The weeks following Alaric’s coronation and Wesley’s installment as Calira’s personal bodyguard were filled with talks of the wedding. Alaric was hell-bent on rushing the wedding to make sure his father could be present. Calira had all but given up on all wedding decisions and let Alaric have his way.
“A couple of months ago, my son didn’t want to be married. Now he’s planning the biggest wedding of the century,” Triscan chuckled as Calira rolled her eyes. Calira sat in a high back chair next to the ailing King’s bed and easily busied her hands by sharpening her daggers.
“And you have taken to the Princess role quite easily, I see,” Triscan remarked as he studied Calira. She was dressed in a beautiful green gown that had white lace around the rounded décolletage. Wesley stood by the door, stoic and quiet as always. He wore a coat and breeches that were a similar color to Calira’s gown with a white shirt.
“And Wesley, you fit in well!” He continued to note as Wesley nodded and smiled at him.
“Thank you, you’re majesty,” Wesley replied as he bowed his head in respect. A trembling hand on her arm earned Calira’s complete attention as she looked up and met Triscan’s adoring expression. She tilted her head to the side.
“What is it, your grace?” She asked. Wesley stood straight.
“Seeing you in your rightful place brings me great joy, my dear,” Triscan remarked as Calira averted her eyes.
“I do not feel like a princess. I feel more like a caged animal at a traveling show,” she admitted quietly. Wesley frowned. Triscan sighed as he patted her arm with his weathered hand.
“I did whatever I could to keep you safe. I realize that this entire escapade has been quite overwhelming for you, but you’ve overcome so much worse than this. I know you will make a fine queen and my son will be a better king and man because of you,” Triscan explained as Calira nodded her head in understanding.
“Have you picked your ladies-in-waiting?” Triscan asked with a soft smile as he thought of wonderful court-ladies that would make excellent companions for his dearest daughter-in-law.
“Have I? No. Has Alaric? Yes. Wesley?” Calira turned to her bodyguard; Wesley looked up and stood straight.
“Who did Alaric choose for my ladies again?” She questioned as she returned her attention to the daggers in her lap. Wesley chuckled before he recited the list.
“Marchioness Lydia Timmons, Duchess Alana Hastings, Baroness Caroline Romanski, Archduchess Marie Foray, and Countess Veronique Dubare.” Triscan’s eyes widened with each name Wesley spoke.
“Do not forget the bratty one, Wesley. What was her name? Bernadette?”
“Oh, yes, Vicereine Bernadette Casings,” Wesley amended as Calira nodded at the name. Each woman hated Calira simply for breathing.
“Even I know they are my son’s mistresses!” Triscan remarked suddenly as Wesley and Calira nodded.
“Yes. A fact each and every one of them has plainly and with great detail explained to me on several occasions. They all believe my marriage to Alaric is one of convenience and they will all continue to be his mistresses,” Calira replied as Wesley nodded his head in agreement. He had heard them. Valerius had also reaffirmed their statements.
“Have you spoken with Alaric about this?” Triscan questioned. He felt concerned. His son was foolish and selfish; he was oftentimes cruel, but Triscan never would have thought his son would stoop this low. Calira was to be his wife and he surrounded her with his conquests.
“He does not seem to care, your grace,” Wesley answered before Calira. He had heard the conversations between Calira and Alaric about the subject and he knew the prince-king’s feelings on the matter.
“Is this true, my dear?”
“He cares, but very little. He believes I am using this as an excuse to avoid my duties as Crown-Princess,” Calira answered with a shrug of her shoulders. Triscan frowned deeply and he felt anger and disappointment settle in his stomach.
“I will speak with him,” he announced sternly.
“That is not necessary, your grace. This really isn’t a matter than you should concern yourself with. What was it you used to tell me when Alaric and I would fight? Pick your battles to win the war? This is not the battle I am choosing to fight,” Calira remarked simply. Triscan turned to her with a look between adoration and annoyance. Wesley smirked.
***
“You called for me, Father?” Alaric stood in the doorway of his father’s bedchambers with a look of worry. Triscan looked up from the book he had been reading to frown at his son.
“I had a wonderful lunch with Calira this afternoon,” Triscan announced as Alaric internally groaned. His soon to be bride had no doubt gone behind his back about some ridiculous issue. He could already feel the guilt trip his father would put him onto.
“I was informed. She blew off a luncheon with her ladies-in-waiting without sending anyone to inform them. They sat in her parlor for over an hour,” Alaric replied. He was hoping the news would irk his father enough to dissuade him from taking her side in whatever issue she had spoken to him about.
“Her ladies-in-waiting are what I wanted to speak with you about,” Triscan remarked as he pointed to the high backed chair Calira had been sitting in earlier in the day. Alaric sighed before he sat down heavily in the chair.
“What about her ladies? Each of them are from a good family and have never been involved in any scandals. They are certain to do some good for the assassin,” Alaric spoke as if Calira were a peasant who had just assumed the throne.
“They were also all at some point in your bedchambers while their husbands were gone,” Triscan cut in severely. Alaric looked offended for only a brief moment before realization settled in.
“She complained about them to you?” He growled.
“No, she did not. She and Wesley were quite determined for me not to speak to you about this. However, my love for her and my pride as a father will not let this rest. To surround your wife with your past conquests is cruel and I had no idea you would do such a thing,” Triscan answered sternly. Alaric frowned and felt shame creep up in his gut.
“Father, I did not mean for─”
“You did. You did not want this marriage and you knew Calira did not as well. However instead of you working out your differences with her, you’ve subjected her to torment and cruel words. I’ve met these women and they are no doubt throwing their triumphs with you into her face, especially the Countess,” Triscan cut in as he slammed his hand down on his book. The sound was loud and startled Alaric.
“I had thought with your recent enthusiasm with the wedding that perhaps you had begun to see how special your bride is, but now I see I was wrong,”
“Father,” Alaric wanted to interrupt. He wanted to explain his enthusiasm was because of his father and not because of some misguided affections he felt toward the assassin he was being forced to marry. Instead something that sounded like he cared for his fiancée came out of his mouth.
“I didn’t know they would say anything to her. They assured me they simply wanted to be close to her,“ Alaric spewed out before he could stop himself. Triscan continued to scowl at his son.
“You have spent so many nights with women but you haven’t learned anything about them. What they don’t say is what you should listen to.”
***
“He’s still marrying her!” Veronique Dubare cursed as she ripped the recent letter from her spy in the castle. The maid she had coerced had seemed unwilling to betray the new Princess, and none of the information was remotely useful in her ultimate goal. She tossed the shredded letter into the nearby fireplace.
“What is the deal with her? Why is everyone so protective and loyal to someone they’ve just met?!” She growled as she paced her parlor. She couldn’t risk another visit to the castle. Her husband would grow curious and ask what she was up to. She couldn’t have him getting nosey. Her pacing brought her little peace and no answers to all of the questions swimming in her head. She suddenly stopped and gasped as a look of enlightenment spread across her features.
“It must be her beauty. That has to be it! Well, beauty is easily destroyed,” Veronique snarled. She didn’t know it but a passerby maid noticed Veronique beautiful features turn ugly and dark. The sight sent her scurrying down to the kitchen.
“Yes. That’s what I must do. To regain Alaric’s affection and remove that tart from the throne, I will simply make her as ugly as she truly is,” the vain countess swore.
“As ugly as a peasant.”