by Jade
She glared at him. "So you're saying I should fight them, for however long it takes, while you steal my throne? I do not think so."
"I cannot steal what is freely given," he said. "And no matter what you do, I shall be king. You won't change their minds before my coronation, and afterwards...they will have their king. What will they want with a girl who claims to be a princess from a prior dynasty? They won't want to give you a crown, or a throne. No, they'll fight to wed you and bed you. Them, and their sons. For it is your blood they'll want, and the heirs they can beget on you. For if I fail, or die without an heir, they will have plenty of children with the right blood to plant in my place. They will never give their throne to a woman they consider little better than a brood mare."
"I am no one's bed toy. I was born to rule," Rosamond hissed.
Siward folded his arms across his chest. "There is a way. A way that will see you crowned queen before Midsummer."
"Tell me, and I shall do it."
Siward looked like he was holding back laughter. "Marry me."
THIRTY
Rosamond looked like she wanted to leap over the fire and plant her fist in his face, Siward decided. But her court manners were too ingrained for her to do anything so uncouth.
"So that I can be your bed toy instead?" she demanded.
In his dreams. "If you wish, or I could be yours." Hastily, he continued, "At least consider it. Not a single man on the Council would question your right to be queen if you are my wife. Save your strength for what is truly important, instead of arguing with stubborn old men. If you care about your people and freeing the kingdom from the Wall so we can rejoin the outside world again, help me. Stand at my side so we can both lead our people into the future."
She looked thoughtful. "Why?"
Because he'd never met a woman he desired more, for both her body and her mind. From the moment he first saw her, he'd wanted her in his throne room. Now, he needed her. "Because you alone can save my kingdom, which makes you the perfect queen."
She slumped. "So you propose a marriage of convenience, then?"
If that was how she felt, then he would accept that she could never love him as she'd loved his grandfather. Siward wished he didn't feel so jealous of a dead man. "That is usually what happens when people pair for politics. Of course, the marriage must be real for appearances' sake."
Rosamond frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The Council will still expect us to produce an heir. They'd be happier with half a dozen, but one would be enough to start with."
If anything, her frown deepened.
He hastened to add, "I promise that every time you share my bed, I will endeavour to ensure you enjoy it just as much as you did our first night together." Siward swallowed. "Even if I have to fill the bed with flowers."
To his surprise, Rosamond laughed. "You would do that for me?"
Siward wasn't sure how to answer. Would she think him weak if he told the truth? Time to find out, he supposed, when no one but she would hear him.
"On that first night, when I first saw you, I thought I had died and heaven had given me a goddess for my own, like the heroes of old. I forgot everything of my life, my responsibilities, for my heart and my mind were full of nothing but you and how best to please you." Siward swallowed, then continued, "You have not left my thoughts for a moment since. Every day and every night, I think only of you. I would give you my whole kingdom in exchange for one more night of bliss with you."
She stared at him for a long time. He hoped she was considering his offer, instead of searching for the most diplomatic way to refuse him.
Then, almost as if she was unaware of what her hands were doing, Rosamond unlaced her gown and let it slide to the ground. Her shift soon followed, so that she stood naked in the firelight. "We have an accord," she said softly, her green eyes burning with desire.
Siward had to force himself to look away. "Good. On our wedding night, when we consummate our marriage, I shall claim my price."
"You drive a hard bargain, Lord Siward. But I accept."
Hard? She had no idea.
Finally, he heard the rustle of cloth as she covered herself, and Siward breathed again. He wasn't sure how he'd manage to wait the weeks until they were wed before he touched her again. But if she only allowed him one night...it would be worth the wait, he promised himself.
In the meantime, at least he had his dreams.
THIRTY-ONE
On their return, Rosamond was caught up in such a whirlwind of activity she barely had time to think, let alone speak to Siward. She needed new gowns for her wedding and her coronation, plus more to wear to court afterwards, and at least a dozen new shifts and veils. Particularly as her newly rounded belly had started to show if her bodice was laced too tight.
What made matters worse was the first two gowns the dressmaker produced were made of scratchy, suffocating wool. And what in blazes had possessed her to make them blue?
"I asked for pink or green silk, not blue wool," Rosamond snapped at the woman. "I can't wear this in court, let alone at a coronation."
The woman dropped a deep curtsey. "I am sorry, mistress, but there is no silk to be had anywhere in the kingdom. Even if we did have some, we have no dye to make it the colours you desire. I have linen and wool, mistress, which I can make white and blue. Unless you can bring down the Wall so that traders can come in, this is all I can do."
All the more reason to get the formalities over with so she could fulfil her promise and poke a hole in the hedge. Unwilling to torment the poor dressmaker any further, Rosamond sent her to work on her new shifts instead. White linen, the woman assured her, would not be a problem.
When her coronation day arrived, Agnna laced her carefully into the same silk dress Rosamond had worn to Margareta's coronation, so many years ago. Mere months for Rosamond, of course, as she had slept through the intervening years, but so much had happened since that day. Rosamond prayed she could emulate Margareta's queenly demeanour today through all the layers of clothing and ceremony.
Once she made it through the day, she'd have the whole night to spend naked with Siward, Rosamond promised herself. True to his word, he had not touched her since she accepted his marriage proposal, and the longer she waited, the stronger her desire for him grew. Not that she would tell him so, of course. The man who usurped her throne could not be allowed to hold any power over her.
Like Margareta, she wore her hair uncovered, crowned in the same roses, though they were tinted a pale pink to match her dress. This time, it had taken barely a thought to make the flowers change colour, and not a whisper of dizziness. While she'd dreamed away fifty years, Rosamond's power had grown immeasurably. Though the Wall was miles away, all she had to do was touch another plant, and she could speak to them all, every tree and bush in the kingdom. The Wall itself felt like an army of soldiers, standing in formation, awaiting her orders. Tomorrow, she promised them.
Tomorrow, she would be queen.
Her palfrey stood ready outside, though Siward had left early to deal with important business in the palace, or so Agnna had said, so Rosamond rode alone to the city square, the open space between the castle and the cathedral. Today, it was far from empty. A huge bonfire stood in the centre, waiting to be lit, with a life-sized wicker figure tied to a pole at the top. Smaller bonfires dotted the square, and people milled around, chatting and buying food from the vendors who had set up their barrows on the edge of the space. Rosamond's stomach churned at the thought of food – she had no appetite today. Something felt wrong, but she could not identify what. Hooded and covered by her cloak, Rosamond urged her skittish mount through the crowd until she reached the refuge offered by the castle bailey.
There she found Siward, dressed in blue wool that still managed to look regal on him. When traders came to town, she would insist on buying him silks and velvets, as befit a king. For a moment, she forgot he was a usurper, and indulged her fantasies. He should have tunics tailored to show
off his physique, widening at his broad shoulders as they narrowed to his taut belly. Cloaks of fur and velvet which would keep him warm even if he rode through the kingdom in the dead of winter. She would have new gowns that fitted her new curves perfectly, so that his eyes were drawn to her every moment she was in the room, banishing all other thoughts from his head. She would rule, not him, as it should be.
Rosamond dismounted and was assailed by a small feminine army, intent on brushing the travel dust from her clothes and making her look as perfect as a princess should on her wedding day. She knew none of them, but she thanked them graciously and swore to learn their names before the week was out.
They scuttled out of the way and Rosamond glanced up to see what had startled them.
Siward stood before her, looking more nervous than she felt. "It is time," he said, extending his arm.
Ah, yes. In the absence of her father, Rosamond was a ward of the crown, which meant the only man qualified to hand her over to her husband was the king-to-be. Some bright spark in charge of protocol had decided that meant she would enter the cathedral with Siward. They would kneel together and say their wedding vows, before they were crowned king and queen. Then they would walk arm in arm through the crowd to the castle, where they would change into rich clothes as befit the new royals, and a feast would be held in the great hall for all the noblemen and women of the kingdom.
Later that night, after the feast, Siward would carry her to the king's bedchamber and make the whole dull day worth it.
To Rosamond's surprise, it all proceeded as planned. Yes, she had stumbled over a broken tile in the cathedral on the way to the altar, and when Siward knelt on her skirt, he'd nearly torn the fragile fabric, but all his grandmother's threats came to naught when they spoke the vows that made them husband and wife. The priest raised his voice to proclaim their union to the assembled crowd, and a smattering of applause swept through the cathedral. Rosamond glanced over her shoulder. It looked like half the kingdom had tried to squeeze inside the vaulted building, and it sounded like the other half were waiting outside to congratulate the new king and queen.
Which brought them to the ceremony she'd anticipated most.
The priest who'd performed the wedding disappeared, to be replaced by a bishop who adored the sound of his own voice, or so it seemed to Rosamond. He sang, said prayers, and lectured them at length in a language Rosamond vaguely remembered from her childhood, but barely understood now.
Finally, an acolyte stepped forward with an ornate chest that Rosamond recognised, for it held the king's and queen's crowns. The bishop took the king's crown and loudly presented it to the four corners of the earth. Then, he lifted it high above Siward's head and called on the uncrowned king to make his vows of sovereignty.
Siward's voice rolled from his lips like velvet, caressing her ears and her heart as he promised to rule, protect, uphold and all the other things a good king did, casting a spell of his own over the crowd without any magic at all. Even Rosamond believed him. Siward would do all that he had promised, not because this was his kingdom, but because he was their king. The highest in the land, and yet their lowliest servant. She blinked back tears. He truly deserved the throne.
The bishop fussed around him, anointing him with oil and wrapping a fur cloak around his shoulders before droning through another prayer. After this interminable monologue finished, Siward was permitted to rise and take his place at a specially prepared throne on the dais. Then, it would be Rosamond's turn to receive the bishop's attentions.
The bishop reached into the ornate chest a second time.
"We're under attack!" a frenzied male voice shouted, before running feet pounded on the cathedral tiles. "The Wall has doubled in size, and now it is marching inward. It means to wipe us out!"
A man in torn clothing fell to his knees beside Rosamond. He smelled like he had not bathed in weeks. "The Wall, the Wall!" With a wink at Rosamond, the man collapsed in what appeared to be a dead faint.
Even amid the man's appalling stench, she smelled a rat, but in the panic that erupted, he was borne away from her before she could lay a healing hand on him.
She heard Siward and others shouting commands, but she ignored them all and made her way outside to the square. She scanned the space for something green, and found a rose vine that had climbed its way up the castle's outer wall. She grasped it and sent her thoughts winging across the kingdom to the Wall.
Which still waited, obedient to her command. Unmoving. Unchanged. The same size as the day she first touched it. And definitely not attacking anyone.
Whoever the smelly man was, he was a liar, sent to disrupt the coronation. She had to find Siward, to tell him the truth, so they could complete the ceremony. Now, more than ever, she needed to be queen.
THIRTY-TWO
When people exploded into panic all over the cathedral, Siward prayed for calm. He shrugged off the royal robe and set his crown on the throne he had occupied for barely a moment. What were they but empty symbols, anyway? More important was his promise to protect his people from all their enemies. Even that cursed plant.
Striding through the milling crowd, he shouted for a groom to saddle his horse, and pack provisions for a journey to the border.
Lord Vamos caught his arm. "The Council will keep the peace until your return."
Siward thanked him, relieved. The Council might not be good at making decisions or agreeing to change, but they excelled at keeping the populace calm. Within moments, Lord Vamos had found the other Council members and led them purposefully toward the castle, like a mother duck with her brood.
His grandmother appeared from nowhere, clinging to him like a babe to its mother. "You will protect us, won't you? You'll turn the Wall back?"
Siward gently pried her off him. "Yes, Grandmother. I will ride immediately and do whatever I must to keep the kingdom safe." He glimpsed Rosamond on the other side of the square, looking lost beside a vine-covered wall. "While I am gone, take care of my wife. See her safely into the castle to await my return."
Lady Schutz followed his gaze, and she nodded. "I will see to her."
"Thank you." He thought for a moment. "What happened to Fodor? I would like to hear more of what he saw of the Wall."
Lady Schutz hung her head. "The poor boy rode day and night to get here to warn us, and it nearly killed him. He is resting, but I'm told it will be some time before he wakes. Time you can ill afford, if the Wall is advancing."
Siward nodded. She was right. Pausing only to ascertain that his saddlebags were full, Siward swung up into the saddle and set off at a gallop for the city gates.
THIRTY-THREE
Rosamond scanned the crowd, looking for Siward, but by the time she spotted him, he was already mounted and riding away. She screamed for him to come back, but he never heard her. He just kept on going. She slumped against the wall, defeated. Curling her fingers around the vine at her side, she whispered, "Bring him back to me safe, and keep him from harm."
Across the kingdom, a million leaves rustled in their promise to obey her command.
"There she is! The king's whore." Two men seized her arms, and when she struggled, a third grabbed her around the knees, too, lifting her off the ground and out of reach of the obedient vine. Between them, they dragged her to the foot of the cathedral steps.
"Is this the one, Lord Fodor?" the man on her left asked. He was the one who had called her a whore.
"That's the one," the smelly man said. "She's a whore and a witch, as the whole town of Hatar can attest. They saw her communing with the Wall. She danced naked before it, took her pleasure from its branches, before sacrificing the king's own hunting hawk to the devil and painting her wanton body with its blood. Then, still bathed in blood, she seduced the king by his own campfire, and bespelled him, so he would take her as his queen. She is a witch – the evil witch who cursed us with the Wall in the first place!"
Rosamond's mouth hung open in shock. Where had Fodor come up with these
lies? It was almost as though he had followed her and Siward to the Wall, and sprinkled the story with the products of his own sordid imagination.
"She's been building an army in the Lord Protector's gardens, too! Tiny berry bushes, grown so huge they could consume a man, they would!" Draga piped up. "She's a witch, all right. Enchanted our poor king, she has!"
Siward's grandmother appeared at the top of the steps. "My poor grandson will not hear of her being tried for her crimes, for she has bewitched him. But now that he is gone, we shall see justice served. You all accuse her of witchcraft, casting evil spells against the kingdom and the king himself. That is treason. Is there anyone who can speak in her defence?" The hateful old woman scanned the crowd. "What, she has no champion? Or is it that there is no one who knows her, for she has travelled from outside the kingdom by magical means, to conquer us from within like the traitor she is!"
Loud cheering greeted this statement. Not just from the men Rosamond could see who restrained her, but from the hundreds, perhaps thousands of people standing behind her.
The old woman had incited a mob, and Rosamond knew there was no place for reason or sense in a mob. Fear's fingers closed around her heart.
Only Siward could stop this.
BRING HIM BACK! she screamed in her head, praying that the plants heard her, though she touched none.
"What say you to the charges, witch?" the crone demanded.
"I am your queen, and you will put me down. When the king hears of this, he will show no mercy." The last part was pure bluff, and Rosamond suspected the crone knew it. The men on either side of her loosened their grip, though, and the third let go of her legs entirely. This gave Rosamond the freedom to stand tall as she finished with, "If you cease telling your lies to my people, I shall see to it that you will not want for food or drink while you are in the dungeons. Perhaps I shall speak to the king, and you will not be executed."
