The Lady's Shadow

Chapter 7

"My lady!" Marcelle called from the opposite side, "It's time to wake! Are ya up?"

He groaned in disappointment, then looked back at the woman lying under him. Her eyes looked ready to pop from her skull. He grinned at the expression, leaning down to kiss it away.

The door creaked open. "My lady? Oh!"

He turned, grinning at a glaring Marcelle. Uncaring of his nakedness, he stood, reaching under the bed for his castaway nightshirt.

"My liege!" squeaked Renna in disbelief, hiding in the covers.

"Oh, Your Highness! Ya near frightened me to death!" Marcelle tutted. Taking the apron she had hanging from her hip, she swatted his backside. The king laughed, dancing away from her. "Thought some wild man had climbed into bed with your queen."

"Some wild man did climb into bed with the queen," Sargon teased, eyebrows wagging. Marcelle tittered in disapproval, swatting at him again.

"Yer gonna frighten away our new queen afore she even settles in!" chastised Marcelle.

"She's not frightened," he laughed, pulling his shirt over his head. "Are you frightened, my lady?"

Baffled at this odd, casual exchange, Renna shook her head, covers up to her chin. "No, my liege?"

"See now, Marcelle? You've scared our dear lady more than I have this morning." He stole up behind the portly maid, wrapping his arms around her waist, head over her shoulder. She leaned away from his grin, glaring. "Apologize, dear Marcelle."

With another long glare, Marcelle, at last, turned to the woman cowering under the sheets. Her expression softened to something more maternal. "I'm sorry, my lady." Her nose wrinkled. "Sorry that yer husband is an overgrown whelp."

"Marcelle, you wound me." He was still hanging off the woman.

"Get back to yer chambers, sire. Ya know your guards will be looking for you."

"Tell me you love me and I'll go." Over her shoulder, he exaggeratedly batted his eyelashes.

"I'd love fer ya to stop embarrassing yerself in front of Her Highness, that I'd love."

"Marcelle..." he pouted.

She groaned but the smile she turned towards him was doting. "Oh, I loves ya, daft boy. Now get."

Renna watched him press a kiss to the amused woman's cheek, shoot her a wink, and disappear out the door wearing nothing more than a nightshirt. The door closed behind him, and she sat there frozen and bewildered.

"That boy... he forgets he's royalty some days, I swears," muttered Marcelle, retying the apron at her hip. Her eyes fell back on Renna and her gaze turned worried. "I hope he doesn't act a fool when yer alone, my lady."

"Oh, no!" protested Renna. She got the odd sense that saying the wrong thing would get her husband in trouble. It was a curious feeling. "That was... quite surprising, actually."

"Well, I'm relieved then," Marcelle laughed. "I did my best to turn him into a little gentleman, but ya can only lead a horse to water." As she spoke, she moved forward and collected Renna's discarded nightgown from the floor by her bed. She folded it over her arm. "If he acts up, my lady, you just tell me and I'll set him to rights."

Renna giggled. The exchange had cemented his insistence that things were different in private. Were she not careful, she might just get too comfortable with His Majesty.

"Oh?" grinned Marcelle, leaning towards her conspiratorially, "I've seen that look on many a maid, my lady. He's charmed ya, has he?"

Surprised, Renna attempted to wipe whatever look she had. "I... he... the king is not quite what I expected."

Marcelle chuckled. "That's the upbringing, I suppose. Half common, half royal. He likes to do things his own way."

Renna frowned. "Half common?"

Marcelle's look was surprised. "Didn't yer father tell ya? Our king is a bastard. Grew up common with his mother an' me til it came out he had the only true claim to the throne. He fought tooth an' nail to take it fer his own. The common people rallied behind 'im and the nobles didn't want no uprising, so..."

Renna thought for a moment. The wedding attendance had been rather small by Shewen standards and the lords had refused Sargon's request to send their daughters as ladies-in-waiting. She had thought it was due to Drimor being a rather small kingdom. Was it simply because the nobles didn't care for their king?

"Don't ya fret, my lady. Our king's is royal blood. He's the spittin' image of Sargon the First. Or rather, how he looked in his prime."

"Oh no, it's not that..." The idea that Sargon was of a common mother had at first reassured her, then immediately turned to pain. He would never get to know her true background. They were so close to each other, yet felt like a great wall would always have to lie between them.

"Come, my lady. Let's get you dressed. Bastian is wanting to show you the estate."

-----

Bastian was the king's steward, in charge of managing the staff of the castle. Renna was surprised to find that he was young, possibly younger than herself. The young man wore a serious expression even more unforgiving than Sargon's public face, however, and it gave him the image of a man not to be trifled with.

He took Renna on a more thorough tour of the castle, Marcelle trailing behind at all times. He showed her the kitchens, the servants' quarters, the library, and introduced her to the varying heads of each division. Once more she was surprised by the comfortability of Castle Drimor. Much like its owner, the exterior was unforgiving but on the inside, it was warm and welcoming.

After an entire half-day of walking the castle, Renna finally sat down to lunch. She was halfway through her soup when Bastian appeared with a thick stack of parchment wrapped and tied in leather.

"Here you are, Your Majesty."

She blinked up at him, confused. "And what is this?"

"The finances of the estate. As the lady of the house, you'll be expected to manage the financial decisions from here on out."

Renna froze, alarmed. She had known this was a possibility for a noble wife but had somewhat expected her Queen status to exempt her.

"I-I was under the impression you handled the finances, Master Bastian."

"Til now, yes. However, the king insists that since this is your home now, you should be charged with its care and management. I quite agree." The dark eyes of the steward narrowed. "Is there a problem, Your Majesty?"

"No, not at all!" she exclaimed, a little too quickly. "I... uh... only hope I can please His Majesty. I imagine managing a castle to be quite different from what I practiced in the duke's estate..."

"Drimor Castle is on the smaller side, Your Majesty, and you will not need to manage any of the lands. It will mostly be balancing the budget and procuring any updates and improvements for the castle. Please look over the ledgers and let me know if you have any questions."

"Ah... I see." She nodded her thanks and Bastian was dismissed.

Her hunger left her as she stared at the intimidating stack of papers before her. She'd watched Emmeline learning her finances, and sat in on a few lessons so that she could discuss monetary topics in polite society. There was only one true issue.

Renna of Bravenwood had never learned how to read.