Stranger to the Crown

by Melissa McShane

  “Are you sure? That sounds like we would argue frequently.”

  “Oh, but you wouldn’t mind arguing, because you’d always make up in the end. I understand making up—” His lips quirked in that familiar half-smile— “is an enjoyable part of marriage.”

  “Hmm. All right. Anything else?”

  The smile faded. He looked down at her, his eyes dark and intent on hers. “He should also be a devoted husband,” he said, “who loves you more than fire loves air.”

  She couldn’t look away from those eyes. “And you believe there’s someone out there who has all these qualities?”

  Faraday nodded. “I know there is.”

  “Someone near to me? Someone I know?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Someone who’s bound by law not to tell me how he feels.”

  Faraday’s lips curved in a wry smile again. “Maybe he tried, and heaven intervened. Are you going to let that stop you taking a chance?”

  Elspeth couldn’t help herself. She looked demurely away, a mischievous smile touching her own lips. “But suppose I ask, and he rejects me? I don’t know if I could bear that.”

  Faraday let out a deep, frustrated breath. “Elspeth,” he said, “if you don’t ask me to marry you, I will be forced to ask you to marry me, and then you will have to send me to prison, and that would be a terrible way for our life together to begin. And I really don’t want to go back to that cell. So—”

  Elspeth put her arms around his neck and pulled him close. “Will you marry me? Or should I spend the rest of my life trying desperately to find someone else I can love as much as I love you?”

  He smiled. “Thank heaven it’s not to be the cell,” he said, and kissed her.

  It felt like being struck by white hot lightning, how his kiss shivered through her whole body and left her trembling and desperate for more. “Oh,” she gasped when they finally separated, “oh, that is so much better than meditation.”

  He burst out laughing, a merry, unconstrained sound, and drew her closer to him so they were pressed against each other. Even that touch set her heart racing. “You are my dearest love, and everything you do and say delights me,” he said, “but I intend to record that sentence in my diary, and bring it out on our wedding night, and we will see if we can raise your standards for pleasure a little higher.”

  Elspeth blushed. “Kiss me again, then, because I truly didn’t know what to expect.”

  He smiled, and brushed his lips against hers before kissing her more deeply. She responded by slipping her hands from around his neck to his waist, marveling at how strong the muscles of his shoulders and back felt under her hands. The shock of his first kiss had faded into a warm, melting glow that flooded through her. A fleeting thought shot through her mind: my dearest enemy, and she smiled against his mouth and pressed herself closer to him. She wondered how it felt to him, if he too wanted it to go on forever.

  He withdrew from her, and she made an unhappy noise and reached for him again. He captured both her hands in his large, warm ones and said, “It’s getting cold.”

  “I can’t tell.”

  “Well, I can, and I intend to make sure my bride doesn’t freeze to death before we are husband and wife. One of us has to be sensible.”

  Elspeth lowered her hands and felt her bracelet rattle around her wrist bone. “As sensible as you were?” she said, raising her arm so the bracelet was level with his eyes. “This was your gift, admit it! I guessed it when we were in the cell and you asked me about the meditation ritual—you said it like you already knew the answer. Duncan, why didn’t you put your name on this? It would have saved us days of dancing around!”

  Faraday grimaced. “I knew I should have put the card inside the box, but I thought that would look like subterfuge, like I needed it kept secret from the world. I didn’t know it had fallen off at first. You didn’t acknowledge the gift at all, didn’t wear it, and I had about a day of black despair thinking you’d rejected me—worse, that you disdained me so much you couldn’t even reject me to my face. Then I overheard you telling Lady Quinn about the mystery bracelet with no name, and I went back to where the gifts were examined and found the card on the floor.”

  “But you could have come to me then. You had to know how I felt.”

  “By then it was too late—I couldn’t tell you the truth without sounding pathetic or maybe even going to jail. I’d made up my mind to tell you anyway, but then I was accused of treason and that was the end of that plan. And when I finally saw you wearing it, we were, as you pointed out, in my cell, and a man doesn’t declare love to a woman when he’s imprisoned, not if he wants to keep his self-respect.”

  She thumped him lightly on the chest. “I forgive you because it was the perfect gift, and if I’d been thinking at all, I would have known there was only one man who could have chosen it for me. You know the significance, right?”

  He held the bracelet loosely and traced the letters. “That which is two becomes one, but much must be shed to reach it. I thought it perfectly symbolized our relationship. We had so many misconceptions to shed.”

  “Exactly.” She put her arms around Faraday and hugged him. “And tomorrow we will see if I can shock Aldous Dane with my request that he plan a royal wedding.”

  “A fast royal wedding.” Faraday put his arms around her and slid his hands beneath her cloak to run his fingers lightly up her spine, making her shiver with pleasure. “I’m not a patient man.”

  “I know I don’t intend to dawdle,” Elspeth said. “I’ve only just discovered kissing. I hear that’s just the beginning.”

  “You hear correctly,” Faraday said, and kissed her once more.

  28

  Elspeth had thought, when the Magister of the Scholia had invited her to the opening celebrations, that the new building was just that—one building. She hadn’t expected a beautiful, sprawling campus with rolling lawns cut by gravel paths between many buildings, all of them built solidly of stone that looked as if it were intended to last longer than Aurilien. They looked less like houses than bethels, their walls reaching for heaven, pierced by arches and topped by slender spires. Her carriage drove through the arched stone gateway just as the bell in the tallest tower pealed the hour. “Extraordinary,” she breathed, leaning out the window not caring if she looked like a gawking country girl.

  “It had better be,” Duncan said. “I couldn’t believe Finance’s final report on the Crown’s contribution. I hope we can get our money’s worth out of them.”

  “You can’t put a price on learning.”

  “Actually, you can, and that price is ‘sweet heaven, they needed how many windows?’”

  Elspeth laughed. “They turn out the best educated men and women in the country, and those men and women will come to work for the Crown, and everyone will be satisfied.”

  Duncan took her hand. “I believe you’re right. But the Royal Library isn’t being moved?”

  “Nobody wanted to take responsibility for hauling that many books fifty miles. Besides, I want it where I can reach it.” Master Coll Trapane, the Royal Librarian, had looked relieved when Elspeth had told her the news. “And its current home is just right.”

  “It will outgrow that room eventually.”

  “Then eventually we’ll move it. You’re unusually pessimistic today.”

  He kissed the back of her hand. “Just thinking practical thoughts. The Magister didn’t look happy when you turned down his request for a permanent endowment from the Crown.”

  “That really would have been a stretch. We may support the Scholia, but they need to be responsible for their own maintenance, which means their own funding. And the Magister will come to terms with that eventually.”

  Duncan looked out the window past her. “He will. And this place really is beautiful.”

  The carriage came to a halt outside the largest building, where the Magister, a tall, angular man who resembled Veronica except for his bald head, waited to greet the Queen
and her soon-to-be Consort. More carriages bearing the rest of the Council and key government officials drew up behind them. Elspeth climbed out of the carriage without help and cast her eye on the building’s stone façade. Two enormous stained glass windows, each depicting men or women engaged in study, drew her eye immediately, and she remembered Duncan’s comments and suppressed a giggle.

  “Your Majesty, welcome,” the Magister said in his light, wispy tenor. “Please allow me to escort you on a tour of the Scholia.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Elspeth said.

  They’d thought of everything—buildings to house different scholastic disciplines, dormitories for students, housing for instructors, a low-roofed refectory for those who didn’t want to go into the nearest town for their meals, and a bethel for worship. The last was the building housing the bell tower. “You see we’re prepared to be self-contained,” the Magister said.

  Elspeth cast her eye over the wide benches that would allow for the entire population of the Scholia to gather, the shallow niches for individual worship, and said, “Do you anticipate the bethel seeing much use?”

  “We’re not a religious institution, obviously, so its practical purpose is for community gatherings. But we recognize the influence of heaven in bringing all this to pass, and we want to allow for individuals to worship as they please.”

  Elspeth thought it was more likely he’d recognized the influence of Elspeth North. A shiver of disquiet went through her that the Magister had tried to pander to her, but she suppressed it. If he wanted to honor her by honoring heaven, well, that was the sort of gift that ultimately blessed everyone, however cynical its beginnings might be.

  The bethel was the final stop on the tour, and the Magister led Elspeth to a seat at the front of the room, facing the benches. More seats had been arranged in rows beside and behind it, but this one was clearly intended to be permanent. Elspeth guessed it would ordinarily be the Magister’s. It was ornately carved, with dark green cushions and arm rests that curved at the end to invite the sitter to curl her hands around them. It was not a furnishing typical of a Tremontanan bethel, and was too fancy to be like similar ones in Veriboldan sanctuaries or even the Irantzen Temple, and Elspeth wondered whose inspiration it had been.

  As students and Masters in their black robes and colored stoles filed in and took their seats, Duncan whispered, “This isn’t what I expected.”

  “Me neither,” Elspeth replied. “He asked me to say a few words, but I feel like I’m presiding over a religious service.”

  “I suppose if they want to remember heaven guiding them in their work, that’s a good thing.”

  “I suppose.” That was true, but it was also the sort of thing that could lead to hidebound tradition as people forgot the spiritual intent and held onto the trappings of worship. And now she’d been infected by Duncan’s pessimism. The Scholia masters had the highest goals for the institution, and she was borrowing trouble.

  The Magister waited for everyone to settle in, then walked to a spot between Elspeth and the community. “This is a momentous day,” he said, “a day to celebrate the joy of learning and teaching. The Scholia seeks to uphold the traditions brought from Eskandel by Kerish North, but also to reach beyond those traditions to make our Scholia peculiarly Tremontanan. We are capable of reaching those goals primarily because of the support of the Crown. Please rise for her Majesty, Elspeth North.”

  The assembled men and women stood, the Masters’ robes swishing so the air was filled with the sound of a spring breeze. Elspeth stood and walked forward to take the Magister’s place. “I recognize the tremendous work you of the Scholia do,” she said, “and acknowledge how much my government has been aided by the Masters who fill vital roles within it. I hope the Scholia’s continued association with the Crown will benefit both of us.”

  She looked up at the vaulted ceiling, imagining she could see the bell tower through it. “Today, I invite you to consider the nature of this building. Our bethels reach toward heaven to encourage us to remember the ultimate destination of every man and woman. They are rooted in earth to remind us of our duty to live the best mortal lives we can. You of the Scholia have the opportunity to make tremendous advances in learning that will bless the lives of others, enriching mortality and aspiring to heaven. Please remember this as the Scholia continues to grow. Thank you for your service to Tremontane.”

  She sat, and the spring wind blew again as everyone resumed their seats. “Thank you, your Majesty, for your inspiring words,” the Magister said. “We will now take a moment for silent prayer and thought.”

  In the Temple, a priestess would have led the prayer. Elspeth touched her toan jade through her gown’s thin muslin and contemplated how different worship could be even when people shared the same faith. How many of these people were thinking about their dinners rather than heaven? It wasn’t any of her business, and she certainly didn’t judge; it was just an idle thought that arose out of her reverie. After all, every one of these people, she hoped, was destined for heaven whether they thought about it or not.

  The moment ended, she rose from her seat, and everyone else stood as she and Duncan walked down the center aisle, followed by her entourage. She looked ahead to where the grassy green spring lawn was visible through the half-open doors, propped that way to let cool air into the stuffy room, and took Duncan’s hand with a smile.

  “Ready for another long ride?” he murmured.

  She shook her head. “I was anticipating,” she said, “another walk just like this one.”

  The Crown gleamed in the bright lights of the antechamber. Elspeth stood regarding it, once again looking for scratches or smears. It was perfect. She brushed a fingertip over one of the emeralds, whose cool, smooth surface didn’t feel anything like the jade bracelet she wore on her left wrist despite its not matching the rest of her attire, which was North blue satin. The bracelet mattered more to her than anything else she wore that day.

  She lifted the Crown off its velvet cushion and settled it securely on her head. It fit as perfectly as before, not shifting when she turned her head to one side and then the other. It probably wouldn’t survive a vigorous head-shaking, but it would be fine for a walk down the long red velvet carpet and up the three steps of the dais.

  The door behind her opened, and she turned. “Well,” she said with an appreciative smile, “I’m certainly marrying the handsomest man in Tremontane today.”

  Duncan came toward her, his smile matching hers. “Just Tremontane?”

  “I don’t know everyone in the world, my love. But I suppose that’s possible.” He looked wonderful in the North blue satin coat that matched his eyes and showed off his shoulders—how long it had taken her to realize how broad his shoulders were?—and the matching knee breeches that showed off his excellent legs. Those, she remembered making note of almost immediately. “Let’s take a moment to admire how good you look.”

  “I ought to be offended that you see me as nothing more than a handsome body, but as I was just thinking how much I wanted to hold your beautiful body in my arms, objectify away.” He put his words into action, drawing her close for a long, sweet, breathless kiss.

  The sound of the double doors creaking open separated them. Duncan took her hand and guided her to the designated spot. “Are you ready, your Majesty?”

  “Mister Faraday, I have never been more ready for anything.” She paused, framed in the doorway with him, and looked out over the assembled crowd. “And that’s the last time I will ever call you that.”

  They took their first steps together, hand in hand, down the carpet that led straight as an arrow to the dais where their families waited. Elspeth’s eagerness propelled her faster until Duncan’s hand restrained her. He glanced briefly at her, smiling as if he understood how much she’d anticipated this day. Why he wasn’t running with her, she had no idea. Well, one of them needed to have restraint, and it might as well be him.

  As they neared the dais, Elspet
h watched the people standing there: to the right, Duncan’s parents, who still looked utterly shocked that their son was marrying the Queen, and his married sister holding her infant son, with her husband behind them. The baby wasn’t crying, though Elspeth felt it would add to the miracle of the proceedings if he did. Duncan’s unmarried younger brother stood beside his sister, grinning as foolishly as Elspeth feared she was. He had his brother’s dark blue eyes and the same funny half-smile. Elspeth glanced quickly at Duncan; he was smiling too, and her heart gave a little extra thump of excitement.

  To the left, her own family: her mother, tears streaming down her smiling face, her sibs, Ian wearing the scowl that said he hated his formal clothing, Sariah bouncing with joy, James overtopping them all. Veronica, looking strangely relieved—she’d lost so many loved ones, that made sense. And in the center, her father, with an expression of pride and happiness so profound Elspeth thought that alone might propel her up the stairs, dragging Duncan with her.

  She managed to maintain a respectable pace all the way up the steps and to her designated place to her father’s right. She felt her family ranged behind her, and it gave her strength. Duncan, facing her, let go of her hand with a final squeeze. She wanted to laugh at the humor in his eyes. Yes, this was a day no one had expected, least of all her.

  Her father cleared his throat, and the room beyond went even stiller. “We are here today,” he said, his voice carrying to the far ends of the room, “to witness the joining of Duncan Faraday to the house of North by adoption, and to witness the joining of Elspeth North and Duncan North by oath of marriage. If anyone disputes the right of these people to make oath to each other, speak now.”

  The pause that followed keyed Elspeth’s nerves to the breaking point. If anyone did have the temerity to speak up, she’d probably assault that person with her own hands.