by A. M. Manay
“Because I’m the queen now?” she replied, voice dripping with bitterness. “And you’re not a suitable husband.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” he replied. He struggled to keep his voice even.
“I don’t even want this!” she spat.
He knelt down in front of her, and she finally looked up at him. The tears in her eyes overflowed and ran down her face.
“I know,” Silas acknowledged. “And that it why you’ll be the best monarch this Gods-forsaken kingdom has ever had.” He took a breath before continuing. “If Charls were here, or Edmun, what would they tell you?”
She glared at him before admitting, “They’d say that I’ve survived this long with my condition because the Gods have chosen me for some higher purpose than my own happiness. That there is a reason I was spared, a reason that your life and mine have been intertwined since my birth.”
“And if I really believed in the Gods, that’s what I would say, too.”
“You’re just going to leave me to face this alone?” she demanded, voice cracking.
“No. Never!” Silas pledged. “Shiloh, you’re the only woman I’ve ever really loved. I’ll always be at your side. I just won’t be sleeping in your bed.” A corner of his lip twitched. “It’s not as though I’m any great prize.”
“Who will take care of me when I’m sick?” she asked. Her hand twisted the fabric of her skirt, her knuckles turning white.
“I will, with Jonn, just like we do now. I promise,” he assured her. “I promise.”
“You’re going to try to make me marry some lord who can’t even stand to touch me, and I’ll sleep in a cold bed the rest of my life. I suppose that shouldn’t bother me since I thought I’d take holy orders anyway, and I didn’t want you in the first place, but it does.” The fire of anger was gone from her voice now. It sounded hollow, as though Silas’s words had carved out a void in her chest.
“You never know. Perhaps you will be able to marry someone who appreciates you, like Daved. And you can have men, Shiloh. All the kings had one affair after another,” Silas pointed out.
“I’m not like all the kings,” she countered.
“No,” Silas admitted softly. “No, you’re not.”
“You’re not like all men.”
Silas nearly smiled.
“And Daved wouldn’t be able to handle the scars. Nobody nice could look at them and not flee,” Shiloh declared.
Silas winced. “Perhaps he will surprise you. Lord Redwood is stronger than he looks and smart enough to see your loveliness.” He heaved a sigh. “I’ve asked Penn and Hana to come stay with you.”
She snorted a laugh. “I have ladies-in-waiting now, do I?”
“They can be ladies-in-waiting and friends, both, you know. Though I think Hana would prefer being one of the royal guard.”
He pried her fingers open and bent to kiss the back of her hand. “I must go. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, first thing.”
She nodded and looked away. As Silas was about to close the door, he heard her say one last thing that nearly broke his resolve.
“I miss my father. He was the only one whose love for me wasn’t subordinate to politics.”
“Men are pigs,” Hana declared. “That’s all there is to it.”
Shiloh snorted into her goblet of berry wine. Hana and Penn had come prepared.
“I appreciate your sympathy,” Shiloh replied with a wry smile.
“It’s very sad,” Penn sighed. She leaned her head against Shiloh’s shoulder, and Shiloh tilted her own to meet it.
“I don’t know if it makes it worse or better that I’ll have to look at him every day. I mean, King Rischar probably spent more time with Silas than he did with any of his . . .” Shiloh trailed off for fear of hurting Penn’s feelings. “Sorry, Penny. I wasn’t thinking.”
Penn shook her head. “It’s all right. It’s the truth. A king and a chief minister spend a great deal of time working together. We’ve all lost a husband. But yours is still alive, at least. And where there is life, there is hope.”
“Hope for what? I don’t even know that I want him back, I’m so furious. All I know is that this hurts like mad,” Shiloh countered, “even though the marriage was arranged against my wishes.” She groaned in frustration. “And why am I all upset about this when I just found out that I have to fight to win a throne I don’t even really want to possess.”
“The more immediate pain gets the attention,” Hana answered. “I’m sure you’ll have the chance to agonize over the rest of it later.”
Shiloh snorted. “You’re always such a comfort, Hana.”
Hana grinned. “We aim to please, Your Grace.”
“Since when?” Shiloh retorted, then confessed with a sigh, “There is something about being loved by a dangerous man. Stupid, but exciting.”
“Speaking of men, have you tumbled into bed with Barr yet, Queen Penn?” Hana asked with a wink.
“Hana!” Penn exclaimed, her face flashing bright red. “I would never! Outside the bounds of holy matrimony?”
“Why the hell not? He’s adorable,” Hana countered. “And now he’s the queen’s brother. So you wouldn’t even be carrying on with someone below your station as dowager queen.”
“There’s a bright spot in this whole mess,” Shiloh allowed.
“I like him very much,” Penn admitted, blush fading. “If we both survive the next few months, perhaps a wedding will be in order.”
Shiloh smiled. “I’m glad to have something to look forward to.” She closed her eyes. “Let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow will bring a whole new set of trials, I am sure.”
“You’re an idiot,” Jonn stated, looking out of his tent at Silas, who stood there with a packed bag and a morose expression.
“The lords would never stand for me as king or prince consort. It’ll be hard enough to get them to swallow Shiloh as queen,” Silas protested. “And if she loses the throne, she runs a high risk of being murdered. As do I, quite frankly. I have to give her the best possible chance. Well? Are you going to let me in?”
Jonn heaved a sigh and stepped out of the way. “I wish I had proper rye whiskey to offer you instead of this Feral rotgut.”
“The moonshine will do,” Silas replied. He collapsed into a chair.
“How is she?” Jonn asked.
“About as you would expect. Shocked. Hurt. Frightened. Angry.”
“That is the effect you generally have on women,” John said. Silas glared, and Jonn held up his hands. “Sorry, Si. Bad timing.”
Silas took a drink. “She’ll get over me,” he stated. “But I . . .” He shook his head and said not another word until the bottle was empty.
Out of Scraps
Silas could hear them through the door. So could half the castle, he would wager.
“A marriage to a Feral chieftain? Have you lost your mind?” Edmun cried.
“Remember to whom you are speaking, brother!” Alissa retorted.
“I do, Your Grace! That is why I am so upset!” There was a pause before Edmun continued. “Please, Lissy, for the Gods’ sakes. Reconsider. An atheist, married before, who brings you nothing but a few men. What of Estany or Vreeland for a husband?”
“They are more than a few men, and they are the best we have. There will be more after we wed,” Alissa shot back. “Estany and Vreeland will not consider a match until after I win, so what good are they?”
“I have no objection to a dalliance. A queen has the right to do as she pleases to amuse herself,” Edmun began.
“Someone has been gossiping,” Alissa growled. “Do you have that Silas boy following me?”
Silas’s heart leapt into his throat.
“Of course not! No one has to spy on you to see it. You’re infatuated with this ruffian. Everyone knows, and everyone looks askance,” Edmun told her. “A queen cannot marry for love, Alissa. That is the price you pay for a throne. The match must bolster your power. Otherwise, it is useless.”
Shiloh sat in her front room, teacup in hand. Hana and Penn were still asleep, but she had found herself antsy when dawn had arrived. The tea was not the only thing that made her feel hot. Anger burned in her stomach.
She set down her tea and pulled on her boots.
She had to pound on Jonn’s door for the better part of a minute before he answered it, bleary-eyed and wincing. Evidently, the boys had gotten into something stronger than wine the night before. She didn’t apologize.
“My husband, if you please,” she greeted him. Jonn almost smiled.
“Silas!” he croaked. “You’d better come. Your wife looks loaded for bear.”
Silas hid his hangover better than Jonn did, but he still looked a bit worse for wear when he appeared in the doorway.
“Your Grace,” he began, only to have her hold up her hand.
“Don’t even start with that,” she ordered. “Not today. How dare you think you can unilaterally end this marriage? It’s bad enough you forced me into it. You’re not forcing me out of it, too.”
“But Shiloh—”
“But Shiloh, nothing. What are you going to say? That it’s for my own good? Please spare me.”
Silas stepped out and closed the door. “I’m trying to protect you and Bryn at the same time, my love,” he pleaded. “They will hunt you down like a dog if you do not succeed in taking the throne. I am afraid for you.”
“I’m sorry, were you under the impression that I need you to protect me? Were you the one who knocked down the Citadel and ended the Patriarch and his order all by her lonesome?” she demanded.
Silas couldn’t hide a smile. “No, of course not, but—”
“And who rescued you from the Dark Tower? Who saved you from the queen’s wrath on a flying horse that she made out of scraps?” she continued in high dudgeon, rolling on as though he’d said nothing. “I don’t need you to save me, Silas Hatch. I don’t need you to manipulate me. I don’t need you to make decisions for me. I need you to help me.”
She stalked away, and he stood there helplessly until she turned back around. “Well?” she demanded. “What are you waiting for? A gilded invitation?”
Shaking his head, he followed her, caught up, and attempted to plead his case once again. “No one will accept me as king or even as a prince consort, Shiloh. I have too many enemies, and my bloodline—”
“We can keep calling you Baron of Northgate for all I care. We can even knock you back to Master Hatch if you like, but you are still my husband,” she declared, whirling around to face him once again. “I made vows to the Gods. So did you. I don’t acknowledge the Patriarch’s authority about anything else. I’m certainly not acknowledging his authority to annul my marriage.”
“Look, little bird—” he attempted again, only to be silenced by a look that could have frozen him solid.
“Have you learned nothing from our ordeal?” she demanded, blinking away tears. “Nothing from being locked up all alone? Nothing from thinking you would never lay eyes on me again? Nothing from that week I almost died a half-dozen times? For such a brilliant man, you are so stupid. Life is short and fragile. And I am not spending it shackled to some power-hungry lord who only wants me for my position and whom I could never trust for a single moment in a thousand years.”
“Perhaps you could marry Daved,” he suggested, voice weaker than before.
“You can’t guarantee that,” she countered. “He could die. He could fall in love with another. He could decide he wants children. Anything could happen. Anything.”
Silas swallowed heavily. “We need the marriage available as an inducement, Shiloh. To gain cooperation from the other lords.”
“Induce them with something else. I will have to adopt an heir since I cannot bear one. I’ll have to choose one of them, or one of their children. Use that,” she argued. “None of them will want me for a wife anyway, throne or no throne. You can’t undo a thousand years of revulsion toward the hexborn just by overthrowing the church. You can’t undo my barrenness by placing a crown upon my Unclean head. Both of those things are a bridge too far for any of them but Daved.”
They came to a tree stump, and Silas sat heavily upon it. Shiloh knelt down in front of him, heedless of the mire.
“I will not have a marriage like Esta and Westan’s, like Rischar and Mirin’s, like Rischar and Zina’s,” she told him, voice softer now. “I will not have a marriage where we are each plotting in secret, where I will always be fearful of a knife in my back from the one who wears a ring I gave him. I refuse.”
For once in his life, words failed Silas, and he simply looked at her.
“If I have to carry this weight, Silas, I cannot bear it alone,” she declared. “I can’t. I won’t.”
Shiloh stood and straightened her muddy skirt. Silas squinted up at her where she stood, backlit by the brightness of the rising sun. Shiloh took a deep breath.
“I don’t need a king. I need the Hatchet. This marriage ends when I say it does, and not one moment sooner. Go get your things, and come home.”
“It seems our services are no longer required,” Hana observed. “Ha! Master Jonn owes me a Sun. He thought you would last two nights, but I said only one.”
Silas stood in the doorway, bag in hand, and sighed heavily. “Are you going to let me into my wife’s house?”
“Shouldn’t you be crawling?” Hana teased, still blocking his way.
Penn appeared behind Hana’s shoulder. “Oh, how wonderful! I knew it wouldn’t take.”
Silas sighed again. “Yes, it seems everyone knew that I am a fool.”
“A fool for love,” Hana crowed.
“For heaven’s sake, let him in already!” Shiloh cried from deep within the apartment.
The women stepped back, laughing, and Silas entered.
“You can go home, now,” he told them. “The show is over.”
“Aren’t you going to thank us for our help?” Hana demanded, hand on her hip.
“I’ll thank Queen Penn,” he muttered under his breath before regaining control over his manners. Silas bowed to both women. “Indeed, I thank you both for tending to my wife during my fit of madness.”
Shiloh entered the front room. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders. “Yes, thank you both. Truly. Now, shoo.”
Laughing again, Penn and Hana slipped out the door.
Without a word, Shiloh handed Silas her hairbrush. He smiled and put down his bag.
“What do we know?” Shiloh asked two days later. She sat at a round table in Keegan’s apartment and looked around at the council of sorts that she had assembled: Penn, Hana, Keegan, Silas, Barr, Lord Mosspeak, and Bluebell. She hid a grimace when her eyes fell upon the sister of Mount Tarwin. It was still difficult for her to trust the soothsayer, but she knew she might well need Bluebell’s insight.
“Esta died at Greenhill Palace six days ago,” Silas began. “The official cause of death was hemorrhaging subsequent to a lost pregnancy. Rumors abound at court, however, that she was poisoned. I think natural causes are possible, but the rumor is useful, as it reduces support for Westan by implicating him in her murder. Which is why I had the rumors started.”
Hana snorted a laugh.
“Lord Redwood, Daved Jennin, has been ordered to assemble an army of three thousand men. Lord Blackmine is gathering fifteen hundred. Redwood knows he is to march them to the southern Teeth the instant the roads are passable,” Silas continued. “Their mission is to rescue the Princess Loor and bring me and Shiloh to justice, with some murder of Feralfolk thrown in for good measure.
“It seems that Westan does not know that Esta had her sister killed, which gives some credence to the idea that he might have had his wife murdered, thinking he can keep the throne via Loor. Though a wise man would have had Loor in hand prior to ridding himself of Esta.”
“Does Westan know the location of Freehold?” Keegan asked.
“I think we have to assume he does,” Barr answered grimly.
“He
does. Daved confirms it. Your two exiled baby killers went straight to a priest as soon as the snow melted and told him all, which he dutifully passed along to his betters,” Silas shared.
“That’s what we get for being merciful,” Keegan groused.
“Don’t look at me!” Barr protested. “I voted for execution.”
Silas continued, “However, they seemingly did not confess their murder of Loor, presumably out of a desire for self-preservation. Westan must still think her alive, since he is sending men to look for her. Or perhaps he pretends to think so, and he intends to substitute another child for the princess.”
“You say they are sending Blackmine as well as dear Daved? Is Lord Blackmine truly loyal to King Westan?” Penn asked. She worried at a string of prayer beads in her lap.
“Lord Daved thinks so. Blackmine’s mother was Gernish, and Westan has shown him favor. As Lord of the Teeth, he certainly has no love for the Free,” Silas replied. “As for the other Lords, the latest Lord Kepler and Lord Fairview were true Reformers, so they will likely come to our side when given the chance. And Fairview has suffered under Esta, being kin to Zina, whom she hated.”
“Lord Fairview’s brother was locked up with us at the Citadel,” Hana confirmed.
“Speckley is the one who dragged me off to Fountain Bluff. Westan has given him much, so he may be a problem,” Lord Mosspeak shared.
“Blufeld will go where the wind blows. He grew up in Estany and has no loyalties either way, though he does owe me for his title since I helped kill the last Lord Blufeld,” Silas continued. “I doubt he will be keen to spill blood for Westan.”
“Should the people of Freehold scatter?” Hana asked.
Keegan shook his head. “They will be safer here. All the entrances are bottlenecks. We have water and food for months stored in Cliffside.”
“Being summer, we have less than three hundred fighting men in residence,” Barr pointed out.