The Cold King

by Amber Jaeger

  Her face softened and Calia watched with wonder. “But many good things have happened since. That is why you struggle? You can’t balance your old, hard life with this new, good one?”

  That wasn’t it at all but Calia couldn’t find the words to explain her distress.

  Abelina reached out for her hand. “Don’t hate the king. Under the mask, he is a good man. I might have been made to stay in the village, a forsaken maiden. No one would have married me.” Abelina gave a forced laugh. “The king didn’t ruin my life, he saved me. He saved me from shame, from a lonely existence.”

  Calia examined her face. “But…”

  Abelina looked up wistfully. “I would have liked to have had children,” she admitted. “It’s my only regret. But I still don’t blame the king. I found a truer love in his home, a calling, a place in life. I can’t imagine my existence without the king. Can you?”

  Chapter Twelve

  When Calia brought the king his lunch tray he seemed to be his usual self. He had replaced his sodden mask with a fresh silk one and she was grateful he hadn’t returned to the hateful diamond one, or even worse, the diamond and ruby one. He murmured his thanks when she set the tray down and did not ask her to leave when she took her chair to work on his shirts.

  They passed the afternoon in quiet peacefulness, each lost in thoughts of their loved ones. It wasn’t until after dinner that the king spoke again. “Calia?”

  “Yes, my king?”

  His lips twitched at her name for him. “You are a better servant than I had hoped for. I would like to reward you but I only know what you do not want. Tell me, what can I give you?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing, you have already given me too much.”

  “I insist,” he said.

  “Really,” she protested and he held a hand up to silence her.

  “Surely there must be something you would enjoy.” She shook her head again but her teeth were on her bottom lip and he knew there was something she had in mind.

  “Tell me.”

  She looked up shyly. “Well, my mother never taught me to do any embroidery or anything with string. I saw a book in your library about crocheting. I can read now, so maybe if I had a hook and some yarn I could learn?”

  His heart melted at her meager request. “Wait here,” he commanded.

  She sat alone in his rooms, anxious for him to return.

  Abelina looked up at the knock on her door and pulled her dressing gown closed as she went to answer it. Her heart leapt in her chest when she saw the Cold King on the other side. “Your Majesty, what can I do for you at this hour? Is Calia all right?”

  He smiled, something she had never seen him do, and replied, “I need a crocheting hook and yarn. Do you have any to spare? I will reimburse you.”

  Abelina frowned. “Everything I have is from you. I shall get it for you straight away.” She piled a basket full of colorful yarn and hooks of various sizes and handed it to him.

  “Thank you, Abelina,” he said and she stared after him in amazement as he took off for the library.

  He returned to his rooms and to Calia with the basket and book. Her face lit up as she accepted them. “Thank you!”

  He smiled. “No, this is my thanks to you.”

  The clock chimed the late hour and the king looked up. “You may work here or in your room. I will be back in an hour.”

  Calia cocked her head. “Where are you going?”

  A little of the hardness he had lost crept back into his face. “It’s not your concern. Your only concern is to never tread out by the gardens after dark.”

  His harsh tone stung fiercely after their day together but she nodded her agreement. She waited for a moment after he left to retire to her own rooms.

  She lay in bed a long time, mulling over her hurt feelings and new questions. Why would he want to spend time in the garden at night? Even with a full moon it was pitch dark out there. He wouldn’t be able to see to work on his roses, so what was he doing? Finally she pushed the thoughts away. She refused to let her curiosity about what he was doing overcome her, she wouldn’t risk his anger just to have a question answered.

  Crocheting was harder than the book made it seem but she worked on it every night in her arm chair by the king’s fire. Each night he left at the same time without a word and she always left soon after him.

  She was near to completing her first ugly lap blanket when a knock at the door came one night, startling them both.

  Calia rushed to open it and was surprised to find a grim looking Marchello.

  “King Valanka,” he said formally.

  “What is it?” the king asked.

  “You have a… guest. She wishes to see you immediately.”

  Calia frowned but quickly smoothed her face out.

  The Cold King stood for a moment. “I will see her in my throne room.”

  “Do you wish me to attend you?” Calia asked, praying that he did.

  He nodded. “Freshen up. I’ll meet you in the hall.”

  Curiosity, with a streak of jealousy, consumed her as she fixed her hair and straightened her gown. She told herself she was being ridiculous but something about a mysterious woman wishing to see her king so late had her hackles up. Hurrying and distracted, she crashed right into the king on her way out of her room. He slipped an arm around her waist before she could fall and held her tight while she found her feet. Flushed with embarrassment, she raised her face to thank him but pulled away with a small cry when she took in his face. The silk mask had been replaced with the diamond and ruby monstrosity. If her reaction hurt him, she couldn’t tell.

  Calia realized that in the last few weeks she had begun to forget her king was a cold beast, not a warm friend.

  “I apologize,” she said under breath.

  He nodded and led the way to the throne room.

  He had barely sat with Calia placed behind him when there was a sharp rap at the door and Marchello admitted their guest.

  Calia tried to keep the surprise off her face as King Williams eldest daughter entered. Sola’s face was pale and pinched and her gown pulled tightly around her waist. Calia guessed her to be a few months pregnant.

  The woman wasted no time. She bowed her head quickly then spoke. “King Valanka, I have come to inform you my father wishes to bring war against you.”

  The king gave a low chuckle. “Your father is a dog. He could not bring war to me. With what army?”

  She gave no consideration to the insult. “He is pulling together the neighboring kingdoms; they seek to strike you here.”

  The king leaned back in his chair. “And for what reason?”

  “Your diamonds.”

  Calia started a little at that. The diamonds were worthless. Quite a lot of the town’s men worked in the mines but it was common knowledge the king had set them to the task so that there was work enough for every man in town. She personally thought the king indulged in the practice because the stones were so like him—cold, flawless and hard. Why else would he cover his masks in them?

  “Ah. I see,” the king was saying. “They do not like the prices I’ve set?”

  “It’s more than that. They have discovered a way to reinforce weapons with them. If they have unlimited access to the diamonds, then they can make unbreakable weapons.”

  Calia frowned. The diamonds were only baubles but the king seemed to believe Sola. “And why would you offer up such valuable information?”

  The woman took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I want your protection, for myself and my child.”

  The king leaned forward. “And who would endanger you and your child that your father could not protect you from?”

  A muscle in her jaw twitched before she answered. “My husband. My father coul
d protect us but he won’t.”

  Calia’s heart tightened at that.

  “Explain,” the king demanded.

  She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself as if chilled. “My father’s line has always produced at least one male child before any girls. My husband bought me for a very high price because of this. He has been through three wives and countless daughters with no heir. I was to produce his long desired son.”

  The king gestured to her belly. “And you carry a girl? You are sure of it?”

  She nodded sadly. “I knew what my fate would be if the child I carried were not a son. I have sought help from several healers and midwives. I carry a daughter. When I deliver her, she will be killed and I most likely as well.” Her face grew hard. “I am not going to die at that man’s hands and I am not going to sacrifice my precious baby.”

  “I see.” The Cold King rubbed a hand along his chin. “So in exchange for your information you wish me to provide you shelter?”

  Hope bloomed in her eyes. “Yes, please.”

  The king twitched his hand and Calia stepped forward at his command. “Calia, see this young woman to the dungeon.”

  Both women gasped in unison. “The dungeon?”

  The king clenched his jaw and shot Calia an angry look but addressed the queen. “Yes, the dungeon. How do I know you are not a spy, sent to enter into my sanctuary? How do I know you are not lying?”

  “I am not! My father is a wicked man, even more wicked than my husband! I wish to be free of both of them. I came to you because I had valuable information. You can stop the war before it even starts.” Tears began rolling down her cheeks as she begged.

  “I can,” the Cold King agreed. “And I thank you for the warning. Now, you will rest in my dungeon until I can be sure you are not a threat. Calia, take her down.”

  “No.”

  The Cold King turned to look at her, the mask not hiding his shock and anger. “What did you say to me?”

  She was shaking but held on to her resolve. “I said no. It’s too cold down there and not fit for a woman in her condition. It would be cruel and bad for her health. She should stay in one of the guest rooms.”

  His jaw flexed several times before he stood, towering over Calia. She flinched away from him but he grabbed her arm.

  To Sola he growled, “Stay in this room. Do not leave it or your life is forfeit.” Her hands were shaking over her swollen abdomen but she nodded. She shot the servant girl a grateful look but Calia hardly saw it for the veil of tears in her eyes.

  With a jerk hard enough to make her cry out, the king dragged her from the room and down the hall that led to the staircase to the dungeon. Panicked, she dug her feet in and begged, “Please do not do this, not again.”

  He stopped so quickly she didn’t have time to react and her arm was twisted roughly in the socket.

  Seething, the king leaned down to put his face within inches of hers. The diamonds on his mask caught the light from the torches and drove harsh specks of light into her eyes. “You dare defy me?” he hissed. “And in front of a stranger no less? I thought you knew better than that but clearly you need harsher lessons.”

  “But I thought—”

  “If you thought anything besides the fact that I am your king and you are my servant then you were very mistaken.” His voice was so low and dark she had to lean in to hear him. His hair brushed her face and the scent of his special soap tickled her nose.

  She raised her eyes to search for the man in the beast. “Please,” she whispered again. “It would have been cruel and you are a good man—”

  “I am not a man!” he shouted. “I am a king, your king, and I will have complete obedience.”

  He took off again, pulling her along with him. She tried to keep up as he flew down the stairs but stumbled and fell against him. He only tightened his grip and jerked her up. White hot pain was pulsing in her shoulder by the time he finally stopped in front of her old cell.

  He stepped away to pull the door open and turned his face from her.

  “You really mean to do this?” she asked in a flat voice.

  He just pointed at the open door, still not looking at her.

  Calia shifted around him, forcing her face into his. “You, you who lost your own sister to such a brutish monster would punish me for standing up for a pregnant woman?”

  His hard eyes turned to hers and fear flooded her belly. “You are being punished for your disobedience. I didn’t tell about my sister so you could later assume we were friends and you could defy me as you pleased.”

  She wanted to stay quiet but the hurt and fear pulsing in her pushed the words out. “And I didn’t bring it up to anger you. Your sister suffered horribly only to die at the end of her pregnancy. Surely you wouldn’t want that for another woman.”

  “Get in the cell. Now.”

  Calia sniffed back her tears and stepped through the open doorway. Her feet had barely cleared the threshold when he slammed the door shut. She waited for his angry footsteps to fade before breaking down.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Valanka stormed up the stairs and slammed back into his throne room. Sola stood from the stairs where she had been sitting. She rose unsteadily, keeping a hand over her unborn baby. He took in her pallor and shaking frame and a tendril of guilt began weave into his cold heart.

  “Come with me, please.”

  She wisely kept her mouth shut and followed him.

  It was a long walk to the guest room he had in mind for her and his anger began to cool enough that he could remember his manners and reputation as the Cold King. When they finally reached the door he turned to the queen and bowed.

  “I apologize you had to witness such behavior. My servants are usually better behaved.”

  Sola murmured something akin to agreement but wondered what type of monster she had delivered herself to.

  “My housekeeper will be up shortly to assist you with whatever you need.”

  He found Abelina in the kitchens and merely said, “We have an unexpected guest in the south wing, see to her.”

  He was back out of the kitchens before she could even rise from her chair.

  The king’s anger rekindled when he returned to his chambers and realized he had missed the tenth bell.

  Furious, he lashed out at the first thing he laid eyes on—Calia’s sewing basket. With a primal scream he snatched it from the floor and flung it against the wall. Yarn and hooks and spools of thread exploded from the basket, scattering everything over the floor. He kicked most of the contents into the fireplace before ripping off his coat and sinking into his chair.

  The seldom used decanter of spirits winked in the firelight and he poured a full glass. Calia’s defiance had unleashed a fury in him he had never known. He growled and got up to pace.

  Fear and doubt were creeping in and for the first time in hundreds of years he felt vulnerable. He should have never told her about his sister and he should have never allowed her to touch him. But he hadn’t been lying when he told Calia she reminded him of his sweet sister.

  He thought of the both of them and kicked her armchair. It was something more than familiar fondness or her gentle spirit that had his stomach knotting painfully—and he hated it.

  He wanted to hate Calia for coming into his life and disrupting his schedule, for making him feel things he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  The king knocked back the glass of amber liquid and several more after that before passing out in front of his fire.

  In the morning he felt no better but his emotions were numbed. He coldly outlined a plan for putting Calia back into her proper place and to give him some distance from her. His meals were delivered but he neither noticed nor acknowledged them. The day was silent and somber and cold and he was able to slee
p that night without the help of alcohol.

  The king woke the next day without anger. He sat at his desk, trying to decide if his punishment had been swift and harsh enough to ensure she never disobeyed or embarrassed him again. His mind wandered and he wondered if she would be angry.

  The king swore under his breath. He did not care how she felt; she was a servant, nothing more.

  Finally he decided her punishment was severe enough and descended to free her from her cell. He stood outside of it for a long moment, listening, and heard nothing. Good. Her foolish tears wouldn’t do her any good.

  The king opened the door and stood at the threshold. In the gloom he could barely see her sitting in the corner.

  “I have decided your punishment is complete. Of course, we will be discussing your actions and future discipline should you ever defy me again.”

  She remained silent.

  “I expect an apology for your actions and gratitude for releasing you.”

  She still said nothing and he ground his teeth together in anger.

  “Perhaps you need a few more days to think upon who is the king and who is the servant?”

  She still said nothing and his fury erupted. “You will not be insolent to me!” he shouted, stepping into the room. The chill overcame him immediately. He did not remember the dungeons being so cold but he could see his own breath.

  “Calia?” he whispered. He leaned down to see her better and gasped. Her eyes were half open but rolled back in her head and her lips were a dark blue. At a glance he took in the window covered only by bars, the lack of fresh hay, blankets and water.