by Jill Myles
“Enough from you,” Aleksandr interrupted. “Put him in chains–”
His words cut off as Xavien rolled forward in a practiced lunge. He grasped a knife hidden in his boot and leapt toward me. Shouts of alarm filled the air.
The tingle of magic swept through my body and I stepped backward, only to have my shoe slip on the rocks. I slammed to the ground and the breath knocked out of my lungs even as Xavien fell on top of me. His sword clanged to the floor, missing my body entirely – just as my magic intended.
A dozen hands yanked him off of me, and Alek approached him, face grim, sword in hand. “I cannot allow you to live.”
Xavien sneered. “You were not going to anyhow.”
Alek glanced back at me, to where I lay on the ground. My hand clutched my stomach and I attempted to suck breath back into my lungs. “Don’t look, Rinda. This won’t be pleasant.”
I closed my eyes and turned away. The sword sliced through the air, and then I heard a wet thump. My stomach lurched unpleasantly.
Then Alek was at my side, pulling me into his arms, and I hugged him close. “Are you all right?” He asked me.
“I just want to go home,” I told him, laying my cheek against his chest. It was true. I wanted nothing more than to go home with my husband and try to start our life again. Together.
A chant slowly rose through the men. Aleksandr. Aleksandr. The hum was low at first, and then grew louder. Aleksandr. Aleksandr. Aleksandr. It grew so loud that the rafters shook and the men stomped their feet.
King Aleksandr. King Aleksandr. King Aleksandr.
As I opened my eyes, I pulled away from Alek, and watched as the men fell to their knees, bowing their heads.
Bowing at Alek.
Uncertain, I looked over at my husband. “What’s going on?”
One of the men approached Alek and offered him the crown Xavien had been wearing.
At least my intentions toward you were honest, princess. I never claimed to want you for anything other than your connection to the throne.
King Aleksandr, the men chanted.
My body grew cold, and I could feel my pride stiffening my body.
“Rinda, I can explain,” he said in a low voice, reaching for my hand.
I stepped aside, not letting him touch me. Instead, I heard the chants of the men, and like leaves, bits of memory began to fall into place, filling the puzzle. The goldroot Alek used on his hair that had so puzzled me. The way that he looked familiar in the torchlight. The way he had known the soldiers that had been kidnapped, and had been so sure that the king was not with them. The strange looks that Annja and Talis had given us.
No one ever laughs at him, Annja had told me. They are afraid to.
Now I knew why.
The king had not been kidnapped that day because he’d been with me. He’d dyed his hair with goldroot, shaved his unruly beard and posed as a minstrel. I’d married the king all along.
I shoved Alek away from me. “You’re the Scarecrow King?”
“It’s not what you think,” he told me, his voice and eyes pleading.
King Aleksandr, the crowd chanted. King Aleksandr.
No, it was exactly what I thought.
~~ * ~~
I kept my thoughts and emotions locked tightly within me as the palace sprung into action. Even I knew that while my heart was breaking, Alek needed to secure his throne. So I plead fatigue and used my wrist wounds as an excuse to depart while Alek barked orders from the throne. He looked too comfortable there – how had I never seen it before? That easy air of authority despite the humble smile?
It was so obvious now. I wanted to kick myself for never realizing what was so plain before my face.
He was a soldier who was a terrible minstrel. It hadn’t made any sense to me back then, but it made perfect sense now. He wasn’t a minstrel at all, but a king. A king who’d insisted on powdering his hair to an indescribable color and avoiding the public roads, all so he wouldn’t be recognized.
My heart felt shattered into a million tiny icy fragments of humiliation.
A maid led me to my room – the original room that had been my prison – except the door was not locked, and the guards posted were there to ensure that I remained safe, rather than preventing me from escaping. It was all the same to me – I still felt like a prisoner. And while the maids fussed over my wounds, I stared into the cold fireplace and let my heart freeze over.
It was late in the evening before Alek came to my room. He looked exhausted when he arrived, but I had no sympathy for him.
At least I have been honest in my intentions toward you, Xavien had told me. His bitter words had repeated in my mind all day, armoring my angry pride. Alek had never been honest with me. Not once. I’d fallen in love with a lie.
Alek sat at the foot of the bed and removed the crown off his head, tossing it onto the blankets. He reached for me, looking weary and fatigued.
I scooted away.
He sighed. “I suppose I deserve that.”
I could have responded with something scathing. Something to tear down his pride and make him hurt like I was hurting. Instead, I retreated to my own pride. “Explain to me why you lied about everything.”
Alek's look was guarded. “Rinda. Not all of it was lies. A great deal of it was truth.”
I refused to bend, refused to grow pliant. “Explain to me which parts were truth.”
Weariness seemed to hang heavy on his shoulders. “So much of it is true, Rinda. I’m a bastard son of the old king. My mother was one of the castle maids who died young. The king had two sons already, and so I was never needed. I was sent to a monastery to grow up until I was old enough to squire for some of the soldiers. When I was old enough, they sent me to the army, and I was only called to court once a year. I never thought anything of it until both princes died in a hunting accident and my father died last year from grief. Suddenly, I was pulled out of the ranks and forced onto the throne.”
He paused and thought hard about his next words. “I’m not good at being king. I’ve never been the strongest leader, and in the beginning, I was uncertain about everything. The people were worried, and others began to try and put their claim on the throne. My councilors were worried that someone would try to take my throne from me, and Xavien was a bastard son as well. His claim to the throne was as strong as mine, but he was not well liked by the people. My councilors suggested a marriage of allegiance. We set off immediately for Balinore and had to ride hard to make sure we arrived in time for the ball.”
My body went cold, and I forced myself to stare ahead at the wall, rather than look at the man who was breaking my heart. “And when you found out that the only princess that was available was the nasty, unpleasant, unwanted one, you thought to teach her a lesson.”
“No! That wasn’t it at all. We met in the entry-hall, remember?”
I remembered. I remembered laughing in his face and pointing at his beard. He’d been so dirty and travel-worn that he’d looked like a scarecrow. Then my father had struck me and made his terrible edict.
“I tried to speak to your father after that, but he was in such a rage that he wouldn’t listen to reason. The only chance I had was to dress like a peasant and disguise myself. One of my men suggested the goldroot, and I shaved and returned to the palace. Your father didn’t recognize me, and he let us marry. And when we ran across the encampment and saw that my soldiers had been captured, I knew that Xavien had made his play for my throne and had succeeded. Then it was too dangerous to keep out in the open with you, and I was forced to keep lying. And after a while, the lies just seemed easier. You were so prickly and angry that I couldn’t tell you just yet. And then it just grew out of control.”
And lie, and lie, and lie until all the lies stacked on top of one another. I thought of Talis, of Annja. Of the others in the palace. They had all known he was a prince. No wonder the guardsmen had swooped down on me that day in the marketplace – they knew if they had me, they would flush ou
t Alek.
Alek. Who had pretended to be ridiculously poor. Who had stripped my riches from me and let me worry, knowing that he was safe and secure in his own wealth and power. Bile burned at the back of my throat, along with anger, and shame. “Who knew? Who was in on this? Who knew that you were lying to me and I had no idea?”
Shame crossed his face. “Everyone knew. They knew I had gone to marry the Balinore princess. Once you showed up in the marketplace, they knew I had returned.”
My hands curled into fists and I turned toward him, furious. “You let them laugh at me. You let them sit and watch me haggle over the smallest coins, all because I thought we were so very poor. You let Talis and Annja laugh at me. You made me a mockery.”
“No, Rinda, please–” He reached for me.
I slapped his hands away, and this time I could not hide the angry, hurt tears that spilled down my cheeks. “I am a princess. I am your wife. But most of all, I am a person. You should have trusted me.”
“I know I should have, but I needed you–”
“Then you should have been honest with me,” I said, getting to my feet and straightening my pathetic skirts. I was still in the maid’s uniform, still spattered with blood. My blood, blood that I had shed trying to save his soldiers from a horrible fate. I had righted everything and made Alek a hero–and my life was ruined. I was the humiliated laughingstock of an entire kingdom. The stupid princess who had been married to a minstrel and was happy living in a poor hovel with him. More fool me.
He gave me a puzzled look. “Where are you going?”
“You are leaving my room,” I said in my most imperious voice. “And tomorrow, I am returning home. You have your marriage of allegiance. Congratulations.” The words were as cold as my soul felt. “Nothing says we need to reside together, so we can call the banns and then I am returning home to my sister and my father. At least I have always known where I stand with them. They have never been anything but honest with me in what they thought.”
Alek caught my hand. “Rinda, no. Don’t. Please stay with me. I love you.”
It felt cold and far too late. “I am not in love with you. The man I loved has never existed.”
“Don’t say that. I have always been the same man. And I love you. Please.” His voice was pleading.
“If you loved me, you would have never treated me like this. Even my father has never been so cruel.” I pulled my hand from his.
~~ * ~~
The next morning, I awoke at dawn to find a retinue of soldiers waiting for me. Alek was true to his word, and I had strong escort ready to take me back to Balinore, complete with supplies and fresh horses. A maid had cleaned my gown for me and I was dressed as befitting my station, right down to the new shoes on my feet. My hair was clean, my wounds bound, my expression serene.
I felt dead inside, even as I stepped into the rich carriage set aside specifically for my use. I glanced back at the palace of Lioncourt, at the pathway of marble steps, and thought I saw the sad face of Alek, watching me as the carriage began to pull away from the city. Waiting, I knew, for me to change my mind and turn around. Waiting for me to see things his way.
But I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t. If there was anything that bitter Princess Rinda had, it was pride in abundance, and I would not beg for someone’s love and respect.
And so we set off on the long road to Balinore.
Chapter Twenty
The road home was lonely with nothing but my pride to keep me company.
The soldiers were pleasant enough, in all fairness. Every soldier had heard the tale of my midnight run to free the imprisoned king and his men, and I had become a hero to them. They admired me and bowed at the sight of me. No one laughed or smirked at me behind my back. And if they seemed uncomfortable around me and my ride was lonely, that was the price I paid for honesty. I did not mind that they did not invite me to share campfire stories, or break bread with them. I was a princess, after all–
No, I was a queen. I kept forgetting that.
So far, being a queen was miserable. The carriage I rode in was of the finest make, my gown was of thick, lush velvet, and we rode in style through the wilds of Lioncourt and across the Balinore border. It was the trip I had envisioned when I had first heard I was to be married. Yet I hadn’t realized that I would feel so very alone. Even as I cursed Alek and hugged my wounded pride close, I missed him dreadfully.
He’d hurt me badly. If only he’d been honest with me and told me he needed a royal marriage. Instead, he’d lied to me, deceived me, and dragged me over the countryside and through a mountain, and sent me to bed without supper. He’d let me worry for endless hours about how we’d eat the next day, or if we’d end up living on the streets. He’d let me be terrified we’d live in poverty for the rest of our days.
He didn’t trust me. Not a bit.
If he’d trusted me, he could have told me. Instead, it burned in the back of my mind – a mixture of shame and humiliation and deep, deep hurt. He hadn’t trusted me enough to tell me the truth, and he’d let me look like a fool in front of everyone.
And that I just couldn’t forgive. So I hugged my loneliness close and hid behind my icy princess exterior as the days dragged on and we made our way through the mountains and into the rocky forests of Balinore.
It was strange to see my home country again after my days spent in Lioncourt. I’d scarcely been gone and yet it was strange to see the overcast skies and lush greenery compared to the bright golden plains of Lioncourt.
One of the soldiers rode up to my carriage and knocked on the window. “We’ll be in Threshold soon, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you,” I murmured to him, and the thought should have filled me with gladness. Instead, a knot of unhappiness formed in my stomach, and settled there until we pulled into the city.
~~ * ~~
Once there, I couldn’t stop comparing things to my journey with Aleksandr. We passed the town square and I remembered Alek giving my clothing away. How he must have laughed to see the expression on my face. I had coveted those dresses so dearly at the time; they were all that I had to measure my importance. My mind replayed Alek ripping the emerald from my very last gown and handing it off to a farmer.
Somehow it all seemed so trivial. I’d give up all my pretty dresses to be happy again.
A flash of yellow moved past the carriage window and I straightened, awaking from my reverie and staring out the window. There it was – a woman leaning against a building, her beggar’s bowl set out in front of her, a thick, dingy yellow cloak on her shoulders.
“Stop the carriage,” I called, pushing the door open. The carriage screeched to a halt, but I had already leaped from the step onto the cobblestones, my long-skirt knotted in my fist. Soldiers fell in behind me, but I ignored them, my gaze focused on that fluttering yellow cloak.
The cloaked woman saw my approach, paled, and snatched her bowl up, running down an alley. I followed close behind her, cursing my ridiculously flimsy silk shoes as they splashed through dingy puddles. The wearer turned a corner and I followed close behind. “Wait,” I called. “Stop!”
The yellow cloak paused and turned, the hood lowering. A young girl my age stood before me, her hair and face dirty, her cloak ragged. She gasped at the sight of me in my finery and dropped to her knee in the muddy alley, bowing before me. Her beggar-bowl clattered to the ground. “Your Majesty.”
I studied her clothing. Under the filthy yellow cloak, she wore my favorite pink gown, the one that had been crusted in seed pearls throughout the skirts. I saw now that the pearls had been torn from the silk stitching, ruining the delicate brocade underneath. That was all right, though. I would have done the same thing in her place. The pearls on the hem alone would probably feed her family for a year. I stared at her bowed head, brown like my own.
What did I say to her? We had nothing in common save a shared dress. Still, I felt a connection with her. Her life had been irrevocably changed that day that Alek walked through T
hreshold, except hers was for the better. Mine was just all sadness and betrayal.
“Stand up, please,” I told the girl, and waited for her to regain her full height. When she could look me in the eye again, I smiled. She looked like me, in a fashion. Her eyes were brown, her hair the same golden brown as my own, thick and straight. My face was rounder than hers, my skin finer, my pose more arrogant. But other than her rolled shoulders and hesitant demeanor, we could have been cousins. My mother’s common roots were evident. For some reason, that made me smile.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t mind looking like this girl. Like a commoner.
“You have a family?”
She blushed, clearly ill at ease. “I do.”
I nodded and bent to pick up her bowl. She only had a coin or two in it, and it was near midday. It was a hard life for a beggar, I realized, and my own problems suddenly seemed petty and small. I reached into my pocket and pricked my finger on my needle. I rubbed a bit of the blood on the bottom of the bowl and felt the magic tickle through me and onto it. Then I handed it back. “Just be careful to leave that on there,” I said with a shy smile. “I promise it will bring you good luck.”
Her eyes widened and she dropped to a curtsy again, hugging the bowl to her chest as she realized what I had done. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Thank you!” Her voice was thick with emotion. “You are very kind to me. Everyone speaks of your graciousness, Queen Rinda. I feel lucky to have your blessing.”
She knew what my magic was – everyone in the kingdom did – and she thought it amazing. Perhaps I was not the useless princess after all. Still, this was getting a little embarrassing. I gave her an awkward smile, murmured a few things, and returned to my carriage, thoughtful. Perhaps if I stayed in Balinore, I could change things for the better, starting with the yellow cloaks. I was no longer Princess Rinda the useless.
Now I was Queen Rinda, and I was determined to be a better woman.
~~ * ~~
