by Kel Kade
Coledon glanced at Rezkin and then to his matrianera. “You have heard the reports of the tournament, and I saw him practicing this morning. I cannot win, Telía.”
Telía scowled at him with cruel eyes. “The reports are exaggerated, and your humility is unnecessary, Coledon. You can and will win. I will be queen, and we will put an end to this madness.”
“No, Telía, be reasonable—”
“I am your matrianera, Coledon. You do as I say. I have named you my champion. You fight or die.”
Coledon unbuckled his belt and let it drop to the floor as he yanked angrily at his coat and shirt. Once his chest was bared of any hindrances, he bent to retrieve his sword from its sheath. He rounded on Telía. “Since this is the last time we speak, Sister, I am taking the opportunity to say that you are a heartless wretch, unworthy of your position, and it would have been a blessing to have been born to any other house.”
The man turned to face Rezkin and waited expectantly.
Rezkin said, “You are prepared to fight a battle you know you cannot win?”
“She will never let me go,” Coledon said, his pain and frustration obvious for all to see. “If I am to die, I would die fighting.”
“Killing you serves no purpose,” Rezkin said. “I have not seen you fight, but I have been told that you are an accomplished champion. I offer you an alternative.”
Coledon glanced at an equally confused Erisial and back to Rezkin. “Your matria has set the terms of the challenge. It is not your right to change them.” He raised his sword in preparation for the duel.
Rezkin said, “I do not offer as a Leréshi. I am the King of Cael. In exchange for your oath of fealty, I offer you sanctuary as a citizen of Cael.”
“You cannot,” shouted Telía. “He belongs to me!”
“You are welcome to present another champion in the matter of the claim, Matrianera Telía, but this,” he said, motioning toward Coledon, “is no longer a personal challenge between claimants. I am the ruler of another kingdom offering sanctuary to a potential defector. Any challenge must be issued by the queen, and she must present a champion or prepare for war.”
Erisial stared at him blankly as everyone turned to see what she would do. She descended the steps and stopped in front of him. Now that she stood on his level, he towered over her. She reached up to stroke his face as he looked back at her dispassionately.
She smiled and said, “He is magnificent, is he not? He stands before the queen, in the midst of the Leréshi court, and offers sanctuary to a defector, and everyone is too afraid to move against him. I have already stated my intent to claim him as husband, and we have negotiated the terms of our marriage. He has control of the military. If we go to war over this, we go to war against ourselves.”
Telía said, “The claim is not yet binding!”
“The marriage contract has been signed,” Erisial said, motioning to Celise who hurried forward with an apologetic glance for Frisha and Yserria.
“But … but there has been no ceremony,” Telía said, “and it has not been consummated before witnesses.”
Erisial waved away the concern. “Minor technicalities that will be remedied before the morrow. As for this matter”—she ran a hand over Coledon’s bared chest as she passed him on her way back to the dais—“your king has given his guardsman permission to apply for citizenship in another kingdom. I do not intend to stand in his way.” She stood upon the dais and gazed around the room at the stunned faces. “Besides, we had best put this matter to rest before he makes the same offer to other disgruntled champions.”
Some of the women appeared worried as they shook their heads in agreement, and many of the men looked around as if to discourage anyone from getting ideas of defecting. Meanwhile, Coledon dropped to his knees, placed his sword on the ground and crossed his arms before him. He pressed his forehead to his wrists and muttered a string of words in Leréshi. Two of the few words Wesson understood were Rezkin and Cael, so he assumed it to be an oath of fealty.
When the man rose, Rezkin said, “You may join my royal guard.”
“It is my honor, Your Majesty,” Coledon said. He retrieved his shirt but left his Leréshi guardsman’s coat lying on the ground. He then moved to stand behind Rezkin’s entourage.
Rezkin glanced about and said, “Does anyone else wish to declare a challenge?”
Telía seethed at the queen. “You are weak, Erisial, and you know it. You hide behind this man just as you have hidden behind Serunius for so long.”
Erisial laughed. “This is why you will never be queen, Telía. I have gained the advantage of the most exquisite weapon on the Souelian, one that none in this court is brave enough to face.”
“You think you have conquered him?” Telía spat. “He is a rabid animal. You will see. He will betray you and destroy this kingdom. He has already wreaked havoc in Ashai and Channería, and he is not yet done with Gendishen.” She looked around at the crowd that was stunned into silence by her outburst. “You will all regret not killing him where he stands!”
Erisial turned from the crazed woman, smiled to the crowd, and said, “Shall we get on with the ceremony?”
A servant hurried forward with a tray covered in black velvet, upon which lay two silver ribbons. Serunius stopped the servant in his tracks and took the tray. The queen’s consort carried the tray to where Erisial and Rezkin stood upon the dais. Rezkin removed the black ribbon that held his hair in a queue, allowing it to fall loose. Erisial smiled tightly at her consort as she took a silver ribbon from the tray and muttered foreign words as she wound it into a smaller braid that hung from Rezkin’s temple. The silver gleamed brightly in his raven black hair, and her hands began to shake as she tied off the end. Rezkin followed suit, twisting a silver ribbon into the queen’s golden locks as he spoke the same words, but Erisial looked away as if she could no longer meet his icy stare.
Both of them turned to view the audience, and Minder Finwy and an older priest stepped up to the dais. Rezkin did not glance at the priests as his predatory gaze roved the crowd and caught on something at the rear of the hall beyond Wesson’s view. Whatever he was seeing held his attention for a minute before he moved on to scan the rest of the far room. His gaze finally fell on the priests as they were finishing their benedictions in both Ashaiian and Leréshi, and Wesson wondered if Rezkin had heard any of it. When the priests stopped speaking, the crowd applauded, although the enthusiasm seemed to be lacking. As far as Wesson could tell, no one in the room was happy about the union, including the newlyweds.
Wesson felt the slight tingle of power and then beside him, Frisha yelped. From her other side, Nanessy whispered, “Just something to dry your tears before they fall.”
Frisha nodded but appeared incapable of speech at that moment. Wesson was just as surprised as the rest of them. He had been expecting Rezkin to come up with some wild announcement or crazy plan to get out of the marriage. The noise of the crowd had risen steadily as people gossiped about the proceedings.
“Maybe he’ll kill her,” Frisha whispered. Her companions all looked at her aghast. “What?” she said with a shrug. “He does that—kills people, I mean. Maybe he’ll kill her before they … you know … consummate it. Then he can take the throne and whatever he wants.” They continued to stare at her in surprise, and she said, “I’m not saying he should.”
Without even looking their way, Rezkin turned to leave with the queen. A small voice called out from somewhere near the dais.
“Queen Erisial!”
At first, the queen did not seem to hear, but the crown quieted as the voice called again. “Queen Erisial. I-I would like to make a claim!”
Erisial paused and turned back to see Celise standing at the foot of the dais. Everyone moved back to give her space, and she looked around anxiously.
“You wish to make a claim?” Erisial said. “Finally?”
“Yes, I do,” Celise replied. “I want to claim a consort.” Her Ashaiian sounded much better t
o Wesson’s ears, as if she had practiced.
Erisial glanced at Coledon and then back to Celise. “Very well, Celise. Make your claim.”
Celise looked at the crowd again and then turned back to her mother. “I claim Journeyman Wesson as my consort.”
Wesson watched the queen’s expression darken and then noticed that everyone was looking at him. Finally, Celise’s words caught up with him. He felt a heavy thud as his heart began to race. He blinked a few times and then said, “What?”
A firm hand nudged him from behind, and Coledon whispered in his ear, “Best go up there, boy. You are not getting out of this one.”
Wesson shuffled past his friends to stand beside Celise, just then noticing that they were about the same height. She did not look at him. In fact, he was not sure she had ever looked at him.
“I do not understand,” he said.
For the first time, the young woman glanced his way. She gave him an apologetic smile and then returned her attention to her mother. Erisial appeared as if her head would burst into flame. Wesson briefly considered making that happen, and then he pushed that little destructive voice to the back of his mind.
Erisial said, “You finally claim a consort, and you choose this puny boy who has not even achieved mage status?”
Wesson shook his head vigorously. He did not want to be claimed. He had other plans.
Celise glanced at him and then said, “Yes. He is”—she paused to search for a word—“kind. The Ashaiian women”—she nodded toward Wesson’s companions—“they like him. He is … um … respected. And, he is cute—like a puppy.”
Erisial’s gaze shot daggers at her daughter. “A puppy? I would buy you a litter of puppies. I would fill this room with puppies! But you do not claim a puppy for your consort!”
“He wishes to be a life mage. This is good person—not dangerous,” Celise said.
Erisial stormed down the steps to the foot of the dais. She frowned as she noted with her judgmental gaze that Wesson was a hair shorter. She said, “Celise, you need someone dangerous for your consort. You need a champion who can protect you and your interests. There is an entire yard of palace guards who would fight to be your consort. Do not choose this boy who cannot even finish his spells.”
Celise dropped her gaze to the floor, and Wesson felt a breath of relief that her mother had gotten through to her—even if it was at his expense.
“I choose Wesson,” she muttered without looking at her mother.
Erisial fumed at her daughter and then turned her heated gaze on him. “Do you accept her claim?” she snapped.
“No!” Wesson said. “No, I do not want to be claimed. I already have someone.”
“You are married?” Erisial said, apparently relieved.
Celise looked up at him in alarm.
“Well, no, but I want to marry her.”
“Then you are betrothed?” Erisial said, and he wondered if she would accept it in lieu of marriage. Unfortunately, they would know if he was lying.
“Um, no.”
Erisial sighed. “But you will be?”
“Probably not,” he said with defeat. “She is most likely already married by now.”
Erisial closed her eyes and then turned to glare at Rezkin, as if blaming him. Rezkin, however, was smiling for the first time since he had caused the disquiet the previous night. It was not the smirk he sometimes wore, but a broad grin, and laughter danced in his blue gaze.
Panic took over, and Wesson blurted, “You think this is funny?”
Rezkin laughed. He actually laughed, and Wesson nearly blasted him with a fireball.
“I am sorry, Journeyman, but, yes, this is funny. The woman wants a puppy, so she chooses you.”
Wesson noticed that others were beginning to look at him suspiciously, and he wondered why Rezkin would make such a spectacle. Rezkin never did anything without a purpose.
Erisial was staring at Rezkin as if seeing him for the first time. She shook herself from the trance and gazed around the room. “Someone may choose to challenge the claim.” Coming from her lips, it almost sounded like an order.
Wesson began to worry as people whispered and nudged each other.
Erisial looked down at him and said, “It is obvious he cannot win a challenge. It would be an easy win.”
“No!” said Celise. “No one wants him like I do.” She looked at the crowd in a panic. “Please do not take him from me.”
Coledon stepped forward. He pointed at Wesson and said, “I will stand as champion against any challengers for Celise’s claim on this man.”
Those who looked as if they might challenge the claim stood back, and the whispers died. Celise beamed up at Coledon and then took Wesson’s hand with girlish glee. Wesson stared at her in amazement.
Erisial tromped up the steps and hissed at Rezkin, “Come, husband, we must consummate our marriage. We will discuss this later.”
Rezkin grinned at Wesson and then turned to follow Erisial without as much as a glance for Frisha. Wesson wanted to feel bad for her, but he had problems of his own. It seemed like Rezkin had thrown him to the wolves just to get under Erisial’s skin. Well, not wolves. Just one wolf. Or maybe she was more like a fox. He looked into the large brown eyes that glowed with happiness. Definitely a fox. He wondered if Mage Threll might use her spell to prevent his tears.
Erisial stormed through the corridors, not even pretending to be a happily married woman. Rezkin figured her open display of disgust could be blamed on Celise’s decision and not on the fact that she wanted nothing to do with him. He briefly wondered if he could make her angry enough to reject the consummation altogether. He chided himself for the wistful thought. He had decided the farce of a marriage was a small price for an army, and Bilior had been most adamant about reminding him of their deal. Armies were not easily gotten; and, according to the fae, demons were on the rise.
“You laughed,” Erisial shouted as she stomped through her suite.
Serunius closed the doors and leaned back against them. The man’s mood appeared to be somewhere between stormy and somber, but Erisial was all tempest.
“How could you laugh at that!” she said. “My daughter chose the weakest, puniest, prettiest little boy in the kingdom.”
“He is not a little boy,” Rezkin said blandly as he took a seat on the settee. “He is eighteen, same as Celise.” He smirked and met her gaze. “He is less than a year younger than I, your husband.”
Erisial’s face heated as she looked to Serunius for support. None was forthcoming. She looked back at him. “You are more than a man. I do not know what you are, but none would mistake you for a boy. Everyone in this kingdom quakes at your feet. No one would think twice about running over the journeyman. Celise has enemies. My enemies.”
“And a mother who would have her killed,” Rezkin said.
“I was not trying to have her killed. She was collateral damage, and I do not believe he would have gone that far.”
Rezkin hummed as he reclined on the plush seat. “I would think you a terror if I had not been trained by worse. The difference, however, is that I was taught to defend myself from my enemies, whereas Celise was left to survive on her own. She likely has more strength than you realize, and intuition as well. I have not sensed her use of talent. I wonder if she is a truthseeker.”
“What makes you say that?” Erisial said.
“Sit down and relax, wife. Your daughter chose the most dangerous man in that room, perhaps in this kingdom—besides me, of course. Although, she may withdraw her claim once she learns of it.”
Erisial abruptly sat on the sofa across from him and said, “What are you talking about? He is only a journeyman, a failed life mage.”
Rezkin shook his head. “Do you really think I would come with so little strength behind me? It is true that Journeyman Wesson failed as a life mage. That is because he is a battle mage—one with a natural affinity for destructive magic, and he is three times more powerful than Serunius, per
haps more.”
“You lie,” Serunius said as he strode across the room to hover behind Erisial.
Rezkin looked to the queen and said, “Do I?”
She did not answer but reached up to clutch her consort’s hand as she stared at him in disbelief.
He said, “It was Wesson who stood before King Privoth with me and fended off a dozen purifiers without so much as casting a spell. If you anger him, he could probably level this whole palace.”
Rezkin did not actually know how much damage Wesson could do, so he was not lying. It could very well be that the journeyman was capable of such a thing, although it was unlikely.
Erisial suddenly laughed, and then she laughed some more. “I called him a puny puppy.”
Rezkin donned a sober expression and nodded knowingly. “Yes, you are lucky he has an unflappable resolve. Someone less equable might have set your head on fire.”
“How did you come across such a powerful mage,” Serunius said with skepticism, “and how did you convince him to serve you?”
“I offered to kill his donkey,” Rezkin said. At their blank expressions, he said, “That is another story. Let us be done with this. I do not wish to spend any more time in Lon Lerésh than is necessary.”
Erisial smoothed the ribbon-like strips of her dress and said, “As much as I would like to make this quick, our laws do not make claiming a husband easy. We must remain intimate the entire night. You are not permitted to leave these quarters until dawn. The evening meal will be served here. It is against my wishes, but Serunius has insisted on serving as witness. Vielda will be the second. I do not care for her much, but she is a councilor and a truthseeker, so she can certify that we have met the requirements.”
“Requirements?” Rezkin said. He had never heard that there were any requirements beyond consummation.
“Yes, it is not necessary when claiming a consort; but, for a marriage, both participants must achieve maximum pleasure. Without it, the bond cannot form, and the marriage will not be recognized.”
“Bond? You said nothing of a bond.”
She waved her hand in the air as if it was nothing and said, “I have always thought it a metaphorical bond. I have not met many who took a husband. Serunius is concerned that a bond forms, in truth, between mages who are married. He thinks the ceremony in which we participated was a kind of spell and that the consummation and subsequent climax activates it. You are not a mage, though, so perhaps it is not important.”
