Kingdom Cold

by Brittni Chenelle

  He used his knees to separate them further. This was it, I thought as I braced myself for pain. Young slid his hand over my mouth with one hand. What is this? With his other hand, he ran his fingers across my ribs. It tickled, and an involuntary laugh burst from my lips. Young tightened his grip on my mouth, muffling my laugh. What was he doing?

  He tickled me again, each time muffling my laugh into a labored groan. He increased the intensity on my ribs. I thrashed to free myself from the tickle torture but he locked my body down and continued the cycle. I felt myself begin to sweat from his unusual game. After a few short minutes, he took his hand off my mouth, he kissed me on the forehead, and lay down beside me.

  He faced me, his bare shoulders under the covers of the bed. My wrinkled brow prompted him to hold his finger up in front of his lips. I didn't dare speak, catching my breath as I waited for the answers. Sure enough, in minutes, I heard the onlooking counsel members' footsteps as they left the room until we were finally alone.

  We lay in silence for several minutes before we broke it.

  I spoke first. "You faked it," I said.

  He adjusted his pillow. "Yeah."

  I smiled but my wrinkled brow remained. He continued, "You've been through a lot today," he said.

  "But I felt you... You were ready."

  His face reddened as if I'd struck him. "Yeah, sorry about that. I've never seen... I mean, you were practically naked."

  I was overcome with relief and gratitude. "Thank you," I said, burying my face in his chest. He hesitated, but ultimately wrapped his arms around me. I snuggled in close, feeling the warmth and safety I'd been longing for all day. Young's body tightened.

  "Woah!" I said, louder than expected. "You're still... ready."

  He let go, giggling to himself. "You're still naked."

  Chapter 33

  Prince Young

  I AWOKE BENEATH A TANGLE of curls. I pulled a few strands out of my mouth and sat up to free myself from the rest. Charlotte lay asleep beside me with her mouth open as a steady stream of drool stretched between her cheek and her pillow. My wife. I felt a warm sensation in my chest. This was how I’d start every day for the rest of my life. I knew I should move, I had things to do, but instead, I lay there beside her in our haven soaking up the softness of the moment.

  Last night, I'd been anxious to hear a knock at my door—afraid to hear bad news about Minseo, but somehow, with the exhaustion of the day, and Charlotte's even breathing beside me, I'd drifted off to sleep.

  The castle had rooms designated specifically for married couples, so I slipped out and headed to my old chambers, where my things were still kept. I’d change for the day and then head straight for Minseo’s room. I swung open my wardrobe and slid out of my nightwear before reaching for my royal blue coat.

  "You're meant to wear black," a voice said from behind me.

  I turned to see Milly and quickly covered myself with the blue coat. "What are you doing here?" I asked.

  A hint of blush pricked her cheeks with pink. "I am to tell you to wear your black coat."

  My stomach dropped. "Minseo—"

  "Oh no. I'm sorry. Minseo is okay. Well, not good, but he's alive. There is a funeral for our fallen king this afternoon."

  I sighed with relief but instantly regretted it. "I'm sorry, I just—"

  "I understand." She tucked her golden hair behind her ear. "You were worried about your brother."

  I nodded. "Exactly," I said. Today was meant to be my funeral. If my brother hadn't always shown up to save me, it very well might have. With the funeral happening later today, I knew this would be a difficult day for Charlotte. I wasn't used to consoling her—or anyone. I guess I didn't know how and with my brother in his current condition, I wasn't sure if I was in a place to help anyone.

  An uncomfortable silence set in. My hands grew stiff from holding the jacket over my exposed body. "Uh..." I began. "I'll wear the black one then. Is there anything else?"

  Milly smiled. "Here, I'll help you," she said, hurrying toward me.

  "That's not necessary," I said, but she ignored me. She pulled out my black coat and held it out for me to exchange it with the blue one. I gulped, suddenly aware of what she was trying to do. I reached for the black coat and yanked it toward me before handing her the blue one. She'd resisted handing it over but wasn't prepared for me to use so much strength and was forced to let it go without getting a look at me. She stood there, stunned.

  "Charlotte is my wife," I said flatly.

  "Of course," she said, bowing deeply. "I only want to serve." She turned to leave. "If you need anything..." she took a breathy sigh, causing her chest to rise, drawing my attention to it, "just let me know." Then she was gone. What was that? Afraid she'd return, I dressed quickly. I needed to see Minseo.

  Several Viran guards stood around the room where my brother rested when I arrived. They were younger than most of the other soldiers, no doubt friends of my brother, but I didn't know them well. They stood to attention as I entered, but there was a somber softness in their eyes that worried me.

  Minseo hadn't so much as moved since the antidote had been administered. I sat at his bedside, feeling more hopeless than last night, as I examined his pale skin and nearly lifeless body.

  I looked down at my hands. The cuts from my battle with Emmett were already healing. I wondered if my brother's internal wounds were healing as well.

  "Dressed in black, I see," Minseo whispered. "I'm not dead yet."

  My throat tightened. Minseo's eyes were slightly open and a hint of a smirk rested on his left cheek. The guards rushed over, all laughing and greeting Minseo all at once.

  "Water," he choked.

  The doctor, who was waiting nearby, rushed over, a bowl of water balanced in his hands. I moved aside. The doctor lifted Minseo's shoulders and poured the water carefully into his mouth.

  The doctor turned to me. "He's not out of danger yet. He needs to rest."

  I nodded, but my body wouldn't let me walk out of the room. I couldn't leave my brother there.

  The doctor cleared his throat and the guards hurried out of the chamber. Still, I wanted to stay at my brother's side.

  "It's okay, brother," he whispered. "Go." His voice was so weak his words only made it harder to go, but my brother had given me an order and, for once, I obeyed.

  Chapter 34

  Princess Charlotte

  THE MORNING AFTER MY wedding, we buried my father. The details about Emmett—what he'd done—started being pieced together, and another war seemed imminent. I eagerly agreed. Our king had been murdered—my father—taken from me.

  More than once my mind slipped to a dark place and I couldn't help but wonder if it had all been my fault. Perhaps I'd pushed Emmett too far. I pretended. I lied. I made him believe I'd marry him, and all the while I was moments away from plunging a dragon-hilted sword into his chest on the altar. I was a monster, and in all my scheming, I'd forgotten something important—Emmett was a monster too.

  As I slipped into the black gown laid out for me, my mind raced. I really had planned on marrying Emmett, hadn't I? After I knew Young was safe. I had no way of knowing that Vires received my letter, or that they'd arrive before the wedding.

  My eyes felt heavy with sadness. Sasha had been killed by Emmett too. My heart ached for Milly. Sasha was family to Milly and many others, but she would not receive a grand funeral like my father. I knew she deserved one, but today I had no energy to fight for justice. My grief manifested like exhaustion and I could hardly bring myself to say my final goodbyes to my father.

  No amount of reasoning made me feel any better. The church was filled with genuine sadness and the soft hum of whispered memories between the nobles who'd spent time with my father. I walked down the aisle that I'd walked the night before, this time in black—looking for a familiar face, looking for Young. My mother stood at the front of the church, her face covered by a black veil that ended below her shoulders.

  My body
numbed as I approached the casket. My limbs grew heavy with grief. My vision blurred. I needed to sit, or I might— I felt the gentle grip of a hand on my forearm. I turned to see Young, his gaze fixed on me. "Are you okay?" he whispered. I shook my head, so he grabbed me by the waist and supported most of my weight as he gently led me to our seats near the front of the church. As soon as I sat down, I felt better. Just a few deep breaths and the dizziness wore off.

  I sighed with relief. "Thanks," I said, squeezing Young's hand. We'd been married for no more than twelve hours and he'd already saved me twice. I owed him more gratitude than just “thanks”, but it was all I could muster under the circumstances.

  I scanned the rows of people dressed in black. Did any of them really know my father? Was this just some kind of political event for them or just an excuse to wear their fine black garments? Anger filled my body. Had anyone here ever heard the sound of my father's laugh? Did they know he loved to look at constellations?

  I hated the formalities of the life I was born into. It all seemed rehearsed. Fake. After the service, several nobles were selected to speak about my father. I readied myself for the politics. For the kind words meant only to gain my mother's good favor.

  The first, a raven-haired woman with a sharply pointed nose told a story about how my father had personally assisted in rebuilding a bridge in her province after a particularly bad storm destroyed it. She went on to say that my father was the kind of king who cared enough to help his subjects, even if it meant rolling up his sleeves.

  I was moved to hear a story about my father that I'd never heard. I felt the glow of pride at the heroic deeds my father did for so many. The next speaker told a different anecdote. Again, it was a story I'd never heard but spoke of the many incredible traits my father possessed.

  Five more speakers told their story, each lovelier than the last. An unsettling thought weighed heavily on my mind. Maybe I was the one who didn't know my father. My mind tore through my memories searching for something, something he’d told me about himself. My heart tightened as the realization settled in. We'd only ever talked about me. Tears burst from my eyes and my body shook as panic settled in. I didn't know my father. There were a million things I wanted to ask him. I needed his advice. I wanted to hear his opinions, and now that chance would never come. I spent the precious moments of my father's life telling him about my day and complaining about my problems.

  I buried my face in my hands to muffle the crying. I thought I had more time. I thought he'd always be here. Regret clouded my thoughts like a thick mist on a foggy shore just before dawn. I'd left the letter he wrote me locked away in my chamber and it took everything in me to keep from leaping up, running out of the church, and reading my father's final thoughts to me.

  I had one more chance to know my father. It was as if I'd asked my father one question about him after all, perhaps the most important question given the circumstances. Father, if you knew you were dying, what would you want me to know?

  Chapter 35

  Prince Young

  CHARLOTTE WORRIED ME. She was suffering—barely able to stand or keep from crying. The hardest part was I couldn't fix it. I could only watch her endure it and that was dizzyingly frustrating. The funeral was arduous—an endless amount of emotional daggers being hurled at Charlotte continuously. I knew it wasn't intended to be that, but from where I sat, I worried it would be too much for her. I felt her pulse quicken with each new story. I figured Charlotte wouldn't want to fight the crowd to get to the exit, so I planned on waiting for the chapel to clear out a bit, but before I could tell her, she vanished into the crowd of people. I wasn't sure if I should give her space or make sure she was all right.

  When I didn't see her at the banquet, I knew she’d gone back to our new chambers. I slipped out of the banquet room and followed her. As I turned down the corridor, I could hear the sniffle of a woman weeping. Charlotte? At the foot of Charlotte’s chamber door, the queen of Besmium sat, tears and snot lining her face. I ran over, half expecting a pool of blood. Nothing but steel could take down someone so strong. As I neared, I saw no sign of pain on her face, only sadness. I knew I wasn't close enough to her to even attempt to comfort her. Physical pain was so much easier. I secretly wished she'd just twisted an ankle or something.

  "Your Majesty," I said.

  With a flick of her wrist, she dismissed. Good enough for me. I turned to leave but her voice stopped me.

  "It's my fault he's dead," she said, her words slurring together like a linked chain.

  I crouched down to her eye level, the sudden aroma of stale wine hitting my nose. "I think—"

  "I was the one who told Emmett to come here. If I hadn't, my husband might be alive."

  "We can’t know the future. We can only do our best in the moment." It was not an empathetic speech. It wouldn't mend her wounds, but those were the facts and I hoped they could at least eliminate some of her guilt.

  The queen sat in silence and I eyed the door behind her, wishing I was on the other side. Finally, she got to her feet and patted me on the back. She turned away from the chamber door and headed down the hallway.

  "Don't you want to talk to Charlotte?" I called.

  She continued walking and called over her shoulder, "You go ahead."

  "I don't know what to say," I spoke while catching my breath, but she was already gone.

  I pushed open the chamber doors, feeling the same adrenaline as on the battlefield. Charlotte sat at the foot of our bed. My wife. The moment I saw her, the peaceful feeling I’d relished this morning returned. She stared down at the king's final letter, but her gaze wasn’t moving. I sat down beside her, lifting the letter from her grip. I read it to myself.

  Dear Charlotte,

  My time in this world is coming to an end. I feel I've lived a full life with many adventures and you, my dear daughter, were my most precious. Since my return, your mother has filled me in on your actions since my capture, and I must say I am proud of you. It doesn’t matter who you marry, I am certain you will make an incredible queen of Besmium and with this knowledge, I can rest well.

  You are my greatest accomplishment.

  With love,

  Your father

  Charlotte leaned her head on my shoulder and cried. I put my arm around her and gently rubbed her back. She buried her face in my chest. I was grateful that I didn't have to say anything. Without thinking, I kissed the top of her head, drinking in the sweet aroma of her curls.

  She leaned back, her gaze meeting mine. It startled me, but before I could say anything, she leaned in and kissed me. Her lips pressed against mine, a sharp jolt tingling violently in my chest and spreading throughout my entire body. I wrapped my arms around her, dizziness fogging my thoughts. Her soft lips pressed warmly into mine. Her curls tickled my cheeks, then she pulled away.

  "Thank you," she said, stepping back.

  I stood. "No, thank you for that. That was... I mean—"

  She giggled and a rush of heat hit my face. "I mean," she said, "thank you for being there for me today. I don't know what I would have done without you."

  I stopped, unable to respond.

  She smiled, but it faded quickly. "I'm going to go find my mom. Will I see you at the banquet?"

  I nodded. She walked over to me and pulled the letter from my rigid fingers, and then she was gone. Overwhelmed, I slumped back onto the bed. Grief was a formidable dragon to slay.

  Chapter 36

  Prince Minseo

  THE EVENING AFTER KING Morgan’s funeral, I was drifting in and out of consciousness when I realized Charlotte stood beside my bed. Alarmed, I sat up and glared at her. What further chaos was this woman going to bring down on me?

  “Prince Minseo,” she whispered.

  It was strange to hear my name said with such a foreign accent.

  She stepped closer. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

  I opened my mouth to speak but the burn of the antidote still lingered in my throat and
churned my stomach. Evil witch.

  “Don’t speak,” she said. “You should rest. I’m sure you’re angry with me. I just want you to know I’ll make this up to you.” Her eyes glistened. “I’ll visit you here every day until you’re well again. Anything you need, I’ll make sure you have it.”

  Don’t bother. But she’d already sat down beside me and began to read a chapter of some adventure story, and before I knew it I’d drifted back into deep sleep.

  Princess of destruction, I seethed the next day, hoping she wouldn’t return, but just like she’d promised, she came, with a bright smile and a book. With each passing day my hatred for her abated and I began to see what my brother must’ve seen right away.

  It took almost three months for me to get my strength back. I spent most of that time in bed, some days only able to get up and walk around for a short time. I'd missed my brother's first few months of marriage. Young would come by and chat with me sometimes, filling me in on things I'd missed, but Charlotte never missed a day.

  It only took a week for me to realize that I looked forward to her visits, and a week more to realize I needed them. Sometimes she'd read to me, sometimes she joked with me, and when I was finally able to walk, she'd walk with me. I'd never spent so much time with one woman before and I felt my weakness for her growing each time she'd laugh or when she twirled a curl around her finger. There was a warmth about her that I wasn't used to and a nurturing presence that wasn't commonly shown in my kingdom.

  I didn't understand why at the time, but I'd rigorously questioned my brother about his wedding night and the consummation ceremony until he'd admitted that he'd faked the whole thing. I promised him I wouldn't tell. It was a promise I'd easily kept, but it changed the way I thought about Charlotte. Somehow, it meant she didn't belong to him.