by C B Samet
“In total, six hundred seventy-eight citizens of the Republic of Marrington are dead,” I said, repeating the number he had quoted me. I felt disheartened.
“You might phrase it more as ‘sacrificed their lives so that others may live,’” Joshua corrected me.
“If it helps you sleep at night.” I shrugged.
“I’m hoping it will help you sleep at night,” he replied. “Besides, it honors their memory to depict them as the courageous men and women they were. They’ll want to be martyrs, not victims.”
I nodded. He was right, of course.
“I saw Allis,” I said meekly, recalling his lifeless body on the battlefield.
Joshua looked puzzled. “You did? He came by?”
“No,” I said slowly, confused.
“I was sorry I couldn’t save his leg.”
“His leg?”
“Yes, apparently, I cannot reattach severed limbs. The stone has its limits. He took it very well, but then Allis doesn’t complain about ... well, anything.”
“He’s alive?” I remembered the face of death I had seen on the battlefield. “Allis is alive?”
“Yes, Abbey, he lives. Thanks to you. When you brought us back from the healing springs, he was the first person the Queen brought to my attention.”
At that moment, there was a loud knock at the door.
Two manservants opened the double doors, and the Queen, dressed in a stately green gown, entered. We both stood, and I watched Joshua bow. She was no longer Madame Q, but was once again Queen Rebekah the Fourth. I had gotten out of the habit of bowing on our quest, and now I was once again obligated to do so. Whatever my feelings toward her about her actions and their effect on my family, she was still the Queen and still deserved respect for the position she held.
I bowed slightly, the motion more like that of one of her counsel rather than the deep bow of a servant, more polite than subservient. The Queen released us with a hand gesture, and we stood erect. With another wave of her hand, a servant wheeled a clothes cart into the room.
“I have brought clothes for the upcoming events,” she explained. “There are several black dresses to choose from for the funeral, and the others are to choose from for your honorary ceremony.”
I looked at the clothing hanging on a rack just outside the room. Even from a distance, they appeared beautiful, expensive and vastly different from anything I had ever worn. “Thank you, mum,” I replied.
“I also understand that you and Joshua Colt are promised to each other?”
I started to open my mouth, but she continued quickly.
“If that is the case, then I extend to you a formal invitation to hold the wedding on the castle grounds at my expense. Think it over care- fully, and there is no urgency or deadline on the reply. If you accept, I would ask one favor in return,” she added.
I felt the muscles in my jaw tense and one eye twitch. “And what would that be?” She pursed her lips. “That will be explained to you, if you are considering my offer.”
I frowned in return. There was always a catch. Was I considering it? I had never been to a wedding, nor considered what my own would be like. I would like my friends to come, but I wouldn’t be able to afford a lavish party. A castle wedding could provide room and board and entertainment beyond anything I could accomplish on my own.
As a savvy political move, the Queen would be heralded for hosting the Champion’s wedding. I didn’t want to play into her political agenda, but I wasn’t sure I had a viable alternative.
“I am considering your offer,” I said slowly, carefully.
The Queen looked over her shoulder, dismissing her servants. They all left and closed the doors behind them. She poured herself a cup of lemonade from our cart of food and took a sip. Walking over to the window, she pulled the curtain back with her empty hand. More light spilled into the room.
“I need Malos’s scepter returned to Mulan,” she explained.
My head spun. “My parents’ quest?” I fumbled to get the words out of my mouth.
Joshua caught my forearm. “Abbey, you don’t have to do this,” he said quickly.
I looked up at my pillar of strength standing protectively at my side. I felt the warmth of his genuine concern. Then I slowly turned, looking upon the Queen with a furrowed gaze and the most incredulous expression I could muster, thinking she was crazy or maybe she thought I was crazy.
“You are the only one I trust for this task, Abigail Cross. You could have destroyed it and you chose not to. Others may try to take the power for themselves, but you don’t desire that sort of power. You can do this rightly and safely.” She stared at me with a hard gaze.
Silence hung in the room.
“Abbey,” Joshua cautioned.
I shook my head. “She’s right,” I breathed, not realizing I had been holding my breath. “I have a Healer and I have the Traveler’s Star. I can return the scepter safely by boat and cross back in seconds.”
“It’s dangerous,” he countered, taking my other hand in his.
“It is more dangerous for anyone other than me.” I thought of how I should have saved more lives on the battlefield. I could not pass up the opportunity to make amends.
He frowned.
“Come with me, Joshua. One last adventure before we marry. We’ll come back and have the wedding and be free of evil for the rest of our lives.”
He nodded slowly, kissing my hands. “What about the ocean?” he asked.
I knew he was referring to my fear of the ocean. A fear instilled in me ever since the moment I learned of my parents’ death.
“Two weeks ago I was afraid of Swallowers and then I conquered them. It’s time to conquer my fear of the ocean. It’s time to visit Mulan and say a proper farewell to my parents.”
That was the real crux, I realized as the words slipped out of my mouth. I would not go just to altruistically to protect others, but to see the island where my parents died. It was more for closure than peace. It was my chance to go into the beast’s lair and finally bid my mother and father farewell.
He nodded again, squeezing my hand in a gesture of support.
The Queen set her glass down on the table and walked toward the doors. She swung them open, then stopped.
“You can leave after the funeral and Convocation Ceremony,” she said, leaving, her dress skirt lightly sweeping the floor behind her.
The servants behind her closed the doors. She was out of sight, but not out of my mind.
Joshua and I looked at the remaining food; we were no longer hungry.
I moved to hug him, a gesture of gratitude for his unwavering support.
Instead he plucked me off my feet with a wolfish smile. His touch shot waves of desire through me, and I attacked with a ferocious, hungry kiss. He reciprocated with a gentle, enticing moan. After laying me down on the bed, he slid off his shirt and lay next to me. My heart raced as I touched his warm, bare skin.
“I thought...” I started.
He kissed me silent. He moved his caressing hands over my thighs and I gasped slightly at the pleasure it induced.
“We’re not,” he said, kissing me more. Then his hand was on my inner thigh and I understood. I arched my back in need and longing, my breasts pressing against his chest. We were kissing again and I lost myself in the pleasure of his touch.
11
The funeral service was held back at Marrin Beach. Instead of taking three days to travel by horseback, as most of the castle had done, the Queen, Joshua and I, with several bodyguards, traveled by the star on my palm.
The night we arrived at the shore was ablaze with four dozen bonfires. Thousands came to walk along the beach and pay their respects to their fallen comrades. A stage was set up on the beach with the ocean and fire in the backdrop. Next to me the Queen, her counsel and the remaining living ministers sat solemnly.
We faced a sea of mourners adorned in ebony. On closer inspection, they were mingling and comforting each other in a mood le
ss somber than I would have expected. There was a sense of calmness, acceptance and peace. Evil had been banished. The price had been paid to subdue it once again.
We dispersed Crithos Medallions to the families of those who had died. The Queen and I both wore billowy black-feathered dresses, though mine was fortunately a great deal less grandiose. They were made from crow feathers, a common funeral adornment, since crows were known to mourn for their dead. Most of the mourners wore a crow feather in their hat, or hair, or pinned to their shirt. Wealthier women put on more of a showy display by weaving beads and feathers into clothing.
Joshua stayed at stage left for the entire ceremony.
It was hard not to look out into the mass of people and not begin to relive the battle before my eyes. I tried instead to focus on the Crithos Medallions, cool and shiny gold-plated coins given to those who served Queen and continent.
After so many hours, when my legs wanted to surrender to fatigue from standing all day, the funeral ended.
Then the counsel took the stage and spoke of grief and loss. Aman’s speech was so heartfelt that it was obvious he spoke from experience. He implored us to remember the willing sacrifice of so many.
In his final remarks he said, “You and the loved ones you lost fought with such fervor and voraciousness that more lives were saved in this battle than in any other save one in the history of our conquests against Malos.”
For the first time, I let myself feel a sense of accomplishment. We truly had succeeded. And if we measured that success in lives saved, then it was a monumental victory. I felt a smile spread across my face and found myself clapping with the crowd.
The next day, I transported several carriages full of people back to Marrington. I was getting better at the transporting, though it was still physically and mentally exhausting. I began to notice, when I closed my eyes to shift and imagine my destination, for an instant, I could see that destination. More importantly, I could see it in real time, not as it had been the last time I visited. For instance, in the courtyard, where I was transporting the carriages, I saw someone walking on the cobblestone. I was able to adjust our landing spot so we didn’t land in an undesirable place—say, on top of a pedestrian.
At dusk, Joshua rescued me from further favors and pulled me away to the stables. The white building was immense, sheltering several dozen horses. The ends were open east to west, allowing for wind to sweep through it, keeping a cooling breezeway for the animals.
“I think someone has been missing you,” he said.
“Phobus?” I called.
A familiar golden-and-brown head emerged from one of the stalls on the far end. I ran to him, putting a hand on his head. He pushed against my hand slightly in a gesture of welcome. I opened his stall and entered, not caring that I was soiling a nice pair of pants and gold- embroidered shirt that had been among the clothing the Queen had reserved for me. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I hugged him fervently. He lowered his head slightly and we remained in the embrace for several moments.
Releasing him, I grabbed a brush from the ledge of the stall and set to work.
Joshua stood nearby, leaning against a wall.
“I returned Unis to Laos’s son. He is staying in the castle and will return to Aithos after the Convocation Ceremony.”
Still brushing the horse, I began thinking of all the things needing to be done. “The Convocation Ceremony is here and then we leave for Mulan via Waterton. We’ll travel to Waterton by train. I think I should return Phobus to Aithos. He doesn’t belong caged in a stable, though I suspect he is eating better than he is accustomed to.”
Joshua nodded.
I picked up and inspected a front hoof. Then, I crossed under his neck and inspected the other hoof. When I had finished, I returned the brush to the ledge.
“Ready?” I asked.
Joshua nodded as he reached for my outstretched hand.
I closed my eyes and a hazy, watercolor version of the fields of Aithos emerged. Horses grazed nearby. When I opened them, we were fully transported. The nearby horses spooked at our sudden appearance and trotted several paces away from us. Phobus bumped his head against my torso in farewell. I rubbed around his ears and kissed his forehead.
He took off at a lope and gave a single kick of his back legs into the air as though happy to be home.
“Joshua,” I began, keeping his hand in mine and walking through the field together. “We have spent such a concentrated amount of time together in the last few weeks that I feel as though I know your character and your interests. But in all that time, not knowing if we would have one, we have never talked about the future. I don’t know anything of your goals in life. I don’t know what career you want—only that you are a Healer. I don’t know where you imagine us living together. I don’t even know if you want children.” I hesitated. I didn’t know if I wanted children. I didn’t know where I wanted to live. I wasn’t even currently employed.
He seemed to have already considered these topics as his answer came abruptly. “When I complete my training, I should like to work as a Healer. It would be ideal to live close to my parents, perhaps in Meredith, though admittedly with your traveling abilities, we could live anywhere and join them for weekly brunch just as easily. Yes, I do want children, as many as you’ll allow. I didn’t have any siblings growing up. Being an only child can be lonely. I might not know what that entails, but the idea of a boisterous household is somehow appealing to me. I—” He stopped suddenly and looked at me as though he was trying to gauge if he had said too much.
I was momentarily speechless. He had answers, and they were wonderful answers.
“Of course,” he added cautiously, trying to discern if my surprise was one of excitement or concern, “those are all things we should talk about and plan together.”
I smiled. Meredith was a beautiful lake town and would be a grand place to live. Joshua would make a wonderful healer. And children. A whole sputtering house of lively children sounded both exhausting and exhilarating.
“What do you want to do?” he asked slowly.
Devious thoughts crossed my mind. What I wanted to do was re- peat the other night when his hands had caressed my body and ended in shuddering delight. We had done everything short of consummate our love, which only heightened my desire to wed him and find out what other pleasures awaited.
“I want to be a teacher,” I replied, trying to shake my distraction. “I want to be a wife, and a mother, and a teacher.”
Relief spread like a wave over his face.
We continued to walk through the Caballus countryside until the lowering sun demanded we return to the castle.
Three days later the Convocation Ceremony was held. Once again, I found myself in an elaborate dress worth more than a year’s servant’s salary. This one was a shimmering light blue and tailored to every curve of my body. Until this moment I hadn’t realized how many curves I had. I stood in the mirror just hours before the ceremony in full regalia. My hair hung in long black curls woven throughout with blue ribbons that matched my eyes.
There was a knock at the door. Three short bursts.
“Joshua, come in,” I replied.
He entered wearing black pants and a vibrant red tunic. It stretched across his broad chest, begging my hands to explore what it concealed. I restrained myself and did the only movement I was capable of in this billowing blue puff, bowing slightly.
He smiled and returned the bow. “Abbey, you look amazingly beautiful,” he marveled.
I turned back to the mirror and looked again. It was amazing, but it wasn’t the Champion.
“This is a little absurd,” I said. “And thank you,” I added hastily. I didn’t want him to think I was ungrateful for the compliment.
“I defeated Malos as the Champion—not a princess. The Convocation Ceremony is to celebrate the Champion. People want to see the Avant Guard, not royalty, not bourgeoisie.”
I waited for him to disagree and protest and proclaim m
y selfish- ness. Instead, he seemed to carefully consider my words. He walked a full circle around me, then stood in front of me and looked at my hair and my face. His eyes started to wander lower, but he brought them back to mine with some effort.
“You’re right,” he declared. “You should dress like the Champion.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “And the Queen?” I asked.
“The Queen will realize that you have made the right choice. But just in case, you should arrive publicly and no sooner than the start of the ceremony, so she does not have time to force you to change back.”
I laughed at his clever contrivance.
“May I make one request?” he asked, stepping closer, his lips still entirely too far away from mine.
“Anything,” I agreed.
He paused for a moment as though deviously considering the many possibilities. He looked up and down at my dress again.
“Wear this to our wedding. You are my royalty and my princess and a vision of beauty.”
I felt my face flush. “I will wear it,” I acquiesced quietly.
He kissed my lips gently. “I will leave you to find your Convocation Ceremony outfit, Champion.”
He left and I went to work.
From a darkened window, I looked around the gathering in the courtyard. There were a hundred or so citizens, dressed in finery, awaiting the Champion. The crowd sipped spirits and ate appetizers. The Queen’s Orchestra played a string prominent symphony as the statues of Champion’s past loomed over. The courtyard was lit by a hundred bioluminescent lanterns around the border and torches at the base of each tall statue. Between the row of heroes and heroines, a blue walkway led to the Queen’s throne, where she awaited my arrival.