• • •
TWELVE YEARS LATER . . .
The smell of burnt flesh never quite leaves the memory. In fact, you find yourself constantly reminded of it in everyday things. Like rotated chicken over a tiny fire in the castle kitchen. It made the stomach churn if you stopped to acknowledge the similarity.
Ser Elías was on his duteous guard, checking high and checking low, and every face that came and went around us in the crowded room. Even here in our home, where the only enemies were the new cook frustrated with my dietary requests, and a shifty, but well-meaning footman, new to the premises and often lost, always asking for directions.
"Will there be a non-bird option? Something less... once living?" I asked the cook.
She frowned, "I can try, young miss. Er, Your Highness." She squinted, watching as I nudged Elías off scowling at the boy. "Perhaps a salad?"
"That one's been here at least a month," I whispered to him.
"You insult me," he whispered back. "I've never forgotten a face. He just looks... strange today."
"Strange? Really Eli? He's fourteen at best. How is he supposed to look with you scowling at him?"
"Your Highness," the cook continued. "I will find something for you, I promise." She took a bowl from one of the other girls and moved around the counter. "But it is the morning rush, so if it pleases you, we have much to do before the hour."
Elías sighed, "Yes, we can find someone else to harass, ma'am. Princess?"
I nodded before turning to leave with him.
In the yard, Elías added, "There were a few danishes behind her, did you see?"
"Were there? Hmph."
"Aye. One of them even looked of apple persuasion."
His words made my eyes narrow fondly as I searched them for insincerity, but his knack for detail was always my favorite part of his fifty years. That is, besides the dry humor he occasionally let out for a run. "I suppose we could give her a proper chance, then? Assuming she brings them to lunch?"
Though our friendship had sprouted from a tragic place, and our age disparity made some things difficult, it was real. Elías' loyalty, his effort to remember my preferences, was everything to me. Having him by my side for the next two weeks made the prospect of being Queen less terrifying. I could surmount anything with him on my board.
He was a proud and noble sort, basically the perfect knight. Hyper vigilant to the concept of morality, and blunt. But that made him fair. Easy to read. I never had to guess if he was blowing smoke up my skirt, because he would never attempt to lie to me.
And he was far too chivalrous to travel anywhere near my dress.
Elías' ideals of modesty extended far into the realm of etiquette, honor and most importantly virtue. My virtue. To him, I was more of a child; maybe even his child, than a woman he would ever intend to corrupt despite the rumors I'd heard of his far away youth.
At the end of the path he hummed, investigating the sky. "The weather does not look particularly fond of our afternoon. We should make haste back before we're caught in her wrath."
"Do these roses look alright to you?" I moved from one bush to another, delicately touching its buds.
"I'm far from a gardener, I'm afraid."
"Aye. But do they look tired? I'm worried they won't bloom."
"Can a plant be tired?" he asked. "It's barely spring, there's still snow. Give them time."
A crack of thunder bolstered my attention back to where he had pointed before; to the rolling clouds. "Hmm."
"We can check on them when we return," he advised. "For now, why not find yourself with a book by the fire? It would do you good to re-familiarize yourself with the Azarii line before we leave."
I nodded, but dismissed his suggestion. "I've studied the Prince's family more times than my eyes can bear without bleeding. I'm sure if the itch arises, I will have plenty of time to revisit it on the road to Rothingham. ...I hope the weather keeps. Can the horses trek through snow?"
"Once we cross the border into North Áire, we'll see a shift in climate. The closer we get to Chalke, the warmer it'll be. You won't find ice in the south."
"No ice? Now? Or ever? Does... Does Chalke not have snow? Do they have rain?"
"Yes. They're well-known for their showery summers," he said. "In fact, it will likely rain the entire time we're there, and well after. Until mid-July."
"Mid-July?" I begged. "That's six months from now!"
"And why your wedding is in August, so far from your birthday."
I smiled weakly, before he could comment on the lack of excitement in my response. "Aye," I told him, mirroring his frown. "Is it superstition? Or tradition?"
"Most traditions are born in superstition. If I'm not mistaken, rain on your wedding day suggests 'many tears to follow.'"
"Oreian lore says rain is a sign of fertility. Of growing love."
"As there is no curse for sunny days, you'll have to settle," he remarked.
"That's fair... Unless it rains in August anyway."
Elías shifted. "Do you have everything you need for the trip?"
"I'm not sure," I hummed. "Josie is packing my things, but now I'm concerned with my attire. I had anticipated colder winds. And I was waiting for His Majesty to become available. I have some lingering concerns."
"Such as?"
"I just," I stopped. "What if I muck this up? What if the Prince doesn't like me? What if I don't understand taxes as well as I hope? What if the court is sore the King hasn't arrived with our party? What if-?"
Elías nodded. "Catch your breath. Your fears are valid, I acknowledge them, but they are not helpful for the task. Remember I'll be with you the entire time. Two weeks will not be the end of Svana Eisson's reign. Only the beginning, and I have it on good authority, she is a force to be reckoned with, so if Prince Sameer doesn't like you, I pity him."
"You think so?" I struck his arm playfully. "Who says I'm a force?"
"The future Queen herself, at least twenty dozen times since she was old enough to speak."
"Well she sounds awful," I teased.
"Only to a man who fears his better. We will be fine. Come, let's find your father, Princess."
We hurried up the winding cobblestone, to the large iron gate and ivory stone horses that guarded the castle door, just as it began to pour.
"Remember, Your Highness. This is your right by birth. We've always known God handpicked the lineage, and as he chose the Eisson House; to reign, to wage and win the war, he has chosen you to lead us into the future."
The doorman closed us in the darkening foyer and I dropped my cloak off to him. "I hope He stays with us, then, I dare say," I said. "I must admit, your reminder is barely encouraging. The weight of being part of 'the Lord's plan' might actually add a certain pressure to it, now that you've said it aloud again."
He chuckled. "Better were the days when you were not so resistant to my optimism."
"I don't remember those days. I've always strived to be very pessimistic, I thank you. Truly an art lost upon the everyday man."
"That is because Oreian men are of sound mind. They would fail to see the benefit of such notions," he said.
"And what of Chalke men? Are they optimistic, too? ...I'm nervous to meet mine," I confessed. "I wasn't jesting when I listed his reception as a worry, and I don't think I'm being irrational, before you accuse me. The peace between our empires literally rests upon my shoulders. On how well my union does. So. Pray, I ask. What if he doesn't like me?"
"You don't have to like someone for a marriage to work. You just have to understand each other. Besides, I've heard no rumor of insanity. And the few times I've met him, he seemed..."
I noted his wandering gaze. "He seemed what?"
"Fine."
"Fine?" I scoffed. "Your mercy, what does 'fine' entail?"
"I imagine you'll see for yourself in a few days," he laughed.
"In six and a half months I am expected to pledge myself to this man for all eternity. And 'fine?' 'Fine' is what you say. Am I to, what? Twiddle my fingers diligently and pray to God that 'fine' at the least means he's kind?"
"I have heard no rumor of a temper." Elías shook his head, and with it his amused grin. He followed me deeper into the Palace as I complained. "I would say he is quite liked."
"Yes, but-" I huffed. "Is he a creature of some sort?"
"A creature, Princess?"
"Yes. A monster? Does he hate reading? Or children? Or practice the dark arts? Or- obsess over taxidermy?" I hissed. "You cannot leave me with 'fine.'"
"Your priorities concern me," he said. "Taxidermy?"
"It could be a hobby of his," I sang. "But I shall be left to discover that on our honeymoon because you cannot elaborate beyond 'fine!'"
"I've... heard nothing of taxidermy. Though hunting is a beloved sport in Chalke."
"As it appears to me, you've heard nothing at all. No tales of his beauty or warm heart, no rumor of the opposite. How will I know how truly grim my prospects are, with so little as 'fi-'?"
"Perhaps 'fine' was not the appropriate word. If you're so concerned about his personality, why have you not written him?"
I started a few times, trying to find the better response for his question, but settled on a ragged "Oof!" and then, "Why would I? Then he would have time to consider his words. I would not receive an honest impression."
"Assuming he is a liar, no. But the Prince has an outstanding reputation."
"Miss Hellveig had an outstanding reputation."
His face clouded.
"'As strict as she was beautiful.' That's what they said. ...And it was true. If strict meant cruel."
My knight held back a sigh, quickly departing from the subject. "And what if the Prince is wondering if you're a creature? Or the silly sort of girl who worries about his hobbies and assumes he collects dead animals?"
"Ha!" I burst at his jab. "I vaguely see your point, though I have not yet decided if I shall heed to it. And I do hope my husband thinks of me as something more than just a girl. For all our sakes."
"I'm sure he will. In six month's time."
I rolled my eyes at his comment. "Do be careful with that sharp tongue of yours. It's his fault you've found yourself forever at my side; coaxed you into my every affair."
"Then I should thank it, as I do enjoy our banter."
"You're a sap. I should leave you here with Willoughby. Then the two of you could engage in a fortnight of mindless sentiments with no purpose; the same as every word from his mouth."
"Be kind," he sang. "Ser Willoughby is-"
"Dull. As far as Blades go."
"Still learning," he said.
"The other day he stumbled introducing himself to my maid. He's dull," I said.
"Your Highness?"
Now, certainly by chance, I heard the man I'd been insulting's voice chime from behind me. I stood frozen in my embarrassment for an entire second before widening my eyes to feign an underserved innocence and turned around.
"Ser Willoughby," I chimed back. "I was just telling Ser Elías... how you should sharpen your sword. It's shocking how dull it is."
We stared at one another until he looked strangely at his blade, still sheathed and fixed to his belt. "Beg pardon, Your Highness. I'll apply mineral oil straight away."
"Did you... require my attention for something? Or were you just lurking?"
" ...You requested to be informed when your father had found a break from his work."
I waited for the rest of his thought. "... And is that now?"
"Aye, yes, Your High-"
"Right. Thank you!" I hooked Elías by the bend of his arm and pulled him past the younger knight, conspiring. "Do you think he heard me?"
"If he did, he'd never say," Elías said. "He's kinder than most."
"Right. So. My father. There are a number of things I need to express, starting first with how soon I can return."
"Might I speak candidly?"
"You know you don't have to ask," I sighed. We stopped just short of the study, still keeping our voices low.
"This is your first real trial as heir apparent. Shelve the girl, speak to His Majesty as the future Queen, and leave out your insecurities. You don't want him to worry he's failed to prepare you."
"But he didn't prepare me." I hummed. "You did."
"Not something I'd ever let him hear you say."
"Fine," I moaned, lifting my chin. "I'll resist."
Elías settled near the wall to wait as I entered the room of books, mostly, and stacks of work; memories of a distant parent, alone.
"Your Majesty?" I asked quietly. A careful attempt not to disrupt whatever he was scribbling into his trusted journal.
The King looped a final thought before looking up. "That squirrely suit of armor said you were waiting on me?"
"Yes," I swallowed.
"What is it, then? Should you not be leaving soon?" He leaned back in his chair and gestured towards the sun with his quill. "It's nearly noon."
"Aye," I cleared my throat, rushing past the brutish reply and reminded myself of Elías' advice. "I have some concerns," I started.
"About the trip? Or the quorum?" He set the pen down to steeple his hands.
Eighteen years and I was still afraid of his opinion. Of how he might dissect me in this moment, casting a sort of pseudo inspection over me. He commented on my frock to fill the void. "You've started quite the trend here in Ísfjall. One of the debutantes was in a similar color the other day. The Foster girl, what's her name?"
"I," I frowned. "There's five of them, I wouldn't know where to start guessing. But I thank you for your notice," I stammered. "...I find yellow invigorating this time of year. And it's quite simple to obtain. At least, I hear. I don't actually dye the linen myself. But it is popular in town." The lull ate at me as I ranted. "Sometimes I like to think it encourages the flowers to hurry out of their frost. Silly, ha."
"...What is it you came here to ask?"
"I'd, uh." I seemed to have forgotten, flustering instead. "I'd..."
"Elías?" he called into the hall. "I assume you're out there?"
My confidence wavered as, on command, my knight stepped in to face the room. "Your Majesty?"
"I'm sure you realize I have pressing matters to attend to." He waved dismissively. "What does she want?"
We shared a look, Elías and I, as he exhaled apologetically. "...The Princess is concerned about taxes, sir." Not exactly a lie.
"Taxes?" His Majesty repeated. "To what end?"
I shrugged. "What if I miscommunicate something? Or don't understand a law? Chalke is an entirely separate empire from us, it's not unlikely I would confuse something. Then I would make us all look like fools."
"If anyone calls you a fool, remind them we won the war. That it is my mercy that has offered this treaty and your hand, and I will not hesitate to revoke it."
"But I'll still be an idiot," I cried.
Elías hid his smirk. "Shall we state the same should the court be sore you are not with us?"
"I've already written to King Sameer, he'll be aware you'll be in my stead. Is there anything else?"
I shook my head discreetly at Elías, who, in turn, said; "Nothing, Your Majesty.".
"Svana. Take solace in the fact that you had the best education gold can buy. Laws; taxes; these won't be difficult for you," the King added. "We will convene and discuss your performance when you return."
"Yes, Your Majesty," I said.
One of his brows went up and the other down. "Is that what you're wearing?"
"I... " My hands fell, brushing the front. "I thought we liked the color?"
"The color," he said. "But the sleeves will be your death. You'll pass out as soon as you arrive, if not before. Elías, tell her." His attention went back to the papers on his desk as the other spoke.
"You'll need a lighter wardrobe," he told me. "Your late summer clothes."
"But it's March. Those are still put away," I whined.
"So have Jocelyn dig them out, it isn't difficult, Svana," His Majesty said.
I nodded, glancing past him at the daylight; suddenly overwhelmed.
"I'll see to it," Elías assured me. "Focus on finding something to eat."
I'd turn towards the door again, when the King grunted, dropping his work. "A final thought."
"Yes?" I paused.
"Not you," he said and Elías and I shared another look. The King mulled over the next few words, stroking his beard. "...There are some unsettling rumors surrounding the peace in Chalke. Radical thinking types. Gather the intel you can while you're there."
"As you wish, Your Majesty," Elías told him.
"You'll take another Blade with you."
"Of course. I'll recruit Ser Willougby."
"Ser Willoughby!?" I cried. "I'd rather not. Pick another."
"Then you leave Ser Derek in your charge?" my father said. "A fair decision. Yes. Yes, he's quite capable. Less... exhausting."
"Elías-" I caught myself. "Ser Elías, we do not need another escort. We can manage with Josie."
My father took a deeper breath. "You should go inform her now to pack your lighter clothes, lest she waste the afternoon."
"Well surely not all lighter?" I asked.
"It's nearly seventy this time of year."
"Seventy?" I gasped. "In March!?"
"Warmer, soon," he hummed.
After a second, I collected myself. "I see. ...Then I am on my way, though I'm not excited about it. This will surely set us back and I had hoped to arrive by-"
"You'll want to mind the count of your words when you arrive. Chalke may be at our mercy, but they are not known for their progressive ideals concerning women. Rarely do they speak so freely or for so long. Tread softly."
I stopped speaking entirely, taking his hint to leave him alone. Out of habit, I touched the hair woven across my head, my crown, and he sighed.
"Is there anything else?" he asked.
"...No," I said, meekly.
"Grand." He twisted towards our knight. "You'll keep her out of trouble," he said, receiving a devout nod. "Then on with it. I need to revisit some of these disputes."
The moment I crossed the threshold he added, "Though you travel as my heir, you still travel in my name. I expect you to adhere to my decorum. Don't stop in minor towns. Don't frolic in markets, and by God be weary of bandits and pickpockets."
"Yes, sir," I inhaled. "Your Majesty."
He nodded slower, likely pondering the days I called him 'father' more frequently than 'King,' but I did not bend. far too lost in my own contemplation. Starting with the Prince.
With duty.
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