by John Marco
“Father?” she asked innocently. “What is it?”
Karis turned to Jancis. “Would you leave us, please? I need to talk with my daughter.”
“Talk? But Father, we’re dressing.”
“Jancis, go,” said the king. The handmaiden didn’t wait to be asked again. Quickly she left the room and closed the door behind her, leaving Cassandra to stare blankly at her father. The ruler of Reec took a step forward, his eyes revealing an inner sadness. Cassandra had expected the visit, and had dreaded it.
“You’ve seen them from your window?” asked her father. His voice was soft. With her, it was always soft.
“Yes. That’s why I must dress.”
Karis shook his head. “No, not yet. I’ll be meeting with them when they arrive, but briefly. Akeela will be tired, too tired for even you to seduce him.” His eyes traced over his daughter. “I want him to be as impressed as I am when he sees you.”
“Then I won’t be meeting him now?” asked Cassandra.
“Tonight,” said the king, “after they’ve rested. When we dine, you’ll meet him.”
The princess drooped. She had waited so long to meet her new husband, and couldn’t bear more delays. But she didn’t argue with her father. Instead she let out a dramatic sigh, going back to the bedside and sitting down.
“I wanted to talk to you before tonight,” said Karis. He sat down next to her on the bed, then picked up her hand and placed it in his own. His skin was rough against her petal-soft fingers. But his eyes were soft and affectionate.
“A father shouldn’t have favorites, I know,” he said. “But I’ll tell you something now, Cassandra. I’ve loved you best of all.”
“I know,” said Cassandra. “You don’t have to say so, Father.”
“I want you to understand why I’m doing this,” he said. “You do understand, yes?”
“For peace,” Cassandra replied. It was what her father wanted to hear. “For the good of Reec.”
“And everyone in it, including all your sisters and their children. And even for my own good.” Karis squeezed her hand. “This is a great favor, daughter. Perhaps I’m selfish to ask it. So let me give you one last chance to refuse me. If you don’t wish to marry this Liirian, say so now, before I make the offer.”
Cassandra squirmed. Her father didn’t know how she really felt, because she hid it so well. “You would think less of me if I refused now, Father.”
“Never. I could never think less of you.” He looked deep into her eyes. “The truth, Cassandra. There’ll be no going back for you, not once the offer is made. And life in Liiria will be hard for you.”
“Not so hard, probably.”
Karis chuckled. “Ah, you don’t know yet, daughter. You think only of being a queen. But we don’t know this man, not nearly as well as we should. He may breed you like a bitch, one pup after another. Liirian men can be brutal.”
“He is kind,” said Cassandra. “You said so yourself. Only a kind man would offer peace, you said.”
“True,” admitted Karis, reminded of his words. “But it won’t be a fairy tale. You know that, don’t you?”
“Father, what is this?” Cassandra asked, laughing. “Now you don’t want me to marry him?”
Karis’ face was firm. “I want you to be sure of your decision, because it is your decision, not mine. I have no greater gift to give this king than you, Cassandra, but you are no slave. Say no to me now, and there will be no harm to it. I’ll find another way to seal the peace.”
For a moment, Cassandra almost told her father the truth. She almost confessed her great desire to leave her city and country behind, to finally be her own woman and not just one of Karis’ daughters. But she didn’t tell her father that, because it would have broken his heart.
“You said that Akeela is special,” Cassandra reminded him, “and that any woman would be lucky to be his queen. I believe that it is so, Father.”
Karis studied her with a grin. “You parse words like a barrister, Cassandra. Don’t do this thing just to spare my feelings.”
“Father, I am Reecian,” said Cassandra. “If Akeela will have me, then I will marry him, because I love you and I love our land.”
It wasn’t really a lie, and it made her father’s face shine. Karis patted his daughter’s hand and said, “You’re special to me. You always will be. And you will always be my daughter, even when you are a queen.” The king rose from the bed, straightening his stunning tunic. “Rest for now. Tonight, when the banquet begins, I will send for you. You will dance for King Akeela, and he will fall in love with you.”
Cassandra smiled. Since she had blossomed into womanhood, every man seemed to love her. It gave her power, the taste of which was sweet.
When her father left the chamber, Cassandra rose from the bed and went back to the window. Outside, she could see Akeela’s little army, now just outside the city gates.
The Reecian capital rose in a splendid arc before them. Lukien had never been so close to the city before, and as he rode beside Akeela, nearing the tall iron gates, he marveled at the simple, natural architecture and the grace of his enemies. Hes wasn’t like Koth, Liiria’s capital. It was smaller and had fewer tall towers, so that light fell easily on its white and brown cement, giving it a shimmering appearance. As the sun dipped down, the city came alive with candles, blinking in the round windows and lending the place an orange sheen. Lukien slowed his column as they neared the city gates. The dentate portals were opened wide in welcome. Beyond them, mounted soldiers sat at attention, their swords sheathed and their shoulders rigid. A procession of Reecian citizens stretched out behind them, disappearing down the avenues and watching the newcomers in silent awe. Lukien heard music, the brassy parade tunes the Reecians favored. An uneasiness grew in his stomach. Despite the obvious welcome Hes was giving Akeela, the Bronze Knight cringed inwardly. In the five years since becoming a full-ranked Royal Charger, he had clashed with these people dozens of times.
“You see?” said Akeela. “They welcome us. As I told you they would.”
The king rode a bit faster toward the waiting city. Lukien spurred his horse to keep up.
“Slowly, Akeela,” he warned. He brought his chestnut charger to a trot beside his king, steering the beast toward its brother to block its stride. “Let me go first.”
Akeela relented, checking his eagerness. He brought his horse to a halt. The winding column behind him stopped. Lukien waved his lieutenants forward, and Trager and Breck trotted out of the mass.
“We’ll go first,” he told the pair. “The king will follow.”
Breck nodded his red head. Trager’s face didn’t change. The two rode beside each other but behind Lukien, ready to lead their king and his procession into the city. As he turned back toward Hes, Lukien noticed a group of well-dressed nobles at the gate’s threshold. Karis’ counselors wore red and gold tunics and uneasy smiles on their bearded faces. One of them, taller and more regal than the others, stood a pace ahead of his companions, a black cape around his shoulders and sword at his side. The smile on his face twisted when he noticed Lukien coming toward him, and soon the contagion spread through the others. The soldiers along the avenue cocked their helmeted heads; a murmur rippled through the crowds.
The Bronze Knight had come.
Lukien squared his shoulders. He was Akeela’s herald, and that meant he needed to be fearless. His armored horse snorted its disdain, and Lukien rode across the threshold of Hes, into the midst of his enemies. The music grew as the musicians lining the avenues strummed their guitars and blew into their horns, and the red flags of Reec were everywhere, hanging down from apartment windows and held aloft by proud teenagers. Yet to Lukien’s surprise the Liirian flag was displayed too, held by a Reecian honor guard resplendent in crimson tunics and white gloves. As Lukien approached the nobles just inside the city, the foursome bowed deeply, putting their hands over their hearts and lowering their eyes to the cobblestones. They did not lift themselves until
Lukien’s shadow fell upon them.
“I am Lukien of Liiria,” he declared. “Herald of King Akeela and Captain of his Royal Chargers.”
The four noblemen raised their eyes to Lukien. The tall one’s smile was inscrutable.
“Welcome,” he said. He spread his arms wide, looking past Lukien to where Akeela waited behind Trager and Breck. “I am Earl Linuk of Glain. On behalf of King Karis and all of Reec, I welcome you.”
“Thank you,” said Lukien. He remembered the name Linuk, sure that he had faced the Reecian in combat before. As Earl of Glain, Linuk ruled one of Reec’s largest territories and was one of Karis’ closest advisors. Akeela had expected him at the meeting, but his presence distracted Lukien nonetheless. Hurriedly he spun his horse around to reveal his king. Trager and Breck parted, and Akeela rode forward. Again the four noblemen bowed, honoring the young ruler.
“My lord Akeela,” said Linuk. His voice rang with awe. “This is a great honor for us. We welcome you to Hes, and grant you all our city has to offer.”
Akeela looked regal atop his horse, and his expression warmed with good humor. “Earl Linuk, the honor is mine. Rise, please.”
The earl did as Akeela commanded, and Akeela surveyed the soldiers and citizenry that had gathered to meet him. Except for the music the huge crowd was remarkably quiet. Even the children hanging out of the nearby windows were silent. Akeela cleared his throat, then raised a hand to them all, just as he had practiced. He declared, “Thank you all for this warm welcome. I am truly glad to be here, and to be honored by you. This will be a great day, a great moment in history for both our nations.”
And with that, the crowd erupted. The people clapped and the children shouted, and the musicians played louder to compete with the clamor. Earl Linuk and his fellow nobles beamed at Akeela, looking relieved. Lukien felt a sudden calm. If this was a trap, it was ridiculously elaborate. He glanced back at his friend Breck, who gave him a wink, then at Trager, who simply looked disbelieving. The second-in-command of the Royal Chargers spun around toward his men, signaling them to enter the city, and slowly the column of horses came forward, led by a wooden wagon covered with a white tarpaulin and flanked by four armored chargers. As the wagon rolled forward, Akeela pointed at it.
“We bring gifts for your king, Earl Linuk,” he said. “May we present ourselves to him?”
The earl nodded. “King Karis awaits you at his castle, my lord,” he said, then gestured toward the center of the city. There, on a hill of green lawns and fruit trees, stood Castle Hes, a twin-towered citadel of gray stone slicing across the sky. The castle dominated the capital, throwing its two shadows down upon the baroque city. The main road from the gate seemed to lead directly to the castle, and the entire way was lined with onlookers and more of the ubiquitous musicians.
“It’s been a long ride,” said Akeela, “and I would like to meet your king as soon as possible. I think our gifts will please him, as will our news.”
“The king wants nothing more than to speak with you, my lord, I assure you,” said Linuk. “If you’ll follow us, you will see him presently.”
“Then lead on, Earl,” chirped Akeela.
Linuk and his courtiers turned and went to their horses, a group of brawny beasts with crimson blankets waiting at the side of the avenue. At the earl’s command the Reecian soldiers prepared to fall in line behind the Liirians. Akeela brought his horse forward, waving to the eager crowds. Lukien hurried alongside his king, followed directly by Trager, Breck, the wagonload of gifts, and the forty Royal Chargers accompanying them. The gates closed silently behind them, and Castle Hes beckoned them forward. Lukien looked about, spying the Reecians lining the street. All met his eyes with a distinct scorn. Though they loved Akeela, apparently, they hated his herald. The knight leaned toward Akeela.
“You were right,” he confessed. “Look at them. They adore you.”
“They adore the thought of peace,” said Akeela, his lips barely moving as he continued to smile and wave. “They are as weary of war as we are.”
“We?” chuckled Lukien. “You, perhaps.”
“All right then, me,” said Akeela. “You’re not king, Lukien. If you were, you’d feel differently.”
Lukien decided not to ruin the moment. Of all the Chargers, only he himself craved war, because it defined him and because he knew nothing else. He said, “I’m happy for you, Akeela. I’m happy you’re right.”
“Be happy for Liiria,” said Akeela. They were passing a crowd of young children, all boys, all excited and pointing at them. “Look there, you see those boys? They would have all grown up to be Reecian soldiers, with nothing more to look forward to than war. But they can have a future now. They won’t have to face you on the battlefield.”
Akeela’s logic was flawless and cruel, and it made Lukien stiffen.
“As I said, I’m glad you were right.”
The two rode in silence for minutes afterward, Akeela enjoying the crowds, Lukien enduring their stares. Earl Linuk and his party had brought them to the very edge of the castle hill, to another open gate leading to the outer ward of the citadel. Here, the crowds of citizens thinned, replaced by more soldiers and servants of the king. Stableboys and milkmaids had gathered in the yard, and the wide portcullis of Castle Hes had been raised, bidding them enter. The long columns of horsemen snaked into the ward, where Linuk and his men dismounted, handing their steeds off to waiting grooms. Akeela glanced up at the two towers, impressed by them. They were suitably grand, and the lichens climbing up their walls made them look ancient. Now that the sun was nearly down, the palace was lit with braziers. Grim-faced guards with feathers in their helms flanked the portcullis. Lukien waited for Linuk to fetch them. He dismounted, along with Trager and Breck.
Earl Linuk stepped forward and carefully took Akeela’s reins. “My lord, if you’ll come with me, I’ll take you to King Karis. He’s in his throne room, waiting for you.”
Akeela dismounted, eager to follow the earl. “Will, see to the wagon, will you?”
Lieutenant Trager said, “Yes, my lord,” and went to work. Like Lukien, he had known Akeela for years, and hated being ordered about. But he always did as ordered, and with Breck’s help pulled back the tarpaulin from the wagon. Atop the wagon’s bed was an iron chest with stout rivets and a padlock. Akeela gestured to it, asking Linuk if he could bring it with him to the throne room. The earl agreed without hesitation, but when Linuk called some of his men forward to carry it, Akeela said, “Don’t bother, Earl. My lieutenants will see to it,” then followed the earl through the portcullis. Lukien hurried after him.
“Breck, Trager,” he ordered, “bring it along. The rest of you, stay behind.”
Quickly he caught up with Akeela, falling in step behind him. The earl’s men surrounded them, talking idly about how pleased they were to have Akeela in Reec. The young king nodded and smiled, well suited to his first diplomatic mission. Lukien was proud of him, the way an older brother would be proud of a younger sibling. They had talked about this moment for months, and all the while Akeela had fretted about the task. Yet the new king seemed every bit as polished as his late father.
The halls of Castle Hes were marvelous. High ceilings swallowed them, decorated with mosaics of colored marble and gilded glass. Huge windows revealed the night outside as it came alive with stars, and glowing torches stood like sentries along the walls. The stableboys and milkmaids had gone, and now only well-dressed nobles greeted them, bowing to Akeela as he passed. Lukien caught the eye of a comely noblewoman just in time to see her snicker. He sighed and looked away. Just ahead a pair of carved oak doors hung open on iron hinges.
“The throne room,” said Linuk. He paused outside the chamber, stepping aside and gesturing for Akeela to enter. Akeela took a breath, then turned toward Lukien, giving his champion a nervous smile. Lukien encouraged him with a wink. Then, with Akeela leading the way, the two Liirians stepped inside.
The throne room spread out before them, high a
nd barrel-vaulted, with stout iron chandeliers and grand tapestries and a formidable dais at its far end. On the dais was a throne of ebony, with carved runes through its form and feet like the paws of a lion. Perched on the throne, his eyes as hard as diamonds, was King Karis of Reec. Akeela and Lukien took careful steps toward him, not averting their gaze. Karis’ face was emotionless. He studied the pair dispassionately, barely twitching his ringed fingers. Two more Reecians, dressed similarly to Linuk, stood on the dais beside him. Lukien guessed they were Raxor, the king’s war minister, and Arnod, the Reecian treasurer. Raxor was the king’s brother, and the family resemblance was striking. To Lukien’s eye, they could have been twins. Not so with Arnod, who was much shorter than Raxor and fair-haired. Both advisors were quiet as Akeela approached, waiting for their king to speak first. An anxious silence filled the chamber.
Then, unexpectedly, Akeela dropped to one knee before the Reecian king. He bowed his head, put an arm across his knee as if being knighted, and said, “Great King of Reec, I am Akeela of Liiria. By accepting me into your home, you honor me.”
Lukien couldn’t believe the sight, nor could Karis. From the way the Reecian’s eyebrows lifted, he seemed stunned by the greeting. Noticing that Lukien was still standing, Akeela casually reached out for his hand and gently dragged him downward. Reluctantly, Lukien joined in the bow, keeping his eyes on Karis. The King of Reec looked first at his advisors, then back at Akeela.
“King Akeela,” he said finally, “Thank you.”
Akeela and Lukien rose. The young king offered his host one of his warm smiles, which the Reecian did not return. Karis merely studied them. Thinking the stillness of the chamber would suffocate him, Lukien nudged Akeela to say something. But the king remained silent.
“You’re very young,” said Karis. “My advisors tell me you are twenty-four years old. Is that so?”
“Your advisors are accurate, King Karis,” said Akeela. “I am twenty-four.”