by J. D. Wright
“Umm, you look..,” Sarita started to reply, then glanced over to see her mother giving her a stern look. She looked back at Bree. “Like a beautiful queen,” she finished, then gave a big smile.
Bree wasn’t sure whether the smile was genuine, but she really couldn’t blame her. Without looking in the mirror, Bree was fairly certain that she looked like a minnow getting lost in the stream, swimming in the huge blue robes.
“I will send Finnley back to get you in a few moments, dear,” Cicilly said to Bree, then gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and stepped out, followed by Sarita.
Finnley gave Bree one last look, then laughed at her and turned for the door. He made it out just in time to avoid being hit by the flying shoe that Bree tossed at him. The shoe hit the door and rolled halfway across the room. When Bree picked it up and turned around, she caught a glimpse of herself in the tall mirror on the wall beside her and began to cry.
This wasn’t the plan that Bree had made for herself. Most princesses were betrothed long before twenty-three years of age in Everealm. After Bree’s parents had discovered that Bree and Rowan had been intimate, Cicilly took Bree away from the kingdom for over a year, in hopes of saving her daughter’s reputation. Despite the fact that Bree had lost her virginity, making her an undesirable wife if it was ever to be known, her parents had thought it best to carry on as if nothing had happened. And though there had been many suitors introduced to her over the years, Bree had refused every one of them.
Upon her return to Junacave, six years ago, she had expected her father to be disappointed and angry with her. Instead, he had welcomed her with loving arms and didn’t mention Rowan again. And since her father refused to tell her what became of Rowan, she was forced to send her secret weapon, Finnley, to investigate. He learned that once Rowan’s training was finished, he had been sent on his first mission under his new profession, as a military spy. However, Finnley regarded him more of an assassin. Bree laughed at first, wondering why Junacave would even need a spy, let alone an assassin, during this peaceful time. Finn had merely shrugged and said, “I’m just the messenger.”
Rowan’s new occupation had kept him far from Junacave for long periods of time. Bree finally figured out that her parents’ plan to save her future was to keep them apart as much as possible. The two times she had seen Rowan over the past seven years, he had done his best to avoid her, refusing to speak to her or even look at her. It caused her heartache and resentment towards both Rowan and her parents.
However, Bree now felt foolish for either of those feelings as she was painfully watching her father’s life slipping away. And the look on her parents faces when they spoke of his impending death made her feel terrible guilt for being so selfish, worrying only about her own troubles for so long.
When Finn came back to retrieve her, a few moments later, she had dried her tears and was determined to make her father proud, whatever means necessary.
~*~
Rowan slipped into the kingdom in the nick of time. The hall was already filled with people, but he was able to find a dark spot in the back of the room, elevated a bit, to give him a nice view of the throne. Dressed in black from head to toe, he was barely noticeable among so many faces and the candlelight would help to hide him. It wasn’t the castle guests he wanted to hide from, however. It was Bree.
In the past six years, he had done everything in his power to avoid her, for both of their sakes. After the king had found out about their night together, Rowan’s father had done everything he could to protect his son, even offering to resign as First Knight, a highly sought after position. But the king had refused. Instead, King Frederick insisted that Rowan not be punished for what he had called a “mistake of lovesick children.”
So he had continued his training, but the curriculum changed, drastically. Instead of learning how to fight on horseback with a sword and armor, he was taught how to hide and track people, following without being seen. He also learned how to remember details with remarkable accuracy and to sneak upon a man and cut his throat, without warning.
He was, unfortunately, proficient at this new training, which made it a bit easier. At least he wasn’t likely to die on his first assignment. And he hadn’t died on his second or third, either. So for the past seven years, he had traveled all over Everealm, spying, sneaking, impersonating, and occasionally he did need to kill in order to complete the mission. He wasn’t happy about his profession, as he was often lonely, but he was learning to cope. It was during his second assignment, patrolling the coast for pirating ships when he heard word that Breestlin had gained a new sister and would soon begin accepting suitors. While deep down, he didn’t want Bree to marry, he often wondered if he would be able to find closure if she had. Regrettably, though, she never did.
He worked quickly to finish his latest assignment when word spread of King Frederick’s illness and the crowning of the new Queen. He knew he needed to be there to see it, even if it meant hiding out of sight. He tried to force himself to forget about her over the past several years, using many different women to ease his loneliness, to no avail. None of them were appealing enough to make him forget about Bree. And eventually, he stopped trying altogether. But now that he was back in the castle, knowing that she would be walking into the room in a matter of moments, he suddenly wished he was on an assignment, far away.
~*~
Once the trumpeter began his tune, there was no turning back. Cicilly and Sarita entered the hall to take their places next to the throne and left her alone in the hallway with Finnley. Breestlin began to panic.
“Finn, I don’t think I can do this. What if I’m a terrible queen and everyone hates me, or what if they think I am too young, or what if they—“, she was interrupted when Finnley reached his hand out to cover hers.
He gave her a small smile. “I will be proud to call you my queen, and so will they,” he said, gesturing toward the hall. “Besides, even if you’re terrible, no one will say. Everyone wants to keep their head,” he grinned.
Bree laughed then took a deep breath. Turning toward the doorway, she held her head high and walked into the grand hall, toward the throne of Junacave and her destiny, whatever that may be.
The ceremony was quick, as the king was too ill to stand upright for very long. With the help of his First Knight and two other guards, he quickly anointed Breestlin as the new ruling Queen of Junacave. The crown was a bit too large for her head, but she wore it proudly.
Rowan thought Bree looked fairly calm for such an important occasion, and it wasn’t until she turned around to face the hall, and somehow let her gaze fall directly into his eyes, had her demeanor faulted. She stopped smiling at once and stiffened. Even though he knew he should look away, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Feeling the tension creeping up between them, he gave her a wink.
Bree’s suddenly she felt like she was standing in the middle of a blazing fire as the heat rose to her cheeks. When he winked at her, she felt her heart skip a beat and completely forgot about everyone else in the room. She could have sworn she saw the corners of his mouth begin to smile. How dare he walk into her coronation and smile at her, after leaving her alone for the past seven years. Bree could feel her brows begin to come together and a scowl start to spread across her face. This was not the reaction she had anticipated at seeing him again.
However, the tension between them was short lived as Bree was forced to break her stare when her mother stepped in front of her to give a congratulatory hug. Then the entire hall dropped to one knee to bow before their new queen. When everyone stood, Bree looked back to the place that Rowan had been standing just a moment before.
He was gone.
~*~
King Frederick died three days after the coronation ceremony with his family, Elric, and Sir Nicholas by his side. During his last few days, he had felt a new sense of hope that no matter what challenges came to Junacave, his daughter would handle them with grace and intellect. He
had raised her himself, after all, how could she not? He still felt a dreadful pang of guilt for what had happened between his daughter and Rowan many years ago, blaming himself for being too naïve to see what was conspiring between them.
That was why he could not bear to punish either of them for his own mistake. How foolish he had been to think two people of their ages then would not be attracted to one another, especially remembering his own first encounter with Cicilly and the startling desirability felt almost immediately between them. Of the many suitors that had been brought before him over the years, asking for his daughter’s hand in marriage, not a single one had made her face light up or fireflies dance in her eyes, the way he felt when he looked at Cicilly. He could finally admit his pleasure that Bree had stubbornly refused them all.
So when Breestlin had come to his deathbed to say goodbye, he admitted his shame and begged her for forgiveness. She cried and hugged him and swore there was nothing to forgive, even apologizing to him for the first time, for behaving so carelessly. Frederick refused her apology, saying she was never to apologize again for following her heart. And if she were to choose to marry Rowan in the future, or anyone else for that matter, she would have his blessing, only if she were to marry for love. He wanted his daughter to have every bit of happiness that he had with Cicilly for so many years.
The funeral lasted four days, with mourning in the first three days, and celebration in the last. Once the king was buried in a tomb in the noble courtyard, the foreign luminaries and other guests had begun to leave. The castle, which had been filled with noise, both laughter and tears, over the past several days was slowly becoming a quiet place again.
Bree stood outside in the gardens, looking up at the castle that was now hers. The walls, while showing wear from almost a century of braving the weather and war, still stood strong and tall. There were four levels to the main part of the castle. Five, if you included the dungeons and cellars below. And there were six towers, adding two more floors in those. With one wing to house the royal family, one for guests, one for the royal knights who were unmarried, plus more than two dozen other rooms on lower levels, and four full-sized barracks near the stables to the south, the monstrous fortress was quite a sight to behold.
But it wasn’t just the castle that was hers now. Her new position would come with responsibilities which would test her will and patience. It wasn’t just a title she held. It was an entire kingdom of families and their livelihood. She understood how fragile the balance of the scales between peace and hostility could be and she would have to tread lightly to earn the trust of the residents. She sighed, then picked a beautiful pink rose from the hedge beside her, tucked it behind her ear, and headed into the castle.
While many people had traveled from afar to attend the coronation and funeral, one notable absence was the king’s half-brother, Silas. Word had been sent to Sire, notifying him of his brother’s illness, and later of his death. Yet there was no response from Sire on either account.
Bree didn’t know the details of her father and uncle’s relationship before his death. She did know that things had taken a dark turn when her grandmother, Hilda, had refused to acknowledge her bastard step-son, born to a chambermaid, no less. Because of it, the brothers had a strained relationship. Bree had only met her uncle a few times when she was younger and had no real memories of him.
Even though it was not customary for a half-blooded child to be recognized as a royal, Silas was given his own land, south of Junacave, as penance, perhaps. Silas had built a grand kingdom, Bree had been told, but he had often participated in illegal and distasteful activities and piracy. While these could have been mere gossips, she was not ashamed to admit that she felt a bit of relief that he had decided not to attend.
Perhaps for Silas, the death of his brother was of no concern.
Chapter Two
Rowan decided against staying in his father’s quarters in the castle after the coronation, and had instead gone to his grandfather’s tavern in the village. His grandfather on his mother’s side, Winston, was a scholarly gentleman and a successful businessman. At one time, he had owned nearly half of the merchant stands and apothecaries of Junacave, becoming one of the most well-known traders of the realm. But once Rowan’s grandmother had died, his grandfather had become quite sullen. He began selling off his assets one by one until the only thing he still owned was the old tavern in the center of the village. Thankfully, the tavern had a steady income of customers who enjoyed a pint of ale and occasional fine wine or rum when they were in stock.
Winston was always glad to let Rowan stay and help tend the bar, occasionally. And Rowan used this to his advantage, as people do tend to talk openly and honestly when they have had too much drink, spilling all sorts of scandalous secrets and information. This was especially true during the king’s funeral, as many of his supporters had chosen to drink in memory of the king with dozens of villagers filling the tavern each night. Just today, he learned that the old wizard, Elric, was dying. This didn’t surprise him, seeing as Elric was 120 years old now. He also learned that the tailor’s wife had been having an illicit affair with her own brother (that one he found hard to believe).
After securing shelter at the tavern, Rowan had needed a change of clothes as his usual dark attire would draw curious eyes, so he snuck upstairs to rummage through his grandfather’s wardrobe. He chose a simple green tunic, brown trousers, and a matching vest. While this clothing was more restricting than his typical ensemble, in which he wore at least ten different weapons at a time, he did still have a few of the necessities tucked away. But to a stranger, Rowan didn’t look any more dangerous than the drunken weasel at the end of the bar. Few people knew of his current occupation, and he preferred to keep it that way. He was quite enjoying himself until the tavern door swung open and Rowan looked up to find his father, Sir Nicholas, standing in the doorway.
What a vision his father was, dressed fully in his ceremonial armor and standing nearly six and a half feet tall, easily towering over every other man in the tavern, including Rowan. Though age was beginning to show a bit of silver in his brown beard, his father was still considered among the village women to be a very handsome and sought after man for marriage, leaving ladies falling over themselves to gain his attention. After Rowan’s mother died, some fifteen years ago, Nick refused to take another wife since and had devoted himself entirely to protecting the king. However, that certainly did not prevent Nick from being desired, as evidenced by the two women sitting in the corner, gawking at him.
“Rowan,” he said, nodding to his son as he walked up and sat down on a stool at the bar, “I must have missed you when you left the castle after the coronation. I wish you would have told me you had planned to stay as I could have made better provisions in the castle for you than… this.” He accepted the pint of ale that his son sat before him.
Rowan decided to wait to reply until they moved into one of the empty storage rooms upstairs, for a bit of privacy, locking the door behind them as they entered. Since Rowan never knew where their conversations would take them, he did know that even innocent information in the wrong hands could be dangerous. He sat his mug down on a crate nearby.
“I appreciate the concern, but I’m alright here. And I don’t think staying in the castle would be a good idea at the moment. Besides, I am not a highly regarded knight, such as yourself,” he said, grinning at his father.
Nick cleared his throat, “Well, maybe not yet, but you could become one... a knight, I mean.” He took another swig and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “It is your birthright, after all.”
Fairly certain that his father’s memory must be failing him, Rowan reminded Nick that he couldn’t become eligible for knighthood, per the king’s orders. It was one of the conditions the king had given when he found out about Bree and Rowan.
“Ah, yes,” Nick replied, “but the king is the king no longer. And I have on good word from the late king, himse
lf, that Junacave would be lucky to have you in its guard and that he wished it were so. He confided in me just before his death.”
While Rowan wanted to laugh at the suggestion of becoming a royal knight, he decided against it, so as not to offend his father who had devoted his life to the guard. It wasn’t long ago that Rowan was on his way to knighthood himself and very sure he would get there, but fate being as it was, his destiny had changed.
“I appreciate the thought, but I’m not sure that I would be a good fit for the guard.” He paused to think of how to word his next reply. “And I am absolutely certain that the queen wouldn’t appreciate having me around. Especially after her reaction at the coronation. She didn’t seem pleased to see me. Perhaps, it was just terrible timing on my part, showing up unannounced…”
“Well, I’m not so sure about that, myself,” Nick said, “but if you would just consider it?”
Nick decided to change the subject of conversation before Rowan could outright refuse.
“So, tell me about your recent travels. See anything interesting?” his father said with a wink. Rowan simply grinned and began his tale.
He agreed to consider his father’s offer but shoved the thought aside a few moments after he left. No, Rowan was sure that once he received his new assignment, he would be far away from the kingdom, and even further away from becoming a knight.
~*~
Elric had taken the queen aside during the third day of her father’s funeral to offer both his condolences and his loyalty, but Bree could tell that there was something else bothering him. So she offered to speak with him, privately, after the funeral had passed. Even though her first day of being Queen was tiring, Bree still found the time to visit Elric in his tower on the southwest corner of the castle.
