by Kim Stokely
“Lord and Lady Northland and their son, Victor.”
A couple entered, followed by a boy who could have been no more than eleven-years-old. I craned my neck to see if anyone else followed them, but Simon closed the door once they’d sat at the table. The boy looked solemn. His small lips pursed together, his back ramrod straight. Lord Northland proceeded to tell me about the wealth of his family’s estate and how much money he could give the throne if we went to war with the Mystics.
Victor’s gaze strayed around the room. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming. Geran asked a few questions about Northland’s ability to supply troops for my army then turned to me.
“Do you have any questions, Alystrine?”
I folded my hands on the table and leaned forward so Victor and I were nearly eye-to-eye. “How old are you?”
My father hissed under his breath and Lord Northland stiffened. Victor shot a questioning look over to his parents. His mother nodded.
His voice came out strong but high. Like someone had recorded a man’s voice but replayed it at fast speed. “Your Majesty, I have seen my tenth birthday just a fortnight ago.”
I gave him a big smile. “That’s great.” I sat back in my chair. Geran asked a few more questions but I ignored the answers. They left the room a few minutes later.
“A child?” I couldn’t even look at any of them. I was trying to give my father the benefit of the doubt, but I couldn’t see how this kid could have proven himself compassionate and brave at only ten. “You want me to marry a child?”
“You sign the contract now,” Geran explained matter-of-factly. “The wedding doesn’t take place until he’s of age.”
“And who decides that? You? Or Him?”
My father’s voice grew colder. “Most weddings occur when both partners are over the age of fifteen, but can occur sooner if the need arises.”
“Need?” I pushed myself from the table. “Like you need his father’s money?” From the corner of my eye I saw Devnet coming toward me again and backed away from them all. “This is insane. I can’t do this anymore.”
“Alystrine, please,” Devnet begged.
“I need some air.” I started toward the door but my father crossed around the table.
“You will stay here until the interviews are completed.”
“I just need a minute or two alone.” I looked to Simon and Devnet. “Please?”
“You will fulfill your duties.” My father strode across the room.
“My opinion doesn’t seem to matter to you anyway.”
Devnet put a hand on Geran’s shoulder. “We’re showing you your options. You alone will make the final decision.”
Geran’s eyes bulged and I thought he might pop. “She must do what is best for the country. Ayden cannot afford to be governed by her whims.”
A scream bubbled up and threatened to escape from my throat. “They’re not whims, they’re opinions. As the queen, I think I should be allowed to have some say in what happens to me.”
Simon coughed in the doorway. “There is only one more suitor to be seen this morning, then we will break for a repast. Would you consent to meet with him now?”
I leaned against the table before speaking. “One more and that’s it.” I shuffled over to my chair and took a seat as Simon introduced another family. At least this potential husband appeared only a handful of years older than me. I smiled politely as our fathers discussed our possible union as if they were bartering livestock. Once the interview ended, I excused myself from the room and found my way outside to get some fresh air.
A brisk, late autumn breeze whisked around the garden, threatening to pull random bits of hair from the pins Rhoswen had stuck into my braids this morning. Of course, I didn’t have a coat, but I didn’t care at this point. My revulsion at being betrothed to a child soon turned into anger at the way my life was being manipulated even though I would be queen. The resulting ticked-off attitude generated a lot of internal heat, so I barely noticed the cold. I stormed over to the hedge maze, desperate to hide myself away from all the prying eyes and busybodies in the palace.
I let my hand trail along the bushes, scattering pine needles as I meandered through the twists and turns. The wind picked them up so they danced around my head, just like all my thoughts. What was I going to do about Josh? Where was Quinn? What was I going to do about all the potential husbands wandering around the palace?
I growled as I swept around a blind corner of the maze only to be greeted by a deep belly laugh. I peered around the closest bush. A man with dark hair rose from the stone bench. At first I thought it was Josh, then I recognized him as one of the suitors from the night before. Noam. I was almost his height, but his confident air made him appear taller.
“Your Majesty.” He bowed, grinning broadly as he straightened. “Forgive me if I’m being forward, but you sound . . . frustrated.”
I puffed my cheeks and let out a long sigh. “Frustrated isn’t the half of it.”
The frankness of his gaze surprised me. So many of the men I’d met wouldn’t look me in the eyes. Noam didn’t have that problem. “Would you like to talk? I’m not sure if I can help, but sometimes another ear is all one needs to sort out their problems.”
I returned his stare. “I’m not sure it’s allowed.”
He tilted his head, giving him the appearance of an inquisitive puppy, but didn’t say anything.
“Protocol,” I explained. “Kennis has been pounding it into my brain that I’m not supposed to be alone with men.”
“I see.” He lowered his chin. “I only suggested it because you seemed to need a friend.”
A wave of sadness washed over me. “You have no idea.”
He swept his arm toward the bench. “Please sit and rest. I’ll remain standing by the entrance. If anyone is watching or passes by, they will have no sense of impropriety.”
I plopped myself rather unceremoniously down, letting out a grunt of pain as my backside came in contact with the cold stone. “I keep forgetting how hard everything is here.”
“Physically or emotionally?”
I snorted a melancholy laugh. “Both.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
I peered up at him from the bench, surprised again at his confidence. He kept his dark hair short so it didn’t fly about in the wind, but it did stick up on his head. Back home he’d look like a very cool punk musician. A smile crept over my face as I imagined him with black lipstick and an electric guitar.
His eyes narrowed. “What are you thinking?”
My cheeks warmed at being caught daydreaming. “I’m sorry. My brain’s going ninety miles an hour lately and I’m easily distracted.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “And I distract you? Is that good or bad?”
I swiveled on the bench so I could fold my legs up to my chest. “Neither.” I rested my arms on my knees. “Did you ever have a problem so big you couldn’t see any way out of it?”
He lowered his head. A kind of depression settled over the two of us.
I laid my cheek against my elbow as I watched him. “I guess you have.”
He nodded.
“From the way you’re acting, I guess it didn’t work out well.”
He seemed to have aged when he finally lifted his head to look at me. “Sometimes there is no solution. Sometimes Ruahk gives us trials that take a lifetime to refine us.”
A lifetime of Braedon torturing Josh to keep me under his control? An eternity of marriage to a man I might despise? “I can’t accept that. A god who wants his followers to be miserable? What kind of god is that?”
“One who wants us to seek Him above all things.”
“Sounds egotistical to me.”
“And why shouldn’t He be? When He gave us life?” Noam stared up into the sky. “When He renews that life with every new morning? Every new minute?”
“But doesn’t he want us to be happy?”
His eyes pierced me with h
is honesty. “Do you think anything in this life, outside of His will, can bring you happiness?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged and looked away, studying the brocade design of my dress. My fingers traced the silver thread that wove through the fabric. “I wasn’t brought up believing in God, but He was so real in Ginessa’s Glade.”
Noam gasped. “You saw it?”
I nodded.
He took a step toward me. “Could you tell me? Are you allowed?”
I thought back through my experience. Nobody said I had to keep what I saw there quiet. “It was . . . perfect.”
Noam sat crossed-legged on the ground but didn’t speak. I unfolded my legs and sat up straighter as I told him about everything I physically saw–the flowers, the grass, the lake and the sky. I explained the emotional stuff, of how the lake seemed to take away all the bad things I’d done and make me clean, inside and out.
I fell silent. Recalling my experience helped me to connect again with the force I’d felt. Mahon’s attack had erased it from my mind, but now I remembered the power that filled me in the glade. I had a purpose in this world, one bigger than myself. It wasn’t as if I had no control over what happened, but I knew with certainty that Ceallach had been right. The main event would be on the battlefield between the forces of Ruahk and those of the Fallen. What happened between now and then mattered very little in the scheme of things.
Noam’s voice broke my memories. “You seem,” his brown eyes studied me before he continued, “more content, my lady.”
“I am.” I brushed a fly-away hair from my face. “Thank you for helping me to remember my purpose.”
“Consider that all this may have been orchestrated for your benefit.”
“What?”
“I felt called to come out here this morning. I couldn’t tell you why. The day isn’t particularly inviting and the gardens hold no beauty this time of year. And yet my soul was led to this place, this particular area of the hedge, and so I waited.”
“Are you saying God brought you here?”
The young man nodded. “Just as He brought you here. You, so you could remember your purpose. Me, so I could be fed by your descriptions of paradise and the mercy of Ruahk.”
I thought about this for a moment. “I wish Kennis had taught me more about God as I grew up. It’s hard holding on to something you always thought was a fairy tale.”
Noam pushed himself up. “And yet, that too, may have been Ruahk’s purpose.”
“Really?”
“You have no preconceived notions about Ayden, about how it should be. You said yourself you were given a vision of what it will become.” His eyes followed a yellow leaf as it twirled on the wind. “Imagine how difficult it would be to accept that truth, if you already had a desire of what the world should be.”
“Like Geran. He doesn’t want to believe what I saw. He thinks I’m interpreting things wrong.”
Noam turned his attention to me. “And do you think you’re wrong?”
The intensity of his scrutiny unnerved me, but I fixed my gaze on his. “No.” I stood up. “I know I’m right.”
He smiled. “Then remain firm in whatever you resolve to do to reach that goal. Do not let others sway you.”
“I won’t.”
He bowed. “Then with your permission, Your Majesty. I’ll take my leave.”
“Thank you, Noam. For listening.”
“I hope . . .” He paused before he turned the corner of the hedge. “It is my wish, that no matter what the Joint Assembly decides about your betrothal, we might still be friends.” For the first time since we’d met, Noam’s eyes didn’t meet mine.
“I’d like that too.”
A slight smile crossed his face before he slipped between the hedge rows and out of sight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
A Cryptic Note
Four more days.
In four days I would be crowned queen.
“Stop fidgeting, Alystrine,” Kennis scolded. “It’s the final fitting before the coronation. You want the gown to be perfect, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I said with a groan. The seamstress at my feet tugged on the heavy, cream-colored fabric and stuck another pin in place. Flowers of gold thread danced in the firelight as she lifted the bottom of the dress and let it fall back down so she could judge where the natural crease lay.
I bobbled on the stool, trying to keep my balance.
“Alystrine,” Kennis sighed.
“I’m trying, but it’s not easy with her pushing and pulling at me all the time.”
The seamstress stepped back. “I’m sorry, My Lady.”
Kennis glared at me then directed her gaze to the servant. “Please excuse my niece. She gets this way when she’s nervous. Continue.”
The seamstress looked up at me.
“Yes, please continue.”
The woman returned to poking and prodding me like a pin cushion. A guard announced my grandmother’s arrival.
Maris swept into the room with her usual grace and energy. Her long gray hair lay down her back in a braid stretching to her waist. She wore the traditional flowing tunic dress of the Elders, this one in a forest green. She paused to survey the work on my coronation gown. Her lips curled down.
“You don’t like it?” I asked.
She smiled then, but I could tell it wasn’t from the heart. “You look beautiful. I only wish you might have worn something in the Elder style.”
I flinched as the seamstress stuck my waist with a pin.
“Sorry,” she mumbled through the pins sticking from her mouth.
Kennis acted as mediator. “We thought it best to go with something in the fashion of the Commoners.”
Maris walked around to see the gown from all angles. “Who’s ‘we’?”
I couldn’t see her as she passed behind me. “I did. It was my choice.”
“Does Geran know?”
Kennis and I shook our heads.
My grandmother finished her perusal. “Well . . . won’t he be pleased?”
Maris sat down on one of the arm chairs across from me. “I meant no disrespect for your talent, Nira. Only surprise at its design. It is a lovely gown.”
The seamstress finished tucking and pinning the fabric then offered her hand to help me down from the stool. I wriggled out of the gown, careful not to let the pins gouge me as I pulled it over my head.
Rhoswen stepped forward. “What style of gown would you like to wear today?”
“Something in flannel?” I looked toward Kennis, who gave me a weak smile.
The maid appeared flustered. “I’m sorry?”
“How about denim?” My eyes still focused on my mother. “A nice pair of jeans.”
Kennis let out a soft laugh. “I wonder what they would have thought if we’d brought a pair of Levis back with us?”
I turned back to Rhoswen. “Can you find me something soft and not too formal for today? I’m told there’s a ball later. You can truss me up like a turkey then.”
“She’ll be meeting this afternoon with the Joint Assembly to run through the coronation ceremony,” Maris said. “I recommend something in the Elder style for now, and another in the Commoner fashion for later.”
Two deep creases formed between Rhoswen’s eyebrows. Worry lines, my mother called them. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I wrapped myself in a robe and plopped down on the couch by the fireplace. The winter air had begun to seep through the cracks in the stone walls of the castle and servants now stoked the fires throughout the day to heat the rooms. Kennis sat down next to me.
Now that I didn’t have to concentrate on keeping my balance on a stool while being poked with pins, my mind went back to its primary concern. Josh. How was I going to get him home? I stared at the blaze in the hearth as my brain went round in circles. A golden flame danced upward, reminding me of the Messenger that had showed me where to hide the Chrysaline.
The Chrysaline. What was it? It was obv
iously a powerful weapon, but could it be used as a tool? Could it somehow help to get Josh out of the castle and back to the Other World?
I turned to my grandmother. “What exactly is the Chrysaline?”
Lines creased her forehead as she gave me her attention. “What?”
“Where did it come from?”
“It was a gift from Ruahk, after He had taken away our ancestors’ immortality. He allowed Michael, one of the greatest of the Messengers, to remove the Chrysaline from his sword and give it to the Nephilim.”
“For what reason? All I’ve seen it do is hurt people.”
Maris stood and walked to the fireplace, as if the talk of the Chrysaline chilled her. “In the early years, it was a tool of good. It strengthened our gifts so that Portals could travel farther, Prophets could hear the voice of the Messengers clearer. Those with Mind Speak could lay hands on it and hear the thoughts of everyone within the circle.” She lifted her fingers toward the flames. “It was the Mystics who discovered that it could be used as a weapon. Their gods, The Fallen, had shown them what could be done by directing thoughts of harm at another person.”
My grandmother walked around the back of the couch. “Do you know where it is?”
I could feel her eyes on me, as well as Kennis’, but I stared at my bare feet. “No,” I lied without knowing why. “Braedon thinks I do, but I lost it on my way here.”
“Then why ask about it?” Maris pressed.
I shrugged. “I’m wondering if I should bother to search for it, or would it be better to remain lost? I didn’t know if it could help get Josh back home.”
My grandmother sat down again in the arm chair across from me. “As I said, in the hands of a trained Elder, the Chrysaline can be a powerful tool for good. It can increase his or her gifts to untold levels, if Ruahk deems their goal acceptable.”
What could be more acceptable than saving Josh’s life? I needed to find Quinn. I needed to get him the Chrysaline. I had to believe Ruahk would grant him the power to get Josh back to his family.
