The Awakened Prince

by Elise Marion

  The love she felt for her husband went beyond everything physical, everything visceral, and everything intellectual.

  Her heart sang as Lionus’ last words to her in the dream flitted through her mind.

  It’s time to let go.

  It was past time, she decided as she made her way to her chambers to wash and change. After she was presentable, she would look in on Serge. Hopefully, he would regain consciousness soon so that she could pour her heart out to him; it was near to bursting with the new revelation of her love.

  You’re right Lionus, she thought, it is time to let go. It is also time to move on.

  * * *

  A day later, Serge still had not awakened. Isabelle sat beside his bed as the sun began to rise on the morning after Christmas, praying and waiting for him to find his way back to her. Fever raged and ravaged his body, a sheen of sweat wetting his brow as he lay abed. Akira had done all she could to prevent infection, but it had come anyway, and now all they could do was wait for his body to fight it off.

  As she sat in the chair at his bedside, clinging tight to his hand, her mind traveled back to the entire year she had spent in this exact same position. After Lionus’ death, there had been nothing left to hope for, except the possibility that Serge could someday awaken.

  Now that the war had been won, Serge again teetered on the edge of death. As he tossed and turned in a fit of delirium, muttering incoherently, the fever raged on for three long days.

  She and Akira took turns sitting with him, changing the bandages wrapped around his middle and the poultice Akira had mixed to draw the venomous infection from his wound. Twice a day, they trickled broth down his throat and bathed his body with cool water.

  On the morning of the fourth day, Isabelle was relieved to find him resting peacefully, his forehead cool and dry. She collapsed in the chair beside him with a sob of relief, tears wetting her face. Leaning forward in the chair, she rested her head on the pillow beside his.

  “Serge,” she whispered, reaching out to stroke his freshly washed hair. “You have to wake up, so I can tell you that I love you.”

  Emboldened by his silence and state of unconsciousness, she continued.

  “I think I made a mistake when I said I couldn’t possibly ever love you. You see, I thought that to love you I had to stop loving Lionus, but I was wrong. I was afraid that if I surrendered myself to you, I would lose his memory … that I would forget him. But now I know better. I’ve let go of him now, Serge. I’ve let go because now I have you. Not an extension of Lionus or Damien. I have you … I see you. The man who taught me how to love again. So, you see, you can’t die. You have to live so we can be together. You have to fight, Serge.”

  Her relief over having finally confessed her love combined with the elation of knowing that the worst of his illness was over, caused Isabelle to relax. With her head resting on the pillow beside him and the steadiness of his breath putting her at peace, she surrendered to sleep.

  Chapter 20

  Four weeks later …

  The entire royal court had assembled for an event that Serge had managed to keep a secret. Isabelle had no idea what was going on, and no one who was aware of the details seemed inclined to tell her. Whenever she asked Damien or Esmeralda what her husband had planned, they remained tight-lipped, telling her she would just have to wait and find out for herself.

  After she’d donned her formal court attire with Gayle’s help, Esmeralda entered her bedchamber, her face weary and drawn. Tatiana had yet to reappear, though Damien and Serge had sent a search party to every village. She’d simply vanished, Lord Andrew Forsyth along with her.

  “I pray they haven’t left Barony altogether,” she said as she helped Isabelle rifle through the chest containing what was left of the Guthrie family jewels—which Serge had vowed to replenish for her. “I have heard that Lord Forsyth is in possession of a small vessel that sails to and from Cardenas frequently. Tatiana’s taste for adventure would prompt her to follow him anywhere if he asked.”

  Isabelle placed a comforting hand on Esmeralda’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll find her. Besides, she is probably deliriously happy right now. Granted, I do not approve of what she has done, but perhaps marriage will be good for her.”

  It was the most she could offer by way of comfort, and she truly hoped Esmeralda’s cousin would be found unharmed. She did not approve of the way Tatiana had worried her family, but understood that the young woman must walk her own path, just as they all had.

  Esmeralda forced a smile and nodded. “I suppose you’re right. I do hope she at least sends word soon. Mother is worried, and so am I. But, enough about that. This is a special day, and it is about you. I cannot wait for you to find out what Serge has planned.”

  Esmeralda turned her attention back to the jewelry chest then. She helped Isabelle choose a diamond choker and matching earrings, which perfectly complemented the crown she wore atop her upswept hair. Once she was ready, her friend swept her into a tight embrace.

  “You are the bravest woman I know,” Esmeralda whispered. “The people of Barony are fortunate to have you as their queen.”

  Isabelle smiled and looped her arm through her friend’s. “And the people of Cardenas are as lucky to have you as their queen. Now, let’s go. No doubt the men have grown restless waiting for us.”

  * * *

  Serge’s valet had just finished tying his cravat when a knock sounded from the other side of his dressing room door. Only a month after his injury, he’d begun to feel like his old self again. The wound in his side had closed, leaving behind a scar that stood out a bit more than his others—yet another testament to the things he’d survived.

  To say he was grateful to still be alive was an understatement, and he looked forward to ruling Barony for decades to come—hopefully in utterly boring peace.

  Today, the women’s regiment of Barony’s army would be honored in a public ceremony before the entire court—a well-deserved reward for their efforts in restoring peace to Barony.

  But first, he would tend to whomever had decided to visit him beforehand. It could not be Isabelle, as he’d just been informed that she and Esmeralda had left for the castle chapel, where the ceremony was to take place.

  “Enter,” he murmured, inspecting his appearance in the full-length mirror as his valet retreated.

  He nodded his approval to the man and dismissed him. He then turned to find Primus standing in the doorway, his expression solemn. They had not spoken since Christmas Eve, though once he’d recovered, Isabelle had told him how Primus had been responsible for their victory. If not for his arrival at the right moment, the battle at Guthrie Hall would have been a massacre.

  Primus stepped farther into the room and cleared his throat before executing a stiff bow. “Your Highness, I know that we are to leave for the chapel soon, but I was hoping to have a word with you first.”

  Serge clasped his hands behind his back and nodded. “Of course. What is on your mind?”

  “I feel that I owe you an apology, as well as an explanation.”

  “No explanation is necessary, Lord Primus. Even the best of men have succumbed to bad behavior while under the influence of drink.”

  “But I do need to explain,” Primus insisted. “I need you to understand … I thought that I was in love with Her Majesty. You see, I always had very strong feelings for her mother.”

  When his eyebrows shot up in surprise, the grand vizier gave him a sad smile.

  “It’s … unorthodox, I know. Her husband was my best friend as well as my king, but I wanted her.” He lowered his gaze to his polished boots face reddening with shame. “She was like a fever in my blood. No matter how I tried I could not purge myself of the emotion. Nothing ever came of it, of course. She never even knew how I felt, and I loved my friend and king too much to stoop so low as to pursue his wife. It was both a pleasure and a searing agony to have them both in my life.”

  “I understand, more than you know. Isa
belle was betrothed to my brother from the start, but I fell in love with her anyway. I despaired every moment of every day knowing she would marry him when I coveted her for myself. In a way, I know exactly how you felt.”

  Primus’ shoulders sagged, as if he were relieved to have Serge’s understanding if nothing else. “When I saw Isabelle again after all this time … she looked so much like her mother, and I just … I fear I may have confused the two in my mind, and transferred my feelings for the mother to the daughter. It was unseemly, but I’ve come to understand my error. You have my complete assurance that my behavior at the ball will never be repeated. But, if you were to see fit to dismiss me, I would understand.”

  “Isabelle told me what you did, how you made the difference between victory and defeat on the day of the battle,” he said. “If it weren’t for your brave actions, Guthrie Hall would have been completely vulnerable to the attack. My wife might have been lost to me forever. For that you have not only my forgiveness, but my undying gratitude as well. Your loyalty to Barony and to the Guthrie family has not, and will never be forgotten.”

  A wide grin spread across Primus’ face as he extended his hand to Serge. “Thank you, Your Highness. My loyalty lies with you as well, you know. Until my dying day.”

  Serge took the other man’s hand and they shook, a new friendship now born of a mutual understanding. Together, they turned to leave the dressing room.

  * * *

  Isabelle stood at the altar of the chapel, gazing into the faces of the gathered court. Each and every one had turned out in resplendent dress, and the room fairly buzzed with excitement as they looked on, waiting for what turned out to be some sort of ceremony to begin. Serge stood just in front of her, with Damien and Primus on either side of him. Ava, Mudiwa, Hanako, and Nell flanked her on either side. She exchanged glances with her friends, who had been outfitted in court dress for the occasion. They seemed as uncertain about what was happening as she was.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the court,” Serge began, his voice echoing through the sanctuary. “I have asked you here today to honor the brave women who saved the lives of many in this room with their bravery and selfless actions. It was said that a king would be the salvation of Barony, that by returning your queen to her rightful place and leading your armies, he would restore this land to its former glory. However, as I stand here today, I can say with conviction that no man can claim to be the savior of Barony. She saved me. She has saved us all. I am honored to present to you today, the person most deserving of your gratitude … My wife, Queen Isabelle Rothchester.”

  The applause that met her ears was thunderous, rising to echo from the rafters. She met Serge’s gaze questioningly as he drew his sword. He smiled at her before turning his gaze to Ava, Hanako, Mudiwa, and Nell.

  “Kneel, brave warriors,” he commanded.

  Each woman sank to their knees as the realization of what was about to happen seemed to strike them all at once.

  “My God,” Ava whispered, her voice heavy with awe.

  Mudiwa simply smiled, while Hanako raised her chin proudly. Nell had tears in her eyes, just as Isabelle did. She sniffled and held her head high while waiting for her husband to continue. Kneeling in court dress proved uncomfortable, but nothing could steal the joy of this moment from her.

  “Never in the history of Barony has a female soldier been knighted. In my opinion, this is an antiquated tradition, and a slap in the face to every woman who has ever laid down her life for the people in this room and beyond. So, I am proud to name you, Isabelle Rothchester, Ava Longley, Nell Gibbs, Mudiwa Akua, and Hanako Kiyomi, knights of the realm Barony. For your bravery and courage, I am proud to bestow this honor upon you, the warrior women of this great land.”

  The tip of Serge’s sword rested on one of her shoulders, then the other. She looked up to watch him do the same to each of her friends. Tears streamed unchecked down Ava’s cheeks, a small sob shaking her as the sword touched each of her shoulders. Hanako beamed proudly as she was knighted, while Nell pinched her lips together to keep from sobbing, her body trembling as tears wet her face. Mudiwa looked every inch the proud warrior as she was blessed last, stone-faced and fierce.

  The five women reached out to clasp each other’s hands as they rose and lowered their heads to accept the gleaming medals Primus placed around each of their necks. Damien gestured five women of the ladies’ regiment forward, each one offering them a scroll—upon which was printed the proof of their accomplishment, affixed with the king’s seal.

  Sweeping an arm toward them with a proud smile, Serge presented them to the court.

  “My lords and ladies, I give you Isabelle Rothchester, your undoubted queen, and Ladies Longley, Gibbs, Akua, and Kiyomi, the Lady Knights of Barony.”

  Isabelle could no longer contain the well of her emotions as the court began to bow, heads lowered in reverence. Her heart swelled with pride, and she wept with joy for these women, who had never been acknowledged as they should, but who now had the entire court showing them deference.

  They bowed to Nell, the fierce club-wielding horse master with a heart of gold. They bowed to Mudiwa, an African refugee who had almost ended her own life, but now had a purpose as one of Barony’s protectors. They bowed to Hanako, the quiet but fierce woman who had defied her husband to start a new life. They bowed to Ava, the brave captain who had transformed a princess into a warrior queen.

  Isabelle raised her chin and smiled, proud to be a part of what these women stood for: courage, bravery, and sisterhood.

  * * *

  That night, Serge sat beside the fire in his chambers, waiting for Isabelle to come to him. She prepared for bed in her dressing room, and had promised to come as soon as she’d finished. He stared into the flames, warmed by both the fire and the events of an emotional day. He was more than pleased with his decision to lift the restriction barring lady knights in Barony. His wife and her friends had earned the honor, and he was proud to become the first king to bestow knighthoods upon women in this kingdom. He would continue the tradition for years to come.

  As he stared into the hearth, his fingers habitually moving over the scar on his face, he thought back over Isabelle’s confession beside his bed weeks before. He had come awake just as she’d begun pouring her heart out to him, and he’d feigned sleep, thinking she might not be so bold if she thought he could hear her. He’d been elated to know the truth, to finally have her love.

  She had yet to say the words to him aloud since, though Serge had sensed a renewed passion in her when he took her to bed at night. He longed to hear the words from her mouth again, but had not wished to press her. He knew Isabelle loved him, felt it in every touch of her lips, every embrace. He would wait patiently for her to say the words to him.

  He was shaken out of his reverie when Isabelle appeared within his line of vision. Dressed in a plum silk nightgown that hugged her breasts and hips before flowing to the floor, she looked like a vision from a dream. She fiddled with her wedding band as she watched him through lowered eyelids, seeming to struggle with whatever she wished to say. She seemed anxious, and he had a feeling he knew why.

  “Is there something bothering you?” he prodded.

  She shook her head, causing her luminous blond waves to bounce around her face and shoulders. He loved the short hair on her more than ever, and was pleased she’d decided to keep it at the flattering length.

  “No,” she murmured. “But there is something I need to say. I’ve wanted to tell you so many times, but I could never find the courage or the right time.”

  She paused and lowered her eyes again. Serge decided to have pity on her and smiled.

  “Darling, I already know what this is about.”

  Her startled gaze met his when she glanced up. “You do?”

  “I do. I wasn’t asleep that day when you sat at my bedside. I heard every word you said. I know that you love me.”

  The tension left her shoulders as she breathed a sigh of relief. �
�I am glad you know. I’m so sorry for all I put us through because I didn’t realize it sooner. I could have saved us both so much pain.”

  “While that is definitely true, I cannot deny that hearing what I’ve wanted to hear for so long made it worth everything we have been through.”

  When she fell silent and remained where she stood, staring down at her feet, he reached out for her.

  “Come here, Isabelle.”

  Her feet moved noiselessly on the carpet as she came to him. When she stood between his parted legs, he took one of her hands in his.

  “I was an insensitive ass,” he admitted. “I wanted your love so badly that it hurt. I wanted it so much, I forgot about the bond you shared with my brother. In my jealousy, I was not as sensitive as I should have been to your pain. For that, I am sorry.”

  She sank onto his knee and took his face in her hands. Her gaze burned into his as she stared at him in silence, seeming to search for something deep within him.

  “I love you,” she told him.

  “I will never grow tired of hearing that … or telling you that I love you, too.”

  She smiled, but continued looking at him as if bursting with more … as if she had more to say.

  “What is it?” he asked. “There is something else, I can see it.”

  Her fingers reached up to trace his scar, then stroked over his jaw, then his lips.

  “I want to remember this moment,” she said, touching her forehead to his. “And I never want to forget the way you looked when I told you our wonderful news.”

  Serge leaned back to look her more fully in the eye. “What news?”

  A slow smile crept over her face as she took his hand and pressed it to her middle. Joy welled up in him so swiftly as he grasped her meaning he could barely contain it.

  “A child?” he asked, staring at her in wonder. “We’re having a child?”