by E. M. Havens
“Damn it, Cole”, Crom’s meaty hand landed on the Prince’s shoulder, and spun him around. “Get that woman out of here or so help me I’ll drag her out myself.” The man stabbed a finger towards the doors, where Sam stood just inside.
“Clinker,” Cole whispered, and went to remove her. “Sam, you really…” Once he was close enough he realized she was in tinker trance. Her eyes flitted from document to document attached to walls; reports of troop movement, supplies, supply lines, available soldiers, maps and more. “Sam?” he asked cautiously.
“Get her out!” Crom bellowed.
“Shut up!” Cole rebounded, and took the few steps to close the distance, grabbing the man’s stiff, pin adorned collar. “She stays. If this kingdom has any chance of surviving, it’s in her.” Cole seethed, and pointed to a still entranced Sam.
Laughter erupted across the room, and Crom extracted himself from Cole’s grip. “Boy, I think the marriage bed has gone to your head.” The General chuckled spitefully.
Cole set his jaw, squared his shoulders and rose to his full height. He had had enough. “I am the crown Prince of Arborea. I am your future King.” The room fell silent as Cole’s menacing voice reverberated off the walls. He worked to keep it steady, and commanding when he just felt like yelling and starting a fist fight.
“This woman is your Princess and future Queen.” Cole indicated the still entranced Sam. “Not only will you give her the respect she deserves, but you will follow her orders as explicitly as you would mine or my father’s. Retribution will be immediate for those who disregard this warning. Now,” Cole straightened his waistcoat and sleeves. “Shut up, and let her work.”
Thirty minutes later Sam was still in tinker trance, having asked “What’s this?” dozens of times. Those with the knowledge would answer respectfully, curiously. She had moved on to the grand map with the placement of brass and lead figures representing Alliance and Fate forces. Cole had answered many questions concerning Sam, and the atmosphere in the room was quiet and skeptical. All work had ceased, and most of the men stood in small groups whispering and watching. Others left in fury, presumably tattling to the King, who had been in negotiations with the Nakona. Cole was sure he would be paying a visit there next.
He was glad the room was quiet, though. Her tinker trance wasn’t like when she blanked out. Noise or simply talking to her would break it. In their private moments though, when her eyes become pools of black, nothing got through. Somehow she clawed her way back to him out of the darkness. He shuddered thinking about it, wondering what horrors she’d seen to keep causing that.
“Cole?” Sam’s quiet voice penetrated his thoughts.
“Right here,” he said. She was wilting under the stares of fifty or so noblemen and ranking military officials. Her eyes finally found his in the crowd, and she said, “I have an idea.”
King Arnold sat across the imposing desk from Cole. He tapped the nose of his new dragonhead cane on the cherry wood. Why did everyone but him get a lethal accessory? He reigned his thoughts back in. Cole just wanted this meeting to end. He wasn’t in the mood to discuss anything with his father. What if Sam needed him? She was still in the war room explaining her plan for the fifth time in as many hours, and to the same people who heard it the first time.
“You realize if we implement this plan of hers, that’s it. There will be no reserve force, or assets left for that matter even.” The King glared at Cole, daring him to contradict.
“Yes.” Cole wasn’t going to give any more than that.
“Do you think it wise? I mean…” the King scratched the grey scruff on his chin. Daddy hadn’t been taking much care in his appearance of late. “Can she really do what she says? Can we trust her? It just seems so – “
“Impossible,” Cole finished. “Yes, Sam can do the impossible.”
The King sat back and pinched the bridge of his nose, the leather in his plush chair squeaking with the movement. “We would have to put her in charge,” he said with a sigh. “There are too many angles to put anyone else over the plan. A woman…in charge,” he grunted.
Cole burned with pride for Sam, and anger at his father. “God knows, acknowledging a woman could be the end of civilization as we know it.” Anger won out. The beast snapped its short leash.
The King huffed, and landed his fist hard on the desk. “Cole, can you just once leave them out of this.”
“I’m sorry if bringing up your bastard children offends you. Please, continue.”
“You want to have it out? Fine. Let’s have it out while I’m in the middle of trying to save thousands of lives, but if you want to be petty, let’s get it over with.” The King stood, placing his fingertips on the desktop, letting his weight settle there.
Cole stood too, meeting his steely gaze. “How noble of you, thinking of thousands of lives while you let three children rot alone out of shame.”
“I did what I could,” the King seethed.
“The hell you did.” The desk separated them, but there was only a breadth of space between their noses.
“I did what I could until you came along, and took care of them. I didn’t even know Savannah had died until you confronted me.” Was that compliment, cowardice or both?
The royal guards were outside the door, and all the times Cole wanted to lay hands on his father came rushing to the surface. He had his chance to hurt him, make him pay, right now. He should punish him for instilling such a code of honor in Morgan that it got him killed, but that no longer sounded right. Maybe for abandoning Savannah’s family, but he just admitted that he stopped taking care of them only because Cole had started. For the Verification then. Something niggled at the back of his mind.
“Did you rally against the Verification?” Cole asked, anger causing his voice to shake.
“I told you I did.”
“Then why did it go through?”
“Queen Adella insisted, or there would be no Alliance.”
Cole’s anger did not abate, but he broke eye contact with the King, not knowing where to place the rampant emotion. He picked up a paper weight, and made to throw it, but changed his mind at the last minute slamming it back on the desk. He slumped back into his chair, closing his eyes. “You’re a slagging ashpan. You know that?” Cole said without emotion.
“Yes,” the King replied, and lowered himself with dignity to his seat. “Yes, I am.”
Cole didn’t know what to do as the years of pent up anger diffused, no one to channel it at except himself. It had clouded how he saw his father, and the kingdom; everything really. Although the King still deserved the title of royal clinker head, he just couldn’t be angry with the man without being angry at himself, because he was just as much to blame for outcomes and situations as the King.
“I don’t want to be king,” Cole finally said.
“I know, son,” the King said sympathetically and leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk. “You were never meant to be, but you’re going to do a better job than me, or even Morgan if he were alive.”
“How can you say that?” Cole sat forward, an errant flash of anger over Morgan’s death spontaneously erupting. Old habits were going to die hard.
With a weary sigh the King lowered his head and shook it. “The world is changing, Cole. Arborea is changing, and I’m afraid neither Morgan nor I was ready to change with it. You, son…are just what Arborea needs.” The King sat back again, and rubbed his blood shot eyes. Cole simply stared, not sure he believed the conversation he was having with his father.
“Can she do it, Cole? Can she save us?” King Arnold asked, his voice tight with fatigue.
“Yes, Father. She can.”
****
It had been three days. Three days since Cole had even seen Sam. His heart skipped a little as he dragged down the hall. He was exhausted, but at least he slept in their bed last night. He was not even sure if Sam had slept in three days.
He squinted as he passed the tall slender windows that let s
unlight stream into the castle corridor. There were no windows in the dungeon. Of course it wasn’t really a dungeon, however, the lab where he was overseeing Alliance scientists felt like a cell. He was stuck there coordinating a specific part of Sam’s plan, and hadn’t seen her much over the last two weeks. She was leading the meeting he was supposed to report to in a few moments, and the idea of seeing her had his insides feeling like the rowdy teenager he once was.
An eruption of manly laughter met him at the door to the meeting hall, and he saw Sam standing before at least a hundred officers, both from Perspicia and Arborea.
“Alright! Attention back here!” She commanded to the crowd. The room quieted, and the men focused on the map hanging behind her. They leaned forward absorbing every word, and some scratched notes on paper as she explained their roles. “Any questions?” she asked, and the room’s occupants simultaneously responded,
“No, Ma’am.”
“Dismissed.” She waved her hand to indicate the door where Cole stood, but she didn’t turn. A mob of soldiers prevented him from entering the room, each bowing respectfully as they passed. He wished he could do away with this polite acknowledgement to be with Sam.
Finally, the trickle of men lessened, and he slipped into the hall, stopping short. Sam stood at the front of the room, addressing a few soldiers. She looked so confident. He cleared his throat when he reached the group.
Sam spun toward him at the sound, and he was caught up in her embrace.
“I miss you,” she said. It was muffled against his chest. The soldiers disbursed.
“I miss you,” he said, and turned his mind to relishing her warmth against him.
High ranking officials began to filter into the room, and Cole reluctantly pulled away from Sam. He was shocked when he finally took a moment to really look at her.
“Have you been sleeping at all? Are you eating?” She looked back at him quizzically with sunken eyes punctuated by dark shadows underneath. In his arms she felt less substantial than he remembered.
“Probably,” was her cryptic answer. What he understood was, she didn’t know if she had or not because her mind was consumed with other things.
“Alright, let’s begin,” Crom grunted from the podium.
“Come have dinner with me after this,” Cole asked.
“I can’t. I –”
“Princess Samantha.” Crom motioned for her to join him, and she slipped from Cole’s embrace to join the General. Cole begrudgingly took a seat in the front, next to his father, nodding his acknowledgement. Things had been relatively non-hostile between them.
“Latest reports from our scouts put the Fate army at two days out. Numbers on mechmen, air ships, and foot soldiers remain the same. One scout reports supply line wagons are heavily guarded, and suspects surplus weaponry. As predicted they were heading straight to the capital. Evacuation will be complete as scheduled. Princess, you have a report.”
“Thank you, General,” she said, and gripped the edges of the podium. Maybe it was just the light streaming in through the doorway, but she seemed even paler than a few moments ago. “Plans continue to resurrect the damaged…” Sam closed her eyes, and shook her head. Cole sat up in his chair. The little hairs on the nape of his neck stood up too. “Excuse me, on the damaged…”
Sam faltered, but Cole was by her side before she could hit the ground or startled gasps could arise from onlookers.
“Sam. Sam, look at me,” He said as he scooped her up, one arm under her knees, and one behind her shoulders. Her eyes fluttered open, and she tried to focus on his face.
“I’m fine. Put me down,” she croaked. Cole begrudgingly set her feet on the floor, but she wasn’t steady.
“You been eating Sam? Sleeping?” Crom’s gravelly whisper didn’t carry past the podium. Cole readied his defense for Crom’s attack on Sam’s character or gender. Sam shrugged.
“We need you alert, Sam. You have to take care of yourself. Beginner’s mistake.” Crom addressed the gathered officials. “Meeting adjourned, and rescheduled for first thing in the morning. Consult your dossier for a time.” The General turned back to Sam. “You’re ordered to eat a hot meal and get a good night’s sleep.”
Cole couldn’t contain a bark of a laugh.
“And what’s so funny?” The General’s disdainful watery eyes settled on Cole, who straightened in response.
“Anyone ordering Sam, General. Just…good luck with that.”
The General’s features softened, and an actual grin cracked his face. “You’re in charge then. Go take care of your woman.”
And there it was, but instead of a rebuttal, Cole simply steered a partially lucid Sam to their quarters, where she fell asleep before he could even remove her boots.
****
“Sam. Sam wake up and eat.”
The voice sounded far away and when she tried to open her eyes to see who had the nerve to call her from such deep blessed sleep, Sam couldn’t. She tried again, but they wouldn’t respond, and neither would her arms. She felt as if her body had become one with the down stuffed mattress, and she would be happy to remain in such a symbiotic relationship for eternity.
“Hey, Beautiful. You need to eat, and then you can go back to sleep.”
Sleep. Eat. Her mind swirled in a hazy fog trying to remember those words. They were supposed to be important. No. Other things were important. Her thoughts expanded, reaching beyond the darkness of sleep to connect with the line of images that stood ready to tumble into action. Like jumping from a waterfall into the depths below only to be overcome by the cascade of water, the minutia of the plan drowned out all else.
“The meeting!” Sam gasped, and bolted up. “There’s too much – “
“It’s all right.” Strong hands kept her from scrambling out of the bed. She let them, and tried to dam up the flood of information, letting it trickle through in more manageable streams.
“Cole.” She recalled, putting a name to the voice as the onslaught of pictures and ideas subsided, and turned to find his unique blue and green eyes peering back at her. Darkness crept into the edges of her sight, and she closed her eyes as the room decided to ignore the laws of physics.
“Okay. Careful. Lie back.” His voice was distant again through the pounding in her ears, and she barely registered him helping her to sit up and lean against the head board.
“Drink this.” He pushed a cup into her hands, and she obeyed.
“Blech! This is terrible,” she groaned, but almost instantly had enough energy to open her eyes, and focus on the wonderful man sitting on the edge of the bed.
“All of it,” Cole ordered while giving his sternest look. If she had more energy she would laugh at him. Instead she frowned, and downed the overly sweet, pungent mixture. A few moments later her whole body felt a tingly rush of energy.
“What was in that stuff?”
“You really don’t want to know,” Cole said with a devious smirk.
“Thanks. I’ve got to go. I know I’m missing something.” Sam tried to pull off the blankets, and get out of the bed.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Cole pushed her shoulders back against the headboard. “You’re under orders to eat and sleep. Nothing more for the next twelve hours.”
“But – “
“No buts – “
“There’s so much – “
“It’s being taken care of.”
“How?”
Cole expelled an arrogant sigh. “Seems I have a gift. Some call it shirking responsibility. I call it delegating.”
Sam couldn’t help but laugh at his infectious good mood.
“Why are you so happy on the eve of possible destruction?” she asked.
He took her hand and kissed each fingertip. “Because I’m with you.” Sam’s stomach interrupted the moment, growling loudly. “Eat. Then sleep.” Cole hopped off the bed, retrieving a serving tray from the desk laden with silver domed dishes. He rejoined her, and she was reminded of the days he spent coaxi
ng her out of insecurities and lies.
He made her start with broth when the last meal she recalled having eaten was three days ago with him. He caught her up on the progress of various projects for the coming battle when she continued to push. The next dish was a heavenly pot roast with mashed potatoes, carrots and green beans, but Cole would only allow her to eat the vegetables first, and slowly.
“What about you? How has your time back in the castle been?” Sam asked between spoonfuls of buttery creamy mashed potatoes.
“I said vegetables. Those are potatoes.”
“Potatoes are vegetables, and you’re skirting my question.”
“You know I mean the green stuff, and I’m not skirting. I just don’t know how to answer.”
“Here,” Sam said, stabbing a green bean with her fork. “I’ll eat this, and you answer the question.”
She made a show of eating the noxious vegetable even though it was quite tasty. He smiled up at her, laying on the edge of the bed, head propped up in his hand.
“It’s different.” He sighed. “It’s funny how a little self-loathing colors everything you see.” He reached over, and squeezed her leg.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She popped another green bean in her mouth.
“Yeah, me neither. You want to keep eating those or do you want this?” Cole removed the remaining lid on the tray to reveal a chocolate mousse, a huge grin plastering his face.
“Eat and sleep.” Sam took a huge spoon full of mousse, and savored the decadent dessert. “That’s it and nothing else, huh?”
“Those were the orders,” Cole’s voice was husky, and he quirked an eyebrow at her.
“Hmmm,” Sam pondered, and scooped another spoonful of mousse. “Too bad you’ve turned over a new leaf and all, not breaking rules and such.” Cole picked up the tray from the bed, and delivered it back to the desk. Removing something from a drawer, he turned and tossed a small leather pouch in Sam’s lap. She didn’t have to open it to know what was in it. She could smell the concoction of herbs for her tea from where it landed.
