Royal Chronicles of Denmark, Books 1 & 2

by Kiki Leach

  “I asked if you were mad. Insane. Or perhaps even diabolical. It’s either that or my theories are correct in that you truly have ice running through your veins! Your son is far from being a ‘bitter disappointment’. For God’s sake, he fell from a horse! He didn’t overturn an entire country or murder an innocent standing in the way of battle. He was the innocent, and he fell from a horse, anyone could’ve fallen from a horse when attacked! Many a men have, and never lived to tell the tale of it. Not to mention he survived a nearly fatal threat from the king himself! Norvack has been given a second chance at life. Isn’t that enough for you?”

  “Enough? If you are asking me as a mother, I am completely overjoyed that my son is alive, but as a queen? What life does he possess as a vegetable, Cinder?”

  “A vegetable? It isn’t fair that you are killing him when he’s nowhere near the ground!” I hollered.

  “I am doing no such thing!” She turned away, dabbing at her face. She tightened the grip on her hands and I heard her knuckles cracking inside her palms. “I’m being a realist.”

  “You are killing him--”

  “NO! My son was to be the future king of this country, to follow in the leadership of his father.”

  “He will.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “And you don’t know that he won’t. Why not try giving him a bit of credit, or is that too much to ask of your highness?” I snapped. She whipped her head and glared at me. “May I remind you that my husband went in YOUR husband’s place to battle a man in which he had never even had a quarrel! Just two days ago, they were speaking of politics in the library, and tonight they were in a battle due to the king’s arrogance! If Norvack does in fact become an invalid, it is on his FATHER’S head, not his.”

  She tightened her jaw and ripped her gown from the floor, bustling forward in the manner of a raging bull. She stood directly at my toes, breathing hard in my face, silently forcing me to back down. I didn’t. She glared at me hard, her eyes almost glowing with ire.

  “You are such an ungrateful little snipe!” she roared. “For my son’s sake, I wished to give you a chance.”

  “Was that before or after your fabricated story of woe from Hadenville?”

  She clucked her tongue and narrowed her eyes. “You are a caustic one…. I wished to try and understand you, Cinder, where you had come from, who you were for Norvack’s sake. Do you think I was beaming with pride when I learned my son wished to marry a beggar?”

  I looked away, embarrassed. “No, I would imagine not.”

  She stepped back from me and pressed down on her gown, waiting a moment. The air was thick with hostility. Neither of us could stand to even be feet apart without the thought of tearing a jugular from the other’s throat.

  “Believe it or not, Belarus was worse than you could ever imagine me to be,” she replied. “Norvack pleaded with his father for your hand in marriage, and the king reluctantly surrendered--”

  “Not by choice. Norvack forced his hand, but -- what he thought of me didn’t matter. It never did, because I had wished with all my might that you would accept me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I knew he wouldn’t. I wished that you had perhaps in fact seen something in me as you had said, seen yourself. But, what a fool I was.” I sucked in air. “Your husband is an ignorant bastard. If I’m an ungrateful tripe, he’s an ungrateful son of a bitch.”

  “How dare you speak of the king in such a manner inside his own palace!” she growled, her face becoming puce in color. She was so angry, I feared she would snap my neck with her bare hands if she could have, but I didn’t care. “How DARE you!”

  “How dare YOU have no regard for your own son! He could’ve died tonight for something the KING set in motion. They went into battle because your overconfident husband made a promise on his son’s head that he knew damn well he couldn’t keep! And here you stand, still defending every strand of hair left on his shining head in the manner of a trained puppet!”

  “I am no puppet, Mistress,” she hissed. “I am his queen, and I shall defend him at every turn, no matter.”

  “No matter?! This is your son!” I pleaded. “You defend your husband even when what he has done could’ve been at the cost of your son’s life?!”

  She raised her head and glowered. “When you become queen, my dear -- IF you become queen, I can only hope that you learn to think, feel, and believe the same as I do.”

  Her indifference, her lack of feeling in regard to Norvack, favoring and choosing Belarus in spite of his actions, shook me to the core.

  She brushed past me and raced toward the door.

  “My God,” I managed to say, turning halfway to meet her cold, dead eyes. She stopped and I moved my head about. “I should pray to never think, feel or believe the same as you. And if Norvack is truly his father’s son, so help him.”

  “So help you, Cinderella. If only for your sake alone, get on your knees and pray to whatever god you believe in that he isn’t.”

  “I believe in the same God that created you.”

  She said nothing in response, only staring at me. Then she pulled back on the handle and we saw Brigita standing just outside my door, waiting in the corridor with tears in her eyes.

  I slightly shoved Eliza aside and went to her. “What is it?” I asked, my voice shaking. “What’s wrong?”

  “Norvack,” she said, dabbing at her tears.

  My next breath caught in my throat. “Is he dead?”

  “No. He just arrived at the palace.”

  “So soon?” the queen chimed in.

  “Yes, your Majesty. They’ve placed him in the chambers downstairs near the foundry room. He requested it.”

  I rested my hand on my breasts and gulped. “So he’s awake?”

  “No, not anymore.”

  “But he was. He’s alive, and requested another room to rest.” My hand began shaking against me. I was so nervous, I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. I balled my hand into a tight fist and placed it before my stomach, trying to pacify my nerves. I shut my eyes for a few seconds, and exhaled. “Did you see any cuts on him? Any bruising?”

  “His face…” She stopped. “There was some swelling in his lower back. And a cut near his heart.”

  It felt as if all the air had been punched from my lungs with an iron fist. I stood motionless, as still as an ocean on a hot day in summer with no wind to rattle the waves. “His heart?” I finally asked after such a long and devastated silence. “How deep was the cut?”

  “I couldn’t tell, I could only see a little. The physician is in with him now. Before he lost consciousness, I’m told he called out for you.”

  “He called out for me by name?”

  The queen snapped her head back in surprise and anger, and glared at me as she spoke to Brigita. “He called for his wife?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “He must have been delirious after having fallen from that horse,” replied Eliza in a terse tone. “I should go to him first.”

  She tried getting out the door, but I wrapped my hand around her wrist and jerked her back.

  “No!” I hollered. She bugged her eyes and turned to me, staring as if I had cursed her name in vain. Then she looked down at my hand and grit her teeth. I snatched it back and planted my feet into the ground in case she felt the need to strike me for having crossed a boundary so unheard of within the palace. I didn’t flinch, though I admit she began to intimidate me. “I’m his wife,” I told her.

  She whirled around and rested her face just inches from mine, baring her teeth. “I’m his mother!” she snarled.

  “And yet, I am the one he asked for, and the only one out of the two of us who’s yet to plan his funeral. I shall see him first.”

  She stared at me for a long time in an attempt to force me into relenting, but I wouldn’t. Time passed before she finally stepped back and nodded, if only because she felt she had no choice if she wished to see her son someti
me later in the night or very next day. Though it certainly didn’t keep her from looking at me as if she were shooting daggers straight into my heart with her eyes.

  I moved into the corridor and pulled Brigita near the railing of the staircase. “Which room is he in, exactly?”

  “There’s a room a few doors down from the foundry. It belonged to Willem.”

  I pulled back and made a face of disgust. “Willem? Of all the spare rooms inside the palace, why choose his?”

  “Minimal sunlight. He wished for as little as possible for the morning. Shall I escort you to it?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  We traveled quietly, the only sounds being our swift footsteps making their way across the marble flooring, and my heart thumping inside my chest. I kept one hand tight inside the other until my knuckles turned colors, and prayed with everything inside my being to the God I believed in that what I had heard in regard to Norvack’s condition was much more exaggerated and less serious compared to the actuality of the situation. When we reached his room, I took a deep breath and pushed back on the door, first getting a glimpse at his lower half as he lay still as a block of stone on what looked to be a less than sturdy brass bed, with a mattress that seemed to swallow the comforter and sheets whole. It was nestled in the corner of the room on the other side and away from practically anything else of comfort. The room itself was dim and dank -- the first one in which I had hardly noticed the golden walls as they seemed to disappear behind the darkness. It gave off such a sinister and angry feeling, almost morbid. I felt uncomfortable even standing in the doorway. Black curtains made of velvet lined the windows and curved around the panels of each frame. The only light in the room came from two candles sitting on a wooden dressing table across from a wash bucket.

  I crept further inside and saw Norvack’s physician sitting aside him, cooling his head and arms down with a compress. When he saw me, he stood immediately and bowed. “Princess,” he said.

  I wrapped a hand around the front of my throat and swallowed hard, taking a few steps closer to look down at my husband.

  My husband, I thought. It gave me a slight chill. This was the first time such a feeling of what we had become to one another just a few hours earlier had overwhelmed me. I rested my hand on my mouth and shook my head. “God,” I said under my breath. I choked, holding back the air that filled my throat.

  He was bruised and swollen, as if someone had just pinned him down and pummeled him with their fists until he could no longer stand. His stomach was tightly wrapped in a white cloth, a gauze covered the slither in his chest near his heart where he had been stricken down by the king. The skin around his left eye was black and blue, his lips were puffy and bright pink, as if he had been stung by a bee and were allergic, and I noticed slight bruising around his neck where it appeared he had been strangled with a strap of some kind. Two of his fingers on his left hand were wrapped in tiny handmade splints. In truth, I didn’t know whether he looked better or worse than I had imagined prior to seeing him, but I know that pained me to see him as he was.

  I cleared my throat. “How is he?” I asked his physician, never taking my eyes from Norvack.

  The physician reached for the edge of his frames and adjusted them atop his nose. “He’s breathing normally now. There is some slight bruising of his ribs and tailbone. And as you can see the injuries to his chest and face.”

  “What about his mind? Was he -- is he in his right mind?”

  He frowned, confused. “How do you mean?”

  “I was told he asked for me. What did he say when he called for me?”

  “He asked for his wife.”

  Tears filled my eyes and I smiled a little. “His wife.” I nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. “I’d like to be alone with him, if that’s alright.”

  “I’m sure he’d prefer it.”

  The physician pat my shoulder, and exited with Brigita who informed me that she would be right outside.

  “You don’t have to wait,” I told her. “I shall find my way back.”

  She curtsied. “Yes, Mistress.”

  I pressed my nightgown underneath myself and sat beside him on the bed, looking him over. He appeared so powerless and vulnerable. It took me aback, seeing him in such a helpless and feeble manner. I noticed the compress left behind by the physician and began dabbing the perspiration from his forehead. He frowned a little, moving against the mattress and grunting in pain as he tried to shift himself. I rested my fingers on his cheek and rubbed my thumb across his lips, hoping to incite a reaction. I kept my hand there for as long as I could, in gaining nothing, and lowered my hand to his chest. His head dropped aside then and his eyes opened a little. I could see the whites peeking out beneath his eyelids. He was staring at my face, or rather he was trying to, and his lips began twitching a little -- the bottom one attempting to meet the top one to form a smile.

  “My favorite girl,” he whispered to me. His voice so low and raspy. He tried looking down and crawled his fingers across the bed, frantically searching in the comforter for mine. I didn’t have it in me to leave him suffering and took his hand in both of mine.

  We sat looking at each other for what seemed like forever before he finally closed his eyes again. I released his hand, placing it beside him and looked over at the door. I could have left in that moment. Given him time to sleep on his own as I took my first night as a bride back to my chambers, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I tossed the compress aside and covered him in a light sheet to his waist, rolling down the remainder of the blankets to his ankles. I looked at him again and swung my legs around onto the bed, remaining careful not to wake him. I lay my hand atop his wrist and moved as close to him as I possibly could.

  That was our first night together as husband and wife.

  The Realization

  Two weeks had passed since the battle. Norvack was holding up quite well, though still refusing to leave his brother’s chambers and return to his own, or any other part inside the palace for that matter.

  I was standing in the garden with Brigita on the west side of the palace, tending to the flowers we had planted last week, when I learned of the Sheriff’s arrival. Once I realized Norvack would be bedridden for an undisclosed amount of time, I had warned members of his court that the Sheriff was bound to come sniffing around the property like any animal circling dead carcass. Although they were still unsure of the prince’s reasons for continuing to dismiss him from the premises, as well as skeptical of my demands and orders to send the Sheriff to me, they managed to do as I asked each time. Perhaps to avoid a beheading.

  As expected, the Sheriff had specifically asked to see the king.

  Brigita and I parted when I reached the library where he stood waiting. I took a deep breath before entering, bracing and preparing for the worst.

  When he turned to me, his face fell in disappointment. He looked as if I had strangled one of his men with my bare hands right before his very eyes or kicked one of his angry yapping dogs with the heel of my shoe.

  He placed his hands behind and arched his back, standing in the manner of a trained soldier ready for battle against me. “I asked to see the king,” he said gruffly.

  “I’m aware.” I closed the door behind me and smiled in a wicked manner. I was determined to at least appear as the devil himself if I could not very well manage to conjure him up in such a short time. And I paced the room, pretending to admire the decorum, further angering him. I slid my fingers across the smooth desk, then traveled to a couch I was certain was made from the feathers of a giant peacock. The colors seemed to dance against one another.

  The Sheriff became unsettled, slapping the back of his hand against his palm and grumbling. “Mistress!” he hollered. I slowly turned and cocked my head. “I asked to see the king.”

  I looked around the room once more and then met his eyes. They were so angry, evil. Never once did I feel regret or compassion.

  “Yes, I understand. However, he’s not here,” I
stated sharply.

  The Sheriff scrunched his face. “What are you informing me--?”

  I dropped my hands and spun away from him. “It’s such a pity you had to travel all of this way for nothing. I shall toss a few coins at your feet, a request for forgiveness for your having wasted your time, as well as mine with this meeting and conversation.”

  “I never asked to see you,” he growled.

  “And yet, here I stand because of you. My gardenias are looking quite fresh, but Norvack’s men pulling me away for this has prevented me from continuing on in helping to keep them up.” I dusted my hands and looked in his demonic eyes. “As for the king, I was almost certain it was well known amongst the court that he has traveled to the Netherlands with the queen. Quite interesting seeing as you two are such ‘good friends’ that you were made so unaware of his plans to leave the country, despite your recent absences --”

  “At your ruthless demands --”

  “They will not return until tomorrow night. Sheriff, I…” -- I opened my hands and raised my shoulders -- “I have no virtual control over who the king disallows inside his kingdom. Nor do I have control over who the prince wishes to dismiss upon sight. I am free to warn you as I choose, but I was sure the king would have gotten word of his absence to you either way, given that you were so unaware.”

  He flared his nostrils and sucked his teeth. It was clear I had hit more than one nerve.

  “I was unaware--”

  “Yes, for certain,” I interjected.

  He grinded his teeth. “I was unaware that this would be his chosen time to travel with the queen,” he said. “I knew of the Netherlands, I was unaware of when.”

  “I see… In that case, perhaps it was a last minute decision, to which there was no need for you to be included in the making or informing of it.”

  He looked to the floor and tapped his foot in anger. “Are you aware of how much I despise you, Mistress?”

  “Quite. However, I am also certain the world would not be what it is without your hatred of me.”