Queen of Magic

by Susanne L. Lambdin

  This section appeared unused; whether it was too cold in the winter or too hot in the summer, Taliesin was not certain, but it had a uniquely female touch to the decor. The wall-hangings had a predominantly female theme—maidens charmed dragons, kissed bold knights on horses, presided at tournaments, or stood in fields of flowers. The wooden chairs pushed against walls covered with dark wood were carved by an elegant hand, and the weapons on display had an almost Lorian feel to them, for the handles of the spears and the spearheads were engraved. She was going to ask Roland if the northern level had once been used by Queen Aislynn, but when he stopped at a large oak door painted a shade of pea green with an arrangement of wild flowers, she had a feeling she was right, and waited for him to open it for her.

  “I apologize for suggesting you use Doomsayer,” Roland whispered. “I thought it would be helpful in finding who killed the king, but the sword made you ill the last time you used it. It seems Ungus thought you’d be safer in Aislynn’s room.”

  Taliesin smiled, for she’d been right about who had lived in this part of the castle. She found it difficult to imagine the gentle queen married to a monster like King Frederick, but perhaps he had had a softer side when she had been alive and he was a young king in love with a beautiful woman who had given him five sons. At the turn of the latch, Roland pushed the door open, and she caught his arm.

  “I will do whatever is necessary to learn the truth,” Taliesin said. “But if you don’t order me a hot bath and supper, I am going to turn you into a toad.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Thirteen

  “A bath, I believe, is what you ordered,” Roland said, smiling widely. When he smiled, he was the handsomest man Taliesin had ever seen. Roland was a man’s man, and he made even the strongest men appear weak in his presence. She imagined every woman grew weak-kneed when he entered a room. She did.

  “I also said I was hungry, and I would like to go to bed.”

  “My Lady, does that include me, or am I to stand guard all night?”

  Taliesin laughed. “I’ve not yet made up my mind what to do about you,” she said, bouncing on the edge of the bed, her sword beside her, covered by her cloak.

  The room was yellow and green, with flowered drapes and cushions. It was a chamber meant for a queen, and Taliesin disliked everything about it; not for how it looked, for it was beautiful, but for what it represented to her—a gilded cage. From the four-poster bed, she had a view of the expansive royal gardens, lit by torches and the light of the moon, high above. She imagined Aislynn and Frederick, newly married, walking hand-in-hand in the garden, pausing while the king picked a red rose for his blushing bride, then leaned close to kiss her.

  The faces of the couple altered to those of Calista and John Mandrake, though she found it difficult to picture her father loving such a cold-hearted woman. She wanted to be fair, for if she could fantasize about a king who had murdered her father, she could certainly picture her father kissing her mother. In her mind, she saw a red-haired, muscular man, with dirt on his brow from the fires of his blacksmith shop pull the spotless princess into his arms for a sweaty kiss.

  At a loud knock, Roland opened the door. Bedwyn and Landrake stood outside, and moved aside for a procession of female servants carrying large buckets of hot water, along with soaps, brushes, combs, and new clothes. A male servant held a tray with covered dishes and a pitcher of wine.

  After one of the female servants poured the last bucket of water into the tub, she approached Taliesin and tried to pull her cloak away from her.

  “I am to undress and wash you, mistress,” the servant said.

  “You will do nothing of the kind,” Taliesin said, shocked at the idea. “I have been doing this by myself since I was a child. I am not used so much attention. But thank you all the same.”

  “Yes, Princess.”

  The girl left room, followed by the rest of the servants. Roland laughed as he closed the door, turned toward Taliesin, and crossed his arms. Taliesin gave him a smug look and snapped her fingers. The logs in the fireplace caught fire and produced a warm blaze. It had started to snow outside, the first snow of the season, and the room was chillier than she liked. Roland removed his sword belt, poured a glass of wine, and took a seat at the windows to watch—she assumed—her undress.

  “This is nothing at all like Raven’s Nest. I don’t suppose you mean to turn your back while I undress. You know, if Mrs. Caldwell were here and not at Penkill Castle, she would chase you out with a broom.”

  “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, woman.”

  Taliesin kicked off her shoes, not self-conscious until Roland laughed, then turned her back on him to undress. They had not been together for months, and she felt shy, wondering if she had lost too much weight during her adventures and would no longer please him. Her garments fell to the floor with a whoosh, and with arms crossed over her breasts, she hurried to the tub and climbed inside. The water was warmer than she liked, but she was eager to bathe and swirled her hands beneath the water, until it changed to a temperature she liked; being a sha’tar did have its advantages. Lord Arundel certainly wouldn’t stop her from having a nice bath, she thought, finding it easy to use a little dab of magic here and there. She added bath salts and soap to create bubbles and then submerged with a sigh. For a brief moment, she thought about the sewers and rats. Her head broke the surface, and she spat out a mouthful of bubbles. Eager to wash, she grabbed a bar of lavender soap and a small cloth.

  “Do you need assistance?” Roland asked. He took a sip of wine, licked his lips, and set the glass aside. “I’ll have you know I often wash my horse. With a horse, you start at the bottom and work your way up.”

  “You most certainly do not. You start with the top…,” she paused, and laughed. “Roland, you had best stay right where you are. If you join me, I’ll never get clean.”

  “I could use a bath as well; I have been in a dungeon for several days.”

  “I’ve been in a gut wagon. If you want to be helpful, you could polish my sword, Grand Master Roland.” Taliesin smiled when he snorted. “With a sword, you also start at the top and stroke, stroke, stroke all the way to the tip.” He stood, an amused look on his face, and marched across the room. His hulking frame pushed the mattress down as he sat on the bed. “Ringerike will let you touch him, for he knows how I feel about you.”

  “How do you feel about me?”

  “First, I want to say how sorry I am about everything, Roland. I have missed you every day since we have been apart. I even sent a heron to tell you how I feel.”

  “You sent a bird with a message? I’m sorry to say it didn’t arrive, and that isn’t the answer I was looking for; I asked how you feel about me.”

  Taliesin sank into the water, feeling nervous and strangely shy.

  “In truth, I am worried you remain angry with me,” she said. “If I had waited for you at Dunatar Castle and returned to court with you, King Frederick and Prince Konall might still be alive. I liked Konall, and I feel terrible about his death, more so because my mother treats me with such disdain. I think Arundel has something to do with that. He is also fiddling with my powers, and using dark magic to make mine act strangely. It has always been difficult to use magic, Roland, for it’s not natural at all to will something to happen, and spells sound so silly, I don’t like to recite them. Even if I did, Arundel would interfere with them, and we already know he’s cast spells all over the castle.”

  “Your magic worked when you turned the lads into birds.”

  “Mira sometimes helps me. I like her far more than Navenna,” Taliesin said.

  “Don’t worry so much,” he replied.

  Roland placed the Raven Sword on his lap and used a cloth to polish the blade, since it did not need to be sharpened, going slowly to avoid being cut. He did not speak as she bathed. The water remained hot and bubble-filled while she scrubbed every inch of her hair and body. A pitcher floated through the air and poured water over her he
ad when she needed to rinse. She turned in the tub to glance at a nearby pitcher of wine, and it filled a glass, which floated to her. She caught the glass, sniffed the contents, found it was spring wine, and took a sip.

  “I hope it’s not poisoned,” Roland muttered. “You should let me taste the wine and food before you eat it.”

  “It is not poisoned, and I have changed my mind about the bath. You smell like a wild… A bath would do you good. Come join me; the water is still hot.”

  “Taliesin, do you want to be queen?”

  “No,” she said. “I am the Raven Mistress, and that is enough for me. I did not want to disappoint Lord Ungus, so I said nothing. You should have heard the Draconus family and my mother; they harped at each other and told all sorts of secrets, trying to make each of us look unsuitable for the crown.”

  “You’re the only one worthy of the crown, Taliesin.”

  “Roland, you haven’t said anything about me being a Wolfen.”

  “Actually, I’ve been waiting for you to bring it up.”

  “I should not have let you kiss me, Roland—I have infected you. You have not yet grown fangs, and that’s because you have yet to taste human blood, but you are cursed. Please tell me that you’re not angry.”

  “I have no regrets about kissing you.”

  “But you do have regrets. I…I never should have left you. I was wrong to blame you for being a loyal King’s Man and wrong about so many other things,” Taliesin said. She finished the wine and sent the glass back to the table. “I am sorry I ever doubted you. You’re one of the few people I can trust, and I appreciate everything you have ever done for me.”

  His brown eyes twinkled. “Stop apologizing. Everything that has happened is not your fault alone, Taliesin,” he said. “I could have come after you, but I didn’t because you were angry with me. I gave you reason to doubt me, and for that, I apologize. Bedwyn is right, you know. If you are to be queen, Ungus will expect you to marry whichever prince is crowned king; I do not foresee a Raven queen sitting on the throne without a Draconus king. I am Grand Master of my order now, polishing the most sought-after weapon in the realm, and you must like me, or Ringerike would not allow me to do this.”

  Taliesin smiled. “I must like you, then,” she said, though she wanted to tell him she loved him. He had yet to say it, so she did not. “My mother is not who I thought she would be. She confuses me, Roland. When we first met, she was happy to see me; a moment later, when Sertorius appeared, she turned on me. Maybe it is my fault Konall was defeated at Dreskull Castle; Sertorius killed him because Konall defended me. And now I have asked Galinn to keep the Hellirins from entering Caladonia, and I very well might have sent him to his death.”

  “You’re too hard on yourself. These are grown men you are talking about, and they are responsible for their own lives. Even if you are crowned queen, you cannot be held responsible for those who give their lives to defend you. I would gladly give my life for you. As for Talas Kull, you were lucky he liked you; he just as easily could have taken you hostage and collected a ransom instead of offering you his support. You told him who you were?”

  “Yes, and he seemed pleased we are related. I like Kull, though he is a bit of a flirt. You can take a man out of Caladonia, but you can’t take Caladonia out of a man.”

  “I am sure it was the red hair he liked,” Roland replied, “and not your family connection or winning personality.”

  Taliesin sunk further into the hot water with a splash. Her stomach grumbled; she needed to eat, but she wanted to soak longer. A bubble bath was her favorite thing in the world, next to butterflies, flags, her winged horse, and Sir Roland, though not necessarily in that order. The knight set aside the sword, stood, and fetched his glass from the seat by the window. He refilled it, appropriated a stool beside the tub, toasted her with a smirk on his face, and kicked off one boot.

  “What did you give Kull for his help?” he asked.

  “Ten chests of gold. It was not my gold, of course; it belonged to a dragon named ‘Bonaparte,’ a friend of Prince Tarquin I met in Ascalon. He’s a bit lonely, though Tarquin’s ghost keeps him company.”

  Roland kicked off his other boot. “So, you’ve met a dragon and a ghost,” he said. He paused to drain his wine glass, set it aside, and rubbed her shoulders. “You’re tense. You need to relax. Where else have you been?”

  “To the Magic Realms,” she said. “I met Queen Dehavilyn and King Boran. Their son, Prince Tamblyn, is now a Raven,” she said, “and he has a pet bear, Ursus, who can grow and shrink in size. I can’t say I like his parents any more than I like Duchess Dolabra or General Folando.”

  His hands stilled. “Taliesin, you have seen the Hellirins?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “Dolabra is the younger sister of Boran and Korax, and Folando’s sister, Madera, was the wife of Korax. That makes me part Hellirin.”

  “But not a darkling.”

  “Jaelle is a darkling, not me. I did not have the heart to tell Tamal she died, or I brought her back from the grave. I had to give her the Moon Ring, a gift from Queen Madera; its magic allows her to appear almost human, and to control the Hellirin army.”

  “Slow down, woman. Jaelle is now a Hellirin? I am glad you did not tell Tamal, for his people hate the undead more than they hate the Wolfen. I suppose you encountered Ragnal and the gods of Mt. Helos during your travels?”

  “They’re not gods, Roland; they are the Maeceni, a race as ancient as the Lorians and Hellirins,” Taliesin said, groaning when his fingers hit a sore spot in her neck. “There are only a handful left since they can’t breed anymore, nor are they as powerful as they used to be. And they all fear Ragnal.”

  “You really have met Ragnal. What happened? Was he not smitten the moment he laid eyes on you? Or, did you say something to anger him? It’s one or the other with you—you always make a strong first and last impression.”

  Taliesin laughed as his hand slid down to capture the strand of Broa’s hair around her neck. He lifted the iron nail off her chest, let it drop, sat back on the stool, and unbuckled his belt. She assumed he planned to join her in the tub.

  “I wounded Ragnal and killed Cano. I believe the Wolfen curse will be lifted when I kill Varg. That’s the plan anyway. It must be done if I’m to prevent Ragnal from bringing about the Age of the Wolf. Will you help me?”

  “Always,” Roland said. He caught her face between his hands and pulled back her head. He met her gaze, upside down, with a serious look. “Have you met any other gods on your travels? Mira, perhaps, or Navenna? What were they like? Beautiful?”

  “They’re twins, and yes, they are. Don’t get any ideas about them; they’re both involved with Ragnal, though I think Mira has grown tired of the old war dog.”

  “It sounds like they have plans for you.”

  “Navenna wants me to restore magic, and Mira has helped me, too. Whenever the moon is high, my powers increase. Stroud tried to kill Thalagar and me at Dreskull Castle, and Ragnal was there. I see him more than the others. It’s Ragnal’s intention to use me to bring about Varguld, and that is why Almaric must never be king. Ragnal and Varg must die; that much is certain. I no longer pray to the gods. I think Kull is right; nature is the power we should respect.”

  Roland planted a kiss on her lips before he released her. His belt fell to the floor and he untied the laces to his hauberk, letting it fall as he stood. “Maybe Ragnal should have offered you a hot bath instead?” Though he teased her, he glanced around the room as he removed the rest of his clothes, almost as if he expected the war god to appear. He left his sword close to the tub and stood over her, a hairy, muscular brute, with more than a few new scars. Taliesin found him magnificent. He tested the water with his finger.

  “Where is Moonbane?”

  “Locked away in the royal armory,” Roland said. “Lord Arundel wanted to make sure no one else in this castle had a magical weapon, so all the weapons he appropriated are in the armory under lock and key.”
He climbed into the tub, sloshed water onto the floor, and sat with his knees under his chin. “How many times has Ragnal visited you?”

  “Three times,” Taliesin said, laughing. “Don’t worry, Roland. I will protect you.”

  The tub was wide enough to wrap her legs around his middle, but not long enough to stretch out their legs. Clasped together, she splashed the soapy water onto his hairy chest and slid her arms around his neck. It was difficult to move in such tight quarters, but that didn’t matter; all she wanted was to kiss him. She pressed her lips against his mouth and tried not to laugh when his whiskers tickled her, pleased he was not afraid to be with her.

  “You’re either very brave, Roland, or a fool to have kissed a Wolfen. On the other hand, you certainly have enough body hair to be a werewolf—that hasn’t changed.”

  “I don’t care if you are Wolfen because I love you. Always have, always will.”

  “What?” Taliesin pressed her nose against his. “What did you just say?”

  “I love you,” Roland repeated.

  Taliesin wiped the soap from her eyes, tongue-tied and wanting to say she loved him, but the words lodged in her throat. The moment she said them, things would never be the same. Without a doubt, Roland Brisbane was the most spectacular man she had ever met, and he made her feel soft and vulnerable. She placed her hands on his shoulders as he soaped his hair and beard. He had lost weight, and a new scar, red and angry, marred his hairy chest. His massive biceps, broad shoulders, and thick muscles were common among the Fregians; northerners were heartier and stronger than the rest of the men in the realm, and years of swinging a sword and riding a horse had added to his bulk. With gentle hands, she helped him wash his hair, but paused when he stared at her, and her breath caught in her throat. He grabbed a fist-full of her wet hair and kissed her. It was a hard kiss, hard enough to bruise her lips; Roland had always been a bit of a brute. He was also man enough to win her wild heart, and not run when he found out she not only was able to handle a sword better than most of his friends, but also was a natural-born witch. His lips softened and became tender, and her heart fluttered in her chest. She pulled back and gazed into his eyes.