by K. C. May
Being queen would also give her the ability to help many more children by ensuring the orphanages had what they needed. It was an opportunity for her to do real good in the world.
The raw emotion of the moment choked her. The word, however much she wanted to say it, would simply not come. Tears fell from her eyes, and she nodded instead, choking back a sob. “Yes,” she managed to whisper. “With all my heart, yes.”
He rose and took her into his strong embrace, and for the first time in her life, she felt completely safe. When his mouth came down upon hers, she opened her lips eagerly, welcoming his kiss and the delicious, erotic feelings that it inspired.
Someone giggled. They turned to find not only the children watching but Edan, Daia, Liera, Adro and ten Viragon Sisters as well, all with a dreamy smile on their faces, and some with a gleam of moisture in their eyes. Edan began to clap, and the others joined in, laughing.
“My work here is done,” Liera said proudly.
“Looks like we have ourselves a king and a queen,” Edan said.
“A queen the people can relate to and love,” Daia said.
“I have one request, though.” Feanna wiped her eyes. He nodded, encouraging her to name it. “We marry quietly, before you announce to the world that you’re king. I don’t want to be a pointing-stock for everyone to gossip about in judgment. If we’re already married when the people learn who the king is, they won’t appraise me like I was a prize hog at an auction.”
“You don’t want a big wedding with the lacy gowns and flowers and music?” Gavin asked.
“No. Or the jugglers or bards or an audience of thousands.”
“Don’t you want to ride away in a carriage o’gold drawn by horses with fancy braids and curls?”
“Give me big, sturdy Golam and your lap with my children riding in the wagon beside us, and I’ll be the happiest woman in the world.”
“Make that ‘our children’ and we have an agreement.”
Feanna’s heart clenched. What a fine thing for a man to say. She gazed into his beautiful brown eyes and thought she was living a dream. I love this man. The thought startled her, but only for a moment. She embraced it, wrapped her arms around his strong arm and nodded, not trusting her voice.
“Shall we find a cleric then?” Edan asked. “We have plenty of witnesses to speak for you.”
Feanna looked down at herself. “I wouldn’t mind wearing a clean dress to marry you in. And having a bath. I’m afraid I perspired a bit in that cellar.”
“Fair enough. I have the stink o’beyonder entrails on me.”
She took him by the hand. “Shall we explore first? I want to see this grand palace of yours.”
“Of ours,” Gavin said as he helped her step over the debris on the floor. “Everything I have is yours. No secrets, nothing held back.”
“Likewise,” she said. Then a thought came to her. She’d twice heard him deflect questions regarding his lost eyetooth. “First secret — how did you lose the tooth?”
He blushed. She never thought she would see it, but there it was, deep crimson from neck to hairline. “No secrets aside from that one.”
Feanna laughed. “No you don’t, sir. Tell it to me, and I’ll take it to my grave.”
“You swear?” His expression was deadly serious.
“I swear.”
“A promise to a king transcends death, you know,” he said, his voice a low warning.
“Just tell me.”
He pulled her into the first room on the left — a library, with a huge painting over the fireplace. Its canvas had been ripped by the monster’s sharp claws, and its frame hung askew on its hooks, but the azure eyes and stately expression left no doubt that its subject had been a king.
Gavin closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he looked at her so intently, she feared that perhaps this was one story she didn’t want to hear after all.
“When Edan and I were young men, we went drinking one afternoon. Got a hold o’some ale and wine stronger than we were used to, and it made us both bolder and stupider than usual. At our age, that was damned bold and damned stupid. Anyway, we got to bragging and arguing over who was better with our weapons — him with his bow, me with my sword. I told him with my sword I could slice an apple in half on the palm o’his hand without making him bleed.”
Feanna slapped a hand to her mouth in horror.
“He said he could core one if I held it in my teeth, stem out. So we set about proving it to each other.”
“Oh, no!”
“You swore you wouldn’t tell.”
“I won’t.”
“He went first and missed. Well, he hit the apple, but not in the center. Got it a bit on the side. The arrow went all the way through and hit my tooth. Sheared it clean off. A mouthful o’blood was enough to sober me up. Edan’s never quit feeling bad about it.”
Feanna smiled and took his arm. “I thought it would be embarrassing. That was mighty foolish but no more so than anything else boys do to prove their manhood.”
“Yeh,” Gavin said, “but Edan’s a champion archer. If this truth ever came out, the sportsman’s league could strip him o’his titles — which he won fairly.”
“So you keep the secret to protect your friend from losing a title that ultimately doesn’t matter to anyone but him?”
“And to protect his reputation as a man o’good judgment. Besides, it’s more fun making up stories.”
Feanna laughed, charmed by his devotion. “You’re a fine and true friend. Come, darling. Let’s see our new home.” She leaned close to his ear, and he bent his head to hear her. “I want to see where you’ll be making love to me every night.” Feanna felt herself blushing, but she couldn’t deny the thrill the notion gave her.
He responded with a big, sloppy grin. “Yeh. Let’s go see.”
Epilogue
Two months later...
Gavin stood still while the tailor fussed over his blue and black suit trimmed in gold brocade, adding stitches here and loosening threads there. The design was simple yet elegant — a short jacket with an off-center button closure, standing collar, and long, sculpted sleeves that were neither too baggy nor too fitted. It had a split tail in back which was stylish and formal but completely impractical. He’d have to hold it out of the way if he needed to take a crap. The black trousers were simple as well, creased in the front and loose enough to hide his thick thighs. The boots, on the other hand, felt stiff and confining, though they were handsome. He thought he might develop a blister on his heel by the time this was over.
“Lift your arm, please, my liege,” the tailor said. Around his waist, she fastened the ceremonial scabbard’s belt, which held Aldras Gar. He was long-legged enough that the sword didn’t drag the floor as he walked, but during the rehearsal, its tip had struck the dais when he stepped up.
He was too nervous to be impatient. If he were one of the thousands crowding into the Spirit of the Savior Holy Temple of Asti-nayas, he would want his first glimpse of the new king to be memorable. He let the woman work. Curon Naredus, the tall, square-shouldered Lordover Lalorian, stood beside Gavin while his tailor did the same.
Gavin wished Rogan could have been there, or his father. Lord Naredus, the closest man to a father he had, was a fine substitute, though he’d insisted Gavin call him Curon going forward.
Behind them in the temple offices, people scurried around making final adjustments. The horn player had a cough, the bard a black eye from the brawl he’d gotten into, three of the artists were arguing over who was to sit where, and the head usher needed Edan to make a decision. Gavin wondered if his life was always going to be as hectic as this. He might strangle them all.
“Don’t worry,” Curon said. “It gets easier after a while.”
“Does it?”
Curon laughed. “Well, you get used to it, anyway. You’ve chosen your counsel well, though I’ll have to replace him in my own hall.”
“Sorry to have left you without,
but Edan was the best choice.”
Curon waved it away. “That’s the truth. I’m relieved for both of you.” A twinkle lit his eye. “And I’m so very proud of you, Gavin. I know your father and brother would have been as well. I always knew you’d save the world.”
Gavin grinned. “All those years, I thought you were teasing me.”
Curon showed him his thumb and forefinger spread a hair’s width apart. “Perhaps a little.”
Edan came in and clapped his hands together once. “Well, we’ve squeezed everyone into the temple we could. The temperature from all the bodies is rising, so perhaps, if you two are ready, we should begin.”
“Where’s my wife?” Gavin asked.
“She’s taken her place. Do you need her?”
He’d hoped for one last good-luck kiss. The three he’d gotten already would have to do. “No, let’s get this over with.”
Curon clapped Gavin’s shoulder. “Such a momentous occasion should be savored like a fine wine. Try to enjoy it. You’ll never see its equal again, since you’ll be dead when your heir is crowned. Are you ready?”
He was two hundred years late, but at last, with friends beside him he could count on and lean on, he finally felt ready. Gavin took a deep breath and nodded.
Curon went out first. Gavin hung back, out of sight behind the door, while the tailor checked that his suit was free of lint. Edan stood in the vestibule, watching his father stride up the center aisle to the altar. By the way the murmur of the audience quieted little by little, Gavin could tell when the lordover reached the dais. Gavin’s hands twitched, and he clasped them, hoping that by stilling them, he could also quiet his thundering heart. From the front of the temple, a man cried, “Announcing the holder of the King’s Blood-stone, decipherer of the King’s Runes, Gavin Rothyr Kinshield.” The horns blared and drums rolled. When Edan turned to him and nodded, indicating the lordover had taken his place, Gavin took another breath to steady himself and stepped out. Everyone in the pews rose to their feet. Another hundred or more lined the walls. They watched him, many leaning or standing on tiptoe, trying to get a glimpse. He heard a few quiet gasps as he began his long walk, but as he met the eyes of people first on one side then on the other, he saw not the shock or disdain he expected but excitement, joy and maybe even acceptance. It seemed to take hours for him to finally reach the altar, but he had the presence of mind to step onto the dais with his left foot first so Aldras Gar didn’t strike it. At last, the musicians ended their march with a raucous fanfare.
“Be seated,” Curon said. His voice projected well in the high-ceilinged temple. “I am Curon Naredus, Lordover Lalorian and current Chairman of the Council of Lordovers, and it’s my life’s greatest honor to perform this ceremony today.” Holding a sheet of paper before him, he turned to Gavin and began to read. “The Rune Law passed in the one thousand four hundred thirty-ninth year of the Sacrifice by unanimous vote of the Council of Lordovers states that ‘He who claims the King’s Blood-stone shall reign as king.’ Gavin Rothyr Kinshield, have you claimed the King’s Blood-stone?”
“I have,” Gavin answered.
“Please tell us, for the record, how you came to possess the King’s Blood-stone.”
The Temple fell into a hush of held breaths and still hands.
Gavin swallowed his nervousness. He’d never spoken to more than two dozen people at a time, and that was outside the Rune Cave after claiming the King’s Bloodstone. The Temple was silent, everyone waiting for him to speak. “I deciphered the five runes in the Rune Tablet. The gems came loose from the tablet when I did.”
The audience uttered a collective “Ah!”
Curon said, “To dispel doubt, are there any present who witnessed the event?”
“I did, Your Excellence,” Daia said.
“I did, Your Excellence,” Edan called from the back of the Temple. Heads turned to see him.
“I did, Your Excellence,” said a young Viragon Sister standing along the eastern wall. Gavin met Brawna’s eyes and gave her a nod.
Several rows back on the left, a short man with a long, black beard stood. “As did I, Your Excellence,” said Risan Stronghammer. Gavin smiled and nodded at the blacksmith. Risan bowed deeply. When he straightened, he wiped his eye as he took his seat beside his new son, Dwaeth.
The blond boy said, “Me too.” Gentle laughter rippled across the Temple.
Curon opened the ornate box beside him. “On behalf of the Council of Lordovers and the citizens of Thendylath...” He removed the golden, jeweled crown that GJ had found in the palace vault. “...before these witnesses I hereby proclaim you, Gavin Rothyr Kinshield...” He placed it atop Gavin’s head. “...King of Thendylath.”
The temple erupted in cheers. The band played another fanfare, but their music was largely drowned out by the crowd. Gavin looked out at the people and saw smiles and tears, mouths shouting in celebration, fists raised into the air, fingers in mouths to whistle, people embracing each other. Curon let it go on for a bit, a suppressed smile trying to break free on his face. Finally, he gestured with his arms for the crowd and the musicians to quiet.
Gavin held a hand toward Feanna, standing at the front pew. She picked up her skirts, blue and gold to match his suit, and stepped onto the dais. He cupped her elbow to assist her. She took her designated place beside him, facing the crowd. He offered his arm and felt her tremble as she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow.
“Lordovers,” Curon said, “will you join me in pledging fealty to King Gavin and Queen Feanna?”
Curon went to one knee and bowed his head. The other lordovers, one by one, followed suit. The redheaded Lordover Tern with his blazing blue eyes hesitated so long that Gavin wondered whether he would storm out of the temple instead. Judging from the whispers rippling through the crowd, he wasn’t the only one who thought so. Celónd’s wife, seated in the pew directly behind the lordover, whispered something fiercely enough that her tone, though not her words, echoed throughout the nave. At last, Celónd lowered himself to one knee and bowed his head.
“I swear upon my honor, my life and my soul that I will, from this day forward, serve my king and queen, to never allow harm to come to them, to take up arms to defend their health, honor and right to rule, and to serve them in good faith and without deceit.” As Curon said these words, he paused to give the lordovers time to repeat them. Finished, they rose and retook their seats.
“People of Thendylath, will you pledge your fealty as well?” Curon asked.
Edan, at the rear of the temple, and Daia, beside the dais, were the first to bend the knee, as if they were racing each other. The crowd lowered itself almost as one and repeated the words as Curon guided them. Gavin’s face tingled, and his hands shook. These were his people now. He was responsible for their welfare. He swore to himself silently that their trust in him would not be misplaced.
Once everyone had retaken their seats, Curon put a hand on Gavin’s shoulder unexpectedly. “You may not know your king, but I do. Let me take a moment to introduce the man I’ve known for a dozen years.”
Gavin started. This wasn’t in the script. They hadn’t rehearsed this. What the hell was he doing?
“When Gavin was a boy of twelve, he became an orphan. Two years later, while living in Lalorian with his elder brother, he happened upon my son being beaten in an alley by a pair of murderers. This fourteen-year-old boy, armed with a battered, old sword, took on two grown men and saved my son’s life. Gavin refused every offer of reward except one — the opportunity to train as a battler in my garrison. By the time he was seventeen, he was a master swordsman, skilled enough and mature enough that I appointed him Captain of the Guard. Two years after that, he struck out on his own as a warrant knight. In the last seven years, he has apprehended or branded over two hundred criminals and saved dozens of lives. These acts of heroism don’t even begin to compare to his latest. A little over two months ago, while grieving the murder of his only brother, he risked his life to
face the most dangerous foe ever known, and ended the beyonder invasion with the help of his champion, Daia Saberheart, and his wife, Feanna Kinshield. Citizens of Thendylath, this is your new king.”
People shot to their feet, cheering wildly.
When Gavin gave Curon Naredus a glare that promised retribution, the response was a wink and a smile. Feanna squeezed his arm. “They love you,” she said, though he barely heard her above the cheering. To his left, Daia stood with her hands clasped before her, grinning with satisfaction. Even the Lordover Tern was on his feet, clapping with a thin smile on his face.
Gavin gestured the way Curon had to quiet the crowd, though they seemed bent on expressing their approval of his most recent feat. He hadn’t slain Ritol, but that didn’t matter. The beyonders were gone. In truth, he was happier about that than anyone. With his arms signaling them to sit, he finally managed to silence them. This bit hadn’t been rehearsed, and he honestly didn’t know what to say, but his first utterance to the people of Thendylath should be something heartfelt.
“We have a lot o’work ahead to recover from the last two hundred years o’chaos. You may not agree with how I do things, but I’ll do my best. To the people of Thendylath, this I swear.”
The End
About the author
I grew up in the mid-western USA and in Hawaii, and earned a B.A. in Russian from Florida State University (go ‘Noles!). After a year in Taiwan teaching English and studying Mandarin Chinese, I lived in the Arizona desert where I founded a Rottweiler rescue organization, studied karate, went backpacking, tried sky-diving, did some downhill skiing, got a couple motorcycles, wrote software, and spent time on the shooting range. In 2010, I retreated to cooler, greener Georgia. I earn my living as a full-time writer.
As an independent author, I don’t have a team of publicists and marketing specialists to spread the word about this book. I’m just a writer sitting at my keyboard searching for readers like you. If you enjoyed the story, please tell a friend! If you are so inclined, a review or rating on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Goodreads, Shelfari, or LibraryThing would also be greatly appreciated. If there's enough interest, I'll write another story with these characters.
