The Plan Commences

by Kristen Ashley

  Alfie and Wallace were sitting at the table with Farah and True, Bruce and Simon.

  Although Farah was at the table, she would more aptly be described as sitting on his lap.

  This had started with her lifting her feet there, for they were “killing her,” and as others joined and left them at the table, it somehow naturally progressed to her having her arse in his lap.

  It fit perfectly there.

  But having it was killing him.

  “It will be talked about for decades to come, when Prince True and the Lady Farah danced the night away at The Antlers,” Bruce declared, contentedly eyeing True with Farah perched in his lap.

  “I would prefer it talked about, providing lumber from this region to the ports cities in the north and west to build ships so our wool and wheat and pewter can sail across the Green Sea, now that King Aramus has given us leave for ships to sail, selling our goods to the Northlands and Southlands,” True replied quietly.

  “Oh, that will be talked about as well, Your Grace,” Simon replied.

  “We had already heard of it,” Bruce shared. “Birds are flying. And you know how they like to gossip, so pixies are late to finding their trees. They have so much to talk about, they’re flitting all over Wodell.”

  He did know this, and in this instance, he was glad the pixies had this penchant.

  “The quakes are concerning. Though they seem to be coming less now, the last one was very powerful,” Simon noted.

  “We are told these are borne of magic,” True informed them of what he’d been telling others along their journey, and as the pixies and birds were flying, they probably knew. “And we are hard at work with the Great Coven to put an end to them.”

  The men nodded, seemingly appeased by this information, as had been all the others.

  Bruce looked to Farah before he nudged Simon and remarked, “We shouldn’t keep you from your bed any longer, my prince. Thank you for gracing us with your presence and thank you for the honor of meeting our future queen.”

  “The honor was mine,” Farah murmured, catching True’s attention, for her tone sounded sleepy.

  Yes, it was time for bed.

  “Kind to say, milady, but trust me, ’tis untrue. The honor is all ours,” Simon replied to Farah before pushing out of his chair.

  Bruce followed him.

  True tightened his arms around Farah as he made to do the same, but both men held hands up to him as Simon urged, “Please, keep your seat. We hope the Lights shine for you while you’re here and we hope to see you again in our village soon.”

  True remained seated, nodded to the men and watched as they took their leave.

  When they were gone, he turned again to Farah.

  “Is it time to find our room?” he asked.

  “Are there others you wish to speak to?” she asked in return.

  He scanned the pub.

  All that were left were in the final throes of flirting with intent, doubled over drafts they would probably pass out before finishing, or already passed out.

  He also caught Bram’s chin lift to Alfie as he led his maid out the door.

  True gave his attention again to Farah.

  “No.”

  She grinned and slid off his lap, grabbing his hand and feebly beginning to pull him out of his seat.

  He did not make her work at this and came up, glancing over his shoulder at his men.

  Both nodded as he led Farah to the stairs that would take them up to their room.

  “Are Bruce and Simon important personages in this village?” she asked after they were up three steps.

  “Not that I know of. Indeed, I’ve never met either until tonight.”

  She seemed to startle, and he pulled her closer with her hand at his elbow as she did so, looking down at her.

  “All right?” he asked.

  “You usually talk to leaders,” she said instead of answering.

  He was bewildered.

  “I do?”

  She appeared just as bewildered.

  “You don’t? You are friendly to all around you, but sitting and having serious chats like the one you just had with Bruce and Simon about affairs of the realm, they are not chieftains or barons or…whatever you call them in this land? What is it? Lords?”

  “In the second village where we stayed, I spoke to a member of the gentry,” he informed her as they made the top landing and he guided them down the hall.

  “That is it?” she inquired.

  “Yes.” He was still confused. “Does this surprise you?”

  “I, well…I…” She said no more as he stopped them outside the door to their room and produced the key from his trousers.

  But he didn’t open it.

  “It does surprise you,” he noted.

  She looked up at him. “Mars deals with barons and chieftains.”

  “Yes,” he said when she spoke no more.

  “Baldrick was a leader,” she remarked.

  “He was. But I’m still not understanding your surprise,” he said.

  “Does your father mingle with his subjects as you do?” she asked.

  He nearly roared with laughter, thus, his one-word answer was shaking with it.

  “No.”

  “And he does not dance with them.”

  “Bloody hell, no,” he replied, putting the key to the lock and letting them in.

  He was closing and locking the door behind them when she spoke again.

  “Mars is removed. We have many celebrations and he’s seen reveling with his people, but not amongst them. He is on the royal podium at the coliseum. If marquees are erected, his will be easily seen, but apart. There are instances, such as dancing, feasts and other revelries, where there will be those of the populace invited to be close to the king, but it is a special honor, usually for a feat accomplished or a service provided to the realm. And there are times that Mars, as had his father, travels the realm to speak directly to the people. Not to give speeches, to sit with local teachers or healers or priests to hear what they have to say about what is happening in the land. And in those times, he will be with his people at feasts they make for him or celebrations to honor him. But he is always held in a position of distinction, for instance, at a high table, or separated and sitting with the leaders of the clan.”

  True had thrown the key down on a table and was walking to the fire when Farah finished talking, after which he murmured, “My father doesn’t do even that.”

  He’d bent to feed some logs on the banked fire and stir it when she said, “I know of no realm where a prince can ride the countryside with five guards and be safe.”

  He straightened and looked to her. “I know this will also surprise you, my sweet, but the Dellish are a peaceable people. Many here do not leave their villages their whole lives, and that is not because they want to do so and cannot. It is because they have no desire to. This is a land of home and hearth. Farm and forest. We have one large city inland, and four port cities that do not come close to rivaling the size or populace of Notting Thicket. And as you have seen, many villages and hamlets much like the one we’re in. Thus, we are not cosmopolitan or sophisticated. Intrigues might not be reviled, but they are not often sought and are considered mostly a curiosity.”

  He placed the screen carefully back in front of the fire before he moved to the bed and sat at its end in order to pull off his boots.

  And he did this as he continued speaking.

  “This does not mean that the Dellish are unambitious. That they do not wish better or more for themselves and their loved ones. Thick thatch for their roofs to keep them dry and warm in the winter. More fashionable clothing. Fine pewter or china to use to serve when they have guests. Everyone wishes comfort and a higher standard of living. To give the best they can to their children and leave them with better lives than the ones they’d had. The Dellish work hard and not all are unassuming.”

  Done with his boots and socks, he stood to unbutton his waistcoat and carrie
d on sharing.

  “Many speak of the university in Go’Doan. The high academics of Airen that produce such extraordinary architects and engineers. The exemplary military training in Firenze that is practiced by all the clans and tribes. But the law is studied in Wodell, this being the laws of all the lands, and the advocates who earn their credentials here can practice in any realm. And Dellish counsellors are the most sought after on the continent. And the Go’Doan aren’t the only ones who produce fine educators. Our teachers who are trained in our universities then go on to teach in our schools are exceptional. I would pit any school in Wodell against any other in any realm. The one thing the Dellish won’t abide the king not funding through their taxes is education for their children and it is no boast to say it’s the best in all of Triton. And it is obvious our training and constant advancements in agriculture and forestry are outstanding.”

  He noticed out of the corners of his eyes that Farah had barely moved from the door as he swung his waistcoat over a chair by the window, put his fingers to the buttons on his shirt and went on.

  “What I mean to say with all of this is that it is often confused by those in other lands, but the majority of the Dellish may wish only a simple life, but they are not simple.”

  True stopped unbuttoning and looked to her.

  “They do not want ruby mines and saffron fields,” he shared. “They want delicious food on their tables, their wives in silk petticoats and the ability to gift her with a precious bauble on not an infrequent occasion. And when my reign is all said and done, I do not care if my entry in the Go’Doan tomes of history has one sentence. ‘King True kept the nation of Wodell peaceful and prosperous until his son wore the crown.’”

  He threw a hand up and finished with a confession.

  “I do not wish to be a great king, my Farah. I simply wish to do right by my people. And to do that, I must know them and what they want. Therefore, I sit with men like Bruce and Simon, and it matters not what they do or what station they have. I tell them decisions made amongst princes and kings so I can watch their reactions and know if these decisions were the right ones.”

  True had barely stopped talking when she started.

  “You very much love your country,” she said in a soft voice.

  He was even further confused.

  “Of course,” he replied.

  “You do know, my prince, that if your reign is naught but peaceful and prosperous for your people, that is the very definition of a great king.”

  Abruptly, as if struck with a blow to the gut, True stopped breathing and stared at his intended.

  “And you do not travel safe because yours are a peaceable people,” she continued. “You travel safe because you are as loved by the people of your country as you love this green realm. And this is because you do not care the station of the man who sits at your table. It is also because you listen to them. Tonight, it was because you danced with them, even if that is not why you danced. You did that for me. And last, it is because, due to all of this, they know you will be a great king who will lead them to a time of peace and prosperity.”

  By the gods, he needed to make love to her.

  At the very least kiss her.

  Properly.

  But he could not.

  That day he had only seen but a few moments of melancholy steal over her features when he knew her thoughts turned to the mother she lost. He had kept her busy in this charming village outside the Lights so her mind did not turn to maudlin things. And he felt a very real triumph in giving her that.

  But even so, it still was not the time for ungentlemanly advances, even if it appeared she wished his kiss after their first dance.

  It was the time to get his tired queen-to-be to bed and hope on the morrow when they did not drink ale and dance in a pub but instead traveled in an effort to see the Lights, the night sky showed her its wonders.

  “Would you like to use the screen, darling? Or shall I turn my back?” he offered her the choice of how to prepare for bed.

  She dropped her head and appeared to studiously examine the floor as she moved toward the screen.

  “Those young men put my bags behind the screen. I’ll use that,” she murmured.

  “Farah,” he called when she was almost behind the tapestry-covered screen in the corner.

  She stopped and gave him her eyes. “Yes?”

  “I enjoyed the dancing,” he said quietly.

  “Did you find it fun?” she asked.

  “Fun?” he asked in return.

  Suddenly, she appeared very sad, and not about the loss of her mother.

  Therefore, he hastened to say, “Of course I found it fun, sweetling.”

  She lifted her chin just the slightest bit. “Your desire is to be a king who provides a peaceful, prosperous nation to the people of Wodell. My desire is to live my life beside a happy True Axelsson.”

  True felt his heart clutch.

  “I am happy, Farah,” he said gently.

  “Mio amore, you don’t know what happiness is,” she whispered. “You’ve never felt it. And I have never had a mission in my life.”

  She lifted her chin further and her voice was much stronger when she spoke on.

  “There is one thing in the now I am glad about. I have a mission. To make True Axelsson happy. And I vow I will not die until I accomplish it. And neither will you.”

  And with that, his Farah disappeared behind the screen.

  63

  The Vows

  King Mars

  The Master Bedroom, Cord Cottage, The Arbor

  WODELL

  Mars awoke without his queen in his arms.

  His immediate instinct was to growl his displeasure, find her and drag her back to bed.

  He did the first part of that.

  But upon turning his head, he saw her lying at his side, on her belly, her long, black hair a tumble over the pillows and sheets, face turned away, covers down to her waist, one arm thrown out, the other buried under her body, the ivory skin of her back bared for the rest of her was nude, and even unconscious, she appeared worn out.

  Something he knew she was.

  For he had made her that way.

  No longer annoyed, he grinned to himself, reached and pulled the cord that would call a maid.

  He then rose, moved to the fire that was dying and fed it some kindling and logs.

  Not that he felt the cold. He was not immune to it, but it was rare it was a concern for him.

  However, Silence felt it.

  He then moved out of the room and into his cabinet.

  There, he splashed cold water on his face, took some in his mouth to rinse, spat that out, dried his face and pulled on a pair of his ante pants, these black.

  He moved out the door to his cabinet that led to the hall and saw the maid, Pegeen, hurrying toward the master bedroom, thus he stopped.

  His wife had found a much more benevolent mood of late. Thus, she had not directed him to let go of any of the maids.

  Then again, the women had begun to do their duties, if only adequately.

  “You,” he called to her.

  She stuttered to a halt, her eyes darting his way, then falling instantly to his chest. An avid look filled them, before she shot them back up to his.

  It was an annoyance, but he made a note to don a shirt around others in this land. They, or at least the maids, acted like a bare chest was an invitation to pounce.

  “The queen’s draught, caffé, rolls and fruit. Also, fresh warm water for my bride and start the fire in her boudoir. Immediately,” he ordered.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” she said with a bow, walking backwards several steps, and he did not wait to see if she turned before she backed away so far, she fell down the stairs.

  He backtracked into his cabinet, closing the door behind him, then walked through it, closing the door to the bedroom so the chill from one room would not invade another he was trying to heat.

  He checked the fire, saw it was dan
cing, before he returned to bed.

  He slid under the covers carefully, in order not to wake his wife.

  He did not wish for her to wake.

  Yet.

  He studied her glorious hair and flawless skin and he did this thinking at the same time capturing a tendril of her hair and twirling its softness around his finger in a way she would not feel, but he could enjoy touching something that was her.

  Mars could not say that he was familiar with all there was to know about pennyrium.

  However, he was a man who wanted to father only children he wished to have, so the basics were known well by him.

  It was said the effects were nearly instant, and upon but a few hours of drinking the first draught, a woman would be protected from conceiving.

  Though if there was a margin of error, this was the point where that was at its greatest, and he had not heard frequent stories when conception occurred in this time, but he’d heard them.

  Silence had taken a draught with dinner the evening they first began to communicate much more freely in their marriage, both verbally and physically.

  She’d also taken one yesterday.

  This morning would be her third.

  It was time.

  With this thought Mars slid down in bed, released her hair, but took hold of her, pulling her over his chest and drawing the covers up her back after he had her where he wanted her.

  She nuzzled her face into his neck sleepily for a moment before she became dead weight.

  He again grinned.

  “Silence,” he called, shifting her hair off her shoulder and neck.

  She did not stir.

  “Silence,” he said louder, tightening the arm he had about her.

  She stirred, then mumbled, “’Tis not morning.”

  Mars smiled “It is, bellezza.”

  “Buh,” she stated.

  “You must wake,” he declared.

  “I mustn’t. We are a king and queen at leisure. We can sleep the day away.”

  “I have ordered caffé and rolls,” he informed her.

  “Ugh,” she grumbled, pressing closer.

  He started chuckling, through it saying, “We have not left our bed in over a day, Silence.”