Allegiance

by Cayla Kluver

  Seven…eight…nine…ten. I gave him a slight curtsey and hurried toward the door.

  “You can stop behaving like a frightened rabbit, you know,” he said, forcing me to halt and turn toward him. “I won’t hurt you.”

  I didn’t know what to make of this statement or how to respond, and so continued to inch toward the exit.

  “I mean it,” he stressed, and I knew it bothered him that I was still positioned to flee.

  “Thank you, my lord,” I murmured. “I’m sure I will sleep easier.”

  He looked away from me to the ceiling, then down toward Cannan’s office, then back to his bracers to adjust what no longer needed to be adjusted. Something about my comment had hit a nerve, when I had intended it to pacify him.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said, focusing the commanding dark eyes he had in common with his father on me. “And I need you to be honest.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be meeting with the captain?” I asked, not liking the sound of his words and presuming that Casimir had continued on to their intended destination.

  “He can wait.”

  I nodded, succumbing to the inevitable, and walked back toward him.

  Once more he cast his eyes away from me, then pulled a dagger from his boot, turning it over in his hands as though he had just discovered some interesting new aspect, desiring to focus elsewhere in order to discuss what was troubling him.

  “You went to him,” he said bluntly, meaning Narian, of course.

  “Yes.”

  My voice surprised me with its near inaudibility—saying that one word in this context had been more difficult than I would have imagined. He grimaced, and I knew this conversation would be equally painful for both of us, despite how necessary it was that we have it. We needed to make peace.

  “Why?” he pressed.

  There were multiple answers to this question, and he had probably guessed them all. Fidgeting with the folds of my skirt, I chose the one least likely to brew conflict.

  “Narian had knowledge of Miranna that I could have gained in no other way. I needed to know if she was safe.”

  “Had Miranna not been at risk, would you still have gone to him?”

  I bit my lip, wary of his possible reaction, but then answered truthfully.

  “Yes. I would have wanted to see who he had become.”

  “And if he called for you today, would you still go to him?”

  My failure to speak immediately provided his answer, but his temper did not flare. Rather, he watched me as if fully aware of my struggle, with an emotion deep in his brown eyes that broke my heart.

  “I won’t be angry with you,” he promised. “Just say it.”

  I took a deep breath to summon my will, then met his gaze.

  “Yes, I would go to him. I can’t say that I would not. I—I love him. I’m sorry.”

  “You can’t be sorry for loving someone,” he said brusquely, flipping his dagger over in his hand before resheathing it, and I thought he was going to leave the room. He paced past me, then turned to walk back again, stopping a few feet in front of me. “You can’t help it, even when it isn’t good for you anymore. I should know.”

  The comment stung, though he hadn’t meant it to offend me, and I shifted, wishing for this conversation to end. He sighed, then moved to sit on the edge of the dais.

  “I can’t do this anymore, Alera. I can’t continue to fool myself into thinking you will let go of your feelings for him and devote yourself to me, and I can’t continue to hope you will come willingly to my bed.”

  He stood once more, the subject too sensitive for him to be idle while discussing it. I had never tried to view things from his perspective, but now that he was forcing me to do so, I realized that I was not the only one whose wedded life was not what they’d wanted or expected.

  “From now on,” he resumed, his voice thick with controlled emotion, “I will treat ours as a marriage of convenience, merely in place so that I can be King. I won’t pressure you for companionship or expect you to meet my needs. I will leave it up to you to decide if and when our relationship should advance. All I will ask is that you play the part of wife and Queen at public functions.” He examined me carefully, then added, “I think we’ll both be happier this way.”

  My eyes widened in astonishment, stunned by the proposal, by the sacrifice I knew he was making. If he were true to his word, I would be as free as possible under these unalterable circumstances. But my sense of relief was quickly overcome by guilt, for I could hardly bear his expression: distant and collected, it nonetheless told me that inside, he was aching.

  “Thank you,” I said softly, wondering if my heart would always sorrow, for no resolution seemed to be without cost.

  “Don’t,” he objected, but not in anger. “Don’t thank me.”

  He tore his gaze from my face and strode across the hall, then through the antechamber doors, leaving without a word to his father, with whom he was supposed to be meeting, or to collect his bodyguard. He was clearly not in the mood to face anyone else.

  Over the next few days, my relationship with Steldor improved. The tension was gone between us, for we had at least resolved our relationship, even though it was not in the manner he would have wanted. Nonetheless, we were more civil and relaxed with each other than had been the case in a long time.

  While the stress in my personal life had eased, the pressure of the war had not. The Cokyrians had not yet attempted to breach the Recorah, but they had enough troops deployed in the area that we could not ignore the possibility; given the length of the river that needed to be monitored, we had to devote far more troops to that front than did the enemy, for we could not afford to guess wrong about where they might cross. Our forces thus remained divided.

  To the north, our troops had the upper hand, although the enemy had sent soldiers of their own to try to outflank our archers. If the Cokyrians could clear our men from the gorge, their own troops would no longer be pinned down in the narrow valley. Cannan’s scouts had again done their job, however, and we knew of the enemy’s movements almost before they had begun. Foot soldiers and cavalry men engaged the enemy in the woods, and the traps that our men had rigged—deep trenches covered with branches and mulch into which the enemy would plummet, trip wires that could break a leg or snap a neck, and small boulders and weighted spears that would rain down from above—were wreaking havoc, as well. These latter measures would be effective only until all had been sprung or disabled, however, so eventually our men would have to rely on hand-to-hand skills to protect our archers. Knowing how well trained the Cokyrian warriors were and the unusual and lethal types of weapons they carried, I knew it was only a matter of time before the enemy’s troops would again be advancing through the gorge.

  While part of our success was credited to Narian’s inexperience in engineering a war campaign, everyone realized that this advantage would be short-lived. Cannan had already begrudgingly admitted that the Cokyrian strategy at the river was brilliant, for a small number of their troops were able to occupy a large number of ours. It was beginning to feel as if there were little we could do to affect the ultimate outcome of the war, as if we were fighting fate itself.

  There was another aspect to the war that I had not anticipated, but this one was bittersweet and beautiful. Weddings were occurring in Hytanica at an almost alarming rate, for young women feared the loss of their men in battle, and young men wanted to marry and potentially sire an heir before they met their untimely deaths. Among the many couples who would make the walk up the aisle were Galen and Tiersia, whose upcoming November wedding likewise had a sense of urgency about it. The ceremony would take place in one of Hytanica’s churches, with the reception in the Royal Ballroom, an honor bestowed on few, but Galen was the Sergeant at Arms, an unofficial second son to the Captain of the Guard and the King’s best friend. Given the state of siege that prevailed, however, and the rationing that had been instituted, the palace would not host a wedding f
east; simple refreshments would be offered in the ballroom.

  The afternoon of the much-anticipated wedding was blustery and cold, and the overcast skies threatened rain. My concern that this would put a damper on the celebration was unfounded, however; I had never seen a happier couple. Tiersia, in an ivory gown, was escorted down the aisle by her parents just as mine had escorted me, but she had no reluctance to take the arm of her groom. Galen, in a gold-embroidered black dress coat and black breeches, awaited her with his mother and Cannan, the man who had been a father to him since the age of three. Despite the sergeant’s efforts to appear collected and dignified, as was befitting a military man, he continued to break into unabashed grins. Steldor, his best man, was magnificent in rich red and black, although there was an air of melancholy about him, as though he were remembering our wedding and the less than idyllic marriage it had wrought.

  When the couple had answered all of the preliminary questions posed by the priest, they came before the altar, and Fiara, looking ready to give birth at any moment, moved to Tiersia’s side. It wasn’t long before Fiara’s husband ignored protocol and brought her a chair, for it seemed she might not be able to stay on her feet. Warrick had just returned from a military mission on which he had embarked but four days after they had wed, and the glances that passed between the freshly reunited couple left no doubt that they, too, were in love.

  It was when the priest began the exchange of vows that I felt a shift in the atmosphere of the ceremony, as though the solemnity of the occasion, as well as its joy, had descended upon the wedding guests. From my vantage point at the front of the church, I watched as the elderly clergyman joined Tiersia’s right hand with Galen’s, then the couple turned to face one another, blissfully oblivious to everyone in attendance.

  “Do you take this woman as your wife?” the priest asked Galen.

  “I receive you as mine, so that you become my wife and I your husband,” Galen said, with barely managed emotion. “And I commit to you the fidelity of my body, and I will keep you in health and sickness, nor for better or worse will I change toward you until…”

  His voice suddenly trailed off, as though the very real possibility that his life would be cut short had been brought home to him. For one horrible moment, I thought he would be unable to finish, but Steldor stepped forward and gripped his shoulder, enabling him to complete the vow.

  “Nor for better or worse will I change toward you until the end.”

  It was Galen’s unexpected struggle that brought the reality of the war and its true ramifications into sharp focus for me, likely having the same effect on many others in the church.

  The priest then turned to Tiersia. “Do you take this man as your husband?”

  “I receive you as mine,” she began with a pretty blush, “so that you become my husband and I your wife. And I commit to you the fidelity of my body, and I will keep you in health and sickness, nor for…”

  Like Galen, she trailed off, but it was clear from the widening of her eyes that she had simply forgotten the words. As her blush spread, I heard Galen lean toward her and tenderly advise, “Just promise to love me.”

  “And I will love you until the day I die,” Tiersia finished, and everyone forgave the slight modification she had made to the last of the traditional vows.

  Next came the rings. Removing his right hand from Tiersia’s, Galen raised her left, palm downward, then flashed an endearing smile.

  “With this ring, I thee wed,” he said, sliding the ring partway onto her thumb. “This gold I thee give—” moving the ring to her index finger “—with my body I thee worship—” sliding the ring onto her middle finger “—and with all my worldly goods I thee endow—” finally bringing the ring to rest on her third finger.

  After the couple had shared their first communion as husband and wife, the wedding ceremony came to a close, and Galen drew his bride into his arms for a long and shameless kiss while the guests cheered. The newlyweds then quickly walked down the aisle, followed by Fiara, escorted by Warrick, and Steldor and me. I could feel a slight stiffness in my husband’s otherwise cordial manner, as though being so close to me were tearing at his heart.

  From the church, we proceeded to the palace, the members of the royal family riding in the royal carriages, Elite Guards and Palace Guards in full accompaniment. We traveled down the main thoroughfare, and a strange sensation of peace washed over me. For the first time in a long time, I was looking forward to a palace gala, for there would be little pressure on me. The tension between my husband and me had dissipated, and I was but a guest at the party.

  Steldor and I entered the Royal Ballroom onto a small stage by way of the adjacent Dignitary’s Room. Lanek made the usual announcement, and the guests displayed the usual respect. I parted from Steldor immediately after and began to mingle with the crowd. I saw Tiersia chatting with her ladies-in-waiting and some other young women and decided to join them, in large part because Reveina was among them. Amid many excited congratulatory words for the bride and a lot of giggling, I managed to drop a simple question to Marcail’s unlucky wife.

  “How have you been?”

  I expected an evasive answer, but to my surprise, she sounded genuinely happy.

  “Better. My husband and I have had good fortune.”

  “I’m relieved for you,” I replied, quite baffled as to how her living conditions might have changed. “How so?”

  “My lord was promoted to Battalion Commander. It’s not an increase in rank, but it does provide higher pay, and he was quite pleased by the Captain of the Guard’s confidence in him.” She turned scarlet before confiding, “I’m afraid I may be happy for the wrong reasons, for his new position keeps him away from home for weeks on end.”

  Our conversation ended there, and she joined in with the chittering of the others, but her words stayed in my mind. After extending warm congratulations to Tiersia, I excused myself and scanned the room for the captain, whom I spotted thirty-some feet away with Baelic. I walked in their direction but not necessarily to speak with my father-in-law; the sight of him alone might be enough to confirm my intuition. Cannan thought Marcail well suited to being Master at Arms, yet he had without apparent need shifted him to a position that would permit the man little leisure time. Perhaps he had not turned a blind eye to what I had told him after all.

  Lost as I was in studying Cannan, I didn’t realize that Baelic had noticed my stare, and a flush crept up my face. Nonetheless, I gave him a dignified nod, thinking he would simply return the greeting and continue his conversation with his brother. But my uncle instead clapped a parting hand on Cannan’s shoulder and walked toward me.

  “You know, my dear,” he said as he arrived at my side, “it’s impolite to stare at the infirm.”

  “Which is why I was not staring at you,” I replied with a smile, by now accustomed to his brand of humor.

  He laughed, then escorted me toward one of the refreshment tables.

  “I wanted to apologize, Your Highness. I’ve been neglecting my promise to take you riding.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve been a bit preoccupied with more important things—the war, for example.”

  “Ah, my good Queen, never should anything take precedence over spending time with a beautiful lady—even be it single-handedly saving the kingdom.”

  Now it was my turn to laugh, and a half smirk curved his lips as he picked up two glasses of wine from the table before us, handing one to me.

  “You, sir, are an incorrigible flirt,” I teased, with a slight nod of my head as I accepted the goblet. “But I do believe I see your wife up ahead, and she appears to be looking for you.”

  “Does she seem annoyed?” He placed a hand on my forearm and leaned toward me. “If not, she is probably looking for someone else. Perhaps my wayward daughter—I’m afraid Shaselle and her mother have been at odds in my absence. But in any case, I should go to her.”

  He took my hand, giving it a kiss as he bowed.


  “Until we meet again, Your Majesty.”

  With a boyish grin, he walked off to seek out Lania.

  Finding myself alone, I glanced in the direction of the balcony where Tiersia stood just inside the double doors with our two husbands. Steldor and Galen were joking with each other, Galen happier than I had ever seen him. Tiersia stood nearby, an occasional blush warming her cheeks, and I couldn’t resist joining them. Steldor’s demeanor did not change when I arrived; rather, he greeted me as though nothing were going on between us, which, I supposed, was for once the case. With a smirk, he took the almost full glass of wine from my hand.

  “I believe wine is not to your liking, my dear. It seems a shame to waste such succulence on an ungrateful palate.” He swirled the liquid around in the goblet, then finished it in one draught, handing the empty chalice to a passing servant.

  We talked pleasantly, although Steldor and Galen could have more accurately been described as bantering, given their upbeat moods and the wine they had been consuming. Tiersia and I played along until Warrick, Steldor’s cousin and the husband of Tiersia’s younger sister, came over to us. I expected him to talk to Steldor, but instead he made a request of me, casting my husband and Galen a disdainful look. I had the feeling that these young men, although related, had not been friends growing up.

  “Your Highness,” Warrick said, “I wonder if there might be a private place where my wife could lie down. She is feeling unwell.”

  “Of course, I’ll see to it at once. Shall I also send for the physician?”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty, but no need for that. She is just overtired.”

  I motioned to Destari to approach and instructed him to escort Lady Fiara, who was seated by one of the refreshment tables looking quite pallid, to the Queen’s Drawing Room. He went to assist her, and I hoped Warrick was correct in assuming her ailment was nothing more than overtiredness.