by E. A. James
Maybe, before I slept with her, Aerdan thought. To his mother, he only replied: “Lucilla is the dullest girl I’ve ever met. She doesn’t care about anything but gowns and shoes.”
“What of Chelsene? She is quite beautiful,” Zornaya said. “And she is a gifted healer. Chelsene has the skill of a much older woman.”
Aerdan wrinkled his nose. “I care for her not,” he said. “She’s the younger sister of Baelan – it would feel like marrying my own sibling!”
Zornaya sighed in exasperation. “Aerdan, time is running out,” she said sharply. “I know you think that your father and I are jesting, but your betrothal is imminent. And unless you find a suitable bride among the women of Zheka, you will be wed to Muertha of Glasule.”
Aerdan groaned. “I know, I know,” he said, shaking his head in exasperation. “I know. Look – I’ll look for a bride today, okay?”
Zornaya smiled thinly. She had the look of a once-beautiful woman who was now so put-upon and troubled that she was aged beyond her years.
“Aerdan, I do not ask much from you,” she said softly. “I believe your father and I have been more than reasonable in accommodating your…rebellion, but this must end. You are a High Commander! You are heir to the throne! Whichever woman you choose will be the Queen of Zheka,” she added firmly. “And you must choose well!”
“I know,” Aerdan grumbled. “You and I have had this discussion hundreds of times, Mother.” He rolled out of bed and pulled on a leather vest. Surveying his tanned face in the mirror, he pushed his dark hair over his brow.
“Please, Aerdan, a little effort,” Zornaya said. She clucked her tongue. “I had the help clean your finest uniform, you’ll find it in the wardrobe. Please – be dressed and ready for the Showcase within the hour.” She got to her feet, standing straight and almost as tall as her son.
Aerdan nodded. He was weary of having the same talk with his mother, over and over. She doesn’t understand, he thought bitterly as Zornaya serenely glided out of his chamber. She doesn’t know what this kind of pressure is like! She was brought up to be a queen from the very beginning…and I’m just her pawn, just a grunt, something to show off.
He walked over to his wardrobe and yanked the doors open. Sure enough, his dress uniform had been laundered and freshly pressed. Gold fringe and tassels gleamed from the dark brown material. Aerdan rolled his eyes. He could practically see it now – seated in a small throne to the left of his mother and father, forced to smile and wink at the crowd of adoring young women. Then the mock-battle would occur – Aerdan would win, of course, no one would dare beat the High Commander at such a display. Afterwards, there would be a feast, with roast meat and fresh loaves of bread and every kind of fruit grown in the kingdom. Aerdan would drink and feast and be subjected to a torrent of batting eyelashes.
I can’t do this today, he decided, closing the wardrobe door. Not today. Sorry, Mother.
Aerdan changed into his leather armor and shed his shirt in favor of a rucksack stocked with dried meat, a flask of water, and a map of the kingdom. The map was Aerdan’s prized possession – his father had given it to him when he’d turned thirteen – and he never left the castle without it. Whenever he looked at it, the stylized mountains and oceans filled his heart with a hunger he’d never felt before. Sure, life in Zheka was fine – even fun, at times. But Aerdan was growing tired of the same routine. He was bored with bedding girls, bored of showing off his physical prowess at frequent displays, and even bored of the luxurious castle where the royal family and all their servants lived.
Someday, Aerdan promised himself as he threw open his window and tossed a rope ladder over the ledge. Someday, I’m going to leave this place and never come back.
“I don’t think the Queen will appreciate this.”
Aerdan looked up to see his cat, Brynx, perched on the bed. He groaned as a pang of guilt stung him.
“She’ll live,” Aerdan said grimly. “But as for me, I don’t think I could make it through the damn thing without falling asleep.”
“And just what are you proposing to do instead?”
Aerdan grinned. “I’ve got an idea,” he said. “Later, Brynx. Hold the fort down for me.”
Brynx rolled his eyes before stretching and kneading Aerdan’s pillow. He scowled. “Don’t expect me to lie for you,” he said. “Because I won’t.”
“Good,” Aerdan said. He swung a powerful leg over the ledge of his window and gripped the rope ladder hard. “Don’t, then.”
Before Brynx could reply, Aerdan nimbly scooted down the ladder. Soon, he was on the ground. He gave the castle one last, lingering look before darting off towards the stables.
Twenty minutes later, Aerdan was racing through the woods on his favorite stallion, Tlatse. Tlatse’s powerful hooves churned the ground, kicking clods of grass and mud as he ran. Aerdan whooped with joy, one hand tangled in Tlatse’s mane, the other raised high in the air. Tlatse was galloping so quickly that the woods were a blur and Aerdan hooted and cheered as the prize stallion carried him nimbly through the forest.
This is excitement, Aerdan thought, his veins pumping with adrenaline. As Tlatse approached a fallen tree, Aerdan hunched close to Tlatse’s mane, gripping extra hard as the stallion soared into the air, clearing the tree with ease. They sailed through the forest together, horse and man as one soul, one body. When Tlatse reached a perfectly round clearing, he slowed to a stop.
“That was great!” Aerdan cheered, stroking his horse on the neck. “You’re a champion, Tlatse!”
Tlatse nickered in response.
Seconds later, the clearing was filled with masculine cheering and shouting, Baelan and Huen, Aerdan’s closest friends, rode into the clearing, each perched atop a powerful stallion.
“I’ve won, again,” Aerdan said smugly. He leapt off Tlatse’s back, then loosely tied Tlatse’s reins to a tree branch. “Good boy,” Aerdan said. He reached into his leather bag and held an apple out to the stallion.
“Not exactly a fair contest,” Baelan gasped, swinging his leg over his horse’s back and landing solidly on the ground. “Tlatse is too fast!”
Aerdan grinned. “He’s just fast enough,” he said. “Isn’t my fault that you’re too slow.”
Baelan groaned. He was Aerdan’s cousin – the two had been best friends practically since birth. Like Aerdan, he was tall and muscular. But where Aerdan was dark, Baelan was fair. The girls in the kingdom always giggled whenever Aerdan and Baelan were together – as a pair, they were unstoppable at whatever they set their minds to. Like Aerdan, Baelan hungered for more in life.
Huen leapt off his horse’s back and tethered the stallion to a nearby tree. “I feel like I almost won,” he said modestly. “Maybe in time, I’ll catch up with you, Aerdan.”
Aerdan smirked. “Good luck,” he said. “You’ll need it.”
Huen rolled his eyes. He, too, was tall, muscular, and powerful. But unlike Aerdan and Baelan, he was more introverted.
In the distance, there was the sound of a horn followed by a deafening cheer.
“Sounds like it’s started,” Huen said, gesturing to the loud sound.
Aerdan tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. “Yeah,” he said.
“How did you get out of this,” Huen asked as he flopped down in the grass. “Did you find a bride?”
“No,” Aerdan said. He shrugged. “I didn’t, really.”
“You mean, your mother doesn’t know you’re here?”
Aerdan shook his head. “No, thankfully,” he said. He rolled his eyes and reached into his backpack for his flask. Greedily pouring water down his throat, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He passed the flask to Baelan and Huen. “I mean, I left without telling her.”
Baelan burst out laughing. “She is going to murder you,” he said, shaking his head. “Damn, Aerdan!”
Aerdan shrugged. Now that he could hear the sounds of the festivities, he felt better than ever about blowing them off. But he coul
dn’t ignore the slight twinge of anxiety whenever Zornaya’s face popped into his mind.
“I know,” Aerdan said. “But gods, it’s better than being a prized pig.” He wrinkled his nose.
“If you don’t get serious soon, you’ll have to marry Muertha,” Huen teased. He snickered.
Aerdan groaned. “Don’t remind me,” he said. “Mother actually said as much earlier. I don’t know why she’s so bent on me marrying by thirty!”
“Because that’s tradition,” Baelan said. He smirked. “And you’ve lost your mind if you think she’s going to give you a pass.” He handed Aerdan’s flask back. “If I were you, I’d get to work on finding a girl. Before all the good ones are taken,” he added.
Aerdan shuddered. “I’ve slept with most of the girls in the kingdom,” he said. “And they’re all not interesting enough.”
“Sofala is nice,” Huen said dreamily. “Those blue eyes. That backside, too,” he added.
“She’s far too boring,” Aerdan said, narrowing his eyes. “I bedded her once. She refused to meet me in the stables – said something about how the hay would ruin her hair.”
Huen snorted. “Well, she’s a damn sight better than Muertha,” he said. “If you’re going to marry, you may as well marry someone pretty.”
Aerdan shrugged. “Where are all the girls with a sense of adventure,” he said, leaning against a tree and shaking his head. “Where are the girls who want to travel, who want to explore?”
Baelan shook his head. “Friend, no one in Zheka wants to explore, save for you and I,” he said. “Everyone is content here.”
“As we should be,” Huen said stubbornly. “We want for nothing. We are a peaceful kingdom. The great wars are long over.”
“But don’t you ever wonder about what it would be like if we left?” Aerdan asked. He pulled the weathered map from his bag and unfolded it, passing it to his friend. “Look, there are mountains! There are mermaids and fantastic creatures in the sea! There’s so much to see, do and experience,” he added. “I can’t stand the thought of being tethered here for the rest of my life.”
Huen and Baelan exchanged a look.
“You’re the future king,” Baelan said slowly. “Aerdan, you can’t just abandon that. You’re the High Commander, and someday you’ll be the Commander-in-Chief.”
“With a wife, and a family,” Aerdan said in a tired voice. “And a million responsibilities, and no time to travel. Don’t you agree that it would be best if we could explore for a few years, then return and marry?”
“Maybe,” Baelan said dryly. “But that is not our way.”
“And unless you snag a bride, you’ll be stuck with Muertha,” Huen added. “Don’t you think it would be better to find a more suitable person?”
Aerdan shrugged. “I don’t really care,” he said. “I can bed women when I want them, why would I want to sleep next to the same woman every night, for the rest of my life?”
“You’re hopeless,” Huen said. He rolled his eyes.
Aerdan frowned. “I’m tired of this conversation,” he said. He walked over to the tree and untied Tlatse, mounting his back with ease. “Let’s race,” Aerdan added. “To the market!” He let out a whoop and galloped away, leaving Huen and Baelan in a cloud of dust.
Hours later, a dusty and tired Aerdan hauled himself up the rope ladder and into his chamber. A lamp was lit by his bed, and he was dismayed to see Zornaya seated at his desk, looking deeply unhappy.
“You have disobeyed me once again,” Zornaya thundered.
“I’m not a child!” Aerdan yelled. “I’m nine-and-twenty years old!”
Zornaya’s face contorted into a mask of rage. “Then start acting like it,” she said angrily. “Aerdan, this behavior is unacceptable! You are no longer a child, and I am sick and tired of treating you like one!”
Aerdan ignored her. He tossed his possessions into the corner, then settled down on his bed.
“Aerdan, I’m not finished speaking with you,” Zornaya said.
Aerdan shrugged. “Fine,” he said. “Marry me off to Muertha, I don’t care.”
Zornaya sighed heavily. “Son, please,” she said. “I know you have no affection for her, and to be honest, I was rather hoping you would choose a girl from Zheka. It would be the best for our lineage,” she added. “Don’t you care, Aerdan? Don’t you care about your royal duties?”
Aerdan didn’t reply. “Mother…I do not wish to stay,” he said. “I wish to travel, to explore! Can’t I go off, just for a year or two? Can’t I see the world, can’t I learn about anything other than Zheka?”
Zornaya closed her eyes. “I have told you many times, that is not possible, our family has a duty to the kingdom,” she said heavily. “You are the sole heir to the throne. Your father and I are growing old, Aerdan. You must marry and produce an heir – within the year,” she added.
“What if I refuse?”
Zornaya shook her head sadly. She got to her feet, looking weary and much older than her years.
“I refuse to argue with you, son,” Zornaya said. “You must come to your senses.”
Aerdan didn’t reply.
“And do not think this discussion is finished,” Zornaya said. “Aerdan, do not disappoint me further.”
She walked to the door, closing it gently behind her. Aerdan closed his eyes and curled up on the silk sheets. The musky smell of horses and sweat and the forest still clung to his skin and he knew he should bathe, but he no longer cared.
“I was right.”
Aerdan opened his eyes just in time to see Brynx leap onto the bed and begin grooming his paws.
“Of course you were,” Aerdan said sourly.
“I hope you’re pleased with yourself,” Brynx replied. “She’s the angriest I’ve ever seen her.”
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about that,” Aerdan snapped.
“You could marry,” Brynx said.
“How am I supposed to marry any of these girls?” Aerdan groaned in frustration, gesturing out the window towards the glittering kingdom before. “They don’t know me! They just like me because I’m a warrior, because of the way I look. They’re selfish twits,” he added. “And I won’t have them.”
“You already have,” Brynx said dryly.
“I’m not going to dignify that with a reply,” Aerdan said. “Brynx, come on. You know I wouldn’t be happy with any of these girls.”
“I doubt you would be happy with Muertha of Glasule, either,” Brynx said.
“Enough,” Aerdan growled. “You know what I mean.”
Brynx snickered. He curled into a ball against Aerdan’s thighs. Aerdan reached down and stroked the cat until Brynx began to purr.
“I don’t understand what the rush is,” Aerdan said sleepily. He yawned, rubbing his eyes with hands curled into fists. “It’s not like I’m going to die tomorrow. Why the need for an heir?”
“Because you are the only one in line for the throne,” Brynx said.
Aerdan groaned. “I’d kill to meet a girl with a sense of adventure,” he said. “Someone different – someone from another land, someone who cares for something other than gowns and balls.”
“Good luck with that,” Brynx said dryly. “I doubt you’ll ever find such a girl in our land.”
Aerdan closed his eyes and blew out the candle by his bedside. “I’ll never stop trying,” he said sleepily. “I swear, one day, I’ll find her.”
CHAPTER THREE
Angelica
“This isn’t funny,” Angelica said crossly. “I want to go home. Right now.”
Aerdan shrugged. He pulled the leather straps from his chest, revealing a small pack. Reaching inside, he lifted a leather flask to his lips and drank. He held it out to Angelica.
She stared suspiciously. “What is that,” Angelica asked slowly. “Some kind of wine?”
Aerdan laughed and Angelica felt a flash of annoyance. Who is this idiot, she thought, unable to tear her eyes away from his glist
ening, bulging torso. Trying to get me drunk in the middle of the day! That’s not even fair!
“It’s water, lady,” Aerdan said.
Angelica hesitated before accepting. “What if I drink this and I wake up somewhere else,” she grumbled. “How do I even know I can trust you?”
Aerdan gave her a boyish grin and shrugged. “I guess I can’t prove that,” he said. “But you’ll just have to. I mean, not like you know anyone in Zheka.”
