by K T Munson
“What is the reason for this?” King Highlander asked and she didn’t raise her eyes.
She could not find the words she wished to speak. They were trapped under her tongue and at the back of her throat. So many words and emotions swirled around her and yet silence filled with silence. She was frightened; it gripped her and suddenly she could not control herself. She wrapped her hands around one another and held them against her knees. She tried to stop shaking.
“Do you regret this marriage?” He asked softly and she glanced at him a moment before returning to her knees. “In Vargos, a woman can sever her ties with her husband and return to her family. The marriage can be annulled after a year.”
“When we marry we marry for this lifetime and the next.” She finally managed to find her voice.
“I see,” he answered and she beheld him for the first time.
She tried to keep her voice steady though she knew it shook. “I thought I had resolved myself to this moment. Yet I do not know you, other than you were born hating my people and I was born hating yours. Our religion and cultures are so dissimilar; you are as alien to me as an Ostapori. ”
Ashira refused to turn away, fearful of his reaction to her candor. His jawline gripped tightly and she saw him swallow. Yet he regarded her and searched her face under the veil. Ashira did not regret her words, but she knew she should. She had sworn only hours ago to keep herself in check; such a short time to keep a promise to herself.
“I respect your honesty and in turn I find myself respecting you,” he finally said and she blinked in surprise.
He stood and turned away from her, his arms clasped behind his back and she managed in a whisper, “A month is not enough to overturn a lifetime but I will perform my duty as your wife if you require it of me.”
“I will not force myself on you; have no worry on that regard,” he said with a heavy sigh before turning back to face her. “I will wait until you have reconciled yourself to this marriage and to me. Though I hope it shall not take a lifetime. Good night.”
He strode from the tent without further delay. She watched him leave, his figure growing lighter and lighter the further he walked from her. Ashira was astonished; she had not expected that reaction from a king. Especially not the Water King; he had almost been gentle. Her heart suddenly tightened in astonishment as she pushed the veil back from her face and stared after him a moment.
She lay back against the bed and stared at the ceiling of the great tent. She wrapped her arms around herself, and found her heart content for the moment. So complete was her relief that she closed her eyes and a moment later she was asleep.
Chapter 20
Lancel Storm.
Lancel yawned as he stood outside the tent that Eliron and Princess Ashira had entered. Queen, he reminded himself, she was Queen Ashira now. The wedding had been a beautiful progression of strange traditions. Many he did not know but found interesting.
Ashira had been beautiful in her dark blue and many around him whispered that she would have been more fetching in light blue. Apparently wearing light blue, almost white, was normal for a bride in Roanoak. Ashira had shown good faith by wearing the dark blue to honor her husband to be. Yet, dark or light blue, her beauty could not be diminished.
Eliron had taken a large glass of wine before the wedding to calm his nerves but you would not have guessed he had ever been nervous. Only Lancel knew that his king was worried about this woman, he did not know. He watched as the last of the party returned through the Maiden’s Gate and left him in mostly silence.
He could hear their voices whispering and yet he could not make out the words. He glanced around and noticed a petal sitting on his cloak. They sure did love their flowers, these people of Roanoak. It was enough to drown in and yet somehow it had been very stunning. He held the petal between his fingers and felt the softness before tossing it on the ground.
He settled back on his heel as Eliron strode out of the tent to his right. Startled Lancel took a moment to react before taking after him. He glimpsed the tent, hesitating to wander too far. Eliron did not seem to have noticed him.
“My King,” Lancel said to get his attention but Eliron made no move to slow. H called out again but Eliron did not slow. “Eliron!” Lancel called and saw Eliron pause and look back.
“What is it?” Eliron asked and Lancel could see the tightness of his jaw.
“I called your name,” Lancel said coming up to stand beside him so he could see the tent from the corner of his eye. “Twice.”
“I did not hear you,” Eliron said, but he seemed to be coming out of a daze.
“What has happened?” Lancel said with a sideways glance back at the tent that the Queen was still in.
Eliron stood quietly for a moment; staring at the wall in contemplation before he spoke, “I was so focused on getting this gate and the harbor; I decided any sacrifice was worthy. I did not expect to regret my decision.”
“Regret? I do not understand.” Lancel wondering what Queen Ashira could have done to him.
“I expected the hatred, we have been enemies all our lives,” Eliron said, his eyes fixated on the gate. “I did not expect her fear. She wasn’t afraid of consummating the marriage, she was afraid of consummating the marriage with me.”
Lancel’s eyebrows rose up but he kept the rest of his surprise to himself. Eliron had been far too busy winning a war to concern himself with women, let alone a princess of superior birth and intellect, who had never been outside Roanoak. Eliron was a king, yes, but he was also a man. Just as Ashira was a princess and now a queen, but still a girl of seventeen.
“She is young,” Lancel finally managed. “All women fear their wedding night, even Karia admitted her reservations to me. You were right to stay your hand and give her time.”
“Yes,” Eliron said and he glanced at Lancel as he added, “but how long must I wait? This peace is turbulent, built on the thin trust of this marriage. If I do not consummate this marriage by Vargos’s laws, it never happened.”
“If you force yourself on her, she will never come to you willingly.” Lancel said tightly, the emotion from his memory roiled just under the surface.
“I am sorry old friend,” Eliron said clasping his shoulder, “I have made you recall sad memories.”
Lancel waved a hand in front of his face as though warding off the memories. “It was a long time ago. Have patience, Queen Ashira will see that you are good man.”
“Yes,” Eliron said a familiar gleam in his eye, “and I will start by keeping my word. Guard my queen and when she is awake, bring her to Evermore.”
Lancel smiled as he knew what the King intended to do. “As you command.”
Eliron began to walk away but stopped and turned back. “Make sure she is given leave to wish her family a parting farewell, I am going to extend an invitation to her family to join us at the turn of summer.”
“I will inform her in the morning,” Lancel said as Eliron hurried off.
Lancel returned to his post. He would remain there all night. Knights did not need much sleep, since they were deprived of it in training. He could sleep with his eyes opened and fully alert. Many called it meditation, either way it would serve for his sleep. He would stand guard all night, and in the morning he would take her to Evermore.
In the morning as the dawn broke the colors painted the sky. King Eliron mounted at first light and rode for home. Lancel watched him go with hope in his heart. Women flitted down from the Maiden’s Gate an hour later. They were veiled and each wore different colors. It seemed as though a rainbow was descended on him.
He pulled the first layer of the tent back and let them enter. Many gave him shy glances as they passed. They continued on like a flock of birds when Ashira awoke. He turned back and guarded the tent. It was a warm morning and it was going to be a hot day. Summer was already upon them and spring was nearly through.
“Where has the King gone?” She asked and Lancel nearly jumped out of his skin; he
had not heard her approach. He had been focusing on threats in front of him, not behind.
He turned back and found Queen Ashira standing just inside the last rung of the layered tent. He noticed instantly that her veil was gone and he saw now that the veils had only concealed her beauty. She flipped her long braid over her shoulder; it was covered in jewels that chimed when it rested against her back. The white veil of the tent no longer hid her blue-green eyes and Lancel was astonished at their simple exquisiteness.
“He has gone ahead to Evermore, to make arrangements for your arrival,” Lancel managed. “He bid me tell you that you should wish your family farewell before you join him in Evermore. He also bid me tell you that he had invited your family to join him at the turn of the summer.”
She did not respond, but turned her head towards the belly of Vargos. The look in her eye was gentle and he knew his King had all but won her. She smiled at him, a soft touch of the lips nothing more.
One of the women hurried up to her and said, “You must not let yourself be seen so exposed.”
“I am not exposed. This is my King’s favorite Knight; he is sworn to protect me now. I was told a Knight is but an extension of his king,” Queen Ashira told the woman before turning back to Lancel and asking, “Is that not correct?”
“It is,” Lancel admitted. He was pleased to see she knew so much. “I am the King’s sword and shield.”
“It is still improper,” the other woman whispered.
“By our standards,” Queen Ashira admitted, “But I must consider the country I am queen of. They will find me very strange.”
“I do not like it,” she said stubbornly.
“Then you can remain behind.” Queen Ashira said harshly and then glanced at him as though suddenly remembering he was there, “When would be best to depart?”
“Within the hour would be preferable,” Lancel answered earnestly, “but your escort will wait until you are ready to depart. You are queen.”
“I am, strange as it is,” Queen Ashira responded. “We shall depart in an hour. Make all of the necessary arrangements.”
“As you command,” he said with a slight bow of respect.
Ashira turned to return deeper into the tent to change and wash, but a few steps in she paused to study him. She held the dress in one hand, with all its layers and her braid ran down the length of her back.
“I realize I do not know your name,” Queen Ashira said. “What is it?”
“Storm, Lancel Storm.” He responded with a tip of his head.
“Lancel, a very good Roanoak name,” she responded and looked at him closely. “You were born here weren’t you?”
“My mother was,” Lancel admitted, though he had told few.
“He chose you on purpose didn’t he?” Queen Ashira asked, gently.
“King Eliron felt you would feel safer in my company as I grew up on stories of Roanoak,” Lancel explained. “I shall go and prepare for our departure.”
“Thank you,” she said. “For keeping me safe while I slept.”
He turned back to tell her it was his duty but she was already gone. The layers of fabric did little to betray her movement. He heard the women’s voices swell as she returned to them. He had wanted to say it was his duty, but really it was his honor.
Chapter 21
Hadrian
They crept through the night, using its cover to move towards the farm. There was a Master within the building. He was considered a cruel Master; known to work his slaves from morning to night no matter the heat. One of his Saviors had a sister who served there; they were there to free her if she still lived and all other slaves as well.
Hadrian may have led them, but he wanted them to decide where they went. He knew they were slaves, only three had been born slaves, and they must have families that were sold as well. Not always, some had committed acts of rebellion within their own community and others had been sold by their families. Javis had that sad story; he and his sister had been sold as children by their parents to Master Gregis.
He had worked on the same farm as her for nearly a decade until he was sold again. Apparently he had been lost in a bet and his new owner had collected him. Javis returned to the port, living on the Rentas side of the river with the new Master. His life did not improve but on a journey to the Master’s summer home they were attacked in the countryside. His Master was killed and Javis fled to Lorian. He wandered for years, wondering what had become of his sister. It was later that he became a member of the Seventy-Seven.
Others had told harsher stories, those much worse than Hadrian could have imagined. Well, he could imagine as he had seen the terrible things people did to each other, but it was still too cruel to consider. They had all wanted their Masters to suffer; Javis was the only one to ask him to save someone. It would take time to make them all see that murder did not solve the problem and that they would not feel better having gotten revenge. Instead, helping others would fill that hole, just as it had done for Hadrian.
Many had been angry with his decision but he had explained they had made their choice. They had decided to follow him and he had decided on Javis. A few more had left him with vengeance in their eyes, as was their right. He would not keep them, nor would he ask them to remain loyal. His only objective was to free slaves, with or without them.
The moon burned its bright eerie glow across the fields. He waved them towards the housing for the slaves. They were a row of poorly thatched housing that held seven in each one, just as Javis had described. There were two guards patrolling, and Hadrian could see the shiny leather of the whip on each of their hips.
Hadrian waited until one had rounded the corner before waving one of his men forward. He knocked the guard out and dragged him into the safety of the tall grass, of the field, near the farm He waved two more around to take care of the other guard. One of the first things he had told them is they did not kill without definitive proof of another’s guilt. If caught, his men needed to give the other man an opportunity to turn away, to surrender for his life; they all deserved a choice. Although they protested, Hadrian explained they were no better than the Masters if they killed, in cold blood, men who were just making enough to get by.
Hadrian slipped into the first house, it was dark and no windows showed him the way. He reached for his hip, slipped a glass globe from its holder, and shook it. Instantly the glow worms inside burst into a blue glow. Hadrian had taken them from caves in Sylon. They only needed water to survive and they sloshed around in the water within the globe. He would need to refill it soon; he had to every two days lest they dry out. All along the floor at the back wall was a row of blankets.
“Wake up,” he said just loud enough to be heard.
There was a young boy on the end who stirred and sat up to blink his eyes. His lips formed in the shape of a coin and his eyes went wide. He made a small shocked sound that woke the girl to this right. She was older, probably in her early teens. Her hair was braided in tightly and her night shift was loose and old.
“What is it?” She muttered to the boy but he pointed and the girl realized they were not alone.
“I am here to free you,” Hadrian said and the girl started shaking her head.
Their conversation had woken others because the girl did not whisper. One by one they rolled over and regarded at him with confusion. He had been lucky; it was a house of mostly women and children. There were at least ten of them crammed together on the floor.
“What do you want?” A pretty woman asked, with dark skin and a comely face.
“I wish only to give you freedom,” Hadrian said glancing between them.
The woman took in those around her who looked to her for a decision; she was clearly their unspoken leader. “I know what happens to women who are given freedom. Do you think I am so easily fooled?”
“My name is Hadrian, you do not know my name but you will. Javis is the reason I am here and after you have gone free we ride south to liberate others like you,�
� he responded. “I am taking women, children, and men to Lorian. All slaves go free. I will not force you to go, the decision must be yours and yours alone. You have fifteen minutes before we depart. Choose wisely.”
He turned and left and did the same in all the houses; moving quickly from one to another to another, until the last group was told their choice and he stepped out into the night having completed his task. He put the worms back on his hip and their light was replaced quickly by moonlight. None had emerged as he stepped from the house and down the two steps. He strode back to the edge of the field and waited, his men standing in the shadows behind him.
“Will they come?” Mardus asked him, a short man with fast reflexes and a nose that was permanently crooked from being broken too many times.
“I do not know,” Hadrian said looking from door to door waiting; their time was almost out. “The choice must be theirs.”
He waited, stuck on the edge of anticipation, watching each door with hopeful eyes. This was the first step; if he was successful here, others would follow because word would spread. He saw a movement to his right, and he shifted his gaze as he held his breath. A man came down the two steps and into the light of the moon. He saw Hadrian and ambled towards him as others followed him from the house.
“There are many maids that stay at the house,” the man said as his men waved the others into the safety of the fields. “Including Javis’s sister.”
They streamed out into the night many men nodding as they walked past but many more asking to join him. He put Mardus in charge of getting everyone to safety and taking them over the line to Lorian. He took only the old man who had told him of Javis’s sister and two more of his men. They made their way across the property, towards the mansion that belonged to the Master. It was white, he could tell it had been recently painted and the man had complimented it with a dark blue. All in all it was a beautiful house; a beautiful house for a monster.
They broke into the back and crept through the kitchen. Hadrian lifted the worms and shook them awake. Their glow cast a light down the stairs. They went down into the stores and past them into the back room. Seven women all slept soundly when they entered. The old man quickly went to wake them all, hurrying them into consciousness.