bell.

  “You shall depart as soon as your Ascension Ceremony is complete, to your husband and your new home. We are confident that our offering will not be refused as you are a maiden and your beauty is rare . . .”

  Jeniah hardly heard the rest of the king’s words as a buzzing noise in her brain dulled all sound. A shudder rippled through her. She stood wide-eyed, rooted to the floor in disbelief.

  “Marry a barbarian?” The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  The king’s eyes narrowed. “It is not your place to question my ruling, or the decision of the council.”

  Jeniah flinched.

  “For this you have been born and bred.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” she whispered.

  “You alone can preserve peace, Jeniah. All our hopes rest upon you.” He gave her a sad smile, and for a moment, she saw how agonizing his decision had been.

  Disarmed by his regret, her eyes traveled slowly over those seated at the council table. Prince Aven, too, wore a look of sympathy.

  Captain Darkwood’s expression appeared perfectly neutral at first glance, but then a crack showed through his façade, and Jeniah saw his anger and dismay. Somehow, his show of emotion cut through her shock and touched her heart.

  Captain Tarvok of the Home Guard kept his eyes averted. The faces of the princes and other leaders and advisors were grim and determined. This had not been an easy decision.

  Her heart hammered. Lightheaded, she bowed and murmured what she hoped was an appropriate response about duty to country and king. Then, as hastily as etiquette allowed, she retreated. In the corridor, Jeniah rested a hand against the wall to try to steady herself.

  Marry the prince of Hanore.

  She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

  A nearby guard held out a hand toward her. She pulled herself together enough to begin walking, but her legs moved unsteadily and a terrible weight pressed on her chest. The hallway closed in around her like a tomb.

  Voices echoed and faded as the council adjourned and vacated the council hall. Jeniah forced herself to keep moving. She would not break into a run, or break down.

  A warm presence next to her edged through the heaviness. Kai Darkwood fell in step with her, his blue eyes searching her face with an expression she could not decipher.

  “Your Highness, I . . .” He swallowed. “I wish I could say something to bring you comfort. Ladies have a role in life that I do not envy.”

  Feeling vulnerable, she looked up at him. “Thank you, Captain.” Her words sounded hollow even to her own ears. With effort, she managed to keep her tears at bay.

  His eyes darted over her face, and then he turned to leave as if he could not bear to be in her presence any longer. “Good day, Your Highness.”

  The heaviness returned the moment the captain left, but Jeniah forced herself to keep moving. Marry the prince of Hanore. The enemy. The enemy who threatened their way of life, their very existence. The thought left her with crushing dread.

  This could not really be happening. Her family would not do this to her. There had to be another option! This could not be the only way to avoid war. Had the council simply viewed her as the most obvious solution? A commodity?

  Remembering her father’s display of grief quickly dispelled that thought. Whatever else he was, he was still her father and he loved her. Though he had acted in the best interest of Arden—not just the country, but its people—she knew that he would have viewed this decision as a last resort, only when all other options had been exhausted.

  Still, to marry a Hanoran!

  She could run. The urge to ride far away lured her with a song of freedom so strong that she actually considered it. But that would be treason, and besides, she had nowhere to go. She could only blur for a short time, and that would not protect her indefinitely. If father were right, she alone held the key to peace, and she would not risk the safety of all of Arden. She was trapped by duty and responsibility. It was her purpose, her destiny.

  In the privacy of her room, Jeniah sank down across the bed. After weeping until exhaustion hushed her tears, she sat by a window. She rested her head on the leaded windowpane and closed her eyes, chilled down to her soul.

  Many people married for love. Why were the privileged royalty condemned to marry for position or power with little hope of true joy? She had known all of her life that her marriage would be arranged by her father for political gain, but that event had always rested in the distant future. Now she faced the immediate prospect of marriage, not only to a stranger, but to the enemy.

  She would leave Arden and live in a desert among barbarians who practiced pagan rituals and human sacrifices. They were savage, ruthless. Their king practiced black magic.

  With a gasp, Jeniah realized she would be sharing a bed with this kind of man. If the Hanoran prince was sadistic with his subjects, he would probably be the same with his wife. Horror squeezed her stomach until she became ill. She emptied her stomach in a washbasin before weakly slumping onto the window seat. She rested her forehead on the window. The first snowfall of the year had arrived the day before, dusting the countryside with pristine whiteness. But in the courtyard below, the snow had been cleared away from the paths to lie in dirty piles in the corners. Jeniah’s eyes drifted beyond the castle walls to the sea. The calmness of the water mocked her turbulent emotions as she watched a flock of birds fly overhead. How many more days would she see this view?

  Her Ascension Ceremony would take place in only a week, and preparations had already commenced. It marked the end of her life as she knew it. Then she would be taken away, so far away. To marry a monster.

  Jeniah moved to the bed and collapsed on it face down. Her tears returned and she had sunk into violent sobbing when the bed sank beside her. When no one spoke, she turned her head expecting Mora, but instead found the queen.

  Jeniah closed her eyes, expecting her mother to scold her for behaving improperly. Instead, a gentle hand rested on her back.

  “I know you are frightened, Jeniah,” her mother soothed as she rubbed her daughter’s back. Jeniah’s sobs faded into shudders while the gentle hand continued moving up and down her back. “Your father is heartbroken over this, but he truly felt he had no choice. And he had to answer to the council.”

  “I’ve heard such terrible things about Hanorans,” Jeniah moaned.

 
“I know. But often those stories come from those who do not truly know. I was so frightened when I learned I was to come to Arden, I nearly ran away.”

  “What stopped you?”

  A faint smile touched the queen’s mouth. “Loyalty to my father and to my country.” Her eyes softened. “When I arrived, I discovered, pleasantly, that I had been misinformed about both Arden and the king. I knew when I met your father that he was a man of honor and I had nothing to fear. We did grow to love each other, and now I can’t imagine life without him.”

  Jeniah sighed. It seemed impossible that she could find honor in a Hanoran, especially one bent on conquering Arden.

  “It’s possible King Rheged might not be as ruthless as we believe, and even if he is, perhaps his son is nothing like him.” The queen leaned down on one elbow to look her in the eye. “I know I’ve been hard on you. I’ve demanded much and given you little time to yourself. I wanted to you be prepared for anything, any challenge. You can do this. You are stronger than you know.”

  Jeniah stared at her in surprise. She had never heard such praise from her mother. “I will never be like you,” she began timidly.

  “No, you will be you. And as you face challenges, you will discover who you are. I sense in you an ancient magic. You will be able to do great things.” Her hand continued its circular movement on Jeniah’s back.

  “Magic? How?”

  “Daughter, out of respect for the Ardeenes, I never told you this before, but there is a Tiraian matriarchal magic that flows in your blood. It only surfaces every two or three generations. My grandmother had great power. I suspect you have a trace of it too. Trust your heart.”

  Jeniah sat up. “Then you don’t believe all magic is bad?”

  “I believe it is a tool that can be used according to the will of the user.”

  Jeniah stared up at the ceiling, recalling that her chayim had said much the same thing during their brief bond. The thorn of pain returned at the thought of his death.

  “Things often look the worst before they improve. You are strong. Meet your adversities with your head high, and you may find strength and joy you never imagined.”

  Her mother’s words brought her more comfort than she might have guessed. Hearing that the queen believed she had potential helped quell the panic, and Jeniah thought she just might survive her fate.

  When the queen left, Mora crawled into bed with her and held her, calling her “little one,” and cried with her. And when Jeniah realized Mora would no longer be with her when she left Arden, her tears began anew.

  Kai lowered his sword. His arms shook with fatigue from the workout he had demanded of himself. Practice had ended hours before and the men had all left. The sky had darkened, and snow had begun falling again, but Kai had been determined to keep training until he cleared his head. Instead, his thoughts spiraled back to the council, to the moment when the king ordered Princess Jeniah to marry the Hanoran prince. A savage.

  The thought made Kai ill. He had been present as the elders discussed possible solutions to prevent the looming war and knew they had spent days discussing options. This union seemed the only plausible answer, but he hated it. Even now, he desperately searched for an alternative. It wasn’t his place to oppose the king; he wasn’t even Ardeene. But he could not stand the thought of a Hanoran beast married to the young, pure princess. Any son of King Rheged would surely be a cruel husband.

  With a sound of disgust, Kai sheathed his sword. No matter what he did, the terror and hopelessness in the princess’s eyes haunted him.

  Kai handed his gear to his exhausted squire. “We’re done for the day, Romand. Go find something hot to eat and get some rest.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Romand managed a tired smile.

  Kai hardly felt the cold despite forgetting to don his cloak as he stalked from the arena toward the barracks. In the inner courtyard, a soft presence washed over him and he looked up to see that the object of his thoughts had taken form directly in front of him. The snow fluttered down gently, dusting her hood.

  “Princess Jeniah,” he said in greeting.

  “Captain.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she passed him on the path. Her face was pale, and purple shadows under her eyes told of many sleepless nights. He felt as if someone had kicked him in the stomach.

  “Princess,” he called softly after her.

  She stopped and turned toward him. “Yes, Captain?”

  He swallowed. “I . . . ” He wanted desperately to speak with her, but words of comfort were beyond him.

  She waited patiently, her eyes upon him.

  “Are you well?” he finally managed. It was feeble, but he could think of nothing else.

  The faintest curve touched her lips. “I am. Thank you for your concern, Captain.”

  Brave words. Not true, but brave. The princess’s eyes remained upon him as he searched for appropriate consolation. Her guards moved back out of earshot while keeping her carefully in view.

  She came to his rescue. “I’ve prepared all of my life for a marriage of my father’s choosing, Captain. Do not trouble yourself for my sake.” She spoke with quiet resignation, her eyes dull.

  “I shall make a formal request to accompany your escort to Hanore.” He had not consciously decided to make such a request, and he did not even know if his presence would offer her comfort, but the words had come from his mouth almost at their own accord.

  “Then I’m sure to have a safe journey. Thank you, Captain.” Her chin lifted a degree, a ghost of a smile flitting across her lovely features.

  Kai turned at the sound of nearing footsteps and saw the princess’s lady-in-waiting.

  “There you are! The dressmaker needs you to come for the final fitting.”

  The princess looked at her. “Very well, Mora, I’ll be there momentarily.” Her eyes flicked back to Kai. She nodded to him, a smile of appreciation touching her mouth before she turned.

  Kai’s footsteps took him outside near the outer bailey. Earlier that day, the knights had trained there in earnest. Kai understood the importance of the Ascension Ceremony to the culture of Arden. The grand, coming-of-age event began with a three-day tournament. The knights trained with a good deal of boasting about their prowess in each event and who would be the overall winner. The knight with the most victories would be named the Princess’s Champion, a coveted honor. Traditionally, the champion would be her escort over the next year, unless she married first. In this case, that champion would command the guard during her journey to Hanore. For reasons he did not care to examine, Kai determined to be included with that guard.

  The messenger with the offer of an alliance between Hanore and Arden had departed a few days before, so it would be at least a moon cycle before Arden received a reply. Hanore could refuse, of course, but it seemed unlikely, unless King Rheged was simply bloodthirsty—a distinct possibility.

  Kai allowed himself the luxury of hoping that the offer would be refused, but instantly shame struck him. If the two countries went to war, thousands would die. But the princess would be spared from a marriage prospect that horrified her. She deserved to be married to a man who knew her. A man who would cherish her. A man like him.

  Kai grimaced and raked a hand through his hair, banishing this futile line of thought. His battered heart would never be whole enough to allow anything more than a casual relationship. Moreover, she was royalty and he was a commoner, which made a union between them impossible.

  A lone rider galloped through the gates as they began to close. The rider stopped inside as if looking for someone. A guard questioned him but let him pass. There was something familiar about this rider. Immediately, a shadow detached itself from the wall and moved toward the rider.

  As Kai crept upon them, he recognized Lord Alivan, whose actions had seemed suspicious the day Kai had arrived in Arden. The rider and Lord Alivan left together, turning down a narrow side street. Kai followed them stealthily, knowing he appeared no more noticeable than a shadow
.

  “. . . and are waiting for your arrival before they send in the first wave,” the rider said.

  “Already? They were supposed to wait until after I leave on my diplomatic mission,” Alivan replied with alarm in his voice.

  “Tonight.”

  “This wasn’t part of the plan.” Alivan sighed. “Very well, I will depart immediately.” He handed the rider an object that had the distinctive jingle of coins.

  All of Kai’s instincts screamed that Lord Alivan was engaged in treason. Walking toward the two men, Kai called out boldly, “Something wrong, my lord?”

  Even in the dim light, Lord Alivan blanched visibly, and the rider beside him put his hand on his sword.

  “Nothing that concerns you, Darborian,” Lord Alivan snarled.

  “Then you won’t mind telling me.”

  Alivan and the rider drew their swords and moved toward him.

  Kai grinned darkly. “I’m impressed with your devotion to perfecting your swordplay, Alivan, but this isn’t really the best time to spar.”

  “I’m going to kill you, you overconfident braggart.”

  Kai raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Oh? Did you suddenly develop skill with a blade?”

  Alivan lunged at him while his co-conspirator circled around. Their swords rang as they struck. Kai threw Alivan off easily while whirling to ward off the blow the rider tried to deal from behind. He maneuvered himself to a more advantageous position and then pressed them mercilessly. Under Kai’s blade, the rider fell, bleeding and writhing. Alivan stumbled and went down but before he could rise, Kai placed his sword at the hollow of the nobleman’s neck.

  “Tell me what you are doing, Alivan, while I still have the patience to spare you.”

  “I’ve nothing to say to you, Darborian.” Alivan lay on his back, glowering up at Kai.

  Kai pressed his sword tip against the nobleman’s throat until he gasped. In a soft, deadly voice, Kai said, “Tell me, or I will be forced to hurt you before I drag you before the king.”