by N M Zoltack
The two men who had fought to take over Xalc had been absent more often than not of late. Olympia figured trouble might be brewing, but until and unless it manifested, she was going to keep her head down. There remained too much work to be done for her to try to keep two grown men in line.
When the others mentioned they were hungry, they looked to her. Curious but appreciative, she nodded, and they drifted away in small groups to go eat. That they looked to her surprised her. Olympia was alone here. She had friends, yes, but no family. Everyone else who lived here was not isolated.
Then again, Olympia had all of the people here, so how could she consider herself alone? Although, at the moment, she truly was. The others had all gone to eat. Shortly, she would too. For now, she would continue to lay down the stone foundation.
The sand behind her shifted, and she lowered the stone she had just lifted to turn. Approaching her was both Amosis and Ninos. The two men wore identical blank, indifferent expressions, ambling toward her as if by happenstance, but she was certain they were approaching her for a reason.
“Good afternoon,” she said to them warily, confused. Even before the fight, the islanders had never been close friends.
“May the waves be calm before you,” old Amosis said. He halted a few feet from her.
Ninos stepped closer before stopping. “We have a question for you.”
“I will not preside over another fight,” she warned them. “The guards are on good terms with us right now. We can have a peace. Unideal? Yes, but—”
“We want more than peace, and you can deliver it for us,” Amosis said. He lifted his chin. The sun reflected from his bald head.
She frowned. “Peace?”
“We want you to be our leader,” Ninos blurted out.
“Me?”
“Yes. The guards adore you. Everyone does. The children look up to you. Already, the men and women do too.”
Amosis nodded sagely. “You have always been good and kind. You seek to help others first. What you did during the last monsoon was nothing short of heroic.”
“You like the guards now?” Olympia asked Ninos innocently.
“No. No. We want you to rule us. Perhaps, you can speak with the guards, get them to agree, arrange a meeting with the queen…” Ninos shrugged. “We need our freedom, and we believe you can grant us that peace.”
Olympia covered her mouth with her hand. “I will have to consider this,” she murmured.
Ninos opened his mouth, but Amosis shook his head. The older man guided the younger one away, although Ninos glanced over his shoulder at her several times.
Olympia waited until they were out of sight to laugh. Never could she accept. Her destiny would not always require her to live here on this island. She could not rule over them, at least not while living among them.
52
Rase Ainsley
Eight long days passed before Rase had worked up the nerve. Today was the day. Today, he would go to the castle. He would see if the queen would help him find a job. Rase remained convinced that he could do this. He could be the man his family needed. He might be young and small, but he would rise up and do whatever he could to help his family. His pa’s mistakes would not hinder them forever. They would not be bound and forced to endure the life of beggars and thieves, not for the rest of their lives. No. Rase refused to accept that. Life could be so much better. He didn’t want to be a master one day. He would be perfectly content to be nothing more than a tradesman. So long as he could provide for his family, that was all he wanted.
His pa had already left that morning, and his ma and sister still slept. Rase eased the door opened and stilled.
Approaching their house was none other than Maxene. The young woman looked worse for wear. Her face was all blotchy and red, and it wasn’t until she stopped just before the doorway that Rase realized she had been crying.
Rase glanced back into the house, at his family’s sleeping forms. Quickly, he stepped forward and shut the door behind him so he could talk to Maxene in private.
“What’s wrong?” he asked in a soft whisper.
Maxene sniffed. Dozens of tear tracks covered her face, but she didn’t wipe them away. No fresh tears fell at least.
“What’s wrong?” he asked again, more urgently this time.
“I… I need a place to live,” Maxene said.
Rase cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, sure. You can stay here. I don’t think my parents will mind.”
“My ma died will I was at…” Maxene’s eyes welled with tears, but none spilled.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It was several months ago. She was sick. She didn’t even know where I was or who I was at the end.” Maxene smiled wanly. “It’s probably for the best that she passed on. She had been in pain.”
“Your head, then…” Rase said after a short pause. “Is it all better?”
“No.”
“No? But I thought—”
“I thought so too, but when the physician realized…”
“Realized what?” He hated the way she kept looking off into the distance, as if she wasn’t entirely there.
“Radcliff… Lord Radcliff kicked me out.”
“But why?”
“I should have seen… He wasn’t the man I thought he was. He wasn’t quite so good, quite so… He had been having an argument with his lady love when he threw the flowerpot out the window that hit my head. He had sent her away and then saw me. He…”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
Maxene covered her face with her hand. After a moment, she seized Rase’s wrist, and they walked around the house and kept on going. Rase didn’t think she had a destination in mind, and her movements were crisp but slow.
“He used me,” Maxene murmured. “I didn’t see it at the time, but he was using me all in the name of trying to win back Lady Vienna Corvi.”
She said the name with so much disgust and hatred that Rase almost pulled his wrist from her grasp.
“I was a fool, a damn fool,” Maxene said. She halted and stared off into the distance. From her side profile, a tear rolled down her cheek and halted when it reached the corner of her frowning lips.
“I take it he is back with the lady now,” Rase said timidly.
“Oh, no.” Maxene barked a bitter, sorrowful laugh. “No. I went to see her before I came to your house. She wants nothing to do with him now. I saw to that.” Her smile was both spiteful and wounded.
“I don’t understand,” Rase said, hating that he was so confused.
“I don’t suppose you would,” Maxene said. She took his hand and placed it on her lower belly. “That bastard Radcliff impregnated me and cast me out. Now, I have nowhere to go. My ma died months ago. Her house, everything she and I owned, it was robbed long ago. I have nothing now but a pounding headache day in and day out and a stomach that cannot keep down food. I have no hope for myself or for the future. What am I to do, Rase? What am I to do?”
Rase considered for only a moment. He stared up into Maxene’s distraught face and smiled.
“You get better. You have your baby. You survive. You do whatever you have to so that your child has a chance at a better future than your own. And you make that villain Radcliff regret turning you aside, but you don’t ever dare go back to him.”
Maxene scoffed a laugh. “I would never—”
“If he promised you the world, you wouldn’t be tempted? If he offered to have your son trained to be a knight, you wouldn’t consider it?”
“I would consider only whether or not I can get close enough to smash a flowerpot over his head,” she hissed.
“Good. Then make him regret his choices, but you? You don’t get to. You stand tall. You live with us. We’ll help you.”
Maxene’s face crumpled as if she was going to bawl, but then she took a shaky deep breath. “Thank you, Rase. I-I’m sorry I—”
“Don’t apologize. Come. You haven’t seen Leanne in for
ever. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”
“She should hate me. I chose a lord—”
“You were injured,” he said firmly. “You stayed there because of having access to a physician.”
“And now I have none,” she murmured, rubbing her belly as they turned back toward the Ainsley house.
“Everything will work out,” he said.
“How can you be so sure?”
Rase stood as tall as he could. “Because we’re alive. In the end, isn’t that all that matters?”
Maxene’s smile started slowly, at one corner and stretched to cover her face. Despite her tear-stained cheeks, she looked radiant.
“Yes, that is all that matters,” she said. “Is your lazy sister still sleeping? Let’s go wake her.”
Rase laughed and watched as Maxene rushed to the front of his house. Moments later, he could hear the girls’ conversation and laughter.
Yes, they were alive, and Rase was going to do whatever it took to ensure that they all stayed alive.
53
Prince Marcellus Gallus
The trek through Tenoch was actually beautiful and peaceful. The people from the villages would huddle together and watch the Vincanans pass. One young girl in particular dropped her jaw when Marcellus walked by her. She had been holding flowers, and a few dropped.
Marcellus walked over, plucked the flowers off the ground, and handed them to her.
“Are you a warrior?” she asked. She could not be more than five years of age.
“What makes you think that?” he asked, confused. They were not marching in their armor. Rather, the crew members were carrying trunks that contained his and Rufus’ apparel for the joust. Likewise, the two guards did wear some armor, although not fully.
“The way you walk.” Her eyes were wide. “And you aren’t smiling. Knights don’t smile.”
“They don’t?” Marcellus squatted down and smiled at her.
The girl let out a shriek and turned to hide within a woman’s skirts.
Confused but amused, Marcellus stifled a laugh as he stood.
“Her father passed away a short time ago,” the woman whispered, patting the girl’s back. “She hasn’t seen many smiles nowadays.”
“I did not mean to frighten her.”
“She’ll be all right.” The woman glanced at the procession. “Shouldn’t you be going?”
He nodded. “I am sorry for your loss,” he said. He backpedaled a step, bowed, and moved swiftly to catch up to his people.
By mid-day, the city of Atlan came into view, but Marcellus had eyes only for the castle. Tall, majestic, like a mountain of a building with turrets and towers and battlements, Tenoch Castle was a sight to behold. Marcellus could not deny that fact.
Well before they reached the lowered drawbridge, a contingency of guards led by a tall man with slicked-back blond hair. His lips curled into a wide smile. His gaze wandered over the Vincana party before settling on Marcellus. The Prince of Vincana stiffened. How had this man picked him out of the crowd? Then again, the crew were clearly servants, so this mystery man had only to determine out of Marcellus and Rufus who to address first.
“Welcome to Tenoch Castle,” the man said, sweeping in a bow that was clearly performed daily.
Marcellus bowed back. After all, he did not know who this man was nor his importance.
The man straightened, and Marcellus spied the widening of his smile.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Aldus Perez, the main advisor to both Queen Sabine Grantham and Queen Rosalynne Rivera. I trust you understand why two queens rule us?”
“I may not live in Tenoch, but I know and understand the workings here.”
Marcellus inwardly winced as Rufus stiffened beside him and cut him a glance. He had been a little too blunt with that statement, but Marcellus was not accomplished at lies and deceit. In Vincana, matters were settled with the blade and duels. A battle barbed with only tongues was not one that Marcellus would likely win.
But win he must so that the true battle, with steel and blood and sweat, could be forged. He had no doubt that Vincana would be victorious before the matter was settled.
To cover any blunder, Marcellus bowed again. “I am Marcellus Gallus, son of Antonius Gallus.”
Rufus fell into a better bow than Marcellus’. “I am Rufus Vitus, son of Ricardus Vitus.”
Aldus Perez’s gaze wandered over the contingency again. For only a moment, his lips pursed as if he were hiding a frown or grimace.
“So few,” he murmured.
“Unfortunately, a massive monsoon has left Vincana in disarray,” Marcellus explained. “More would have come, but we must tend to our island. We did not wish to ignore the invitation given by the… castle.” He cleared his throat and hoped to recover with, “The queens cannot be denied, of course.”
Aldus Perez critically eyed Marcellus and then grinned widely again. “We are most grateful that you were able to arrive, but come, come! You must be weary from your boat ride and your journey here. Tell me, how were the water? I have never sailed myself.”
Marcellus found that talking about the trek was much simpler with the man as he fell into step beside him.
His boots thudded against the part-wooden, part-metal drawbridge. As soon as they entered the castle, a tall, stately woman of roughly two decades waited to greet them. Her gown was exquisite, a deep forest green along the arm and side and back. The train stretched behind her. Down the center was white brocade variegated jacquard pattern. The interior of the trumpet sleeves was the same pattern as was the upright potion of the gown behind her neck.
By contrast, Marcellus felt underdressed. He wore tan trousers, a matching tunic, and a black jerkin. A dark belt completed the look. For travel, he had not wished to appear to fancy. As it was, he was here as merely a Vincana representative, not as Vincana’s prince.
Marcellus bowed far deeper for the queen than he had her advisor. When he straightened, the queen was brushing her long, blond hair back from her shoulder and giving him a wide smile.
“Welcome to Tenoch Castle,” she said, sweeping out her arms, her sleeves draping nearly to touch the floor.
Aldus Perez stood beside her, bowed, and said, “Allow me to introduce to you, My Queen, Marcellus Gallus and Rufus Vitus. Gentleman, may I present our queen, Queen Sabine Grantham of all of Tenoch Proper.”
“Raise,” Queen Sabine said after a long hesitation.
Marcellus carefully kept his features blank for fear that he would smirk or roll his eyes. That she forced them to bow so long said a great deal about her and none of it good.
“You must be hungry,” she continued. Her voice was a little thin to his ears, and she shouted when she did not need to.
Marcellus slid his gaze to the advisor. He was staring without staring. Marcellus knew that look well. His father had often done the same while overseeing the preparations of the fleet or watching the training.
Before his father had declared himself king, he had been a leader, always ever in charge. He helped and aided wherever he could. He taught children how to read or count or handle a spear. He would train horses. He could even hammer a blade, although his skill in that art was not nearly the same as the master blacksmiths. His father had always been meant to rule.
This woman before him, she had not that same innate refinement, but then, even if she had, Marcellus and his people would still rise up against her. At the very least, Vincana must be separate once more.
“We have a meal waiting for you. If you wish to bathe first, you may. Aldus, would you be so kind as to lead them where they wish to go?”
Marcellus was at first surprised she would not join them. Then, he was startled that a mere servant would not guide them. Finally, he realized she wished to use the advisor to spy on them. Neither of them was the most subtle about it, or perhaps Marcellus felt too anxious and unnerved. Mayhap he was seeing shadows where only light fell.
Aldus clapped his hands and ste
pped forward. “Shall you eat or wash?”
“Wash,” Marcellus murmured. They were covered in dirt and sand. That they had rinsed off in the few small ponds they found along the way did not mean that they were clean.
With only a nod, the queen withdrew, and her advisor brought them to a large bathing room. The heated water helped to reduce Marcellus’ frustrations and worries. He washed away the grime from the four days’ march and also his unease.
Once he, his friend, the guards, and the crew had their fill of bread, various meats, cheese, and ale, servants brought them to their rooms. From what Marcellus noticed, the sheer number of rooms set aside for Vincana guests suggested they thought triple their number would have come. Plus, they did have rooms waiting for other islanders. This event was supposed to be enormous. Would others from the various islands come? Or would they not bother. Either way made no difference. Soon, all would know that the world had a king again in Antonius Gallus.
The man who had repaired the sails during the voyage after a raven had flown through it brought Marcellus’s trunks into the room. Marcellus nodded his appreciation and turned to the window. His view of the courtyard was unblemished, and people strolled about the greenery, seemingly happy.
Did they not care that their prince had been murdered? Why was no effort being done to locate the killer?
The sound of faint knocking and then murmurings and then more knocking and more murmurs had Marcellus crossing over to the door. He was not surprised to hear knocking at his own door, but he was shocked to see who was on the other side.
A young woman perhaps a few years younger than him stood there. Her gown was simpler than Queen Sabine’s, but the material was as rich. A deep garnet ran along the sides and the back. Her trumpet sleeves only reached to her knees rather than the floor. The border of those sleeves and the midline of her dress was a rich gold embroidered with an elaborate pattern. Garnets lined the neckline of the gold, and a garnet colored ribbon wove in a crisscrossed design to her midline, tied in a simple bow.