by N M Zoltack
“He will not be able to do a thing. No one will stand for him if he dares to lay a hand against me.”
Who was she talking about? Who was she?
“He is not the man he once was.”
“Maybe not.” The lady had sounded so firm and unyielding before, but suddenly, she seemed uncertain and worried.
Her anxiety made Noll unnerved. Who was she? Her voice sounded so familiar. He knew who she was. If only he didn’t tend to ignore everyone around him. The world would sometimes fall away for him, and all he would see would be a bird or an insect or a flower. Nothing else would matter.
“Be careful. The world must not learn the truth,” the man said.
“He does not care about me.”
“And you do him?”
The lady said nothing.
“I’ll send someone to clean up this mess,” the man offered.
“Yes. If only someone could clean up ours.”
“Yours,” the man said. His tone was shockingly angry.
“You will not stand with me?” She sounded so small and weak.
“If you do not stand up for yourself, no one will stand with you.”
“You—”
“I will fetch a servant now. If you will excuse me.”
Footsteps hurried away, but Noll remained still, his face still in the flowers. Eventually, he thought he heard the whisper of the lady’s skirt as she walked by. Once he heard nothing, Noll raced away. Those two, whoever they were, had issues, and Noll did not want to be drawn into their mess. It smelled disgusting. While Noll loved animals and didn’t mind when they were gross, humans were another matter.
I should’ve been born a dog.
3
Princess Rosalynne Rivera
The whole incident bothered Rosalynne so much that she retired to her room. Having to carry out executions was by far her least favorite duty as the crowned princess.
Honestly, it should not be my duty yet.
Her father, the king, should be the one to pronounce the sentence. He should be ordering the axe swung, not her.
But her father had need of her, and one day, she would be queen, whether she wished to be or not. Someone must handle these issues, and if her father wouldn’t, she must stand up. She must remain firm. She must already be queen.
Even though it killed her.
Twenty years ago, the Riveras were not royals. They were merely nobles. Rosalynne would’ve been fine with that. Truly, she would rather be out and about, living as a peasant. Then at least she would have some measure of freedom. Instead, she must rule because her father would not.
How could he rule over the kingdom when he wouldn’t leave the castle and go out to see the people? He had saved them from the threat of internal collapse, and yet, as of this very moment, he himself was weak.
If someone wishes to rise against us…
That was why she had to force herself to handle the terrible proceedings. The executions were repugnant to her, but she must be strong. She must be the face of the future of Tenoch Proper with Riveras as the rulers, or another would rise up and dismantle them.
We will not be the Lis.
The sanctuary of her room only held Rosalynne’s interest for so long. The bed was not inviting. Her clothes were all in the trunk at the foot of her bed or in the wardrobe. Her mirror showed her reflection. Were worry lines already etching into her pale skin? She would not be surprised. Sixteen and already she felt as if she were twenty-six or even thirty-six.
Too young for this heavy burden.
The servants were loyal to the Riveras without a fault. They had to be. Any who had served the Lis and refused to swear fealty to Jankin had been killed. As had the Lis, of course, the rulers those servants had had refused to turn aside.
Her father had once been a fierce and proud man, or so Rosalynne had been told. She scarcely remembered those days. Once Vivian was born and their mother died, her father died too. He’d married because he had to for the sake of Tenoch Proper, but ever since, he did little and less with each passing day. At thirty-four, he seemed as if he had already died too.
And if Rosalynne stayed within this room much longer, she would die herself. It felt like a coffin, closed and confining, and she could not breathe. The image of Dicun Lewis peacefully waiting for the axe haunted her. Guilt ate away at her. It was ridiculous. If Dicun Lewis had rallied the public against the Riveras, it would have proven devastating. Killing one to save hundreds, if not thousands, of lives was necessary. She had not been in the wrong.
Still, it ate away at her as she marched through the castle. She would go to the stable, pick out a horse, and ride for hours. Maybe she would return. Maybe not.
At the end of the hallway stood Queen Aldith. Her normally listless blond hair was curled and fashioned in a surprisingly lovely updo. The queen had always been a frail creature, a mouse of a lady, and Rosalynne often wondered why her father had married the queen in the first place. That day, she appeared beautiful. Her skin was paler than normal, her cheeks flushed prettily.
Rosalynne crossed over to her. “Why did you not come?”
Queen Aldith blinked a few times as if shocked to be addressed. “Come to what?”
“The execution. Are you all right?”
Aldith nodded. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You seem… Are you sure?”
Aldith went to nod again and then gripped Rosalynne’s shoulder. The queen’s other hand rushed up to cover her mouth.
“Do you need—”
The queen rushed away. Worried, Rosalynne followed her. They hurried to the kitchen, and the queen dashed to an enormous pot over the fire. She promptly emptied her stomach into the contents of the pot.
The scullery maids and the cooks stared at them. Wordlessly, a maid handed the queen a cloth. Rosalynne snatched it and patted the queen’s mouth, cleaning her.
Even more pale and yet flushed, the queen leaned heavily on Rosalynne. They exited the kitchen and staggered their way to the queen’s chambers. The heavy door was not easy to open while holding up the queen. For being so weak, the queen weighed heavily against Rosalynne. The neckline of her gown dropped, gapping away from skin. Rosalynne could not help noticing that the queen’s chest seemed much larger than normal.
Shoving her other shoulder against the door, Rosalynne finally got them into the room. She helped the queen to her massive bed and covered the blanket over her before closing the door and returning to the bed.
“Do you need water?” Rosalynne asked.
“Please. And a bucket. Maybe close the curtains? The sun is bright.”
The sun did not shine that brightly in the room, but Rosalynne complied with that request. The others could wait a moment.
“Are you with child?” Rosalynne asked.
Aldith’s face perplexingly grew even more pale. “Yes.”
A baby. Rosalynne shuddered with disgust. The idea of having a child was not something she wished to consider, and she must. It was almost a disservice to Tenoch Proper that Rosalynne had not married yet. She was sixteen. She should have been wed two years ago so that she herself already had a child. An heir. One day, her child would rule.
Rosalynne had already given up much for Tenoch Proper. Her sense of pride, her compassion, her sense of self had all been destroyed and replaced by worry, fear, and anger. So much anger. She was furious all the time.
Marriage and children. Not for her. Not now.
Soon. Very soon.
She took a breath to calm herself. Of course, it did not help.
“Why have you not told everyone yet?” Rosalynne asked.
The queen had fallen asleep.
Rosalynne slipped out, fetched a pitcher and bucket, and gave them to a nurse to stand by the queen. Down the hall, Rosalynne knocked on her father’s large, golden doors. A guard from the inside opened the doors.
“A moment please,” Rosalynne said.
The three guards all left and closed the doors with a thud.
O
n a large silver floral-patterned settee, her father reclined. He was the size of three men. His head shifted slightly, and he stared at her.
“Rosalynne. Why are you here?” His dark eyes bore through her. Her eyes were the same shade, and their chestnut-colored hair matched as well.
“Dicun Lewis has been killed.”
“Good, good.” Her father closed his eyes.
“Congratulations,” Rosalynne ventured.
Her father’s eyes flew open. “Congratulations for what?”
Rosalynne winced. Aldith hadn’t told anyone yet, not even her husband.
“Congratulations on seeing to it that Tenoch Proper is safe,” Rosalynne said hastily. “A thousand villagers came to Atlan to witness the execution. The people know to inform us if anyone speaks highly of the Lis and—”
“Rosalynne, do not lie to me.”
“Oh?” she asked innocently.
Her father shifted slightly and shuffled back somewhat so that he was almost sitting up. Almost. “That is not why you congratulated me. Speak the truth now, or else I will have your tongue ripped out.”
Rosalynne closed her eyes so she would not roll them. “You will not do such a thing.”
“Because you will tell me the truth.”
Rosalynne almost smiled. For once, her father seemed like the commander he had once been. In order for him to unite the people behind him and against the Lis, her father had to be powerful and strong. Unbelievably, her father had claimed the land and the throne without a single battle. Yes, lives had been lost, but an entire war had been averted. Since her father had become king, there had been almost two decades of peace.
“Your child,” Rosalynne said. “It took you and Aldith a long time to become pregnant, but I am happy for you both.”
Her father held unnaturally still.
“She should have told you. She didn’t, did she? She seems to be all right, but she’s a little weak.”
“She’s always been weak,” her father said.
“Be nice,” Rosalynne admonished. “She is carrying your child.”
Her father did not respond.
“Do you need anything?” Rosalynne asked. “Do you want me to tell Aldith anything?”
“Thank you, Rosalynne, for handling the execution. One day, you will be queen. You have already shown yourself to be strong.”
Had she? Truly? Asking another to swing the axe felt so impersonal. She had condemned the man to die, yet she had not executed the sentence. Certainly, she did not wish to cut that cord. Regardless, because of her actions, a man was dead.
Another man. Others had already fallen because of her decree.
Despite the praise he was lavishing upon her, her father’s lips were twisted into a terrible scowl.
“Are you not happy?”
“With you? Always.”
Rosalynne flinched, unsettled. It plagued and disgusted her that their father would not even talk to Noll. As for Vivian, their father thought her a fool. It was wrong of him, but her father did not care. The old maid Diot Lopez had explained the situation to Rosalynne once after their father had left Vivian in tears.
“Her mother had the prettiest eyes in all the land. Such bright blue eyes,” Diot had said.
“So Vivian’s remind him of Mother’s? But my sister’s eyes are a dark blue.”
“When one is grieving, one does not see things properly. To him, Vivian has your mother’s eyes.”
It most certainly did not help any that their mother died giving birth to Vivian. One time, Vivian had confessed to Rosalynne that Vivian never once felt as if their father loved her.
It was wrong. Terrible and wrong.
If I have a child, it will only be one.
If. I must. When. When I have a child, I will only have one. If by chance I do have multiples, I will treat them all equally.
“You may go, Rosalynne," her father said in a tone that suggested he had said this more than once.
“Of course.”
Rosalynne left the room and then the entire castle. There was time for a ride before supper yet. Besides, her father would be eating in his room, as he always did. She would not be missed.
Not until the next execution.
A storm of anger and frustration welled within Rosalynne. A quarter of an hour later, air raced through her hair as she and the horse galloped along River Zim. For that moment, she would live as she wished even if it could only last until suppertime.
4
Prince Noll Rivera
No one in the kitchen would pay any attention to Noll. Sometimes, one of the maids would give him an apple or the chef would allow him to taste the soup, but there was no pot bubbling over the fire this day. Everyone seemed so busy and frantic, anxious and worried, that Noll left the kitchen behind.
Where should he go? Not back to the inner courtyard. He did not want to risk smelling that disgusting sickness any longer.
Back to his room? No. He was not tired. Honestly, he was not even hungry, but the kitchen was one place where he felt welcomed.
Noll decided to just wander the castle. He did that a lot. Sometimes, people ignored him, and he didn’t always mind. He could pretend he was important. He was a prince after all, not that anyone truly acted like he was a prince, although he could not be certain how a prince should be treated.
He climbed the grand spiral staircase and passed the queen’s chambers. He didn’t like Aldith. She ignored him whenever he tried to speak with her, so now he ignored her.
Then again, his father did not always talk to him. Truthfully, Noll did not like his father much either. For some reason, Noll seemed to disappoint his father. He couldn’t understand what he did wrong. Noll tried to be a good prince. When Vivian or Rosalynne told him to do something, Noll listened. He mightn’t always get it right the first time, but he did try. He didn’t want anyone to be upset with him.
It had been a few days since he last saw his father. Maybe a week. Longer possibly? If he could make his father happy, that would make a day wonderful. Noll was still upset that he hadn’t been able to play the game that the man had won earlier. Everyone had cheered the man on. Noll wished they all had cheered for him.
One day they will.
How could he impress his father? Maybe if he talked about the game. No. No, better not. He wasn’t sure how the game was played other than the man winning. He didn’t even know the man’s name. Better not to mention that.
A dog! Yes. Maybe he could ask his father for a pet dog. He saw many dogs in the marketplace. Why couldn’t he have one?
Noll ran down the hallway toward his father’s room. Should he knock? Yes, yes, he should.
He raised his fist.
“How dare you!”
Noll lowered his hand. Someone was already in there with his father, and the king did not seem happy at all with them.
Curious, Noll hesitated. Maybe it would be better to leave, but he was curious.
“What did you expect?” a lady asked.
“For you to be faithful!” the king roared. “Is that too much to ask of my wife?”
“Your wife?” Queen Aldith repeated. “Do you treat me like your wife? No. You ignore me. You stay here, in your room. What kind of a king are you?”
“Don’t you dare question me!”
Noll felt uncomfortable and glanced over his shoulder. No one was around, but still, Noll felt guilty. Rosalynne had once berated Noll for listening to her conversation with another lady. Noll hadn’t even cared about what they had been talking about. He couldn’t even recall what the two ladies discussed, but Rosalynne had been so upset. His father would not be pleased to learn Noll was listening. Maybe he should leave before he was found.
But if he left, he would never get a dog. Yet if his father was in a poor mood, he would never agree to a dog.
Noll could not bring himself to leave. He wanted a dog that badly.
“I do not have to explain myself to you. I am king!”
“King of wh
at? Your settee?”
A loud groaning sounded. His father? The settee? Noll had no way to know, but it sounded unpleasant.
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that!”
Noll rubbed the back of his neck. At least his father had never talked to Noll in that terrible of a tone of voice. Ignoring his father would be preferable to this awful, almost hateful tone. It almost disgusted Noll to hear his father talk to Aldith like that, which was saying something considering Noll did not care for the queen.
“You have done nothing for anyone, not even yourself. Not unless you count—”
Noll had never heard the queen so angry before. He had always thought of her as kind of mild. She reminded him of a calf or a lamb. No, not quite. More like a cub. Weak and almost worthless without a mama bear around.
“I made you queen. Isn’t that enough for you? Obviously, considering you went behind my back and—”
“Can you blame me? You ignored me. You wouldn’t even look at me. You pretended I wasn’t your wife. So what if I did the same to you? Why was it acceptable for you but not for me?” the queen demanded.
That seemed like a valid point to Noll. The king cared about himself and no one else. His father didn’t seem to care about anyone except maybe for Rosalynne. It hurt Noll that his father wouldn’t look at him either. Noll used to tell his father that he loved him all the time. Noll had been perhaps five at the time. His father never said it back, and eventually, Noll stopped saying it. What was the point? The wind captured Noll’s words and whisked them away. Maybe his father had never heard Noll’s declaration. Perhaps he had, and the king hadn’t cared. Could it be that kings were beyond love? If so, Noll was grateful he wasn’t the oldest. He would rather love than rule. Would Rosalynne be a good and just ruler one day? Noll did not know. She seemed more capable of love than their father, but she was also easily exasperated, at least as far as Noll was concerned.
“You have no place questioning me. None at all.” The king never sounded more furious, more irate. “I made you. I can destroy you.”
“From where you sit? Your men follow my orders more than they do yours.”
