Leisha had thought his mother’s holdings might mean more to him than what his father left behind. Seeing the mighty Andelko choked and at a loss for words, she knew she had guessed right. “Thank you,” he managed.
“Don’t think this is all rewards and sunshine,” Leisha warned with mock solemnity. “I’ll expect you, Ani, Sarika and Eamon to attend the Convocation tomorrow, as nobles.”
Avrid sat in silence, looking at his gift. The man who formerly owned a black, rough-spun robe and nothing more, stared down at the sum written on the parchment, shaken and unsure how to feel. Avrid, we want to give you the freedom to live your life as you choose. He did not completely understand the system of money here, but he knew he could do as Leisha said—craft a life for himself, choose what his life would become.
Leisha sensed Avrid’s touch as he opened himself, allowing his emotions to fill the air around them. She saw Sarika look up and then close her eyes, taking them in. And she smiled as he silently thanked Zaraki and let him experience the wafting feelings of gratitude and surprise that swirled through the room.
Hardest of all had been Symon. The man never asked for anything except that he be allowed to keep working and living in the castle he had called home for five decades. Leisha had always shown her gratitude through acts and gifts. She took him aside as their gathering broke up. “Symon, I have no idea what I could give you to thank you for everything you did.”
“I have everything I need. I have you and I have the boy.” He nodded his head towards Zaraki.
“Even so,” Leisha said, “we wanted to do something. So tomorrow, we’ll issue an edict naming you my adoptive father. No more bowing or scraping for you, ever.”
Symon looked at the daughter of his long-dead lover and wished they had known each other. Davos had been kind and loving, but his choice of wife haunted him until his death. Shola’s great beauty and steel gained her a crown, but she never loved the tiny daughter she sent away to Embriel. Andrzej gave Leisha the finest education but faltered in his duties when he allowed her to grow up alone and unloved. Yet in spite of their many failings, this lovely young woman took the best each had to offer and became more than all combined.
***
Before the Convocation opened, Danica dressed Leisha in a gown of light green silk embroidered around the edges of the bodice and overskirt in bronze-colored thread and pearls. Wide bell sleeves flared from the shoulders, ending in fur cuffs. At their last meeting nearly three years ago, the lords saw a queen enraged, furious at the treachery that nearly cost her everything. Her red and gold gown then echoed the fire that burned her uncle to death.
That day, she manipulated them into accepting Zaraki as a nobleman. That day, she played peacemaker and tried to reconcile with the lords who railed so strongly against her choice of husband.
This time, no flames leapt from the hem of her gown to remind her enemies of her uncle’s fate. This time, she would not threaten them. She would not bargain or concede as she had that day to smooth over hurt feelings. Instead, she would lay out her terms for them to accept or reject.
After the nobles had gathered inside Velika Hall, Leisha and Zaraki stood outside together, just as they had the morning of her coronation. Looking at his lovely wife, Zaraki remembered that first day and smiled thinking of it. “You know, I had an elaborate plan to save you from this room if the lords refused to accept you as queen.”
“Did you? I never let myself think too much about it,” Leisha admitted. “Otherwise, I might have fled back to my rooms and refused to come out.” She remembered standing on the dais, holding her breath and waiting for the first lord to bend a knee to her and wondering if she might die on the spot.
“That day changed my life forever. I knew I would never leave you and would do anything to make sure you lived.”
As always, she stood awed by his devotion, humbled in the face of it, feeling unworthy of such loyalty. Taking his hand, she leaned against his solid warmth. “I love you beyond words, Zaraki of Ostrava. And I’m blessed beyond measure that you chose me and that you stayed and that you love me.”
“I think it’s more amazing you chose me. You could have had any man.”
Leisha scoffed. “They were all wretched. None of them deserved me or to be king.”
“You’re going to make some enemies today,” he said, and saw the shift as the queen emerged, ready to face her foes in the little hall.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Today the lords are going to choose sides. Some will choose to make an enemy of me.”
When she nodded at them, servants pulled open the large wooden doors. Carved with intricate scenes of battle, they stood nearly ten feet tall. Leisha stood still, framed in the doorway as the lords turned to see their king and queen. Dressed in matched colors, each with their crowns and identical swords around their waists, she and Zaraki marched down the aisle and up the four steps to the dais. Behind them, servants pushed the great doors shut and tied them closed with a long silken cord.
They stood together, staring out at the assembled nobles. Fierce and proud, Leisha dared them to raise any objection to Zaraki’s presence with her on this stage. In the crowd below, she saw Andelko and Ani, Eamon, Ladvik and Sarika all sitting together, each representing their new holdings. They wore her jeweled badge pinned to their coats. When they had first begun filling the hall, the lords had marked who did and who did not wear the little jeweled, enameled pin, and Leisha noted most naturally sorted themselves accordingly.
“Welcome, everyone.” She held her hands out in greeting, her tone cordial and inviting. “I hope your trips here were not too burdensome, but it’s important after the war I won for you all that we come together as royals and nobles, as friends and family.” In this smaller hall, Leisha could speak quietly while her words carried all the way to the back of the room. No one could miss the way she took full credit for the victory over the Deojrin.
“I’d like to begin by answering the question I see uppermost in your minds. The badges.” Her friendly demeanor dropped away, discarded as she glared out at the sea of faces watching her pace to the front of the dais. “For years you all clamored and demanded a king. I gave you one and some of you accused me of favoritism. Now look around. The badges some of you are wearing are a physical sign of my favor, and those of you without one do not have it. That is a dangerous position to be in.” Her warning hovered over the room.
“When the Deojrin threatened us, some in your ranks chose to betray me and side with our enemies. Those men were traitors, a poison to be dealt with before this kingdom could begin to heal. Four of the most egregious collaborators have fallen to my swords, replaced with those of my choosing. However, don’t think I’m done yet. The numbers will continue to shift in my favor by choice or conflict. You’ll decide. Earn my badge and my favor and you may count yourselves safe, your family and titles protected.”
Proud and defiant, Leisha swept her gaze over the room and saw some of the nobles who had no badge to wear draw back in fear. “Fail to do so and I’ll sweep you away. You’ll suffer the same fates as Ceslav and Petr and Florian and Lorant—replaced, your great works torn down, your deeds forgotten and your family name erased from memory.”
Her voice rose, hard and angry. “We will act as a united kingdom, not a collection of squabbling children. Choose your side, but know that other mercenaries have heard of the favor I showed to our new lords, Isak, Enico, Eamon, and Orsyl. They hunger for the opportunity to prove their worth, and I’m eager to give them the chance.”
Stillness fell over the hall as Leisha stopped speaking. The lords understood. She could call on a vast number of men and arms to back up her threats. Mercenaries all over the continent might respond to her call if she asked, knowing they would come for the chance to become Tahaerin nobles.
“Did anyone bring any business to discuss?” Silence met Leisha’s question. No one wanted to be the first to complain about something and draw attention to themselves. “With
that out of the way, we’ll move on to other matters.”
Remembering
After the feasting that followed the Convocation, Leisha and Zaraki retreated from the Great Hall. Tired of playing hosts and longing to spend time with each other, they fled to their apartments and the privacy afforded them there.
Together they walked through their receiving room where Zaraki killed a man to save her, past the door to the room where they first met and into their bedroom where they made love. As they moved, Leisha felt a surge of gratitude and appreciation for all he had endured, for all he sacrificed to stay with her.
Once she shut their door, she took his hand. “You know how Avrid is always yelling at me for not thinking of other ways to use my gifts?” she asked.
“I do, and I never liked it.”
She looked up at him and almost lost her nerve, not sure if he would appreciate what she wanted to offer him. “Well, I’ve been doing it a lot—thinking. There’s something I should have thought of years ago. I’m not certain it will work, but Avrid said once that memories aren’t truly lost. We just forget how to remember them. If you want me to, I think I could search your mind for memories of your childhood.”
Zaraki felt a tightness in his throat, touched that she would think of this and frightened at what she might find. Frowning, he stared at the fresh paintings on their walls, not sure how to answer. Some pieces of his past he craved, but he also feared what might come to the surface. His family lay dead now for twenty years. Did he dare disturb their memories?
Finally, he said, “Could you?”
“I can try, if you want,” Leisha said quietly. “Tell me what to search for.”
Without hesitation Zaraki said, “My mother’s name, my birthday, and where I’m from.” Those missing pieces haunted him. Without them, he had always felt unmoored, a ship adrift, almost an incomplete person.
She took his hand and they walked to the bed. Lying down across it, Leisha rested her head on his shoulder and felt his heart beating under her fingertips. She reached out and sank into his mind, her touch gentle this time, as Avrid had shown her.
Even though she had not done this to him in almost nine years, it felt like coming home. His memories had lived inside her since that night he snuck into her rooms, begging for a job. Reliving them now felt like rereading a cherished book or meeting an old friend. She felt awed and humbled that he would share himself this way with her. Once again, she saw the events that shaped him into the man she loved.
Prodding his memories, she saw flashes of his life before coming to her—a tavern where someone talked about the strange Tahaerin princess about to become queen, a trip down river to Embriel, Aniska and a death in a forest. She pressed for more and saw strange cities she would never visit, old lovers she would never meet, fights, disappointments and successes all passed her by in a rush. Deeper and deeper she delved, asking for and receiving memories that led her further into his past. When she relived the night of the attack, she felt a little boy’s terror and anguish at seeing his family annihilated before his eyes, and she wanted to wipe away his pain. Now she knew what his mother looked like, and she pressed for more.
At first, his mind seemed unable or unwilling to respond, the memories well hidden, tucked away so they could not torment a traumatized orphan. She spoke again, and this time they responded, flowing over her like water, delighted for someone to call on them after so many years. Leisha saw a home, parents, an older brother, family meals, chores, all the things lost in a single, vicious and brutal night on the plains near Ostrava. The answers to his questions came to her and she retreated from his mind.
The last time she did this to him, he ended up on the floor clutching at his head, because her touch had been clumsy and painful. This time, he lay next to her, stroking one hand over her shoulder and across her back. For all he had ever given her, Leisha loved returning his memories to him. “Neomi was her name, and you lived in southern Streza. In Deblin,” she said.
Zaraki’s eyes widened as he remembered. “Oh,” he breathed as the strands of his past knit themselves back together.
“Your birthday comes three days after the spring festival in Deblin. That’s how you noted it in your memories.” A child’s way of marking time. “I don’t know exactly what day that is, but we can figure it out easily enough.”
His memories flowed freely now. He could see his father’s face and the bed he shared with his older brother in the rooms over their parents’ shop. In quick flashes, he recalled wandering around a market and chasing his brother through tiny streets when their mother released them from their chores. He remembered his father putting him on the back of an old horse and leading them in circles. These memories found a home in his mind, replacing the sharp, cruel ones of the night on the plains near Ostrava.
Zaraki felt whole once more, complete and at peace with his memories. The dead stood before him, but he could look at them without the raw agony that made him hide them away twenty years ago.
“Thank you, Leisha, thank you,” he said, holding her tight against his chest. He thought of what his parents might say if they could see where life had brought him, a shopkeeper’s son, who survived a massacre and married a queen. “Thank you for everything.”
Acknowledgments
This story ended up being far longer and far more convoluted than I planned when I put the first chapter to paper. (Digital paper, that is.) I could never have finished it without an army of people willing to deal with all the tears and late-night phone calls and neglected chores.
Dan – He listened to me all the times I swore I was done writing and never going to finish because I’d screwed something up. Then he listened when I told him how I loved writing and how I planned to fix my mistakes.
Phil – Once again, Phil plowed through the very rough, first draft of the book, making notes and asking questions when I made no sense. He listened to me whine and drone on about book stuff. Like the first book, this finished product is, in no small part, a collaboration between the two of us.
M$ – She designed both my covers!
Sara – She is the non-fantasy reader reading my fantasy novel. Her comments are always so insightful and helpful. I’m forever grateful for the assistance she gives willingly.
Beta Readers – Sam, Sheri, Gabby thank you for taking the time to read this and give me your feedback. Beta readers are the unsung heroes of writing. We could not do it without you guys!
About the Author
J. Ellen Ross lives in Texas with her husband and their houseful of rescue dogs. She works in high tech, which has nothing to do with fantasy or writing. When she’s not busy chasing dogs around or rushing someone to the vet, she loves to read and play video games. She has a hobby of having hobbies, so she’s also been known to do sculpting, beadwork, and painting.
When not referring to myself in third person, I’m really friendly! Please track me down at any of these places:
Website/blog
www.jellenross.com
Facebook
www.facebook.com/jellenross
Twitter
@j_ellenross
Goodreads
www.goodreads.com/jelleross
As Dragons from Sleep (The Tahaerin Chronicles Book 2) Page 49
