Royal Chronicles of Denmark, Books 1 & 2

by Kiki Leach

  I pushed my brows together and pressed my tongue against the driest part of the roof of my mouth. I could barely respond, but somehow managed to let a few words escape almost immediately.

  “Are you mad?” I asked in a low voice, almost comically. “Truly?”

  “No more than you or my son.”

  “Your son.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and held back tears. “He shall strike at you. Force him to eliminate me, and in turn, he shall eliminate you.”

  “Possible.” He was cold, calculated in his response. The word hung frozen in the air. “Though I am wiling to take such a chance to ensure that justice shall be served.”

  He brushed past me and met with his men on the other side of the palace. I nearly keeled over the moment he had escaped from sight and thought in that very second to run from the premises as fast as my thin limbs could take me past the golden gates of hell in which I had been enclosed. And then I inhaled and thought of Norvack. I knew I had to speak to him before I did something so irrational, I was certain to regret it sooner rather than later.

  I was headed straight for his chambers when I heard his horse neighing in the stables, almost sounding as if he were in dire pain. I thought to ignore it until it got louder and more disturbing, and raced over to see what trouble possibly lay ahead.

  When I entered out of breath and holding my chest, I saw Norvack sitting in his chair, directly across from the stallion. His arms were folded, his gaze was intense. They were staring at one another as if it were some sort of contest and each was determined to win a prize of some kind once it was over. The prince was pensive as he clutched his chin and shook his head a little. The horse made a noise and stomped his hoof into the ground. Norvack dropped his hand and jolted a bit when he saw me.

  “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I said, moving in closer.

  “Something of which is impossible.”

  I placed my hands behind myself and stood beside him, swaying back and forth in place. I looked around at all the hay and dirt, and over at the horse inside his large pen as he began to eat.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “Determination, remember?” said Norvack.

  I bobbed my head up and down. “I see.” I breathed in deep and slowly released it. “I saw your father in the garden. He informed me of the breakfast you shared with he and your mother.”

  He turned to look up at me as I met his gaze. “The devil is alive and well this morning.”

  “Draped in a white cloak with a hearty yet spiteful grin plastered across his cherub face. Oh, the irony.” I went over to his horse and gradually pet his silky, snow colored mane. He seemed to adapt to my soft touch almost immediately, leaning in a little, wagging his long white tail. It was just as unusual for animals to adapt to me as it was for people. Though I assumed he had taken after Norvack, who watched us calmly, and seemed to be thinking of something. His eyes told a story his lips would not dare utter to me even if I had asked in the most serene of manners. “If the Sheriff informs your father of my misdeed against Willem,” I said, “he will force you to slaughter me on the scaffold in the square.”

  His eyes shot up and he glowered. “Is that what he told you?” he asked, his tone full of rage and disgust.

  “Yes. I’m convinced he suspects I killed Willem, the Sheriff only needs to confirm it. Why else invite the man and even say such a thing?”

  He dragged the back of his hand over his mouth and sat up. “Perhaps it’s all to frighten you, to frighten us both.”

  “For what reason other than forcing one of us to admit the truth? I wish I could have faith in your words to me, however, the king’s comments prior to the wedding, and now inviting the Sheriff of Denmark for dinner after our repeated dismissals does not reassure me of that.”

  He grimaced. “What comments? What did he say to you on our wedding day?”

  “He asked if I had seen your brother on the night he was killed. He seemed very suspicious of me then, but I was so nervous as it was, that once we were finally married, I had forgotten it.”

  “Until today,” he said.

  I nodded. “He is certain you are aware of the truth and that you are indeed covering for me. I take him at his word on his threat. If he learns the truth--”

  “Do you strictly believe the Sheriff will in fact inform my father of your misdeed tonight despite our threats against him?”

  “Most certainly. If only to see me hang, it doesn’t matter if he stands beside me on the scaffold. I shall drop or get beheaded first as a woman, and he will watch in delight and laughter prior to taking his own final breath. It’s what he wishes, Norvack. No matter how many threats or promises made, no matter the accusations against himself, he is determined to ruin my life for the pure sport of it.”

  “And mine,” he said under his breath. “In his attempts to rip you away from me.”

  “Once you have slaughtered me before the country, your father will marry you off to Princess Sophia as a final stab in my motionless heart.”

  “I shall be slaughtered as well.”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t believe the king wouldn’t harm his only living son, as I am most positive he would. But life with the princess, she bearing your children and providing you the life only read of in fables, would be your hell on earth in the eyes of your father. And it would allow him to regain the control he desires, the control he felt he lost when you chose to marry me. The more I think of it, as he sees it, the more death alongside me would be considered--”

  “Anything but hell,” he replied. “A fool’s paradise.”

  I smiled a bit. “You have a way with words.” I lay back and rested my arms across my chest. And then I reached for my head, circling my fingers around my temples and placing tiny amounts of pressure on them. “I am dead before sundown, you’re aware of that.”

  He balled a fist, slamming it onto the arm of his chair. “I can prevent this from happening.”

  “How? I threatened to cut out his tongue with a letter opener, and the man still shows tonight ready to expose me to your father and the queen. It’s not death the sheriff is afraid of. It’s seeing me continue to live on not in fear of him.”

  He curled his fingers in, making a fist, and pressed it to his mouth. He scowled a little, then turned his head. “I would never wish for you to appear meek before him, but if it were to save your life--”

  “No. I will never allow him to reap such satisfaction from me, never. If he chooses the path of ruthlessness, I shall no doubt travel along the same road, many, many miles ahead. And your father--”

  “I shall deal with my father in my own way. Of that, you need not worry.”

  He outstretched his arm and held out his hand. I looked down at the tiny calluses that started to form from the constant rolling of his wheels, a result of his refusal to protect his skin from such blemishes. I took his hand in mine, caressing the roughness, and we grinned at one another.

  The Good Deed

  Dinner came much sooner rather than later (as I had hoped) in the grand ballroom that evening. Brigita had just finished dressing me in an elegant olive colored ball gown and matching jewels, save for my gold wedding band, when a servant came calling for my attendance. I stared at myself in the mirror in the hopes that I could somehow manage to avoid what was sure to happen, even contemplating escaping from the balcony despite being floors up from the ground, but those hopes were tarnished the moment the servant began banging on the door.

  “Princess!” she hollered as she continued banging. “The king and queen await you downstairs, along with Prince Norvack.”

  Brigita stood behind and pat my hair down. The curls seemed to be more wild than usual despite her constant brushing. When I turned to her, she had tears in her eyes.

  “I’m not dead yet,” I told her.

  She sniffed. “I can’t imagine the Sheriff truly plans to expose you to Norvack’s parent’s tonight.”

  “No need to imagine as it shall be ha
ppening in only a matter of hours now. He’ll wait until we are finished with dinner to expose me. He wishes to watch me squirm the entire night, I’m sure of it. Had I not threatened him, I do wonder if any of this would even be occurring at this very moment. Perhaps I should have slaughtered him when I had the chance,” I muttered.

  “Do you mean that, Cinder?”

  “On a night like this? Yes.”

  I shook out the skirt of my gown, adjusting the tulle beneath it, and Brigita reached for my hand, squeezing it tight. I acknowledged her with a nod and slight smile, then headed for the door.

  The servant introduced me as ‘Princess Cinderella’ as I entered the grand ballroom and all eyes turned to me. The king and queen were previously in deep discussion with the Sheriff across the room, while Norvack was sitting in a corner on the opposing side, swigging a goblet of his precious brandy. He sat the goblet on the table and wheeled over to greet me. I bent down to kiss his cheek and he slid one hand up my back, resting it at my nape.

  “You smell of lily’s tonight,” he said.

  I gradually pulled back and looked into his eyes. It seemed as if nothing else mattered then, the look of pure delight on his face upon seeing me was enticing, if only for a few seconds.

  The Sheriff and king walked over then, leaving the queen alone to contemplate their actions toward me. Norvack cleared his throat upon their approaching and grimaced when he noticed the Sheriff donning a pompous grin.

  “My son,” said the king, bending forward. “So good of your bride to finally join us.”

  “Yes, it IS good, fair Norvack,” the Sheriff chimed in, waving his finger toward the ceiling. “It’s quite good indeed. In fact, I would say it is downright delightful that you and your wife are able to join us for this feast tonight. I have such high hopes that this little matter of a misunderstanding between us will be completely resolved within a few hours.” He took a sip of cognac from his goblet and shot me a smug glance.

  I could do nothing but glare at him and hope for a possible stroke within the coming hours.

  As the servants entered, bowing, they informed us that dinner was ready to be served. Norvack escorted me to the dining table as the king properly escorted Eliza. Before I could take a seat near the prince, as he was required to sit at one end of the table as the king and queen occupied the other, the Sheriff rushed forward and stood at the center.

  “Mistress.” He pulled a chair out from the table and dropped his hand before it, indicating I sit down. “I would be quite honored to sit aside you this evening.”

  “It isn’t custom,” Norvack blurted. “Something of which you are well aware of, Sheriff.”

  “Yes. As aware as always, which is why I wish to sit alongside your princess. Please.” He bowed and showed me his hand.

  I looked down at Norvack, who had taken my hand and widened his eyes, clinched his jaw. Then I looked over to the king, who sneered a little as he took a seat alongside the queen, who remained unaware.

  “Cinder.” The Sheriff cocked his head a little and gave me a threatening glance. At that moment, I had wished to defy his wants, but knew that in doing so, I would have exposed more than I was willing to.

  I released the tight grip the prince had on my hand and went over to the Sheriff, raising my head and smiling to show him that I was anything but cowardice. I moved before the chair and he stood behind, shoving it beneath the table as I sat down. Then he leaned over the head of the chair and into my ear, his breath warm and musty. “This shall indeed be a fantastic evening,” he said. He took his seat aside me, eyeing me the entire time as he sat. I tried to appear as fearless as possible after that statement, though it was quite difficult. Norvack wheeled to the other end of the table, staring at us the entire time. His eyes darkened and he picked up a knife, fiddling with the handle as he forced the pointed blade into the wood of the table.

  We were served brown rice and vegetables soaked in a vinegary broth, a favorite of the Sheriff, yet not so much for anyone else. I picked at my food with a fork, much like an animal would a carcass in making certain it was dead, while the queen made odd faces in attempting to swallow the tiny bits she had managed to gather atop her spoon.

  “You don’t seem to be enjoying the meal I have chosen for this evening,” said the Sheriff to me. He leaned in, whispering. “We often serve these meals to the prisoners prior to execution.”

  “Ah!” I said, still picking at the rice. “You deign to serve a group or prisoners your favorite meal prior to slicing their throats on a scaffold? And here I thought you a villain of the worst kind.”

  He sneered. “Perhaps for our newest prisoners, they shall not be served at all. Many are vagrants, vagabonds as you were prior to your marriage to the prince. Missing a meal prior to death would be no different from the life they already lead.”

  “I’m curious.” I placed my fork alongside my plate and slightly turned to him. “Are many of these men, and some women, first time offenders?”

  He dabbed his face with a napkin. “Why do you ask?”

  “Personal reasons. It seems as if some people are allowed to commit the most heinous of crimes in this country, yet are never allowed to face such responsibility for them. While others may commit something petty such as stealing food to eat or clothing from the dead, for instance, and are slaughtered by you or a cohort before the entire population. It doesn’t seem quite fair to me.”

  “A crime is indeed a crime, Mistress.”

  “And yet no crime is treated equally by you or others, dear Sheriff. A man of greater hierarchy who chooses to defile women is of greater importance than the woman herself. And if she so happens to defend herself against her vile behavior, she is given a death sentence while he is allowed to continue in defiling. Yes?”

  “No.”

  “Well, it is most certainly how it seems to anyone with eyes to see. Perhaps it is because, that’s how it is? And if you are so deeply unaware of so, it might be time for the country to find another who will remain aware of the circumstances surrounding his own people.” I picked up my goblet and took a sip of water as the Sheriff flared his nostrils like a sort of raging bull in heat.

  Norvack leaned forward on the table and pressed his index to his lips, attempting to hide a smirk. The Sheriff snapped his neck in his direction and glared at him. The prince raised a goblet before taking a sip and shook his head, then winked at me. The Sheriff then looked to the king, who nodded at him, indicating some sort of silent agreement.

  Within the hour, following a bout of silence, a servant returned with more wine for everyone, but Belarus waved his hand and slid back from the table. “We shall enjoy tea and crumpets in the adjoining library,” he said. The servant bowed, removing his plate and others.

  The Sheriff dabbed his face one last time, then stood up and pulled the chair out for me. Norvack was at my side then, taking my hand in his and leading me to the library before the Sheriff could do or say anything more.

  As we entered, I realized it was the same one in which I had threatened the Sheriff not days before. I turned back to him as he walked in after the king and picked up a goblet filled with tea, taking a sip. He stared at me past the rim like an animal preparing for attack against a fanged enemy. His fingers curled around the goblet, tightening when he noticed me losing some of my courage. He became giddy once more at the very idea of me collapsing in anguish.

  “What a lovely room!” he said, moving around and between the tables and couches. “The last time I was in here, I had yet to take notice of the queen’s exquisite decorative skills.” He sipped more of his tea and glanced over at me. I exhaled as Norvack sat up in his chair, staring hard at the Sheriff and gnashing his teeth.

  The queen stepped forward, smiling. “Thank you,” she said. “It took quite a bit of time to prepare it. The king’s mother was not very fond of the changes I made to her palace when I arrived.”

  “Well, they are indeed lovely changes,” he replied. “Don’t you agree, Mistress?�
��

  I cleared my throat. “Yes, quite lovely--”

  “Although I do recall a slight stain while I was here, in the carpeting. It seems to be gone now.”

  The queen peered and looked to her floor. The Sheriff looked over at me again, smirking as he had referred to my blood having stained it.

  Belarus took a seat behind his desk, observing us all for a moment as if we were animals tucked inside a small cage, all grasping for air, prior to speaking. “Such discussion of the decorum is not why we are here. Let us no longer continue on in ignoring exactly why the Sheriff was invited to the palace tonight as my guest.”

  “Father --” Norvack interjected.

  “No.” The king raised a hand. “The Sheriff is certain that he wishes to inform me of a misdeed, a possible crime committed by your wife that shall soon be exposed. I warned you against this marriage, Norvack. I warned you that bedding and wedding a lady from the lowest quarters of Denmark would find you here. Now she shall be exposed before us all, and this marriage declared illegal under the eyes of God. And if she shall face death as well by the hands of you, so be it.”

  Norvack fell back, shaking his head in disbelief at his father’s words.

  Eliza’s head shot up. She looked over at me for a brief moment, and then turned her wide eyes back to Belarus. “My king, you mustn’t do --” she began.

  “Quiet,” he retorted in a sharp tone. She cautiously lowered her head and ducked back into the shadows as if she were more a servant, and not the regal Queen of Denmark, second in the highest realm within the monarchy. Belarus waved toward the Sheriff. “Inform us what you wish.”

  He nodded to the king. “It has always been my duty as the Sheriff of this country to keep it as safe as I could from various crimes committed, petty or otherwise, by the inhabitants. To sweep those unworthy vagrants beneath a rug with plans to later cart them off to parts unknown, to a place in which they could never possibly return and attempt to devastate us once more. I came upon the Mistress as a child, a young girl with more determination and skill for wielding a man’s sword than I had ever seen. She seemed to fear nothing, not even me.” His eyes glowed with a fury then. “I was afraid for her, what kind of person she would become as a woman coming into her own, and how the world would see and treat her. I wondered if she would remain as fearless as I had seen in her younger years, and she has. Nothing seems to frighten her more than death it seems. Perhaps her own, perhaps even Norvack, yet no other.”