by D. R. Grady
“No. They should be respectful.” They didn’t need to expound on the improprieties shown thus far.
“It’s disgusting that the only men I’d be interested in naming are good at their jobs, so they’re not even here.” Raene tapped her spoon against a plate while their server set soup in front of them.
“Correct. They’re actually patrolling and protecting our nation,” Stefana agreed. “Did you hear that Tomas has asked for Lady Sara’s hand in marriage?”
Raene dropped her spoon. It splashed soup broth all over the fine tablecloth. “He did? Oh Stefana.” She rubbed her friend’s arm in commiseration.
Tomas, a childhood friend of theirs, excelled with a sword. He was fast, smart, and a nice man. Thus far, he had been the forerunner for husband to Raene, except that she suspected Stefana harbored far fonder feelings toward him than Raene ever had.
“Yes. My mother mentioned it casually this morning.” Sara’s mother and Stella were quite close, and Sara, while younger than Raene and Stefana, was a friend of theirs. She was quiet, sweet, and very ethereal.
“She’ll make Tomas an excellent wife.”
“Yes. He mentioned last time he was home that there was someone who had caught his attention.” Stefana gazed, unseeing, at her steaming soup.
“He never mentioned her name?” Raene’s heart went out to Stefana.
“No. But I finally realized he has no interest in me.” Stefana’s brooding gaze met Raene’s. Her friend’s throat worked as her knuckles turned white around the spoon.
“I’m certain he would have been interested in you had he known of your interest. Even I didn’t know for certain.”
“You did. You had to.”
“I suspected, but I didn’t know.”
“He’s been the man I’ve always seen myself with. But from what Mother said, Tomas and Sara are very smitten with each other and pushing forward with the wedding.”
“They’ve already started to prepare for it?” Raene ceased mopping the broth still smattering the tablecloth.
“Yes. From what I gathered, they’re doing so together whenever he’s home. He makes short trips often to be with Sara.”
“I’m happy for them.”
“Yes.” Stefana’s agreement sounded strangled.
Raene picked up her spoon again. “If he’s to marry another woman, then he’s not right for you, love.”
“I’m aware of that. It still hurts.”
“Perhaps you should make your feelings for the next man more obvious?”
Stefana didn’t exactly agree, but they did eat the soup and other courses offered them. If not with appetite, at least they made an effort.
At the end of the meal, Raene asked their server to please always serve them here, in this room.
The woman nodded. “We feel the same way, your majesty. You’ve eaten far more here, in private. We noticed most of your food comes back from the main dining hall.”
Raene didn’t know what to say to that.
Stefana had no such trouble. “Indeed. It’s been a trying time, Collette.”
“We understand, Lady Stefana.”
With that, the server swept out of the room, dishes rattling.
Stefana’s steady gaze raked her. “I understand the loss of appetite, but we both need to do better. We have more responsibilities these days.”
“Aern has been helping.”
“The black dragon?”
“Yes. He’s worse than Nanny.”
Stefana’s laugh lightened the atmosphere around them.
“I can’t quite picture that, but it’s a nice thought.”
“He gets the job done.” Merely thinking about Aern made the crushing weight on her chest lighten.
Stefana laid her neatly folded napkin on the table. “We had best visit your mother.”
The crushing weight returned, with reinforcements.
“Is this necessary?”
“It might be.” He doubted this as well, but Vidar kept scrolling through the files on his crystal console. Montequirst boasted masses of warriors, but many of them were not suitable for Raene. A large number were already married, engaged, too old, too young, or too stupid to be the king.
Raene had to have discovered this already. With a nasty tightness in his chest, he clicked on those warriors on active duty. An assortment of pictures and bios of each warrior who currently served scrolled up with the touch of his finger.
There were four betrothed warriors, one newly so. This Tomas looked like he might have worked. And it stated he knew Raene personally.
While the files lacked complete details, they included enough information for Vidar to accurately assess the candidates. Scrolling through still more warriors, he frowned at another man.
“I’ve seen him,” Aern said.
The man’s name was Kjell.
“And?”
“He’s not suitable at all for Raene. There’s something off about him.” Aern’s tail swished as his eyes narrowed.
“My same thought.” Vidar flicked him off the screen and moved to the next hopeful. His chest constricted another notch.
“She has likely already been through these files.” Aern sent him a suspicious look. “And how are you able to access this information? It’s all classified.”
“We have the highest clearance in the land.”
“Oh, right. I forgot.” Aern snorted, but only a small portion of the floor charred.
“You know, her cousin might be willing to take on the military to give her time.” Vidar tapped the wall beside his console as he peered at the bio on Haines, Duke of Lockwillow.
“He might. But from what I’m hearing, he’s being pressured to remarry as well, since his wife died last year.”
“If he was already married, why does he have to marry again?” Ideas swirled through his mind. None of them viable.
“No children.”
“Oh. That’s bad for a duke.”
“Yes. So he might not be permitted to help Raene. Her plan could work, but maybe not. It will all depend.”
Vidar had no helpful thoughts or suggestions to add.
“It’s stupid that she has to name a husband right away.” Aern’s tail slashed against a sturdy stalactite.
Yes. Frustration clenched Vidar’s fist. “From what I’ve researched, she only has to marry in haste if Montequirst is under invasion.”
“There are plenty of rumblings.”
“Right. That’s why she’s worried about having to name the new king immediately.” Vidar frowned at the photo of the next man who might be Raene’s new husband.
This one was handsome, young, ambitious, and smart, at least according to his record. Numerous accolades from various commanding officers accompanied his file. Apparently he was also brave.
Vidar scowled at him.
Aern’s heavy breathing over his shoulder didn’t help. “This man looks promising.”
“Yes.” The word squeezed through his suddenly constricted throat.
Muttering something under his breath, Aern took out a nearby stalagmite. It crumbled into dust while Vidar narrowed his eyes at his friend. The next unfortunate stalagmite turned into crumbling black powder by the force of Aern’s snort.
“What’s wrong with you?” There was an edge to Vidar’s sharp question.
Aern clapped one front foot over his mouth. “Never mind.” He appeared to be fighting off sniggers. And losing.
Arguing with the dragon didn’t seem worth his time, so Vidar bookmarked the young man and moved on. The next two also showed promise. At least he found nothing to disqualify them.
Three potential husbands, all of them near Raene’s age, and each capable of being king to her queen.
His teeth started to ache, so he consciously relaxed his jaw.
“Maybe you should do something else.” Aern’s mild suggestion didn’t dissipate Vidar’s urge to pound the granite walls.
It took every ounce of self-discipline he’d learned over the
years to force himself into the state of calm he normally resided at.
What’s wrong with me?
Chapter 13
“I must go visit my mother.” Raene’s throat worked to clear the large knot there, but her efforts didn’t amount to much.
Stefana hugged her. “Do you wish me to accompany you?”
“No.” The knot grew. “No, there isn’t anything you can do.”
“I could be a support to you.”
Raene had to swallow hard again. The lump countered this action by growing in the vicinity of her heart. The back of her eyes burned. “Thank you.”
Stefana squeezed her shoulder before Raene swept out of the room and down the corridor. The weight of Driies proved comforting as she padded down the hallway.
No one stopped her, despite her slowing steps. It took far too little time to reach the doors guarding her mother’s bedchamber.
A deep breath did nothing but pull in the stench of decay and impending death.
Her insides tightened as she fought the urge to flee in the opposite direction.
With quavering insides, Raene turned the doorknob and entered the room. Here the malodor assaulted and she sagged to her knees. Gagging, she clapped a hand over her nose and mouth as a healer raced to her side.
The woman affixed a scarf over her head and draped it to protect the lower half of Raene’s face. The healer wore a similar covering, and it masked her face so only her eyes showed. They radiated with concern.
“’Tis not safe for you to be here, your highness.”
“She’s my mother, Tilly.”
“Yes.” A wealth of sorrow and concern exuded from the healer’s answer. She escorted Raene across the room to where Margina lay.
The queen’s lungs heaved in great gasps, as though they weren’t able to suck in enough air. Margina’s skin was more than tinged with blue. It blended with a putrid yellow to produce the green of sickness.
Heart pounding, Raene stood at her mother’s side and contemplated the face she no longer recognized. Tears blurred the ghastly image.
“Is she aware?” Her voice was harsh and hoarse.
“No, Princess Raene. She is no longer cognizant.” Tilly’s firm, no-nonsense answer somehow helped.
It reassured her that Margina didn’t suffer now.
The rattle of overworked lungs expanded in the room. The walls seemed to press in, closer and closer. “I can’t . . .” She broke off, and Tilly indicated the door.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Tilly clicked her teeth. “It’s no place for a princess. You cannot help your mother. No one can.”
Clutching at this excuse not to listen her parent’s strained breathing, Raene fled. She sped past her own bedchamber before about-facing. Changing into trousers and tunic, she opened the secret door Vidar had shown her.
Her heart pounded in rhythm with her unsteady footfalls and jagged breathing.
Vidar asked no questions when she appeared suddenly in the cavern.
The sound of him unsheathing his sword offered up what she needed. His massive shadow provided additional support, as did his understanding.
She drew Driies and then attacked, clanging swords with him, snarling, and once screaming.
His jaw tightened, but he never once came close to harming her. He also never offered her the opening to harm him. Instead, their swords clattered in the stillness of the stone room.
“Your mother has taken a turn for the worse.” It was not a question.
She nodded because words were beyond her.
His mouth tightened as he upped the stakes by thrusting deep and hard. She countered his onslaught with an accompanying burst of adrenaline.
“Do not turn so abruptly. Follow it through fast, but with control,” he directed after she almost slipped.
“You need additional control.” His voice penetrated the swirling decline of her thoughts.
Yanking herself back into the scrimmage took precious energy, but she shoved everything out of her mind except the battle before her. Vidar’s next strike slashed too close to her face, and she deflected it with the same smooth motion he had used a moment ago. Not as elegant as his, but it did keep her face intact.
He foiled her next parry with a flick that knocked her back, but she retained her footing. Lunging, she eluded the massive blade with a quick dance, and then ducked under the gleaming edge to spring up on his other side.
Raene allowed a grin of triumph. Especially when respect lit his eyes. “Excellent foot work.”
Yet he warded her off as though she was a buzzing housefly. She set her back teeth and prevented him from gaining ground. Not that he tried very hard, but she did deter his forward thrust.
The clang of metal on metal released the tension pulling so tight she feared it might burst through her skin. Their grunts and her ability to shriek at the fates for taking her mother so soon proved a welcome balm.
To have this outlet made tears well.
Stepping back, she wiped away the lone trickling tear. “Thank you.”
He didn’t say anything, just nodded before blocking her next parry.
When they concluded their exercise, a note of respect continued to gleam in his eyes. “You would have survived this fight.”
She started. “Really?”
“Yes. You kept focused while in battle. At least after I cautioned you. That generally means you keep your head, literally and figuratively.”
“This is excellent news.” Raene eyed him. “If I had been fighting you, personally, I would or wouldn’t have survived?”
“Well . . .”
Aern plodded in. “Most Aasguard warriors wouldn’t survive a fight with him. So, no, with him, you wouldn’t have survived.”
“Sit before you take out something important.” Vidar directed Aern in an aside, his tone mild.
The black dragon did sit, although it appeared more as though his hind quarters gave out than that he planned to seat himself. The cavern shook for a moment before, after a small rock fall, and a cloud of dust that made her cough, the air cleared so she could see again.
It helped when Vidar paced to his crystal console and engaged a lever beside it. Huge fans whirled on to suck out the dust cloud. He didn’t even cough—perhaps he was used to this.
“So if I had been facing a normal foe, I had a chance at living?” She drew her lower lip between her teeth.
“Yes. You’ve vastly improved. You’re certainly competent now.”
Releasing her lip, she nodded. “Thank you.”
In the overhead lights, it looked as if his cheeks flushed, but that might have been a trick of the light and the still settling dust.
“I’m happy to assist you. It’s vital that you know how to defend yourself.”
“I came here with the intention of learning to do so.”
“It was a burning desire within you, and a good one.” His quiet statement reminded her this man could read thoughts. Perhaps not direct ones, but he certainly understood purpose.
It’s far too late to block him now, a knowledgeable voice piped up from the back of her mind.
Yes. It was too late for many things.
“Regardless of what compelled you here, it does matter that you know how to use your trusty little sword.” At Aern’s statement they all gazed at Driies, which she still hadn’t sheathed.
Reminding herself this was a deadly weapon, she did slide it into the scabbard. Vidar had done so with his sword immediately their session concluded. Like the professional he was. Her father would have been horrified at her novice mistake.
She grimaced to herself. A good thing being a warrior wasn’t her career path.
A dark cloud blocked the sunlight and they all peered up at the sky, far over their heads.
Vidar and Aern’s eyes slitted as they exchanged a look.
It took her a moment to clear her throat. “What’s going on?”
“It looks like rain.” Aern’s tone would have been at home in any of t
he stately manors dotting the countryside.
The heavens opened then with an impressive deluge. “I need to take my leave.” Her heart dropped. Leaving was the last thing she wished to do but this rain meant she would need to be on hand to make decisions. Mudslides were a persistent problem this time of year.
“You know you’re always welcome here.” Aern’s expression turned both sly and wry. “We don’t get out much.”
Vidar snorted. He still stood in front of his crystal, and his intent face troubled her.
“I enjoy visiting you.”
“We’re appreciative.” Aern resettled his girth. His tail curled around his feet like a cat’s. The tip flicked from time to time.
“Be safe,” Vidar warned as she turned to leave.
She opened her mouth, but then shut it again, because she didn’t quite know how to answer. Instead she sent him and the dragon a smile before making for her bedchamber at a high rate of speed.
Stretching her muscles like this felt good. The tightness in them had dissipated, although her heart still hung heavy and cold in her chest. That might never disappear though.
After washing away the sweat and dust of battle, she tugged on her court dress, strapped Driies snuggly at her hip and took a deep breath.
The urge to flee back into the bowels of the castle was overwhelming.
Raene squared her shoulders and valiantly resisted the urge.
She didn’t take time to delve into the reasons behind her desire. The answer might not be to her liking.
Sometimes it was better to bury reasonings and desires deep until such time as it was safe it unearth them. That might be never…
Chapter 14
Urgent shaking awoke her. Raene’s heart leapt into her throat as Ariadne roused her. With firm, steady hands, and a grim mouth.
“My mother?”
“Yes, love. You must come.” Raene stumbled out of bed and donned whatever was handed to her. It proved difficult to dress with shaking hands and a sinking heart.
The healer aided her, and all too soon led the way out of her bedchamber and into her mother’s. The room reeked of death.
