Conquests and Crowns

by S E Meliers

  ‘Is that it?’ Patience asked anxiously.

  ‘We should return you to your room,’ Earnest stood hastily, looking for an escape.

  ‘No,’ Patience dismissed the suggestion. ‘I want to see.’

  ‘Patience,’ Cinder murmured.

  ‘No,’ she put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I will not leave you. Shade is my man, I trust him to do his best,’ she fixed Shade with a gimlet eye. ‘Will you not?’ she demanded firmly.

  ‘My Lady Patience,’ Shade asserted. ‘I serve you, and in doing so, I serve your Prince.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ Cinder grumbled. ‘At least sit, Patience – unless she would be safer away?’ he asked Shade.

  ‘Ah, no, she will be fine at the table,’ Shade assured him abstractedly. ‘And the babe should be quite comfortable in its watery womb. But you perhaps may wish to block your ears momentarily. I am given to understand that necromantic spell casting is particularly uncomfortable for the non-gifted, as you felt before but to a further extent…’

  Cinder nodded and gestured for his men and Earnest to do so.

  ‘All the same to you, my Prince,’ Granite and Obsidian exchanged looks. ‘I will not lower my guard.’

  Shade shrugged. ‘Your discomfort, your choice,’ he said.

  Watching Granite’s face whilst the necromancer spell cast indicated that the level of discomfort was a bad as the necromancer had intimated - with his ears blocked, Cinder could just hear enough that his head ached a little around his eyes, and he winced in sympathy; but the guard stood firm and even if his sword hand trembled with pain, Cinder was confident his strike would be potent.

  A puff of purple smoke arose from the bowl, and Cinder fancied it looked a little like a yawning skull before it dissipated. Shade indicated he was done and they uncovered their ears. He handed the potion to Earnest. ‘You can apply this with a bandage every few hours for the next two days until the wound closes over and the black disappears.’ He regarded Cinder dispassionately: ‘It may look healed, but only on the surface, my Prince. It will remain cold to the touch, and may pain you on occasion, but it will not kill you.’

  ‘I would be grateful for that much,’ Cinder grunted as Earnest applied it to his wound. ‘It stings.’

  ‘Yes, and make sure you wash your hands well,’ Shade said to Earnest. ‘You do not want it transferring to another patient or getting into your mouth or eyes.’

  Earnest grimaced. ‘It feels cold like the wound.’

  Shade shrugged. ‘It is necromancy, what did you expect; the warmth of a fine summer day and the cooing of doves?’

  Earnest bandaged Cinder’s shoulder with the swiftness of practise then went to clean her hands in the washroom. Cinder tested the wound. ‘It feels better,’ he said, pleased. ‘But this is not a cure, is it, Necromancer?’

  ‘No,’ Shade met his gaze. ‘It is just a temporary fix. The cure is… harder to obtain.’

  ‘You will do so, however,’ Cinder instructed sternly.

  ‘Yes,’ Shade said, with a courtly bow. ‘May I take that as an acceptance of my services, my Prince?’ he asked.

  Cinder considered him, looked to Patience who inclined her head. ‘I will not harm you or your woman,’ he decided, ‘as long as you serve my Lady Patience with unfailing loyalty. The moment I suspect your loyalty to be less than sterling, necromancer, I will throw your woman to my army to be raped until she dies of it, and I will have your eyes and tongue removed and your limbs torn from you, and if you survive that, I will burn the pieces of you into ash. Do you understand?’

  ‘Thoroughly, my Prince,’ Shade bowed.

  Cinder inclined his head. ‘I would spend some time with my Lady, now,’ he said, dismissing them. Shade offered his arm to Song, who rested her hand upon his wrist and they swept elegantly out. Cinder snorted in amusement. Earnest quickly collected her herbs back into her bag, and carrying the precious potion, left with an aura of relief. ‘She did not think she would survive this,’ he noted.

  ‘No, she was really quite brave,’ Patience murmured.

  ‘As are you, my Lady,’ he placed his hand over hers on her belly and felt the ricochet of baby movement through her flesh. ‘Our child is feisty,’ he smiled.

  ‘It must take after its father,’ she smiled back, ‘for I am sure I have never been feisty a day of my life.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ he stroked the delicate skin on the back of her hand. ‘How are you, Patience?’ he asked examining her intently. ‘Are you well?’

  She sighed. ‘I am much disturbed in my heart, but physically I have recovered.’

  ‘Talk to me,’ he entreated. ‘Let me help.’

  ‘I do not …’ she searched his eyes and surrendered. ‘I had thought Charity dead, and mourned him. I am not ashamed of that, Cinder, I will not apologise. I loved him in our life before you. He is the father of my children, and we had precious memories together. When I saw him alive, I was overjoyed. I did not think of the repercussions of his living, all I thought… I was glad that one I loved was unharmed, do you understand?’ she was pleading for his understanding.

  He sighed. ‘I do, Patience, believe me, I do. I was married once; we have spoken of it, briefly, before. If I saw her again, alive… it would gladden my heart. I would be struck with love and pleasure at her existence. But it would not be a betrayal of… well, frankly, of how I feel for you,’ he raised her hand to his lips. ‘And I feel for you, Patience, you do know that?’ he asked softly.

  Her eyes darted to Obsidian and Granite, and she flushed, embarrassed by their presence. ‘Cinder,’ she whispered; her eyes expressive. ‘I am… deeply touched and awed by your compassion. You are a good man. I am… proud to be the mother of your child.’ Her words were reserved and deliberated upon, but her hand touched his cheek in a caress.

  He kissed her palm. ‘Granite and Obsidian…’ Cinder raised an eyebrow at his guards and they bowed and withdrew. ‘Is that better?’ he asked Patience.

  ‘I am sorry,’ she said. ‘I am not used to…’

  ‘Do not apologise,’ he kissed her palm again rubbing his cheek from her fingertips to the heel of her hand and back again. ‘Patience… Patience,’ he caught her gaze with his own. ‘What Charity did… it was inexcusable. You do know that do you not?’ Her eyes filled with tears again and she tried to pull her gaze away, but he caught her chin gently. ‘Do not look away from me,’ he said softly. ‘Please, Patience.’

  ‘How could he?’ she exploded suddenly, half in anger, half in tears. ‘How could he? No matter what has come between, how could he?’

  He drew her against his shoulder and held her as she shook and wailed in grief. And it was grief, he acknowledged to himself as he murmured comforting sounds against her hair and let her cry it out. Her marriage as she had known it, the life with Charity that she had cherished in her memories, had died with his actions against her. When her sobs eased, he released his hold, and stroked the tears from her face with his thumbs.

  ‘Ugh!’ she covered her face with her hands. ‘I am a mess.’

  ‘No,’ he pulled her hands gently away. ‘You are beautiful, Patience.’

  ‘Ugh,’ she repeated and rolled her eyes at him. ‘That, my Prince, is an absolute lie,’ but her lips curled a little at the corners.

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘and I am the Prince, soon to be King, of this land, so if I declare you to be the most beautiful woman in it, my lovely Patience, so it is, by Royal decree.’

  She giggled, and then sighed expressively. ‘I do not know how you turn me from tears to laughter, Cinder,’ she shook her head in bafflement.

  ‘I want to marry you,’ he said, taking the bull by the horns.

  ‘But I am already married,’ she was confused.

  ‘It is... Those vows are dissolved,’ he said carefully, softly smoothing her palm against his own so that her fingertips and his kissed. ‘In light of Charity’s actions, your marriage is voided. I have checked your laws and mine, and it can be done, where a breach of the marriage contrac
t occurs. Mostly it is used by husbands to re-marry younger wives – they declare their first wife infertile or unfaithful or some other such nonsense that causes them to be legally claimed to be unable to fulfil their role as a wife. But, the same laws can be applied in this circumstance. A marriage cannot be a marriage where one party’s life is at risk in the union, after all. How do you feel about that?’

  She swallowed. ‘Lost,’ she admitted after a long hesitation. ‘Relieved. Heartbroken.’

  ‘Would you marry me?’ he asked, ‘of your own free will, Patience. There will be no repercussion to yourself, or your children, if you refuse.’

  She stared at him for a long moment, at their joined hands, and back into his eyes. ‘Yes, Cinder,’ she said finally. ‘Yes, I will marry you, if it can be legally done, as you say.’

  ‘It can, and it will be,’ he was relieved. ‘I am very pleased, Patience.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘Thank you. I know it is not easy. You have suffered great… upheaval. I will treat you kindly. You will be loved,’ he promised her.

  ‘Cinder,’ she said against his chest. ‘Cinder…’

  ‘Yes, my love?’ he asked smoothing her hair.

  ‘I am not designed for all… all this,’ she pulled back to meet his gaze. ‘I am a mother, a wife. All these… machinations and…’ she was helpless to find the words, pleading with him with her eyes. ‘I do not know that I can be what you need me to be.’

  He kissed her lips briefly with a smile. ‘You are perfect,’ he assured her. ‘A mother, a wife; they are exactly what I need you to be. As my wife, Patience, I swear to you, you will be untroubled by Gallant and his ilk, and all the threats they wield.’

  She gave a little sigh and closed her eyes. ‘I cannot tell you how relieved that makes me,’ she said. ‘I have been walking on eggshells for so long I am not sure my feet remember how to bear my full weight.’

  He laughed. ‘You and I are more similar than you think, my dear. I abhor politicking, machinations and courtly manoeuvring. Perhaps you and I should have been born peasants – we would be happy making a living from a small farm, with nothing more worrying than whether the bellies of our children are full.’

  ‘Sounds lovely… and horrible,’ she laughed, her laughter musical in its un-expectancy. ‘Oh, Cinder,’ she stood on tip toes and drew his head down to hers so she could taste his lips. Between them, the babe kicked. He found the movements comforting; life and hope. She deepened the kiss, easing past his lips to explore his mouth, tangling with his tongue, and stroking his lips with her own. His breathing became heavy, and the babe was soon not the only thing between them. She pressed up against his erection with a soft, wanting moan.

  ‘Patience,’ he pulled back reluctantly. ‘Are you sure? After…’

  Her wide gaze was translucent. ‘No… and absolutely,’ she said with a small helpless shrug. ‘I am afraid of remembered pain, Cinder. But also, I know… I need…’ she closed her eyes and swallowed, struggling with the words. ‘I need to be touched with tenderness and care after what he... I need to replace what he did to me with,’ she opened her eyes and searched his, ‘with an act of love. Can you do that?’ she whispered.

  His heart broke a little; the pressure in his chest raw and achingly tender towards her. He wanted to heal her of the wounds Charity had rent in her; and the wounds that Cinder had also inadvertently caused through the invasion into her land and life. ‘Yes,’ he told her framing her face with his hands and kissing her lips gently. ‘Yes, I can do that,’ he swept her up against him, carrying her like a child in his arms, towards the bed chamber.

  The end of Conquests and Crowns.

  For more of the Shoethalian invasion of Rhyndel – please read the coming sequel: Poisons and Priests.

  About SE Meliers

  SE Meliers is a conquering warlord, a lofty dragon, an incorrigible necromancer, an imperiled Noble Lady, a fierce Hallow, and always a Prophet of her world, twisting the flow of time to suit her own purposes.

  When SE Meliers is not embroiled in the travails of her fantasy characters, or the adventures shared by other writers, she lives in Adelaide, Australia, with her darling daughter, her handsome hubby, and a small zoo consisting of two dogs, a cat, three chickens, and 10 goldfish (no more pets please!)

  If she is not writing, changing nappies, wrestling with the idiosyncrasies of one person managing three people’s mess, or trying to maintain some semblance of control over the suburban zoo, she's most likely earning her keep as an analyst and wading through spread sheets and databases.