by D. R. Grady
It was time.
Her uncertain future and the present had collided.
Taking this path into the very depths of the castle soothed Raene. Only this time she didn’t walk alone. Their footsteps rang out on the stone floor and even though her party spoke in muted tones, the words echoed through the tunnels.
The murmur of many voices greeted them as they neared Vidar’s domain. The expansive room should be able to hold all of today’s mourners.
Raene firmed her flagging spirits because she was expected to do so. Her heart hung heavy and low in her chest. Tears kept trying to choke her. They threatened to streak her face.
She had no recourse for today.
This needed to be endured.
In the very center of the room lay the white marble royal casket. Closed, as blue fever wreaked havoc on the victim. Pictures of her mother were scattered around the space. Cheerful rays of sunlight streamed across the scene. They lit up the paintings of her mother smiling at various stages in her reign.
Upon Raene’s arrival, all murmurings ceased.
The entire congregation stood, now silent as they took in the sight of her. Her heart once again threatened to leave her, and her eyes sought escape until they lit on the tall, silent warrior across the room.
Their eyes met and her heart stopped clattering. It stilled, then beat steady again.
The next breath she drew wasn’t painful. Calm settled over her and strength poured through her until she could stand tall.
She sent him her thanks, hoping he read her. Raene didn’t entirely understand the extent of his abilities, but everyone knew Aasguard warriors could discern emotions and intentions.
He had probably realized she was on the verge of escaping.
One dark eyebrow rose, and she had to hide her sheepish expression. A fleeting smile twitched his lips.
Her heart swelled and she finally felt like she might be capable of enduring today.
But she still longed to flee; right into his arms.
Chapter 16
Raene’s face was so pale, she looked in danger of fainting. He sent her whatever strength he could.
Satisfaction darted through him when she straightened. Her shoulders squared and she looked far more prepared to face the funeral. There was no way to prepare for a funeral, not of a loved one.
One of the royal dukes stepped forward. While bowed with age and frail looking, this member of royalty remained a giant in the court. Margina had trusted this smallish man, and Vidar was certain Raene could as well.
The only intentions Vidar received from him was to finish this as soon as possible. He felt for Raene and wanted to see her future safely sealed.
“I am the Duke of Larkswallow. In service to the queen for fifty-five years.” Margina hadn’t reigned for that length of time. So he had seen at least two queens, now three, who would take the throne in his time.
“We will now bury our queen.” The next intonation came from a woman, robed in royal apparel, and as old as Larkswallow. She spoke, although not long, but beautifully, to help aid those who grieved.
Vidar assessed that most of the people here in this chamber did mourn. There were a few who veered closer to gloating, and at least two who planned to use this situation to their advantage.
Keeping an eye on them wasn’t difficult. He and Aern had made certain all their security crystals worked and now displayed those of interest. Aern was present, but hidden and he kept watch on the same individuals, of whose intentions he also could read.
The robed woman spoke of healing and peace, and both settled over those congregated. Raene’s head bowed, and he thought she sniffed a few times.
He wanted to hold her, but such an action was inappropriate. For him at any rate. Stefana and her mother were capable of offering this service, and both ladies did so with alacrity. The three women clung to one another’s hands.
One perfect tear slid from Raene’s eye and he couldn’t not track its progress across her dewy cheek. Aern clearing his throat finally yanked him back to the present.
Aern’s gesture held notes of warning.
This alert wrenched Vidar back into the moment—guarding the treasures he had been entrusted with. He still caught his gaze straying to Raene throughout the ceremony.
When the fire pit burst to life, appearing only for a royal funeral, it flared brighter than most had likely ever seen. Gasps filtered through the room, Raene’s among them.
The flames beat higher and higher until they jumped to the royal box. The entire area flared bright blue, much like the color of the late queen’s eyes. And those of her daughter.
They engulfed the casket and flamed brighter and hotter until the lid opened to reveal nothing inside. More gasps spread through the room.
“It is done,” the woman intoned. “Margina, the Queen of Montequirst, has been laid to rest with her mothers.”
The Duke of Larkswallow offered the final benediction. His voice echoed throughout the chamber as the casket lid shut and then the entire box sank into the floor, as though on a lift. The opening where the royal casket had emerged disappeared as though it had never been.
The flames erupted again, and the image of Queen Margina appeared within them. “I now pronounce my beloved daughter, Raene, as the Queen of Montequirst. I am proud of you, my daughter. Your reign will change the course of Montequirst forever. You must choose wisely.”
With those words which had sent Raene’s hand to her heart, the flames formed into a tall column that slowly toppled into the pit where they collapsed on top of each other, tumbling over and over. With a small poof and a burst of blue light, the blaze dissipated.
Silence rang through the cavern.
“Raene, Queen of Montequirst,” Larkswallow enunciated, holding out his hand to her.
Raene swallowed hard enough it was visible, but she did step toward the royal duke. Her hand slid into his and he held their clasped hands aloft. “As per Margina, our late queen, we now welcome her daughter to be our monarch. Long live the queen.”
“Long live the queen,” those assembled chanted.
The Duke of Lockwillow paced to where Raene stood. “There is planned a formal coronation of the queen in one month’s time. We know we have a queen, but her indoctrination will occur in one month.”
“She has to name a husband,” one of the older warriors growled. His chubby hand rested on his sword hilt.
Vidar picked up that he was newly widowed, and looking for wife number four or five.
Several of the other warriors added their voices to the demand.
Raene’s color paled two additional notches. She swayed. Stefana caught her and glared at the men clamoring for more than any woman should have to endure.
“She is mourning her mother. There will be time to name the king in one month’s time.” If anyone thought it odd that another maiden snapped at them, Raene didn’t offer them time to counter.
“This is Princess Stefana, she is the acting Princess of Montequirst.” Raene’s tones displayed her royal and upright position.
Eyebrows rose at this pronouncement.
Larkswallow took control once again. “It is time for Queen Raene to choose her crown.”
A woman produced the crown Margina had selected all those years ago. She handed it to Raene whose fingers gripped the delicate precious metal and gems with fierce pressure.
The Duke of Lockwillow escorted her across the chamber to right beside Vidar. Vidar touched the door to the treasure chamber and it revealed itself. He touched it again and the door slid open.
Lockwillow left her.
“Enter,” Vidar invited her.
His heartbeats-per-minute jumped considerably.
He used every bit of discipline earned through the centuries to remain at his post.
This should have been enjoyed with her mother. Instead, the burial fires had carried Margina away. Leaving Raene alone. Completely alone. Her soul echoed with hollowness, empty and cold.
Everyone waited for her to enter the treasure chamber. With a deep breath, Raene grasped her long skirts, and did so. She stepped hesitantly through the door.
Aern loomed in front of her and a fraction of warmth suffused her at his greeting. No one could see them, so she hugged him before he led her to where the crowns were displayed.
This wall comprised a glittering compilation of gems and precious metals that her family had collected over the years. All of them valuable and pleasing, the men’s on the left, the women’s on the right. The vast array of crowns made her decision difficult.
Today her task was to select the crown that would adorn her head for official events during the length of her reign. It provided the symbol of her power as a monarch.
Fingering the delicate crown in her hands, she studied her mother’s choice. Delicate but strong, like her mother. Beautiful.
One slot remained among the women’s crowns. Holding her breath, and hands trembling, Raene fitted the one her mother had worn into the empty space. The entire collection flared a bright green, sparkling and beaming. A breeze filtered through the chamber, and passed over the collection twice, leaving them clean and shining.
She swallowed as she studied the remaining crowns. Nothing spoke to her.
It won’t, not until you choose your king.
The voice that spoke wasn’t familiar to her, yet it was. She recognized a familial resemblance, but had never heard it.
You are the hope of this kingdom. Who you choose will forever alter Montequirst. He must be the most worthy warrior of all time.
Who? She cried, wailing the entreaty.
No answer came, but a surge of warmth infused her, as though the voice sought to encourage her in her decision.
She perused the crowns again, but none of them responded. None called for her to choose, because this decision needed to be done together with the husband she named. Her mother had chosen her warrior a year after she became queen.
Raene had to choose now.
Today.
She stepped from the chamber. All eyes slid to her empty head and hands.
“I did not select a crown.” Her voice wobbled, so she cleared her throat. “I am to choose my husband today.”
All of the warriors, lined along the walls, stepped forward, hands on their sword hilts. Shoulders straight, heads held high while the smirks on several hard faces made her insides roil. None of them, please, she entreated.
Raene made an effort not to look in their direction. “Before she died, my mother reminded me to choose wisely.”
“Raene, you do realize there are rules you must follow in this decision?” Haines sounded agitated.
“Yes. If you will please repeat them for the assembly.” She used one hand to gesture toward those who observed the proceedings. Her heart thumped in her ears.
Haines reached into his breast pocket and extracted a rolled parchment. He unfurled it and proceeded to read the key points.
“The new king must be a warrior. He must reside in Montequirst. He must be the greatest of warriors, with unquestioned skill. He must be capable of ruling. He must be upstanding and worthy of the place of king.”
Once he finished reciting the list, Haines tucked the parchment back into his pocket. His questioning gaze met hers.
But her heart didn’t pound now. Even her treacherous stomach didn’t offer a single protest. The weighty advice she’d been given these last few days finally made sense.
Choose wisely.
Those words, and the advice contained within them, finally coalesced. To choose wisely often meant going against what a person desired. To decide against what appealed for what did not appeal, because self-denial secured the future.
But taken in the context of the best warrior, the most upstanding citizen, and the most capable of ruling, only one candidate stood out. And he was who she wanted now and for her future.
There wasn’t another man she wished to share the sheets with. There wasn’t another man whose wet towel she was willing to pick up off the floor and hang repeatedly.
She couldn’t name another man present more worthy to produce the next ruler of Montequirst. Heat suffused her cheeks, but Raene had made her decision. And it had been easy.
“You have decided?” Curtis, the warrior of the onion and garlic breath, asked. Excitement lit his eyes, as if certain she would choose him. Ugh.
Raene barely avoided a tragic shudder.
Holding her head high, she made her announcement. “I have decided on the king. There is only one man who meets all the specified criteria.”
She had stopped just inside the door. Behind her, Aern nudged her to exit the room. Before doing so she glanced over her shoulder, where two crowns gleamed in the light encasing the chamber. As though reassuring her this was the right decision.
With a sure step out of the chamber she faced the man she wanted. “The man who will be your king.” She used both hands to present him. “Vidar the Loyal.”
His mouth dropped open. “I am Aasguard.”
“Yes. Therefore, you are the greatest warrior who resides in Montequirst. The one man who is worthy to be king. And of royal blood.” She smiled at him.
“Can a . . .” For the first time in her memory, he floundered.
“There is no reason why Aasguard warriors cannot marry and have children. And absolutely no reason why they can’t be king. An Aasguard possesses all the necessary skills, in abundance.” Aern pronounced this from the doorway of the treasure chamber.
The congregation gasped and stepped back as one, despite the fact he’d shrunk himself to the size of an ox.
Raene took Vidar’s hand. His closed fiercely around hers. Protecting it, warming it, supporting her. But his face blanked.
Her heart dropped. She hadn’t thought this through. Hadn’t even considered his ideas or wants or needs.
What if he says no? Her throat tightened.
“Are you certain?” His silver eyes gleamed with promises and secrets.
Her throat opened again but all she could manage was a brisk nod.
“You must be certain, Raene.” His quiet voice rang with authority.
“I have been told repeatedly to choose wisely. You are, thusly, my only choice.” Please say yes.
“I accept.” He swept her off her feet and into his arms to kiss her with fierce emotion.
She kissed him back as bubbles of happiness shot through her veins. When he set her back on her feet, she drew him into the treasure room.
There, the two crowns that had caught her eye glimmered in the gem-light. They nestled side by side, both on the plainer side, yet beautiful and strong. Obviously a pair, and they glowed amid the abundant display of crowns.
Haines joined them in the treasury to lift the two crowns. He gestured for her and Vidar to proceed him out of the room. He and Aern accompanied them into the cavern where Haines set the queen’s crown on her head before settling the king’s on Vidar’s in the presence of their people.
“We are pleased to present your new queen and king.”
“When’s the wedding?” Stefana’s happy question made the bubbles in Raene’s veins shoot to her head.
“In one month’s time?” Haines questioned with a raised eyebrow.
“No, in two weeks time. That should give us time to settle any issues or matters,” Vidar answered with confidence. Her heart contracted, as the hollowness in her started to fill.
“In two weeks time,” she agreed. His arm crooked around her to haul her close.
Savoring his warmth, she enjoyed his masculine scent and the right to be here, in his arms.
“You have much to do.” Raene heard Haines’ warning, but her husband-to-be bent to kiss her again, so she didn’t pay attention.
Never before had a man looked so amazing in a crown. His fit him perfectly, not showy in the least, but steady and sturdy. Assured.
Hers weighed heavy on her head, as most crowns did. They induced headaches, but this one, while pl
ain, was light enough she could wear it for an extended period, hopefully.
Vidar’s crown added to his sheer majesty. He had earned this ranking, but had also obtained it due to his utter lack of interest in the position. Yet ironically, through his indisputable skills, he was the most qualified.
Fighting him for the sheets sounded like fun rather than vomit inducing.
These thoughts reassured Raene that, despite her doubts, she was ready to be wed.
Chapter 17
After everyone filed out of the cavern, and left him alone with Aern and Raene, Vidar’s heart squeezed. Raene, his fiancée. Nowhere in history had he heard of an Aasguard warrior marrying.
“Who will guard the treasury?” He stroked a finger along Raene’s cheek. “Where will I live?”
“You do have details to work out.” Aern plodded into sight after securing the treasure room. “I am perfectly capable of protecting the treasury. Especially after all we’ve done over the years to further the security measures.”
Raene’s luminous eyes gleamed as she stroked his jaw. Happiness radiated from both her and him to meet in the middle. He resisted the urge to crush her against him. To yell in triumph. This amazing woman had chosen him.
He might as well be twenty feet tall with armored plating. Not even Aern at his fiercest could knock him off this pinnacle.
“We have to choose our bridal chamber, our coat of arms, and our wedding appointments.”
“Bridal chamber?” His eyebrows lifted.
“Yes. The rooms we’ll live in after we are wed.”
“Where you’ll make the royal babies.” Aern frowned at them. “There should be more than one.”
Raene’s cheeks brightened considerably and Vidar sent his friend a reproving look. “Easy. She is a maiden.”
“You might as well be.” Aern’s mutter reached both their ears.
Mischief danced in Raene’s blue eyes. The depths of which he could easily get lost in.
“We have many decisions to make.” Her finger stroked over his lips as she gazed into his eyes. “Are you fine with marrying me?”
