THE NOW
Ariel tied her dark hair under a scarf and leaned over the large cooking pot as she drew in the aroma. The spiciness of the turmeric mingled with the bite of the ginger, balanced out by the garlic Edison had dug from the fields earlier that morning.
The thought of her son, made her step back from the pot and sigh. What was she to do with him? She’d had such high hopes she’d be able to raise him to be better than the person she feared he was born to become. But with each day that passed, he was dashing her hopes more and more.
She got feelings like that about people. She could look at someone and immediately know if their heart was kind or cruel, or how far along the scale it sat.
This wasn’t always a good thing. With Edison, she’d known the moment she laid eyes on him that his heart was black. Well, perhaps not black, but it was certainly a darker shade of gray than she’d like for someone so important.
She’d tried her hardest over the years to let in the light, but it was more difficult than she’d thought it would be. Especially as she was raising him on her own. Would having a father have made a difference? She guessed she’d never know. Time could be regretted, but it could never be turned back.
“Mother.”
She jumped at the sound of her son’s voice. He had a habit of interrupting her when she was thinking of him. Or was that just because she thought of him so often?
“Edison, good timing.” She wiped her hands on her work dress. “Would you mind helping me move this pot from the flame?”
“Not sure why you bother. Your tonics aren’t working. You’re losing your touch.” Despite his words, he lifted the pot from the flame and set it down to cool.
This was what she meant about his heart being gray. He could do something nice while saying something cruel at the same time.
“It has nothing to do with my touch,” she reminded him. “These recipes are the result of generations of hard work and experimentation.”
“Is this the new tonic?” He peered into the pot and waved the rising steam toward his nose.
“I’ve made some adjustments,” she said. “I’m hopeful this will put a stop to the… problems we’ve been having.”
“Problems?” He screwed up his nose. “I think it’s a little more serious than that.”
“Well, one day they’ll be your problems, so I suggest you start helping a little more, rather than criticizing all the time.”
When she got too old to make her tonics, Edison would take over, a thought that made her want to invent a tonic for her to live forever.
“Yeah, about that.” Edison pulled out a chair from the table.
“What about that?” She took a seat of her own and waited to hear the words she was certain he was about to speak.
“I don’t want to be the herbalist.” He said the words like they meant nothing to him. “It’s not the life for me.”
“Edison.” She drew in a breath and tried to slow the beating of her heart. Even though she’d been expecting this, it was still a shock to hear him say it at last. “Our family’s been making tonics for generations, handing down the recipes and building the strongest army any kingdom has ever seen. It’s our duty. Our future. There’s no choice in that.”
“It doesn’t feel like my future.” Edison folded his arms, his sandy blond hair falling across his face. “And what’s the point of making tonics that are killing the Guardians, rather than making them stronger?”
“Edison! How dare you.” His words had hit her like a slap. Making tonics was her life’s work. Was he saying this was a wasted life?
“Face it, Mother. The reason the Guardians are strong is because they lift weights. The tonics you’re making are doing them more harm than good.”
She shook her head, unable to believe what she was hearing. She’d known Edison didn’t share her passion for the tonics, but never did she think he was so against them.
“It’s true, Mother,” he continued. “You’re old and have been smelling too many herbs to notice. I’m not spending my life doing a made-up job.”
If Edison refused to carry on her work, who could possibly take over? Was the magic of the tonics in the recipe or was it in the fingertips of the person who made it? Edison had grown up in her kitchen. Would it be possible to teach anyone else how to do her work?
“This is not a made-up job,” she protested. “Our work has helped build the strongest army any kingdom has ever seen. How do you explain the size and courage of the Guardians if not for the tonics?”
“They’re dying, Mother. Three Guardians have died since the last full moon.”
She didn’t need him to remind her of that. This was something she was acutely aware of and had been working day and night to try to fix. If this did have anything to do with her tonics, then she had to find the answer.
“They’re human,” she said, fighting dark spots that were clouding her vision. “Of course they die. We die too. There’s no proof it’s the tonics.”
He smirked at her in the same way he used to do as a child. “Are you as foolish as those useless cups I pour out for you each day?”
“Edison, that’s enough!” She stood up and shouldered him out of the way of her pot so she could stir the steaming liquid. Dipping in a spoon, she sampled the tonic, wincing as the bitterness hit the back of her tongue, then smiling at its perfection.
Liquid gold. That’s how she thought of it. It wasn’t useless or foolish. Nor was she. There was only one person that label applied to right now.
“I’m going to the Bay to get you some more kelp,” said Edison, once again confusing her with his kind actions contradicting his words. He knew she hated going to the Bay, so regularly made the trip for her. “But when I return, we need to talk about approaching the King to find a replacement. Someone else to help you with this nonsense.”
“Edison, please.” The last thing she wanted was for the King to turn his attention to her right now. Not before she fixed whatever it was that was broken and the Guardians were in perfect health once more.
“Enjoy your visit from Prince Tate.” He smiled at her in such a way that if she didn’t know him, she’d think he was being sweet. “I know he visits you while I’m gone. He’s a bit young for you, don’t you think?”
“How dare you!” Heat flooded Ariel’s cheeks. It was true that Tate visited on occasion when Edison left the palace, but not for what Edison was insinuating. That poor boy had grown up without a mother. Being there for him when he wanted to talk was the least she could do.
She watched Edison turn his back and walk out of her kitchen.
Leaving the pot, she returned to the table and buried her face in her hands.
Edison was wrong about more than just her relationship with Tate. The tonics were just as powerful as ever. What was happening had nothing to do with that. The Guardians wouldn’t be the fearsome army they were without her work. Their kingdom would be invaded and they’d all be thrown out of their homes.
The other kingdoms were already banding together and increasing their strength, which meant they were at more risk now than ever before. Forte Cadence, Wintergreen and more recently The Sands of Naar had called some kind of truce. These were very strange times they lived in.
She wished their King were the sort to consider joining the alliance instead of fighting against it. But that would never happen. One day when Tate was in power, things would be different. He was both brave and kind. He’d make an excellent King. But that would be years away. So, in the meantime, her job was to ensure their army was strong. How would they defend themselves if three kingdoms were to attack at once?
The tonics were helping, not hindering. How else could they work for so many years, then all of a sudden start to do the opposite?
She believed this with all her heart. She had to. For if she didn’t, then her entire life and all the difficult decisions she’d made, had been a total waste.
RIVER
THE NOW
River
allowed Prince Tate to lead her back to his bedchamber, her footsteps moving forward but her heart dragging her back.
She was loyal to the Prince. She wanted to serve him and be a good wife. But did she love him? No, she did not.
As she walked, she listed the things she knew about her husband.
He was tall for an ordinary human, albeit slightly shorter than her.
He was a Prince and would one day be King.
He had a sister that nobody had seen for many years, except when she sat at her window, which was practically always.
He had a handsomeness that wasn’t present in his father, although it was possible that buried underneath all those rolls of royal flesh there was a handsome King.
And so far, he’d been kind to her.
It was doubtful he’d had any more say about this marriage than she’d had. He hadn’t even been in the selection process. Did that make it better or worse? Would she like to have been selected by him?
She wasn’t sure. Maybe he wouldn’t have chosen her if he’d been there. Was that a good thing or bad?
She shook her head, trying to release these confusing thoughts. But still, they plagued her.
Prince Tate hadn’t seemed too disappointed in the King’s choice. She’d noticed the straightening of his spine when he’d discovered the way her dress was being held together and wasn’t sure how that made her feel. Princes didn’t look at Guardians that way. If she’d been wearing her tunic, she was certain he wouldn’t have looked at her with that flash of longing in his dark eyes. At least he hadn’t leered at her like Edison or made her feel foolish like Heath. He’d averted his gaze and done his best to reassure her that he’d never hurt her.
She was a woman now, not a Guardian. She needed to remember that. And men liked to look at women.
Prince Tate opened the door and stepped aside for her to enter his bedchamber.
Her stomach pulled together as if it had ribbons of its own holding it in place. No man had ever made her feel this nervous before. Was it because he was a Prince? Or was it because he was her husband? More likely, it was due to the King’s instruction for them to make a baby. And despite how little she knew about being a woman, this was something her mother had made sure she knew about.
His bedchamber was large. The entire hut that her family of four lived in would fit inside, with room to spare. Light flooded in from a window, sending dappled patterns onto the large bed. She averted her eyes from the plush red quilt, not ready to imagine herself sleeping beside the Prince just yet.
Resisting the urge to slide into the nearest seat to ease her aching feet that’d been squeezed into shoes far too small for her, she went to the window and looked out. The view from here even more breathtaking than the one she’d had from the room Elise had dressed her in.
“We’re a lucky kingdom,” said the Prince, noticing her gaze across the fields.
“We are.” River wondered if she was supposed to wait for him to make the first move or if she was supposed to remove her dress herself. Neither option sounded appealing at this point. But as she was determined to be a dutiful wife, she undid the braided silk belt that was tied around her waist, realizing she was going to need to ask him to help her undo the ribbon threaded through the clasps down her back.
“May I speak with you?” asked the Prince, not seeming to be able to look directly at her.
“Yes, Your Highness. Of course.” She forced a smile to her lips.
“Please, call me Tate. I’m your husband now.”
“Sorry. Yes… Tate.” She had to force out this word. Would it ever sound natural to call the Prince by his first name, whether he was her husband or not? But he’d asked her to, so she had to try.
“This marriage was my father’s idea,” he said, confirming her suspicions. “I had no choice in this. Do you understand?”
She nodded, not certain she understood anything in this strange, new world.
“You’re very lovely, so I don’t want you to be offended by this. But… would it be all right if we…” He ran his hands through his hair and the tie that held it in a knot at the base of his neck slipped free.
She watched him with interest as he re-tied his hair, which she decided was a shame. She quite liked how he’d looked with it flowing free. Like he was a real human and not a neat and tidy Prince.
“Would it be all right if we waited a while to become man and wife in the way my father has instructed?” He spat out these words as if trying to get them over with. “I’d like to get to know you first.”
She let out a deep breath and felt all her nerves flow free of her body, along with the expelled air. It seemed the Prince was a little unsure of himself, which was as surprising as it was endearing.
“I can wait.” She did her best to look disappointed.
“There’ll need to be a baby at some point,” he continued. “But I see no rush. We’re both young and healthy. Father need not know why it doesn’t happen immediately. That occurs sometimes, I believe.”
River nodded. “It does. It took my parents five years to conceive me.”
“Five years!” His mouth fell open, although it shouldn’t have. This length of time wasn’t unusual for a Guardian.
“Our muscle mass reduces our fertility.” She shrugged, not really understanding what muscles had to do with conceiving babies.
“Yet my father chose me a Guardian for a wife.” His brows pulled together as he thought about this. “Curious.”
“I’m not a Guardian anymore.” River swallowed, wondering if she said this aloud enough times one day it would feel like the truth. “Perhaps he believes my fertility will increase in time.”
“Or perhaps it’s more important for him to have a few strong heirs, than a tribe of weaklings.” Tate’s shoulders slumped and River thought she could guess where his uncertainty about himself came from.
“Is that what your father thinks you are?” she asked. “A weakling?”
He blinked at her, not seeming to want to answer and she remembered she’d wondered the same thing about him before they’d met.
“I think it takes great strength to do what you did today,” she said. “You married me when it wasn’t your choice and you did it while treating me with dignity and kindness. To me, that’s what a real man is. Your father should be very proud of you.”
Tate’s shoulders pulled back and a small smile spread across his strong features, lighting the darkness in his eyes. An unfamiliar flutter sparked in River’s core as she looked at him, like some kind of flame had been ignited.
“Are your parents proud of you?” he asked. “How did they feel about this union?”
She took a step back and leaned against the windowsill, the aching in her feet matching the aching in her heart. She hadn’t expected him to ask her about the family she’d been asked to leave behind.
“They were honored I was chosen,” she said, swallowing hard. “As am I.”
“I’d like to meet them.” He stepped toward her and placed his hand gently on her shoulders. “River, when I told you after our wedding that I’d never hurt you, I meant that I’d never hurt you here.”
He placed the palm of his hand over her heart, just inches from her breast and she felt as if the silk belt was still tied around her waist, constricting her.
“I’ll never hurt you,” he said. “This is my promise to you. I may not be able to be the husband to you that my father has ordered me to be. Not right now, anyway. But if it’s all right with you, I’d like to be your friend.”
River smiled. She’d never had a friend who wasn’t a Guardian before.
“I’d like that,” she said.
“Good.”
She watched as he went to his bed and flopped onto his back, letting out a sigh.
“May I sit down, my Prince? I mean, Tate. I’m sorry, you did tell me to call you Tate.” The soles of her feet were on fire now, like she was standing on a bed of nails.
“Of course.” He hauled himsel
f up so he was propped on his elbows. “You don’t need to ask me if you can sit down. This is your home now, too.”
“I’m sorry.” She slid onto the chair and pulled off her shoes, sighing at the sweet relief of being able to wriggle her toes.
“Okay, this isn’t going to work.” He shook his head, his lips pressing firmly together. “We need a few rules.”
Her head sprang up and she forced herself to hold his gaze. Had she been too quick to judge this man as kind? Was he offended by her feet? She should have remembered her manners and put up with the pain a little longer.
“First rule, you already know. You’re to call me Tate.”
She nodded. That, she could try to get used to.
“Second rule, you don’t need my permission to sit or lie down or stand on your head. Understood?”
She nodded again, hiding a smile at the thought of standing on her head.
“Third rule. Please stop apologizing to me over trivial things.”
She bit down on her bottom lip, wondering how many times she’d apologized. It couldn’t be more than once.
“Fourth rule.” He dropped the volume of his voice to a soothing tone. “I want you to trust me. Can you do that?”
“I can try,” she said, not wanting to lie to him. Trust took time to build. And he scared her like no other man had before.
“Can I make a confession?” He got up from the bed and took the seat next to her.
“Yes.” She smoothed down the fabric of her dress as she wondered what he could possibly confess to her.
“I’m a little scared of you,” he said.
She couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped her lips, instead, trying to catch it with her hand.
“Why would you be scared of me?” she asked. “You’re the Prince! Your father is the King.”
“True,” he said. “But I’m still a man. Does that make sense?”
It made so much more sense than she knew how to explain. Perhaps a Prince and a Guardian weren’t so different after all. They’d both worn titles all their lives that identified who they were in such an all-consuming way that it was hard to make sense of who they were as an individual.
The Kingdoms of Evernow Box Set Page 70
