“This is perhaps a bit rushed,” said Beredwyn, attempting to sound consoling. “I am concerned for your safety.”
A phantom pain nipped at Kitlyn’s neck. She resisted the urge to cringe and descended the stairs off the dais. “I am not insisting that I travel alone, and you are all aware of Oona receiving Orien’s favor. I have the utmost confidence in that she truly has received Lucen’s counsel.”
“Of course you are not going alone.” Oona leapt to her feet and ran down the four steps.
Kitlyn smiled. “I would prefer you stay safe.”
Her blonde eyebrows flattened.
“However, what I prefer and what is best for all are not the same.” Kitlyn almost leaned close and kissed her, but decided against it. Even in front of only the advisors, a public display of affection would not be received well. Even a king and queen would not dare to show… She blinked, glanced at Oona, and pulled her into a kiss.
The advisors gasped.
Oona mmphed! into her mouth, but didn’t protest. After, she stared in surprised delight, no small amount of blush on her cheeks.
Uneasy throat clearings came from the advisors, except Alonna, who smiled.
“To the Pit with purposeless dourness!” Kitlyn whirled to face the advisors, the fire of inspiration in her eyes. “Lucernia is hurting from an awful war. Let our love fill the castle with joy that spreads over the land. It is time to heal. Why must royals and the nobility pretend they are incapable of happiness?”
Beredwyn’s eyes sparkled with a single tear. “This castle is in dire need of happiness.”
“Now then…” Kitlyn gathered her hands in front of herself, her trumpet-like sleeves draped down to her knees. “Ready our horses and prepare an escort. There is no need for the coach or the royal pavilion.” She internally rolled her eyes at the smaller version of her grand bed, rugs, shelves, and an enormous tent. “I will sleep like the soldiers.”
“But…” Advisor Lanon raised a hand.
“What need have I of fluffery in a matter such as this?” asked Kitlyn. “It is an unnecessary burden.”
“Some fluffery is nice,” whispered Oona. “Like our bed.”
“Yes.” Kitlyn turned toward her. “But there is no need to make anyone haul it around in the woods. We are not going out there to be seen. We’re going to deal with a problem.”
“Oh, I agree.” Oona grinned. “Merely stating that fluffery is not entirely bad when appropriate.”
Kitlyn looked over the advisors, nodded before any could offer further protest, and walked briskly toward the throne room’s rear exit. “We shall depart within the hour.”
23
The Whims of Gods
Oona
During the time Oona and Kitlyn changed into their traveling clothes, another messenger arrived with news of additional Nimse sightings in Wick Hollow last night. According to the report, three soldiers had been wounded, though would likely survive. Fortunately, the precaution of demanding all citizens remain indoors after sunset had prevented any injuries or deaths outside the military, except for a few unfortunate chickens and one highly surprised cow.
Oona didn’t feel quite as awkward this time in the saddle as she had the first, but still would’ve preferred a nice dress to the leather armor. However, even the most comfortable dress in her wardrobe didn’t suit overland travel without a coach. Again, Kitlyn wanted them to leave their crowns safe in the castle, claiming the heavy metal rings would only get in the way should they wind up in battle. Oona had teasingly suggested some people may not believe her the queen.
What girl my age in Lucernia can summon stone from the ground? asked Kitlyn in her memory.
Remembering the expression on her love’s face accompanying the question made Oona laugh. For the first hour or so of their journey east along the road from Cimril, they had discussed the nature of royalty, specifically how one person could command so much power over so many. While Aodh had been somewhat competent with a blade, he had lost the bulk of his magic and any of the seasoned castle guards could have bested him with ease. Why had so many people blindly obeyed him when he had no capacity whatsoever to make them? It would’ve been one thing if he held the trust and love of his people and they respected his wisdom, but that man ruled by fear—proxy fear of Lucen instead of himself—but fear all the same.
Oona cringed at Kitlyn saying she believed her father ought to have been deposed a long time ago. Worse, she proceeded to flirt around the idle notion of replacing the monarchy with something akin to a council of elders. Distributing power, she reasoned, would make it more difficult for one person to abuse the trust placed in them. Oona countered by saying that without the prestige and power of being a king or queen, a ‘councilor’ would be more vulnerable to influence by bribes or personal whims.
Her argument appeared to quench any sincere desire on Kitlyn’s part to abandon monarchy, at least for now. Perhaps when they grew old—if they grew old—she would try to dissolve it then, making her the last queen. That would, of course, obviate the issue of their not having an heir. Perhaps it had come time for the Talomir bloodline to part ways with the throne; after all, they had held it for five generations already. Kitlyn eventually suggested adding a council instead of replacing the monarchy with it, creating a power split.
Oona felt more open to that idea than utter removal of a king or queen, though cautioned her not to speak in public of such things yet. She feared too much change too fast would cause unrest. People still coped with twenty years of Aodh’s lies, the end of the war, a new monarch—and a woman at that—not to mention their queen taking a wife.
They reached the crossroads near the Arch of the Ancients by early evening, though Kitlyn insisted they press onward rather than lose three hours of daylight by stopping at the garrison there. Darkness fell approximately a quarter of the way north to Wick Hollow.
Lieutenant Hain, the highest-ranking soldier among the thirty that escorted them, ordered her troops to set up camp off the side of the road. Upon stopping, Oona dismounted Cloud and proceeded to remove his harness and saddle before feeding, watering, and brushing him. Kitlyn tended to Apples in a similar manner, the larger ex-warhorse having a disposition that reminded Oona of a sedate puppy.
When Kitlyn broke out a few apples, Cloud stared at her with huge, black eyes. She tossed one to Oona, who happily offered it to the horse. Eventually they, the horses, and the soldiers settled in to camp. Within the hour, the smell of roasting chicken and wood smoke overpowered the subtle fragrance of meadow grass.
Oona and Kitlyn stood on line and collected plates from the cook rather than waiting for anyone to bring them food, which earned odd looks from some of the soldiers. Kitlyn walked over to a spot of ground and took a seat. The soldiers gathered in groups here and there to eat, some making small fires to chase away the autumn chill. They initially kept quiet and appeared uncomfortable at having the queen in earshot, though at Kitlyn tearing into her chicken in much the same way she must’ve eaten at the servants’ table in the kitchen, the soldiers relaxed and a din of conversation filled in the silence. A few slips suggested they tried to avoid coarse language or crude humor while near the royals, but otherwise appeared in high spirits.
With the promise of good weather, the soldiers set up bedrolls in the open and established a watch rotation. Oona, studying them, managed to arrange her sleeping area without too much frustration, and felt proud of herself for accomplishing such a simple task… never once having even changed the sheets on a bed before. She didn’t much relish sleeping fully dressed except for boots, or upon such a crude bed, though it still surpassed her ‘guest room’ in Ralen’s dungeon. Also, Kitlyn’s sneaky wisdom made sense. In armor, without crowns, under a blanket, they blended in among the soldiers. An assassin would have trouble differentiating them. In truth, the only awful part had been the total lack of a garderobe, having to relieve herself directly on the field—a task that reinforced leather breeches made woefully cumbersome. Fortuna
tely, Kitlyn created a barrier of vines for privacy.
Oona reclined under a thin blanket beside Kitlyn, who had a separate sleeping mat. Nothing more than hand holding would happen that night. She gazed up at the endless stars overhead, surprised by how relaxing the open air and gentle breeze could be. The occasional wisp of campfire smoke drifted by across a sea of dark blue swirled into black.
“That group there looks like a deer.” Kitlyn pointed upward.
Oona squinted. “I don’t see it.”
“The two bright stars are the tips of the antlers,” whispered Kitlyn.
They spent a little while hunting for shapes in the stars, enjoying the brief escape from their worries. Distant soldiers around the camp discussed the trip to Underholm, never having been near it before. Few appeared to know anything about it or the Nimse, or the Na’vir who once lived there.
“I feel old,” muttered a man a distance off to the left. “Still remember Kitlyn being a wee thing, runnin’ about the castle. Used ta be so happy.”
Oona squeezed her hand, smiling at the voice: Garon, a soldier who’d been around the castle as long as she could remember.
“I still can’t believe how the king treated her,” said another man from the same direction. “Do you think it’s true she didn’t even know who she was?”
“Of course she didn’t, Karlin.” The woman sitting with them mumbled as if chewing food for a few seconds. “That girl wouldn’t have tolerated half of what she did if she knew the truth.”
“Look at ’er,” said Garon, a note of affection in his voice, “beddin’ down with the likes of us. Hard to think of that little girl as a queen.”
“She doesn’t act much like it.” Karlin muted a laugh, then slurped a drink.
The other two coughed.
“Easy,” whispered the woman. “Mind your tongue.”
Oona glanced over at Karlin, a thirtyish man in chain mail with pitted cheeks and a thin mustache. He sat in a circle around a small fire with Garon and a younger woman, perhaps thirty feet from where Kitlyn and she lay in the grass.
“I didn’t mean that in a bad way, Lanis.” Karlin wiped some chicken grease from his lip before pointing a half-eaten drumstick at the woman soldier. “It’s just unusual to see a royal not constantly remindin’ everyone they’re better than us.”
“I’m not,” whispered Kitlyn. “Only the gods are better than us.”
“They know you don’t feel that way.” Oona reached over and clasped her hand. “And they probably think we’re asleep.”
A younger soldier wandered up to the group by the fire, speaking in a hushed tone. “I can’t believe everyone’s just tolerating… you know.”
Oona scowled.
“The gods didn’t challenge it.” Lanis, the female soldier, lifted a bit of chicken to her mouth, but hesitated before biting it. “I hear Tenebrea even showed herself.”
“Aye, but the gods didn’t do much about King Aodh causing a war that raged for twenty years either.” The young soldier stared off at the dark sky. “Maybe the gods don’t care what we do as much as the priests try to tell us they do.”
Oona started to sit up, but Kitlyn pulled her back.
“It’s not worth it. We can’t force people like him to approve of how we feel for each other. Only ask them not to attack us. If we confront everyone who speaks ill of us, it will make us seem petty.”
Oona grumbled, rolling on her side to face Kitlyn.
“Look here, Donal.” Garon wagged a fork at him. “If you aren’t willin’ ta die ta protect your queen, go on back ta yer farm.”
“Aye.” Karlin took another bite of his drumstick.
“This queen beds down with her soldiers.” Lanis gestured toward them. “Aodh would never have even pitched his grand tent close to us. I don’t care who she marries.”
“It’s unnatural,” muttered Donal.
“Unnatural would be weddin’ a bloody sheep”—Garon looked him up and down—“like yer mother must ’ave.”
Kitlyn clamped a hand over her mouth to hold back laughter. Oona gawked, stunned both that someone defended them and by the crass remark.
“Who says it’s unnatural?” Lanis sat tall and held her arms out to the sides. “People? The gods have said no such thing.”
“You carried a blade to defend a man who defied Lucen, lied to us for decades, and started the war that took half the boys ya grew up with.” Karlin hurled his bare chicken bone into the field and picked up another drumstick. “And yer goin’ on about her only on account o’ who she loves? By Tenebrea’s tits, that makes no sense.”
Oona gasped—as did the soldiers. No worse a profanity existed within Lucernia.
Donal flopped to sit, rambling about his parents always saying such relationships came from the work of demons. A long, circuitous conversation followed mostly about how Aodh’s transgression of deceit was an actual affront to the gods. Karlin said he didn’t personally like the idea of the queen marrying a girl, then added his reason: it meant he didn’t have a chance to be her suitor.
This, of course, set off the others teasing him for having a face that could make an oxen scream and run the other way. He laughed with them, also adding a few jokes about his unfortunate appearance. Eventually, Donal slipped away in silence.
Somewhat suspicious that he might be loyal to Fauhurst, Oona watched him. When he neared the edge of the camp and kept going, she rolled onto all fours, grabbed her sword, and hurried after him, not wasting time to put her boots back on.
Donal stopped about fifty yards from the campsite and knelt in the meadow. Oona crept to a halt far enough away that he hadn’t seen her. He bowed his head and began praying to Lucen for guidance. Oona listened for a moment until she discarded her notion he might be a traitor. Right as she shifted her weight to crawl back to bed, she froze at what the young man whispered.
“Lucen, please give me a sign. Were my parents wrong? Is it wrong for me to feel as I do for Tavin?”
She stared at the young soldier, perhaps a year or two older than her. A bluish tint to the strong moonlight made his reddish-brown hair seem dark. Her initial contempt for him melted away to pity and reawakened her fears at how her life might have gone had the king not taken her from Ruby. If Llanoen had been her home, and she didn’t have Kitlyn or any place else to go, she likely wouldn’t have been able to stand up to her. Might she have been forced to marry a boy to avoid her mother’s retribution? Could her mother have warped her thoughts to the point she made herself hate others like her to preserve her mother’s love? Could she even call a parent doing that love?
“Donal,” said Oona.
The young man jumped and spun around, one hand on his sword.
“Calm down. It’s only me.” She pushed up from her crouch to stand.
Donal coughed and fell back, seated. “H-highness… I-I’m…”
“Shh.” She walked over and sat on the grass next to him. “After what you said, when you slipped away from camp, I suspected you might be with Fauhurst. So I followed you.”
His cheeks reddened. “You heard…”
“I did, and I wanted to tell you something.”
“But… you’re the queen consort. I’m just a soldier, and only a footman at that.”
Oona rested her elbow on her knee and stared down at her foot, skin so pale it practically glowed in the moonlight. “I don’t think a difference in status makes people any better than each other. Certainly by now, you know that I was born in Llanoen, the daughter of common farmers. By birth, you and I have the same station.”
He managed a feeble nod.
“The woman who gave birth to me has similar views as your parents. I met her by chance. At first, she seemed happy to be able to reunite with me after the former king swore her to secrecy. But upon realizing I was in love with Kitlyn, she completely changed. I went from daughter to abomination.”
“I’m sorry,” said Donal, his voice heavy.
She looked up, making eye contact.
An emerald darter—a harmless four-winged shiny insect—landed on her hand and crept over her knuckles. “I heard what you said about your parents. If Aodh hadn’t taken me away from my mother, I would have been treated much the same way. Probably worse. Ruby is quick to drive home her opinions with her fists.” Oona talked for a while about Evie, who still hadn’t quite stopped flinching whenever an adult made sudden motions near her. “If I’d been left to grow up under her roof in Llanoen, and she ever caught me kissing another girl, I shudder to think what would have happened. The woman used to strike my sister for making small errors or not understanding things fast enough. She may well have killed me for that.”
“Tavin and I grew up in River’s Rest. We started off as friends, but I always felt we had something more.” His voice caught in his throat. “I… we haven’t been able to be together. I can’t choose between my parents’ love and his.”
Oona reached out to put a hand on his arm, startling the emerald darter to wing. “You’ve already made two choices… one outside, one inside.”
“He’s always sad. I fear he might forget me. But, he doesn’t understand how my parents are. His mother and father know about him and… don’t mind.” Donal’s lip quivered. “By Lucen, I admit to being jealous of him for that. His parents love him. Mine love who I pretend to be.”
“I still cannot fathom what made our people believe Lucen’s purity would in any way condemn real love. It’s been that way since long before either of us were born. But simply because something has become tradition does not make it true, or right.”
“If I am open with Tavin, he will be overjoyed. We could be so happy together.” Donal looked around, then shrank in on himself. “Lucen forgive me but we have… known each other, and we are not married.”
Oona blushed. Perhaps if two people truly love each other, the gods won’t care so much that they show it before some mortal-made ceremony. If not for our station, I’m sure Kit and I would’ve… experimented before marriage, too. She suppressed the urge to frown at being under such constant scrutiny her entire life. “Only with him?”
The Cursed Crown Page 22