by Renee Wildes
“He has no further wish to rule on this side. Thou knows what this means for thee.”
“I do not want the crown.” Loren stared into the pool, into the reflection of a calm pair of green eyes so like his own. “I know the rumors, but I swear to you I never wanted that power. I am no king, Granna. You need a diplomat, a statesman. You need someone patient and wise and logical and far-seeing…” His voice trailed off. His shoulders slumped.
“Dara was correct, thou cannot control what others might think of thee or thy actions. Thou shalt learn patience and wisdom comes with time. Logic thou already hast. The crown itself has much to do with the far-seeing. Thou shalt not always know the course the Hand would have us take, youngling.” Lorelei laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Thou may not have planned it, but here thou art. Cedric is not himself. His losses art grievous, his wife and two of his four sons. We canst ask no more of thy father. He hast ruled well for five hundred years. He is tired. Let him rest.” She pulled his head down onto her shoulder.
The strength in her frail arms never ceased to amaze him. “Granna, I have found my place. Right hand of the high king. Lady’s champion. Deane was the thought, I the action. Hani`ena is no palfrey to waste away in a marble stable awaiting the next parade. I shudder at sitting in ministry meetings with all those politicians bickering like children. I shall snap and solve every issue with the flat of my blade.”
The corner of her mouth quirked upward. “Well, that would shorten the sessions. Pari oft wished for something similar, along the lines of a universal gag spell.” She turned to meet his eyes. “Let me tell thee something, lad. The best kings never seek out the power. It is the nature of the crown to take the differences of each ruler and turn it to strength. It is the very reluctance that keeps them from abusing power.
“Pari wished to be a historian, a teacher. Cedric, an astronomer. The crown turned their questioning and solution-seeking into applicable problem solving. Every ruler has his own set of doubts and weaknesses. But every ruler has his own strengths too. The crown amplifies what be already there. The truth within thyself. justice and mercy to rule fairly.”
“A warrior king is a contradiction in terms.”
“Not true, my lad. Our first high king was Kiel. And this was afore Camryn the Wise created the crown.”
Loren flushed at the lapse in his memory. “I am no Kiel Brightblade, Granna.”
“Nay, thou art Loren ta Cedric ta Pari ta Lir and I tell thee now thou shalt make a fine King in thine own right.”
***
She’d been tossed into a cauldron and stirred. The bottom dropped out of Dara’s stomach, and she tumbled end over end, unable to tell which way was up until she hit a stone floor and rolled into her room in Cymry Hall. She just made it onto her hands and knees afore she lost all of her lunch and most of her breakfast.
Verdeen stepped in from the hallway, stopped and screamed. “My lady.”
First hurled a stream of fire at Dara until she staggered to her feet. The room spun, and she collapsed on the edge of the bed. “Crawl first, then fly,” it scolded.
“Thank you.”
It disappeared without a word.
“My lady, what are you doing here?” Verdeen knelt aside her.
Dara sat up and took a couple deep breaths to clear her head. “I came to say good-bye.”
“You are leaving?” Verdeen’s lips trembled.
“I can’t stay here.”
“But Prince Loren—”
“Is soon to be King Loren, and tradition has no use for a mortal, half-dragon fire witch for a queen.” Alani winning Loren after everything was unthinkable. “Can I have a bath? And pick out something pretty, the best of whatever’s in that cavern of a wardrobe over there. If I’m going out, I’m going out like a queen should.” Her eyes teared up. “If I can’t be your queen, at least I’m still a queen.”
“Aye, thou art indeed,” a familiar voice said from the doorway. Lorelei stood there. “Felt a flash of fire power and thought it best to come running. Just in case.” She eyed the mess on the floor. “Next time thou tries that spell, skip lunch—and breakfast.”
“I shall start the bath and then call someone to clean up.” Verdeen disappeared into the bathing room, and they heard water running.
Lorelei winked, waved her hands and a mini-rainstorm washed it all away.
Dara focused, heating the water until it steamed into vapor. The floor was as good as new.
“We make a good team. Thou shouldst stay.”
“I can’t. They didn’t care when Loren was Lady’s champion, but now you’ve all got him roped into heirhood and kinghood only an elf will do. Alani is a much more suitable choice as queen of the elves than I am. She’s the right race and she’ll live forever. Mortal to immortal is doomed to failure.”
“Winds of change. Thou wouldst turn thy back on him when he needs thee most? Thou wouldst doom him to eternity with a cold, ambitious woman with no thoughts of his happiness, but her own?” Her eyes were sad and old. “Thou shalt regret it for the rest of thy days, dost thou walk away from him now.”
“Well, thank the Lady I won’t have long to suffer.”
Lorelei’s hand cracked across Dara’s cheek. “How dare thou condemn him so? I hath lost my son for love, and now I shalt lose the third of my four grandsons, as well.”
“You would have him king, then I must leave.”
“I wouldst first see him happy, so thou must stay. I wouldst he enjoy a hundred happy years than none. Take thy bath, get dressed. If thou wouldst walk away from Loren, at least do it to his face.” Lorelei swept from the room.
Verdeen reentered the room. “The bath is ready.”
Dara stepped out of her clothes and slid into the hot, oily water.
The sound of a crashing door jerked her out of her reflections. “My lord, you cannot go in there,” Verdeen squeaked at someone.
“Where is she?” Cianan demanded.
Oh, lovely. “I’m in the tub, Cianan, so unless you want to start a new round of gossip, stay—”
The bathing room door flew open, and there he stood, hands on hips.
“—out.”
He scowled at her. “Coming to do the right thing, are you?”
“Not you too.” She sighed. “Cianan, I’m taking a bath.”
“I can see that. I figured you were not going anywhere for a while, so this was as good a chance to talk to you alone as any.” Cianan turned to Verdeen. “You, girl—out.”
“Verdeen, stay,” Dara countermanded.
Verdeen wavered, looking lost.
“I thought you cared not what people thought, vertenya. If you are leaving anyway, what does it matter who thinks what of whom?” Cianan’s gaze never left hers. “I once knew a woman who said, to royalty, I am told, ‘I learned long ago I have no control over others’ thoughts. Some prejudge regardless of evidence. As long as I know the truth of my own life, I have naught to hide.’ Such a woman—brave, sensible, proud—would be perfect for the man I love as brother.”
She swallowed hard against the tears. “Damn you, Cianan.” She cursed Cianan, but inside she cursed the hope that stirred.
He knelt by the tub. “I have seen you fight, vertenya. It was that fighting spirit that first captured his heart. Now you must fight as you have never fought afore. Give him a chance, vertenya. Do not give up on him.”
Verdeen piped up behind him. “You can still have your happily-ever-after, my lady. That is how all the good stories end after the evil-doers are defeated.”
Cianan smiled. “Sensible child. I shall await you in the hall.” He rose to his feet and strode out of the room.
Dara looked at Verdeen. “Anyone else waiting in ambush?”
“Lord and Lady, I hope not.” Verdeen’s eyes narrowed. “You are not planning on diving in or out of any more fireplaces, are you? I do not think I have a dress for that.”
Dara shuddered. “Nay.”
Verdeen smiled. “Welcome home, my la
dy.” She turned and left to find Dara’s dress. When she returned, she looked smug.
Lady only knew what she’d settled on. Verdeen got her scrubbed and dried. In the main bedroom suite, Dara stared at the dress laid across the bed. A black silk chemise went on first, then Verdeen pulled the purple gown over Dara’s head. Deceptively simple until she put it on, then it hinted at every curve. The back flowed down over the floor in a short train; the front was split to show the black.
Dara studied her reflection in the mirror. She looked naught like the sweaty, blood-splattered healer Loren had met. “I’ll bet Cianan’s fallen asleep in the hall by now.”
“You would lose that bet, vertenya.” Cianan stood in the doorway.
She stomped over to him. “Don’t you ever knock?”
“Desperate times. I am not letting you out of my sight.” His eyes took in her appearance at a quick glance, and warmed with approval. “My compliments to your groom. You look ready enough for one last battle.” He offered her his hand. “Ready?”
“What if he doesn’t want me enough?”
Cianan smiled. “Faith, vertenya.”
***
Dara and Cianan hovered just outside the side door to the main hall. The guard moved to open the door and announce them, but Cianan placed a finger against his own lips and motioned him away. The ranger opened the door a crack to hear what went on. The guard’s eyes widened, but he stayed silent.
“I forgive your little tryst with the mortal,” Alani said. “You can keep her as a sensuri if you like after we are wed. The king of the elves can keep an entire harem of the creatures for all I care. I can afford to be generous.”
Dara reached for a nonexistent knife. Cianan caught her hand. Wait, he mouthed.
“You forgive me?” Loren’s voice was pure ice. “You are in no position to voice an opinion regarding my actions.”
“It was our fathers’ dearest wish that we wed. Have you no son’s honor?”
“I shall have no one telling me whom I shall wed. I renounced you afore the entire ministry. I do not love you, Alani. I never have. I never shall.”
“What does that have to do with anything? You are to be king. You shall have to have a noble elven maiden as queen to rule by your side.”
Loren’s tone was incredulous. “What does that have to with anything? It has everything to do with who and what I am. I want what my parents had, what my grandparents still have. I would be happy, Alani, with one who understands and supports Loren, not the king. The Goddess showed me my true life-mate, and I shall not give her up for you or the crown.”
“You have gone mad. The ministry, tradition…”
“What once was is past. I look forward to the future. If we do not change we die. Go home, Alani. There is naught for you here. There never was.”
Quick light footsteps stomped away, fading to a slamming door. “Come on, vertenya,” Cianan said. “Heyla,” he called. “You alone in there, brother?”
“I am now.” Loren sounded weary.
“Well, not anymore. Look what fell out of the fireplace.” Cianan preceded Dara into the hall.
Loren stared at her. Dara saw dark circles under his eyes, white lines around his mouth. “Well, you look like a beaten carpet. What have you done to yourself?”
Cianan backed out of the room, chuckling.
“Dara?” Loren blinked.
“Last I looked.”
He touched her shoulder, her hair, as if he couldn’t believe she stood afore him. “Am I dreaming?”
She rolled her eyes. “Nay, if you were, I’d be naked.”
He grinned. “True.” Then his face sobered. “You came back.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
She looked him in the eye. “We have unfinished business, you and I. I would see it settled, one way or another. I’m not one to slink off in the middle of the night. I may be many things, but coward be not one of them.”
“Nay? I am glad to hear it.” He moved away toward the dais. “They want me to be king. Now. Father is…unwell. He stays in his rooms, has no care for anything anymore.” He turned to face her, his green eyes full of unspeakable pain. “He is leaving us.”
Dara followed him to cup his face in her hands. “You never wanted this, but there is no one else, and you will be the king stories and legends remember through history. Cedric has judged his own time. If the Goddess calls him to Ayala, let them be together. I know what it is to lose a father.” Dara took a deep breath. “Fanny died afore him and not a day went by Rufus didn’t miss her. At least now they’re together.”
Loren slid his arms around her waist. “As they should be. Father and Mother taught me above all things, enjoy the time you have together with those you love.”
“I’m mortal. I’ll grow old and weak, and I’ll die on you someday.”
“And I could fall in battle next week. There are no guarantees in this life. However long we have, it shall be enough. I would rather spend a single lifetime being loved and happy than another millennia without you. I spent fifty years wandering with Hani`ena, but never came alive until I met you. I have never asked for anything for myself, but I do now.” Loren took her hands in his and got on his knees. “The Lady brought us together, bound us together, but only you can choose to stay. Dara Kahn Androcles, you are my heart and soul. For me there is no other. Stay here with me and be my wife in truth?”
Tears stung her eyes and she bit her lip. “If the ministry rejects me—”
“There is no ministry. Forget kings and crowns. This is about you and me.”
She quivered at his fierce tone. “If you will have me, then I choose to stay,” she whispered. “I love you. Aye, I will be your wife.”
He rose to his feet and pulled her close for a long, tender kiss that made the tears spill down her cheeks. He wiped them away and smiled. “I want to go tell Father first,” he said. “Come with me.”
Dara didn’t know if she could face Cedric, but she nodded.
They left the hall and made their way to Cedric’s suites. The king’s valet Faerris answered the door. “Your Highness.” He gaped. “My lady.”
“We need to speak with my father, Faerris. I know he is unwell, that we do not have much time, but he needs to hear us.”
“Of course, Highness.” Faerris opened the door wide to admit them. His face showed hope creeping through despair.
Cedric sat at the window, staring out at naught. To Dara’s sense-sight, he appeared dimmed, faded. But he turned to smile at them both when they entered. “I be glad thou art back. Hath I a daughter now, youngling?”
“You do.” Dara knelt at his feet and took his cool hands in hers. She sent some of her warmth into him.
His eyes widened. “What dost thou think thou art doing?”
“I’d have you stay and see your grandchildren grow up,” she retorted.
He sighed, looking at Loren. “Grandchildren?”
Loren smiled. “As many as the Lady sees fit to provide.”
Dara blushed.
“Then I leave thee both in good hands.” Cedric smiled, but his eyes were hollow. “What of thy vow, Lady’s champion?”
“That is up to the Lady,” Loren said. “Come with me to the chapel so we can ask.”
Cedric, Dara discovered, had a private chapel with a shrine to the Lady in his suites, with stained glass windows facing east. An exquisite marble statue of the Lady towered over the altar. Loren lit some incense and they dropped to their knees.
“Lady, You chose me as Your champion, and I would honor my vow to You. But my people would crown me king and I cannot do both. The choice is Yours. If You would keep me, I shall renounce my claim to the throne.”
Cedric flinched.
“But if You would have me be king after my father, I ask You to release me from my vow and choose another champion.”
The statue glowed; uncanny eyes stared down at him. “King or champion, thou dare ask Me choose?”
Loren swal
lowed hard. “Aye, Lady. Gladly would I wield Justice in Your name, to protect the innocent and cleave the darkness in all Your lands. But I am also heir to Your kingdom here, and my father…” he faltered, “…is failing. I am to be named king.”
The Lady turned the full force of Her gaze on Dara. “Thou stay with him?”
“I’ll follow him to whatever end,” Dara whispered.
“Even unto death?”
“And beyond. As it should be.” Dara faced the Lady. “I’ve faced death. It isn’t so terrible a thing.”
“Lady—” Cedric spoke.
“Thou hast something to say to Me, king of the elves?”
“I tire of this world. I wouldst travel to the next to be with my wife and my sons. But I wouldst ask a boon from Thee. Thy Light be leaving me, and soon I shalt be gone. I ask Thou give it to my daughter Dara, that she and Loren may choose their own time and not be parted afore they be ready.”
Dara gulped. “Cedric, nay.”
“I give up my ties to this world,” Cedric stated. “I welcome thee to my family, and shalt smile on thee from beyond.”
“Wouldst thou stay with him for all time, daughter of queens?” the Lady asked.
“I’ll love Loren ’til my last breath,” she stated.
“Then Cedric ta Pari ta Lir, I grant thy request.” The statue’s arms moved, and smooth hands descended on Cedric’s and Dara’s heads. “Light to Light, father to daughter.”
Light, heat and power blazed into Dara, threatened to spill over. The voices roared in her head. She could barely breathe. It went on for an eternity. And then it was done. Dara opened her eyes and stared at Cedric. Her eyes filled with tears.
A wrinkled, white-haired old man, bent and stooped, smiled back at her. “But love him, youngling.”
“Always,” she whispered.
“Call thy candidates to the temple, King Loren ta Cedric,” the Lady ordered. “I would choose My next champion.” She looked at Cedric. “I grant thee the wedding and coronation, son of Pari ta Lir. Ayala awaits thee. Thou hast done well.” And She was gone.
Loren and Dara rose, and helped Cedric totter to his feet. Dara stared at her glowing hands wrapped around Cedric’s frail, age-spotted ones. “Sire, I…”