The Traitor's Daughter

by Claire Robyns

  Nathanial pushed the door open and bade me enter, and I saw my panic was premature. Foolish, too. Now or later, I’d have to get the sordid ordeal over and done with and I refused to show any fear, any emotion at all.

  We stepped into a well-appointed office, lush rugs on the floor, a bookshelf crammed with fat, leather-bound volumes. The electric lights were fastened to the walls, the bulbs shaped like candle flames and giving off a soft, yellow glow.

  A short, balding man hurried in after us. “Forgive the delay.”

  “You couldn’t exactly rush out the chapel ahead of us,” Nathanial said dismissively. “Rose, this is Charles, my Royal Steward.”

  Charles dipped his head at me in a stiff, shallow nod. “May I be the first to wish you a long and blessed marriage.”

  I clamped my mouth on an impolite retort.

  “Thank you,” Nathanial responded on my behalf.

  Charles looked at me in uncertainty, then gave up. “Please, take a seat,” he said, waving us into a pair of lavish chairs as he moved in behind an oversized desk. “This won’t take long. The documents are prepared and everything is in order.”

  “Documents?” I tilted forward as I sat to get a better look at the thickly woven pages.

  “I haven’t had a chance to explain.”

  “Ah…” Charles cleared his throat and, taking great care in the handling, placed the top document before me. “This is the Royal Marriage Seal.”

  In between the decorative ink and lavish penmanship, it was just a fancy marriage certificate joining King Nathanial David Glamorgan and High Chancellor Rosemary Welsh in Holy Matrimony. My gaze hitched on the flourish of two words. High Chancellor. I sat up a little straighter at the apt reminder. I’d been beaten in battle, railroaded into this marriage. But I was the High Chancellor and I wouldn’t be cowered.

  Charles offered a gold-plated fountain pen for us to sign our names, then witnessed it with his signature. “The Custodian Agreement,” he said, sliding the next document over with somewhat less reverence.

  I bent over the page, squinting to read the scrawl of tightly-worded paragraphs. I was still squinting when I was done and looked at Nathanial in confusion.

  He shrugged. “It merely states that if I die, any of my heirs who haven’t yet come of age will be placed in custody of the King’s Court.”

  “I can read,” I bit out. “What is this? You don’t trust me to raise my own children?”

  “The practice is quite standard, your grace,” Charles said smoothly. “You won’t be separated from your children, um, so long as you remain at court.”

  I ignored him, kept my glare on Nathanial.

  “This isn’t personal,” Nathanial said, watching me with a neutral expression “As Charles said, these documents are a requirement of the royal marriage and have been presented, and signed, by every queen who came before you. My heir will one day be King, or Queen. This ensures I can appoint a guardian to properly guide them in that role.”

  No.

  I swiped the last sheath of paper from under Charles’ nose, my vision glazing over with anger as I read. I, Rosemary Welsh, swear allegiance to my king and husband, Nathanial David Glamorgan, and vow upon my life to uphold my duties as queen and faithful wife.

  I tossed the page back at Charles and this time voiced my objection out loud. “No. Absolutely not.”

  Nathanial’s eyes narrowed in warning. “This isn’t a negotiation, Rose.”

  I sucked in a deep breath, released it long and slow. I couldn’t afford to let anger cripple me now. “Charles, could we have a minute alone?”

  “Yes, yes of course.” Charles pushed hesitantly to his feet. “If it pleases the King.”

  “It pleases me,” Nathanial said curtly. “Leave us.”

  The man scuttled off at the order, clicking the door quietly closed behind him.

  I rose from my chair and walked around the desk. “This is not a negotiation, I’m well aware of that.” With the much-needed space between us, I faced Nathanial again. “I’ve given in to all your demands. I married you, agreed to make it real. I promised you an heir. I did all that based on your good word, and now I find it’s not worth a damn.”

  Nathanial settled back in his chair and squared one leg over the other. “Your people are free.”

  “You also made great claims about not consuming my power,” I threw back at him. “You said I’d rule at your side, not captive from the shadows.”

  His gaze dropped to the discarded documents. He gave a dry laugh, his eyes lifting to me. “I don’t want this, Rose, not any of it. It’s the law and even I do not have the authority to change it.”

  “You only hide behind the law when it’s to your benefit,” I scoffed. “You married the High Chancellor, for goodness sake!”

  “There’s nothing written that specifically forbids our marriage,” he said. “I may bend and manipulate the rules, but this is different. The church only blessed our union. We’re not legally married until you sign and I won’t allow our marriage to exist in some half state.”

  “Is this really different, Nathanial?” I wasn’t so sure and I didn’t trust any of it. “Every person is born your subject, allegiance to the King assumed upon birth. No one is required to take the oath or sign their name to it. I imagine the only exception would be the High Chancellor, and yet you expect me to believe this document…” I jabbed a finger on the Testament of Allegiance “… has been signed by every Queen before me, and wasn’t introduced for the special circumstances of our marriage?”

  Nathanial uncrossed his leg, leant forward with an elbow on the desk. “Read between the lines, Rose, there’s more to the oath my wife must pledge than the average assumption of allegiance.”

  I glanced down and re-read. The pertinent phrase jumped out at me, “…vow upon my life to uphold my duties as queen and faithful wife,” although I had no idea what it meant. I frowned at Nathanial. “What?”

  “You swear to remain faithful to me,” he explained. “Any acts of adultery will be considered treason.”

  “Acts of adultery…” My jaw loosened. “I could be executed for having an affair? Is that seriously what you’re saying?”

  “We’re not even officially married yet,” he countered. “And you’re already worried about the repercussions of your affairs?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  The grey in his eyes frosted to silver. “I won’t tolerate an unfaithful wife.”

  I laughed, jabbed the Testament again. “This makes that abundantly clear.”

  “My bloodline must be secured,” Nathanial said. “There can be no doubt about my heir’s parentage. It’s just a formality, Rose, especially in your case. As High Chancellor, you’re exempt from any form of prosecution by me or the law.”

  He leant back in his chair, scrubbed his jaw as he studied the suspicion scowling my face. “As my wife and Queen, I could condemn you for treason and have you executed. As High Chancellor, I can’t touch you. Our power is balanced, which means the concept of treason doesn’t apply. I can’t order your execution any more than you could order mine. And yes, that is written into those laws you have such a hard time trusting.”

  “Are you surprised?” I slammed my palms on the desk, tipped my head to look at him. “Your father locked my mother in the tower for treason and you had my father killed.”

  “Your mother wasn’t the High Chancellor,” he said. “And what happened with Devon, that was between men, not Kings and High Chancellors. He was never officially exiled from the castle and I couldn’t have commanded a formal execution.”

  “The boundaries seem awfully flimsy.”

  “Lines drawn in sand,” Nathanial agreed with little obvious concern. “As you so colourfully put it, you’d gut me in my sleep if I hadn’t put my own protections into place. But that has nothing to do with the Testament of Allegiance.”

  “And what of this?” I held up the Custodial Agreement. I didn’t even want to think about giving Na
thanial his heir, but I’d agreed and he would insist. There would be a child. “Is the High Chancellor exempt from this, too?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Then we have a problem.”

  “No, we don’t,” he said firmly and stood to go and fetch Charles.

  Leaving me alone with the problem we didn’t have. This one was all mine and I couldn’t see a way out. If I didn’t sign, we wouldn’t be married. If we weren’t married, I’d reneged on our bargain and Nathanial would start carrying out his threats.

  He returned with Charles, who went straight to the bookshelf and retrieved one of those fat leather-bound volumes. Not a book, I realized when he produced a key to unlock the volume and brought out yet another cream linen page headlined with the royal insignia.

  I moved out from behind his desk as he came around. “What part of my life will that one sign away?” I muttered.

  “This one’s for me,” Nathanial answered. He bent over the desk and grabbed the fountain pen, scrawling as he went on, “I’m appointing you as the official guardian and custodian of the King’s heirs.”

  I snatched the document as soon as he was done to confirm. “This is a nice gesture, Nathanial, but that’s all it really is. You’re allowed to change your mind, surely, and what happens then? I’m replaced?”

  Nathanial sighed and took the document back. He added another line and showed me.

  The above-mentioned guardianship cannot and will not be revoked without consent from the High Chancellor.

  He looked at me. “Happy?”

  Not happy, no. Uneasy. Apprehensive. I felt like I’d turned a corner into foreign territory. Nevertheless, we signed the respective papers and it was done, I was married with no loopholes to slip through.

  Charles lingered behind while Nathanial and I made our way out, past the emptied chapel and down the quiet passage of the west wing.

  “Why did you do that?” I asked as we walked.

  “What have I done now?”

  “We both know I would have signed whatever I had to. Why did you bend over backwards to accommodate me?”

  He glanced at me, then looked away. “I’m not perfect, but I’m not the monster you seem to think.”

  “I didn’t conjure my opinion out of thin air,” I said. “We are defined by our choices. Take a good, hard look at yours of late.”

  “You chose to marry me,” he said. “What does that say about you?”

  “The alternative was unacceptable.”

  “Precisely,” he said. “We’re not defined by our choices, but rather by the intent behind our choices. Don’t judge me too harshly until you’re sure you’ve drawn the correct conclusions about mine.”

  “If I’m so mistaken, why don’t you set me straight?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “The truth is always simple,” I murmured. “It’s the lies and deceit that are complicated.”

  Out front in the courtyard, the royal carriage waited to carry us. Everyone else had gone on ahead, so they could receive us with the townsfolk in the square. The carriage was a gaudy thing of black and gold with a rounded belly and closed canopy.

  My nose wrinkled at the sight. “You brought out old creepy crawly for the occasion.”

  Nathanial chuckled. “How else was I supposed to cart you and your reams of white satin down the hill?”

  I waved a hand over the length of me. “Do you see a scrap of white satin anywhere?”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  My mood took an upturn. “I’m sure Arandite could do with a run.”

  “The brides of Glamorgan have always arrived for the celebration by carriage.”

  “Since when did you become such a stickler for convention?”

  “I didn’t.” He sent the carriage off with instructions for the pair of King’s men posted on the back. “Fetch our horses.”

  Then he turned to me, shoving a hand through his hair. The setting sun struck the angles of his hollowed jaw and I didn’t tear my eyes away. A smile tugged my mouth and I didn’t try to squash it. I could hate Nathanial to hell and back, but that didn’t change the fact that he had the kind of brooding dark looks that caught a girl off-guard. Even me. Once in a while.

  He stood closer, his gaze practically drinking me in. “I’ve missed you.”

  My smile disintegrated. “Don’t.”

  “I intend to, as often as possible.” His hand came up, the pad of his thumb tracing my lower lip. “I like to see you smile.”

  I didn’t shrink from his touch, and not because I was mesmerised by his dramatic features. Every reaction revealed something more of me to him, another vulnerability, and I had to try harder to freeze him out. This was a start.

  His gaze slid to my mouth, warmed like a caress. I didn’t have much experience with flirtations and kissing, but I was a woman and my female intuition kicked in. That was the look of a man thinking, thinking seriously hard, about kissing a woman. My lips felt suddenly dry, but I stopped myself from wetting them.

  He didn’t kiss me. After a moment, he shifted to my side and looked into the distance, over the castle walls and to the forest beyond.

  My female intuition, it seemed, had a whacky compass.

  - 11 -

  We rode into town on horseback, three of the King’s men trailing some distance behind. Lambs and pigs had been roasting on the spits all day and the aromatic smoke billowed above the town square. Barrels of wine and ale had already been cracked open and the merrymaking was well under way. Laughter and raucous chatter competed against the mournful bagpipe music.

  As Nathanial and I drew our mounts to a halt on the pulsing fringe of festivities, a slow hush filtered through the crowd. Everyone turned their attention on us. The music changed into the King’s anthem, marched to the beat of background drums.

  Tension tightened in my stomach as I scanned the sea of faces. My father had killed their King. They’d lost brothers, fathers, sons. The Battle of the Mountain. The Battle for River Grodden. All the skirmishes in between.

  How could they not hate me?

  I looked further, picked out Markus and Lilliana, all my people, standing off to one side with their mugs of ale and plates of meat. Isolating themselves from the town folk.

  How could we not hate them?

  I swept my gaze over the square again. Old men huddled around the fires. Children playing near the fountain. Couples, families, young girls and boys on the brink of adulthood. I didn’t blame any of them. My hate was reserved for the men who’d killed my father, Nathanial and General Sunderland.

  My eyes landed on a middle-aged woman with a baby on her hip. Who is your hate reserved for? Moved to the huddle of old men by the fire. And yours?

  There were so many festering wounds amongst us and this royal marriage was just a patch, not a cure.

  Nathanial manoeuvred his stallion even closer at my side and reached out his hand for me to take and I took it. Because in this, at least, he was right. We needed to lead by example.

  I didn’t trust all his motives.

  I didn’t trust any of his motives.

  But we were here now. It was up to us to show our people how to do it.

  Nathanial raised our linked hands high and spoke in a commanding voice that carried across the square. “I give you my wife. Our Queen. Your High Chancellor.”

  Short and sweet, and the crowd loved it. Or rather, they loved their King. A cheer roared, heavily interjected with ‘Bless the King’ and shouts of ‘Glamorgan’ and didn’t quieten until Nathanial lowered our arms.

  We dismounted and passed our reins into waiting hands before Nathanial guided me toward the makeshift pavilion where our guests from the chapel mingled. Electric fairy lights were strung from the white canvas. Beneath, a long table laid in white linen with rose petals tossed in and amongst the rows of crystal glasses and delicate dishes.

  Nathanial pressed a glass of wine into my hands, then gave a nod of acknowledgement to the couple w
ho approached. “You remember my uncle?”

  Assuming the question rhetorical, I sipped on my wine instead of replying. James Glamorgan, Lord of the Hunt, had been a fixture at court to the neglect of his own estate in the north-west woodlands. He’d grown whiskers and a stout belly in the missing years, but I’d know him anywhere.

  “He appears to have acquired a wife,” I said, noting the striking woman on his arm.

  “If you ask Amelia, she’ll insist she acquired him,” Nathanial said with affection in his voice. “They were married last year.”

  Amelia got waylaid by the refreshment table while James headed straight for us, the usual mischief dancing in his eyes as he looked from Nathanial to me. “My favourite nephew and my favourite castle urchin, back together again.”

  “Your only nephew,” Nathanial drawled.

  “James,” I greeted, smiling at the use of his old nickname for me. I’d once held a deep affection for all the Glamorgan men in my life, now James was the last man standing. The only one who hadn’t murdered a parent of mine.

  “It’s good to have you home.” He took my hand, held onto it in a rare moment of seriousness.

  Although his words were kindly meant, I certainly couldn’t agree with the sentiment.

  “James, darling, release the poor girl from your sappy paw,” Amelia said as she walked up, bearing two glasses of wine she’d snatched from the table. “Hold onto this instead.”

  James chuckled and exchanged my hand for the glass she offered him. “Rose, this is my lovely wife, Amelia.”

  “I’m Amelia, yes, but feel free to reach your own conclusions about my loveliness,” she said lightly.

  I laughed, drawn in by her open nature. Lovely was too tame a word to describe Amelia. Everything about her was vivid. Her hair, the colour of burnt orange, cut above her brow in a blunt fringe and falling to her shoulders in a thick wedge. Her startling green eyes and slanted cheekbones. The daring dress she wore skimmed her breasts and hooked over her shoulders with flimsy gold chords. She was vibrant, sparked with life and beauty, and although she must have been a generation younger than James, I could see how they’d fit.