Daughter of Sun, Bride of Ice

by H. L. Burke

  Vanya already sat at the head of the long table, his queen, Leyal, on his right, his son and heir, twelve-year-old Masi, on his left. Beside Masi two places sat open for the visitors, as honored guests of the king. While there was no official seating order beyond women on the right, men on the left, there was an unspoken rule that had those closer to the king in blood and higher in the court in importance—such as Vanya’s yet to arrive pre-teen daughters, the older married brothers and their spouses, and long time court advisors—positions usually held by elderly uncles and other older members of the extended family—would have the seats nearest the king himself.

  An unspoken rule Arynne had every intention of ignoring. Chin held high, she quickly strode to the head of the table and took a seat two places down from Queen Leyal, directly across from Starwarden Kajik.

  Vanya shot her a glare. She bowed her head but said nothing. Vanya might not approve, but he was too proud to show his displeasure, let alone admit that she had defied him, in front of strangers to the court.

  As the other members of the family slowly filtered into the room and took their places, a few cast looks of confusion or annoyance at Arynne, but none dared to bring up the breach of protocol.

  However, having achieved her goal of ensuring a place where she could easily find out more about their visitors, her second step evaded her. Appearing too openly curious could cause her to seem gauche in their eyes, and as much as she wanted to stare at Kajik, such an action would be boorish, below her dignity. Instead, she looked anywhere except at him, flitting her gaze around the room, focusing on each new family member as they entered and chose their place.

  The older of the men, Rafal, engaged in pleasantries with Vanya and Leyal, extolling the beauty of Vanya’s palace, begging pardon for their worn traveling garments, and expressing hope that this would be the first of many diplomatic exchanges between Frorheim and Solea. His grasp on the Solean tongue was impressive, his accent lending some charm to what would’ve otherwise been a dull conversation. Vanya responded with proper if probably feigned interest. He inquired after their journey. Had it been dangerous? Had they encountered bandits on the road? What lands had they passed through to get there?

  Before Arynne could glean anything of interest from her eavesdropping, the serving staff made their way through, filling wine goblets and placing baskets of flatbread along the length of the table. The bread would serve as both food and utensils to scoop up the main course, a rich goat stew heavily seasoned with fragrant spices, the chunks of meat simmering in a rich brown gravy.

  Tired of sitting awkwardly, Arynne turned to address her sister-in-law, Queen Leyal, but the clearing of a throat brought her gaze back to Kajik.

  He smiled, folded his hands in front of his chest, fingers twined together, and bowed his head. “In my culture we clasp hands upon greeting, but from my understanding, this is proper address to a lady of standing in your culture.” Like his companion, Kajik’s Solean was accented, drawing out his vowels and slurring his consonants. While she could easily understand him, it did provoke a smile, and she considered giving him permission to speak in his native tongue. However, keeping her knowledge of his language a secret might lead to interesting revelations, especially since, as far as she was aware, she and Elfrida were the only two inhabitants of the Solean court who could speak the language. Kajik had already shown a propensity to speak unguardedly in his native tongue, and it suited her curiosity if he continued to do so.

  “It is more like this.” She pressed her finger tips together and bowed her head in kind.

  “Of course.” He corrected his hands and repeated the gesture. “I am named Starwarden Kajik, emissary of King Evyd of the kingdom of Frorheim. And you are named?”

  “Princess Arynne, sister of King Vanya of Solea.”

  His eyes brightened. “So you are princess. I had no desire to assume.”

  She bit back a smile at his quaint use of her tongue.

  Vanya clapped his hands. “Let us honor the Sun God and give thanks for this bounty his light has provided.”

  At this signal, the steward, who had stationed himself by the door, pulled on a lever. With a creaking of gears, a panel in the ceiling rolled back, allowing a bright ray of sunshine to pour into the dining hall, landing on a great crystal that hung from beneath the skylight. Refracted light in every shade imaginable burst like stars, dazzling the royal family.

  “Moss-elk droppings!” Kajik growled in Frorian, covering his eyes and ducking his head. “Are they trying to blind us?”

  “Starwarden, your language!” Rafal hissed in the same tongue.

  Arynne smiled. She liked this Kajik, especially when he didn’t realize she was listening.

  Perhaps noticing his guests’ discomfort, Vanya nodded to the steward. The panel slid back in place, returning the light level to a gentle dusk.

  The servers circled the table with steaming tureens of stew. For several minutes, the dining hall fell silent as those present tended to their meals. Arynne only picked at hers. She’d had a fine selection of cakes available at tea time and was far hungrier for information. Still, it would not do to show her hand too plainly. She knew well the saying that a silent sandhawk’s strike missed less often than one that shrieked as it flew.

  Pockets of conversation soon rose from further down the table as different family members engaged those seated near them in light conversation. Unfortunately, the one disadvantage of sitting near Vanya was that he would dominate the discussion of those around him. Already Rafal focused on the king, watching him eat and waiting for a chance to speak.

  “Are a number of princesses in the royal house?” Arynne started as Kajik addressed her again. Rafal shot him a glare.

  “Yes, a good many.” She gave a slow nod. “The title includes daughters of the late king, such as myself, as well as the daughters of the current king, and the daughters of the current king’s brothers and sisters.”

  “Of age to marry?” Kajik leaned forward in his chair.

  “Several of us, yes.” She took up her goblet and sipped the fruity, spiced wine, watching him over the rim of the vessel. Not subtle in his approach, but she appreciated the frankness—as well as his decision to address her rather than defer to Vanya. From Rafal’s glower, Kajik’s boldness displeased him, greatly.

  “Good.” Kajik raised his glass. He took a long swallow, and a grin quirked his lips. “After long journey with poor food and no liquor, a man could get used to such hospitality.” As he spoke, his accent grew less distinct, easier to ignore, perhaps from him listening to the native speakers around him. If that were the case, he was a quick study with a good ear. It had taken Arynne years of chatting with Elfrida in Frorian to grow comfortable with the inflections and oddities of the strange tongue.

  “Your Solean is impressive,” she said.

  “Thanks to you.” He bowed his head. “I studied many years, though mostly in books. I have little chance to speak it.”

  “My sister is right. Your grasp on our tongue is noteworthy considering we Soleans have had little to no dealings with those of your land,” Vanya interrupted. He narrowed his gaze at Arynne, perhaps wishing her to remember that he had allowed her a seat she did not merit but would not tolerate her commandeering the conversation for her own devices. “Which has me curious.” The king leaned forward in his seat. “It is a long and perilous journey from Frorheim to Solea, fraught with dangers none but the foolhardiest of travelers would care to face. What cause does your king have to send a delegation all this way? You did not risk the hazards of the road to engage my sister in idle chatter.”

  “I don’t know. A face like your sister’s is worth the journey to see.” Kajik chuckled.

  Arynne’s cheeks warmed, but she arched a cynical eyebrow at him rather than reveal her embarrassment.

  “Starwarden! Remember yourself!” Rafal slipped into Frorian again.

  Kajik subsided.

  “We do have a purpose to our visit, but I was uncertai
n if you wished to discuss such things over your mealtimes.” Rafal gave Vanya a simpering smile.

  Vanya shrugged. “If there is business to be done, it is best to have it in the open. What does your kingdom desire of mine?”

  “A long-term alliance, perhaps the opening of trade between our lands, but most of all—” Rafal dropped his gaze, then slowly raised it again to Vanya. The hair on the back of Arynne’s neck stood, though she wasn’t sure why. “My king has a son recently come to manhood, the heir to our kingdom. Frorheim is a small kingdom, and isolated. As you said, the journey to reach it is long and harsh, so we receive few visitors from other kingdom. In the last few generations, the search to find a maiden of noble enough blood to be a suitable bride to our prince, and yet not of close enough kin that the union would displease our God, has become more difficult. It is the desire of King Evyd that we seek for his son a bride of royal heritage from a kingdom other than our own.”

  Arynne pretended to focus on her meal, pushing bits of meat and vegetables around her plate with a scrap of bread. If she were chosen as the bride, she could leave Solea for Frorheim—and be free to use her magic. Did she want that, though? To wed a man she’d never laid eyes upon? Well, it wasn’t as if marriage for love had ever been an option for her.

  “Much good has been spoken of your court in our lands,” Rafal continued. “We know well of your wealth and power, but Frorheim also has much to offer an ally.”

  “What?” Prince Masi spoke for the first time, cynicism tainting his tone.

  Vanya raised his hand in warning, and the boy’s mouth snapped shut.

  “Our land is rich in mineral resources, veins of silver and precious gems,” Rafal seemed unphased by the challenge. “Beyond the ice shelves, a great sea provides us with fish and the seadogs who feast upon those fish are rich in fur.” He reached into his tunic and withdrew a scrap of fur. He held it out to Vanya. “A gift to your wife. The ladies of our court love the decadence of such pelts. I would imagine your queen, also, would appreciate such things.”

  Vanya offered the pelt to Leyal. She stroked it then pressed it to her cheek.

  “It is as silk ... and you say this is the skin of a dog?”

  “There is no word in your language for the creature, but seadog was our best approximation.” Rafal laughed, though the sound was somehow humorless. “Our caravan carried many such items with us, too many to bring to the dinner table.”

  Vanya stroked his chin. “I will not put any boundaries to trade between our kingdoms. It seems that such commerce would be of mutual benefit left unimpeded. Solea likewise has much we might offer a kingdom such as yours. However, what you ask of me is far greater than free passage given to your merchants. You would have me send a maiden of my household along a dangerous route to accept the hand of a prince strange to her and myself—and with the distance so great, like as not, she would never return to her family.”

  Arynne’s chest tightened. She hadn’t considered that. Leaving her family, never seeing Vanya or her sisters or the various cousins again—but marriage to a foreign lord had always been a possibility. At least this one would offer her a chance to live out her dreams, as a magic user.

  “We are not coming empty handed.” Rafal turned to Kajik. “The chest?”

  Kajik nodded before reaching under the table and producing the small chest she’d seen him carrying earlier. He placed it before him and opened it.

  Light burst from the chest like an unshuttered window. Leyal gasped, and Masi’s eyes widened. Even Vanya leaned forward in his seat.

  “These are called starshards.” Rafal reached into the chest and withdrew a handful of light. Arynne blinked several times. Her vision adjusted, and she was able to discern that rather than a single blinding whole, the contents of the chest were hundreds of individual crystals, ranging in size from a pigeon’s egg to the nail of her little finger. “We mine them from beneath the frozen earth of our land for their beauty but also their magic. The starshards are what allow us to live in the cold and dark, but even in a realm such as yours, they have much value. For their beauty, yes, but a clever magician or alchemist can extract their power for many wondrous uses.”

  Vanya let out a long breath. “They are most beautiful. I must admit, I did not realize Frorheim contained such riches.”

  “Yes.” A smug smile crept across Rafal’s face, and he shut the chest. “The contents of a chest would be an unprecedented bride-price for any royal maid, and if you allow us to choose a bride from the ladies of your court, it shall be yours.”

  Vanya’s face hardened. “Are you suggesting I sell you a woman of my court like a goat or a camel?” His tone sent a shiver through Arynne, and her fingers tightened around her goblet.

  Rafal’s jaw dropped. His mouth opened but nothing came out.

  “I do not know how you conduct yourself in Frorheim,” the king growled, “but in Solea we value the members of our bloodline—male or female—far above earthly riches. To suggest you can purchase a princess of our land—”

  “That was not our intent!” Kajik jumped to his feet.

  Vanya stiffened but switched his attention to the younger emissary.

  Kajik cleared his throat and picked up the chest. “Forgive me and my companion, King Vanya. Our hold on your language is weak. This chest is a gift, a sign of our respect and regard. It has no ... no chains?”

  Vanya’s face clouded.

  Kajik blanched and whispered in Frorian. “How do I express that there’s no obligation?”

  “But there is supposed to be an obligation,” Rafal hissed.

  Arynne took pity on him. “I think he means the gift has no strings attached, brother,” she said.

  Relief washed over Kajik’s face. “Yes. That.” He glanced down at her, the corner of his mouth quirking into a grateful smile. Her stomach fluttered.

  “Ah.” Vanya waved to the steward who came and collected the chest from Kajik. “I would consider an alliance, not with my daughters, for they are far too young, but perhaps a cousin ... I would need to discuss things with their parents, to discern who is willing to part with a daughter for the good of an alliance. I make no promises.”

  “Whatever you decide, honorable Vanya.” Rafal bowed his head, his tone defeated.

  Kajik settled into his seat again, eyeing Arynne. She gave him a nod before munching on the last of her bread. Vanya had said no daughters but hadn’t specified no sisters. Also, he was keen to marry her off, but would he agree to this? Wealth aside, the Frorians were too isolated to be useful allies in conflicts, and the sister of a king was a valuable bargaining chip in alliances. She flinched. Maybe Vanya wouldn’t sell her for wealth, but he’d implied he would for political prowess.

  Maybe she could convince him this was the easiest way to ensure her cooperation, but first, she needed to be sure a marriage to the Frorian prince would get her what she wanted.

  She needed to speak to Kajik. Alone.

  Chapter Three

  After dinner, the servants cleared the food away. The king rose, bowed to his guests, and announced that everyone would be retiring to the fountain hall for music and entertainment. He then took his queen’s hand and led her through the door. After a respectful pause, the rest of the family followed.

  During the course of the meal, the servants had prepared for the after dinner entertainment. Long couches had been brought out for the queen and king to recline upon as well as rugs and cushions for the lesser members of court. These all faced a small platform beside the water feature where a trio of magicians now sat, tuning their instruments and waiting for the audience to settle. There was a two-stemmed flute, a long-necked tambur, and a tall drum, the outside of which was decorated with bits of metal and rock the musician could use to make a wide assortment of sounds via striking, shaking, and rattling.

  Arynne waited for Kajik and Rafal to choose their seats, towards the edge, close to the water of the great pool, before settling on a cushion near enough to them to hear
if they decided to speak but far enough that they wouldn’t notice her ... or shouldn’t.

  A moment after she’d taken her place, she hazarded a glance in their direction and found Kajik watching her in return. He smiled. She stuck her chin in the air and turned to face the musicians again. Sun-burn the charming idiot. He was there to claim a bride for his prince. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve thought he was flirting with her.

  The music started, and the audience fell silent for the first song. Arynne tried to focus on the performance, but her mind kept turning back to the Frorians. After the first melody she angled to look at them again, and her jaw dropped. Rafal sat, scowling, alone. Kajik was no where to be seen. Where had that scamp gotten off to and what was he doing?

  With a quick apology to the cousin who sat behind her, she stood and wove her way through the crowd. A few other family members had drifted from the audience to converse among the pillars. Two of the female cousins caught sight of her and beckoned her to come closer. She shook her head and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead with a pained look, hoping to express that her head hurt and she wanted to get away. They both gave sympathetic nods and returned to their private discussion.

  Arynne walked among the forest of pillars, seeking Kajik. Now could be the perfect time to get him alone and ask him everything she wanted to know about Frorheim and its customs. While Elfrida had told her a lot, it was from the point of view of a peasants. Arynne needed to know the rules regarding a princess—and also as much as she could find out about this prince.

  Finally she sighted him, in a corner, chatting up a servant boy. Arynne winced and dodged behind the nearest pillar. She couldn’t be sure the servant wouldn’t tattle on her if she approached Kajik in front of him. No, if she were going to get her way in this, she’d have to be careful.

  The servant and the Frorian laughed together over some shared joke.

  “Thank you for information, friend.” Kajik passed the servant something that glinted silver. The boy’s eyes lit up, and he bowed before scampering away. Kajik grinned and took a step in the direction of the music.