Defenders of the Black Crown, #2, page 23
Micha gestured to them. “This is my father, Duke Micha Tymen. This is my mother, Duchess Alura Tymen.”
Bell bowed again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”
“These are my brothers,” Micha held his hand toward three boys, “Lord Foulon, Lord Thibert, and Jule, a squire. These are my sisters, Lady Tanya, Lady Vana, and lady-in-waiting Vioria.”
“A beautiful family,” Bell said. Her eyes passed over all six of them, and she marveled at the age gap. Vioria appeared somewhere between the stages of walking and learning to talk. The lords and ladies had been given their titles generously, as coming-of-age was after thirteen in Candor, and Bell doubted Lady Vana was older than seven.
“Thank you,” Duchess Alura answered.
“King Micha,” Bell said, “where is your bride?”
His eyes widened and he glanced to his parents, though they did not seem to notice, fixated on the parade. “Um, I forget you are not familiar with the wedding tradition. Tonight, is the final stage of the homage to our Almighties. The seventh Almighty is death. We celebrate death tonight by embracing the end of our lives before marriage. Pearl Salish will be brought on a pyre and it will be set aflame. If she survives, she is allowed to wed me.”
Bell chuckled despite herself, hiding it behind her hand, and earning a skeptical gaze from Alura.
“I’m only teasing,” Micha blurted, “of course, we don’t kill anyone. We have a symbolic death of ourselves. Pearl and I will join each other atop a pyre, and be surrounded by dancers in red costume, to represent the flames.”
“How lovely. I cannot wait to see it.”
Micha hummed to himself; his lips tight.
"Well," Bell said, "Majesty, congratulations. I am sure you will be eager to produce an heir and begin your new life."
Micha's discomfort was visible. He shifted from one foot to the other, opening his mouth as if to stop her.
Bell felt the warm buzz of kelpi strong as ever in her veins. "You'll have your new bride, your seven children, you can live in spiritual harmony under strict Stratera. You may rule Ediva forever in the greatest of days. Why wouldn’t you, the Boens are not about to lay waste to your cities and keeps.”
Duke Tymen and Duchess Alura were fixated on Bell now, their attention fully drawn away from the ceremonies. With harsh and confused faces, they looked to Micha, deferring to his role as King.
Micha stepped forward briskly, touching his fingertips to Bell’s elbow. He spoke in an icy whisper. “My Lady, I’ve forgotten that you have messages. They arrived today from Sir Jonn, in Candor. Perhaps you and I ought to speak, alone.”
Bell couldn’t help the laughter that rolled out of her. He was so anxious; she could see it. She pitied him for this unwanted life. But she also wanted to watch him suffer.
“Mother, father, I will return shortly,” Micha explained. He gestured for Bell to lead away from the others.
She ignored the direction he intended, choosing instead to return to where she had been a moment before, alongside Finn. She took her seat, the two Candorians positioned at the edge of the road to enjoy the procession.
Micha muttered a greeting to Finn. “Are you sure this is where you want to do this? We are somewhat exposed.”
Bell shrugged. “That depends. Are the messages going to put Candor at risk? Do they threaten our kingdom?”
Micha shook his head. “Of course not. Then I wouldn’t have told you there was any message at all, where others might hear.”
“Then tell us,” Bell insisted.
“What’s this now?” Finn said, leaning forward.
Micha cleared his throat, moving to where he was standing closely between their two seats. He leaned in, lowering his voice. “A message returned from Candor, today. Sir Jonn sent it. It regards the state of your kingdom and the chances they will be able to find a resolution with the Boens before winter.”
Bell and Finn shared a look. Bell felt something inside her twist, but she subdued it.
“Things have changed significantly,” Micha continued, “it would seem your man Rowan has been named crown Prince of Candor.”
“What?” Finn and Bell both gasped.
“That’s not possible,” Bell blurted, “he is not...he is not in-line for the throne. He’s a bastard, and his father Brande was not even in-line among the first seven families.”
Micha shook his head. “Sir Jonn’s message claims that Rowan was concealing his true identity. That he was young Lord Trevin Schinen.”
Bell was stunned into silence, her mind racing.
“He had to hide while Zarana was alive,” Micha said, “but with her execution, he no longer had to pretend. I knew that Jonn had a secret regarding Rowan, but I was not certain of the full extent of it.”
“Aye,” Finn whispered, “he would’ve been in danger if she’d known.”
“I suspect she did know,” Micha said, “I suspect that’s why his name was the last thing she said before her execution. But at any rate, it won’t matter now, and we’ll never know. The important thing is that Row—Trevin needs to become king. And fast. We’ve only two seasons for him to declare a treaty with the Boens. You must understand more about this than I, but Sir Jonn insists that there is a solution involving his heir.”
Bell nodded. “Becoming king. It’s not that different than Ediva. Your spiritual advisors insist you produce heirs for legitimacy. In Candor, especially if the bloodline on the throne changes to the next successor, you must produce an heir before being made king. It has been that way ever since King Chorl Candor was barren and tried to give the throne to his wife, who had no claim.”
Finn shook his head. “I think you’ve got it wrong. That wasn’t when the law was made, it was before that. It was one of the first laws of the kingdom.”
Micha raised his hands. “I have a wedding to get back to. Can the two of you argue your history after I’ve delivered my message?”
“We can argue all night. Can you wait until tomorrow?” Finn asked.
“No,” Micha said flatly.
Seeing he wouldn’t humor them, Bell and Finn nodded for the King to go on.
Micha sighed. “The messenger didn’t explain why, but he said it is critical that...Bell—Lady Islabell, you must be the one to marry Prince Trevin.”
Bell crossed her arms.
“That sounds...unlikely,” Finn said.
“I cannot glean more,” Micha explained, “it was a verbal message. I wish that I were able to speak to Sir Jonn in-person and find what he means by this, but all I can do is send you to Candor upon his request.”
“No,” Bell stated. She leaned back further, her arms tightening across her chest.
“What—what do you mean?”
“I mean, no.”
“To which part?”
“All of it,” Bell snapped. “I will not return to Candor. I will not marry Rowan. I will not do any of it.”
Micha’s nostrils flared. “My Lady, it is not your prerogative—”
“Are you not aware that I have been through this once before? Do you not know that another bloody worthless prince tried to force me to marry him, but a few months ago? What happened to him? You poisoned him, in front of all your nobles. He tried to kidnap me and take me against my will. You might think that I make a fine prize for Candor, but I am not a piece of fish to be passed between mouths and fed to greedy men. There are plenty of other ladies and women. Why am I the one who is fought over?”
Micha leaned in, speaking in a hushed tone. “I remind you that I am King, and he is the prince. You will not speak so insubordinately to me, or deny the orders that he sends to you.”
“What are you going to do, execute me too?”
Micha’s blue eyes darkened.
Bell squinted at him, mimicking, then a smirk spread to the corners of her mouth.
“You’re drunk,” Micha muttered.
Finn raised a shaky hand. “She is. Forgive her, Majesty. She’s had too much kelpi.”
“No,” Bell snapped, “don’t you dare try to belittle me. Kelpi or not, I deserve to speak.”
“I won’t execute you,” Micha said, “but you could disappear. You do not treat a king the way you have tonight. You will not speak to me this way again.”
“Then silence me, King.”
Micha’s cheeks began to redden. He leaned in so he was close enough to whisper where only she could hear. “If you threaten me, if you undermine me, I will have no choice. Please do not put me in that position.”
“Then don’t ship me off like property where my only future is birthing arrogant little princes until I slit my own throat.”
When Micha pulled away, Bell could see the horror and fear in Finn’s face.
Micha’s blue eyes softened. “It’s a shame that you cannot see past your own interests to find the greater good. If you do right by your prince, Trevin, and labor him an heir, he will become the King? That’s how you can manage to join him in a pact with the Boens? You would be heralded for a dozen generations if you spun that story into your own heroic sacrifice. You would be the Mother of Candor.”
Bell scoffed. “Women of Candor receive no accolades. Even Zarana’s legacy of terror will crumble and fade by the end of our lifetimes. She will be forgotten and Zander’s story will outlive us all. I’d be running into the same fate.”
Micha stared at her, blinking slow. “It sounds as though you are saying you would be a queen like her, merciless, cold...”
There was a rise in a chanting song, somber in tone, from beyond the procession.
Micha shook his head. “I need to go. It is nearly time.”
“Best wishes, then,” Bell snapped.
Finn’s response was more genuine. “Hope the ceremony is exciting!”
Micha shrugged toward them both, then turned and walked away. When he was beyond earshot and disappeared into the group of his advisors, Bell reached for another jar of kelpi. Finn tried to smack it from her hand, but she was beyond his grasp.
“That’s gotten you into enough trouble tonight, hasn’t it?” Finn grumbled.
“Trouble? I don’t see myself in any trouble.”
“You are. You might have...bonded with the King, but he’s still a king. And we are still foreigners in this land with little recourse.”
“And you think there’s any guarantee of our safety, whether or not I speak my mind? If the Boens attack Candor, then our countrymen are at war. What will we be? Sitting like sheep waiting for slaughter. In a few months’ time, we’ll be dead, either way.”
“Then why don’t we return?” Finn asked. “Let’s go home. Rowan isn’t going to force you to marry him. Maybe he was asking, as a favor, but he wouldn’t do that to you, or to anyone. Why don’t we go to Candeo and ask him what his intentions are, face-to-face?”
Bell rolled her eyes. “He won’t send us both. He’ll keep you here.”
“Oh,” Finn said, his face falling with a thoughtful sadness.
“Can we forget about this, tonight?” Bell asked.
In front of them, the procession had risen to heightened levels, with the costumed participants climbing atop a massive stone pyre at the center of the street’s intersection. The red-robed actors were coming forward, symbolizing fire and flames. It was more impressive than Bell had expected from Micha’s bland description. On all edges of the crowd, drummers pounded booming leather-skin instruments, bringing the noise level higher with the anticipation of the grand event.
Finn rubbed his hands together and reached for his own jar of kelpi. He lifted it toward Bell with a smirk. “Forgetting our worries? It’s what we’re best at.”
Soon the dizzy spell of drink and the crowd would win her over, and Bell would be carried to her chamber by a respectful guard.
___________
With the morning came a solid headache, a few trips to the chamber pot, and unwanted sunlight trickling in. Bell called for an Edivan handmaid to run her a bath. It was too hot, then too cold, and she finally stopped trying to communicate at all.
She was in the water until late in the mid-morning, hoping that most of the kingdom was in the same predicament. After all, if the King’s wedding wasn’t an excuse to imbibe too much, was there ever going to be one at all?
Bell heard footsteps in her chamber and assumed it was the handmaid. She sunk deeper into the water.
“Fjun,” Bell called, saying the word for ‘hot’. “Fjun, please.”
“What exactly would you like a ‘hot’ of?”
She whipped her head at the sound of his voice.
Micha stood, bashfully blushing, wearing his full king’s robe and crown. He was covered in color—threads woven in elaborate patterns and images to represent mountains, sky, sunsets, the sea, and perhaps fire. He was a decoration and he looked majestic and beautiful.
Bell shook her head. “You certainly shouldn’t be in my chambers. Especially while I’m like this.”
“Yes, well, I seem to find myself always seeing you when I am not supposed to. And I also seem to find myself always with information I must give you. Hopefully this will be the final time.”
“Oh, hopefully?”
Micha sighed. He walked around the stone tub to the front where they could face one another more easily. His hands were folded in front of him, and Bell raised an eyebrow at the sight, giving him a mischievous glance.
“I have come up with a solution for you,” Micha said, stone-faced. “You likely know I cannot send Sir Finley back to your kingdom. I am willing to send you, if you wish, but you said that is not what you desire. However, you’d had a bit of kelpi last night. Is that still your wish, today?”
“It is.”
“Well, I thought as much. There is also the matter of your hawks. I do not have many places you may continue to keep them. They make the stablemen nervous, and they have spooked the horses more than once.”
“No one told me as much.”
“No, I don’t imagine they would.” Micha turned and glanced out the window, scanning the sky as if he would spot the birds in question. “I would like to propose another option to you. Along the coast of Ediva we have four islands, the Sandles. They are habitable, though cold. The Hornes never touch them. We have built temples on them, which have sat for perhaps a thousand years. Once a year, we take offerings to leave for the Almighties. There are some diacons who live on one of the islands, keeping up the temple and praying. But one has been empty for some time.”
Bell scooped the water and poured it onto her shoulder, letting it drip across her back. She caught him glancing back at her, then he tried to pretend he was occupied elsewhere.
“I, uhm,” he cleared his throat, “I think you could stay there. As long as you like, actually. You and Finley could take the hawks and be free to live in the temples. I can send you with a few people. A healer, a cook, a fisher. You would have what you need.”
“It sounds too good to be true.”
He looked at her, focusing on her dark eyes as if locked on a target. “Perhaps you should trust me, then. I don’t want harm to come to you. I also hate that you feel like a prisoner here. Just because I need to worry about what is right for my kingdom doesn’t mean that I don’t care about your desires and wishes.”
“Oh, my desires?” Keeping her eyes trained on him, she reached into the bath and slid a wet hand up her opposite arm to her shoulder. At her neck, she paused, tilting her head and stretching while she let out a purposeful sigh.
Micha shook his head. “I’m not...Bell, I’m not here for this.”
“For what? To watch me bathe? It certainly seems like you are.”
“I, no. I am not. I’m here to talk to you about the...island.”
Bell smirked. She was between him and the door, and it was too lovely an opportunity to pass up. She gripped the sides of the bathing pool and pulled herself up. She rose above the water, her shoulders, then her breasts, then her stomach. Micha’s eyes widened but he didn’t look away this time. Bell stood, and the water was at her knees, all of her dripping wet skin exposed to him.
He pursed his lips, feigning an angry face. But his body betrayed him, and she could see how aroused he was even through his regal tunic.
“I best go,” Micha muttered.
“Must you? Well, at least fetch me a drying robe, will you please? No one is coming in to help me and I don't want to walk around with wet feet. I may fall.”
Micha followed her gesture and handed her a robe with haste. Redness began to pool at his neck and trickle up to his ears.
Bell wanted to laugh, but she held it in. He was so adorable and helpless. What would the people of Ediva say if they knew their mighty King lacked the self-control to deny his eyes a feast of his lover’s body?
“I ought to go,” Micha said.
“You already said that, yet you’re still here.”
“Yes. Erm. Yes.” He took one step, then paused to gape at her again.
Bell stepped from the bath onto the stone, making a show of draping her drying robe over her as slowly as possible, and leaving it open around her chest.
“You can tell me your decision, as soon as you like.”
Her smile broadened. “I think I would like your island. I will ask Finn what he thinks. We have always loved the water, and used to swim in the Western Founts. Could we swim near your island, or is the water too cold?”
“It’s cold, but you can adapt. The diacons who inhabit a few of the other islands swim as part of their ritual, to pay homage to the Almighty of water.”
“Will I get to say goodbye to you?”
Micha covered his mouth, rubbing his hand softly across his lips. “Perhaps not now. But soon. I will find a way for us to say...a proper goodbye.”
“Then I suppose I shouldn’t say it to you now?”
“No,” he muttered, shaking his head. “No, I will say...I’ll see you soon.”
“Yes, Majesty, I’ll see you soon.” Bell curtsied low, allowing her robe to fall open off her shoulders. She glanced up in time to see Micha bite his lip, pausing to stare, then he shuddered. With a shake of his head, he bowed in response, then briskly walked out of her chamber. She watched him go, delighting in the sight of the scarlet blush covering his neck all the way to the roots of his golden hair.
