by Alex Shobe
My jaw drops and I glance at Colton, then back to Kaleo. A flurry of emotions hover in my mind. I clear my throat in hopes of finding clarity, but it doesn’t work. “Honestly, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I wasn’t expecting you all to agree.”
Kaleo laughs his hearty laugh. “Lucky for you, Your Majesty, you’ve got a couple of strategists on your team now. Come. Let’s talk further.”
We hash out the details in a large meeting cabin next to the church. Some of the men’s suggestions are impressive, and I think how my council could’ve been enhanced if I had their wits under my advisement. An hour later, we smooth out a jagged-edged plan into something that bears resemblance to a certain victory. Still, it’s easier said than done.
There are seven other villages in the kingdom. If they all choose to support me as Maburh has, I’ll have the numbers to go against the guards in Demesne.
Back at the beach, I find a bare seat near the bonfire and sit with my eyes closed. The heat from the flames tickles my face. The blended scents of smoldering wood and oceanic breeze swirl around me. I breathe it in deeply, trying to somehow harness the moment, freeze the feeling of being here on this beach with people who celebrate life. I keep my eyes shut and listen. The laughter of children carries on the waves, sprinkling an airiness to the deep bellows of the drums. Conversations, each tinted in joy, come from every which way as loved ones catch each other up on the times lost.
“Mind if I sit?”
I open my eyes to find Aiden standing in front of me. I scoot over to make room for him on the bench. “Where have you been?”
“I just had some things to take care of.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes, all good.” His lip twitches as he gazes blankly at the fire.
I lean over to him. “You’re very secretive, do you know that?”
Aiden grins but stays silent. As we sit at the fire, I notice a group, four women, looking at me from across the shore. I hold their gaze for a moment before breaking it and turning my attention back to the quiet man beside me.
“Did you hear? The plan’s in motion to rally the villages. Colton’s with Kaleo to send falcons to them right now.”
He smiles. “I passed him on the way here. One step closer to getting you back on the throne, yeah?”
I catch the women looking at me again. “I know the men are on-board with this, but I’m starting to think the wives aren’t.”
“What do you mean?”
I nod toward the group. “They keep staring at me.”
Aiden looks in their direction as well. “Have they said anything?”
“Not yet, but if looks could kill…”
“Why don’t you just go talk to them?”
I shoot him an irritated glance, but he doesn’t see it. “I feel out of my element here, like I’m trespassing on a tight-knit community.”
“But this is your community as well. You’re the queen, so—”
“I know, I know—It’s just hard to explain.” I grow quiet and take a moment to think. “I haven’t been conditioned for life outside the castle walls. I was never taught what is means to work hard and acquire your own success. Everything I had was provided for me. So, to see these women and men contribute so much to their families, to know that every hard day’s work means something, that’s a strength not even the finest tutors could’ve taught me.”
Aiden nods silently and reaches down between his feet to pick up a twig. He absentmindedly rolls it between his fingers. “What was it like—growing up royal?”
I look at him, hoping to find the simplest answer in his eyes. “It was… lonely.”
“Why weren’t there any siblings?”
My mind drifts to many years earlier when Mother was pregnant with my brother. She and Father had been so excited to bring a son into this world. Although I was older, that wouldn’t have tarnished the fact that Father would’ve finally had a male heir to his throne. I’m sure he would’ve found some way of bypassing my claim onto little brother’s.
All that hope, that joy, came crashing down when little brother was born sleeping. No heartbeat. No first breath. A young prince’s life ended before it began. For a time, Father hated Mother, despised her for failing to produce anymore heirs. He had me, but I wasn’t enough, for I was not male. It was strange, a reigning King and Queen with only one surviving heir.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors…?” I answer, looking sidelong at him. For a while, the kingdom was abuzz with malicious words of my mother. Stories spun of fact and fiction woven through the streets, although no one would ever dare to say them to her face.
He bites his lip, probably now unsure of the direction of the conversation.
“It’s alright,” I say, reassuring him. “She’s no longer here and it’s no longer relevant.”
A long pause between us is filled with the intermittent bouts of cheers as the celebration continues. A blanket of twinkling lights covers the sky, their brightness paling in comparison to the moon. Aiden and I continue to sit in silence for a moment longer.
“I’m an only child, too,” he says, his voice startling me. “My mother died during childbirth with me.”
I glance at him. His eyes are straight ahead. There’s no emotion behind his words.
“I’m sorry. But your father is still alive and well?”
He hesitates. I fear he will retreat behind the wall he has so clearly guarded himself with. He takes a breath to calculate his thoughts.
“I wouldn’t know. My father refuses to acknowledge me. I’ve been told that I resemble my mother and that frustrates him.”
I shake my head. “What an awful man.” I know firsthand how it feels to be a disappointment to a father. “To be born with a burden—we have that in common, you and I.”
Aiden’s lips turn up into a slight smile, but he says nothing more.
Children, two little boys and a girl dash around us, chasing each other under the stars. The girl’s light-colored ringlets bounce with each step. As she runs, a tattered doll flies out of her hands and lands at my feet. In the boys’ pursuit, she doesn’t realize she’s lost her companion and continues running. I pick the doll up and brush sand from its body. The children run across the beach straight toward the group of women who were looking at me earlier.
“I’ll be right back,” I murmur to Aiden.
The women grow quiet and bow their heads gingerly when I approach. The little girl with the ringlets hides behind one of the women’s legs and peeks to see her doll in my hands.
“I believe she dropped this.” I hold the doll out to whom I assume is the girl’s mother. The woman is tall, with a slender neck that makes her stature all the more graceful.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
I offer a kind smile and nod, then turn to walk back to the other side of the beach.
“Um, Your Majesty?”
I glance back toward the woman. The doll in her arms is now replaced with a garment.
“We wanted to offer you a clean dress to wear, but we weren’t sure if the quality would be to your liking.” She says the words cautiously as though I may take offense.
I smile and point at the clothes in her hands. She nods.
I lift and hold it against my body. The indigo dress cascades in front of me and sweeps over the tops of my feet. Great care had been taken in the detailed stitch work. I smile, probably more than the women expected. “It’s lovely. You’re all very kind. Thank you.”
For the first time in a long while, I’ve felt courtesy with no ulterior motives attached. It makes me resent ever being born a D’Auron in the first place. There’s another world out here that isn’t stitched together with false truths and deceptions. Their adage whispers in my mind. My brother is my shield, and I am his armor. When I look at these people, I see not only my subjects, but also people that I’m sworn to protect.
And I will protect them.
Colton
When the last of the
falcons have been sent out, Kaleo and I return to the shores, the liveliness dying down as night creeps onward. Mothers escort their young ones home. Sleep weighs heavily on their eyelids, and through deep yawns from tiny mouths, they beg their mothers for more time at festivities.
Kaleo nods once at his wife, Maera, as she passes. Curly hair drapes over her shoulder as she carries their drowsy daughter, a doll clutched tightly under the small girl’s arm.
They exchange a tender glance, and for a moment, I am in awe of their love for each other. It seems easy, almost effortless, to give love and receive it back. I used to think it was possible for me. Now, there’s a dark stain on my life that keeps me from forming the bonds necessary for love to blossom. Despite the illusions I portray of a happy man, there’s something dark inside me. I lost a part of myself in the arena—a piece of me that got dragged down to the underworld when the arena grounds cracked open and shadowed phantoms clawed at my soul.
I turn to face Kaleo beside me on the bench. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“How do you not let what happened in the arena affect you?”
His eyes soften and he takes a moment to study my face. He rubs his knuckles against his jaw. “What makes you think it doesn’t affect me?”
I look toward his wife, who has almost disappeared from view. I meet his eyes again. “You just seem calm and still sure of yourself.”
He chuckles, mainly to himself. My face warms, a bit embarrassed of my question.
“Truth is, it has affected me. But in my position around here, I don’t have the luxury of running around like a hen with my head cut off.”
“No, no—yeah, I get that…” I glance down at the sand in front of me. He touches my shoulder.
“How are you doing?” There’s an immense concern in his voice.
I lift my chin and hold his gaze. Part of me wants to unload my pain onto him, but to do so would be selfish of me. So, I keep my mouth—and emotions—shut, and elect to change the subject instead.
“Have you spoken to Phylix’s widow yet?”
He sighs, accepting that I won’t be disclosing my own personal problems. “I sat down with her earlier. She mentioned that she’d already come to terms with the fact that he probably wouldn’t make it out of the arena. But to be told for certain that he wouldn’t be coming home, she took the news as hard as can be expected. She’s been in the church ever since.”
I nod silently. Phylix was such a kind man, never one to raise his voice even during times of stress. He worked twice as hard to support his wife and four children, even sometimes skipped a meal to make sure his family didn’t go to sleep hungry. My heart aches for his widow, at the hole his death left behind.
I look out across the water and watch as the waves crash against one another before calming into a gentle blanket. The moon’s pull on the ocean brings it up the shore, and people laugh as the cool water covers their feet, their soles sinking deeper into the sand. I find myself grinning at their happiness.
The people seated with me begin to stir and I look back to see the fuss.
“Your Majesty,” they all greet in unison and bow their heads.
My eyes land on Leona’s and I quickly drop my head into a bow as well, caught off guard by her sudden appearance.
She smiles and nods once, maintaining her gaze on me. “Could I speak with you?” Her tone is casual.
Kaleo shoots me a look of deviousness as he pulls his mug of ale to his mouth and takes a sip. I rise and follow Leona toward the shores, away from the men I’d been sitting with. She slows her pace to allow me to catch up. A different dress covers her body, the bottom hem of it glides over the sand behind her.
“New dress?” I ask, taking in her appearance from head to toe. She eyes me with a gentle grin, and my gaze darts away, suddenly ashamed to be looking her over so thoroughly.
She nods. “Yes. Some of the women were kind enough to give me a new one. My other gown was torn to shreds, though I’m sure you’ve noticed?”
My face turns warm again. I grateful she can’t see me blushing in the darkness. I’d wonder when she’d mention our previous interaction near the stream. Still, she doesn’t seem offended.
I clear my throat, hoping to squash any embarrassment from my voice. “Well, this new one looks nice on you,” I manage to say.
She pauses and turns to face me. The moon captures her light eyes, making them seem even brighter in the night. There’s a seriousness to them as she holds my gaze with urgency. I’m unsure why she’s brought me down here, so I wait for her speak.
“I wanted to say thank you for all you’ve done to help me thus far.”
I release a breath, a breath that I’d been holding onto for the past few seconds. Air inflates my lungs in a rush of energy.
“I know we didn’t start off on the right foot, but I do appreciate that you have my back.”
I nod, the only thing I can do in this moment of humility. I search my throat for words. “You’re welcome.”
She smiles, then her softened eyes harden. “I do have a favor to ask you, though.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “What is it?”
“Teach me how to fight.”
I take a step backward and survey her face. Her stone expression doesn’t change. She’s serious.
“Teach you how to fight?” I repeat back to her, somehow hoping I’d heard her wrong. She nods her head in agreement.
I blow out a sharp breath and cross my arms over my chest. The way I fight is borderline savageness. No mercy. No restraints. Practice or not, I could hurt her.
“You sure you don’t want Aiden to teach you?”
“I’m asking you.” There’s a finality to her response.
I look back toward the people further up the shore, their voices a hum in the air at this distance. My eyes return to hers. “Why do you want to learn? You have a whole cast of able men—and there’ll be even more once the messages reach the other villages.”
There’s a fierceness in her eyes tonight, laced with something sad. She stands before me, her head held high, her stance regal, and for the first time, I see her as the queen she is. She draws her strength from the support of those around her. A queen without a kingdom is just a girl with a shiny headpiece.
Her eyes stay concentrated on mine. “I don’t want to be defenseless anymore.”
A cool breeze wraps around us, bringing with it the light scent in her hair. She shudders.
“Okay.” I drop my arms and fold my hands behind my back. A smirk rises in her lips but vanishes just as quickly as it comes. “I’ll show you basic moves. Do you still have your dagger?”
She reaches down to the thin belt around her waist and pulls out the blade. Her fingers wrap around it with care. I shift the knife in her hand until it is pointed downward, and her fingers are choking the handle. She watches, curiously, until I’m happy with her grip.
I circle around so I’m standing behind her. My hand moves to close around hers, but then I pause. “May I?” She nods, her head inches away from my face.
I step forward and dismiss the remaining distance between us. The heat from her back warms my chest, calming the raging storms building in my mind. My hand covers hers and I guide the dagger in a fluid motion up and across her body. She staggers, and without thinking, my free hand flies to her waist, stabilizing her body. In doing so, I pull her closer to me and our bodies press together. I release her immediately. “Sorry,” I mutter.
She turns to face me with neutral eyes. She doesn’t seem bothered by my slip up. Her fingers flex over the handle. “Let’s try again.” She turns back around.
I take my spot behind her once more, this time careful of my movements, of my hand placements on her body. I feel a strange pull toward her, a feeling that I haven’t felt even before my arrest. Maybe it’s genetics and the emotions swirling around in my head aren’t there. But for sure, I know this isn’t the time nor place to dwell on such urges.
&
nbsp; We continue to practice with the dagger until she’s comfortable with holding and using it. Unassisted, she now knows how to wound a man with a sharp stab to the throat. Her form is perfect in theory, but I hope the day never comes when she’ll need to put her dagger to use.
The moon drifts across the sky, casting long shadows against the sands. Much of the celebration has died down. A few people dot the shores as they revel in each other’s company. In a quiet corner of the beach, with the forest at our backs, I continue to train Leona. This time, in hand to hand combat.
“Keep your hands up,” I remind her. I lunge forward with muted speed and extend a fist toward her head. As expected, she dips to the side and quickly recovers into an assailing posture. “Good. Quicker now—watch your angles.”
She nods and her eyes focus on my entire body as she uses all sides of her vision to her advantage. She’s picked up the moves with ease, and for a moment, I forget she’s a noble girl.
I swing my foot out so that it swipes under her. She jumps and lands shakily onto the uneven sandy ground. Her lips turn upward into a smile that reaches her eyes, but she keeps her focus. I throw punches at her, one after the other, keeping my movements random. I take great care not to lose control and strike too fast. For months, I’ve used these motions to hurt—to kill—so to simply be sparring, it’s confusing my muscle memory.
Her face is slick with sweat. Stray hairs stick to her forehead, jeopardizing her view. She pushes the hair away with the back of her hand and drops back into a defensive stance, ready for more.
I lunge at her again. Her fist reaches out too far and makes contact with my jaw. I stumble backward. She gasps and her eyes widen.
“I’m sorry!” she says, rushing to my side. “Are you all right?”
I open and shut my mouth, easing the slight throbbing in my jaw. My hand reaches up to the spot where she punched me. The level of worry on her face encourages me to massage my jawline tenderly and twist my face into one in pain.
