by John Marco
“I want to go riding,” she decided suddenly. “With Lukien.”
“What?” Jancis put down her knitting and stood. “Cass, don’t.”
“Why not? It’s my only opportunity. No one here will care.”
“What about your father?”
“My father’s twenty miles from here.” Cassandra pulled the canvas over her painting, hiding it from prying eyes. “I want to talk to him.”
Jancis huffed forward. “That’s why you wanted to come here, isn’t it?” she asked. “You just wanted a chance to be alone with him.”
When Cassandra didn’t answer, Jancis sighed.
“Please, Cassandra, don’t be stupid. Just forget it, all right?”
“I don’t want to forget it,” said Cassandra. “I want to find out why he’s been staring at me.” She looked at her friend imploringly. “I want to find out about him.”
Jancis shook her head in resignation. Cassandra gave her a smile.
“You’re a dear. Look after the painting for me, will you?” she said, then started back across the bridge. Lukien noticed her at once. He stood up, as did the others, bowing his head in greeting.
“I want to go riding,” Cassandra declared. She looked at Linuk’s servants. “Fetch me two horses, please.” Then she looked at Lukien. “You’ll come with me.”
The knight’s face drained of color. “What?”
“You’ll ride with me, keep me safe. You’re my protector, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then protect me. My father wouldn’t want me riding off without you.”
Lukien swallowed hard. “All right, my lady,” he managed. “I’ll ask some others to come with us as well.”
“No,” said Cassandra, brushing past him. “I came to Glain to get away from the noise of the city, not to drag it along by the tail. You alone will be quite enough, Lukien.”
As she passed, heading toward the house to change into her riding gear, she heard Lukien’s astonished gasp. A small, satisfied smile crept onto her face.
To Lukien’s surprise, Cassandra was an excellent rider. She hadn’t needed his assistance to mount or guide her horse, and in fact she led the way through the rolling hills of Glain, hardly speaking or even turning to regard him. Her silence was a pretense, Lukien knew, and it bothered him. She had surprised him with her request to go riding, then had once again turned into her stony, familiar self. As she rode a few paces ahead, taking full notice of the meadow and none of him at all, Lukien watched her in fascination. He even felt a little nervous. Or was it guilt?
They were far from Linuk’s house now, far from the other picnickers and servants, in a meadow of swaying grass surrounded by gentle slopes. Lukien could see no one for miles, just the birds and creatures that called the meadow home. They rode at an easy pace, Cassandra occasionally pausing to gaze at the open sky or steal a leaf from a tree. It had been nearly an hour since they’d left the others and her mood had quieted. She wasn’t quite the insistent princess she had been earlier, but she wasn’t a companion, either. It was as if she were riding alone, and Lukien kept a respectful distance, silently spying on her. A warm breeze blew across the meadow, stirring her hair. Cassandra tucked the ebony strands behind her ear, then looked around with a satisfied nod.
“We’ll stop here,” she said.
Lukien shifted in his saddle. “Stop? I thought you wanted to go riding.”
“I want to rest now,” she said as she slid from her horse. She smiled as she surveyed the meadow, enchanted by the sunlight on the grass. There was a patch of buttercups nearby. Cassandra sat down next to it and folded her legs beneath her. She stuck her nose into the flowers, became frightened by a bee, then plucked one of the blooms. Seeing Lukien still mounted, she sighed, “Please come down. I won’t hurt you.”
Embarrassed, Lukien dropped from his horse and towered over her. “Earl Linuk will be worried about you. We should head back.”
“We haven’t been gone that long,” said Cassandra. “And I have that old dear Linuk wrapped so tightly around my finger he can barely breathe. I could be gone for a week and weasel my way back into his graces in a minute. Now relax. You’re making me nervous.”
Lukien remained standing over her, unsure what to do. He felt awkward. He looked around for something—anything—to occupy him. Cassandra noted his nervousness and chuckled.
“Sit, Lukien,” she said. For the first time she gave him a genuine smile as she gestured to the grass beside her. “Here.”
Lukien at last sat down. His eyes darted around the meadow, praying that no one could see him. Cassandra gazed across the plain, sighing happily. Her face glowed with sunlight and a look of deep satisfaction. It was easy to tell how much she enjoyed being away from Hes. Without her father or sisters shadowing her, she didn’t seem like a child anymore. Lukien let his eyes linger on her a bit too long.
“You’re staring at me,” she said.
Lukien turned his head. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ve been looking at me a lot, I’ve noticed,” said the princess.
“Forgive me, my lady. I meant no offense.” Lukien groped for an explanation. “I’m supposed to protect you, after all. It’s hard to do that unless I look at you.”
Cassandra’s smile grew sly. “Oh.”
Lukien picked a blade of grass andtwirled it between his fingers. “It’s my job, you see.”
“Yes, I see. Thank you for explaining it to me. I was curious.”
“Well, that’s all right, then.”
Cassandra didn’t stop smiling. “Yes.”
Lukien cleared his throat. For some reason, he couldn’t keep himself from asking, “But you were curious?”
“Oh, yes,” said Cassandra. She played with the flower in her hand. “I mean, you were staring at me so intently across the pond, I was wondering why. I thought perhaps you found me . . . interesting.”
A tiny terror seized Lukien. He knew he’d crossed a line suddenly, and didn’t know how to respond. Cassandra was baiting him. Bolstered by the privacy and ignoring his guilt, he said, “You are interesting, my lady. You’re different from most women I’ve known.”
“Am I? Tell me.”
Lukien tried a smile. “You are very beautiful and talented, and no man can resist that. But you are also refined.”
Cassandra laughed. “Oh, but you live in the king’s castle. You are surrounded by refined women, sir.”
Yes, thought Lukien blackly. Surrounded and doomed to never touch them.
He didn’t tell Cassandra how he longed to be with a princess instead of a harlot, or how Liirian women of breeding were reserved for dukes and barons. He said instead, “Still, you are different. You can paint and you can dance. You can even ride a horse. I think you are a mystery, my lady. And that interests me.”
Cassandra brightened, not showing the slightest hint of offense. “And you interest me, sir. Here in Reec you are the Bronze Knight.”
“I’m called that in Liiria as well, my lady.”
“Ah, but in Liiria you are a hero, while here in Reec you are a villain.”
Lukien bristled. “I am no villain.”
“But you kill people. I have heard the stories. They say you are a berserker in battle. My Uncle Raxor once told me that you killed twelve men in the battle of Redthorn, even after he had called retreat.” Cassandra looked at him squarely. “Is that so?”
“I’m a soldier, my lady. I do the bidding of my king. When there’s war, I fight.”
The girl’s eyes narrowed on him. “But you love it, don’t you? I can see it in you. You love to fight.”
“It is what I am best at,” Lukien replied. He studied the blade of grass in his hand, then noticed the flower in Cassandra’s. The comparison made him laugh. He was like the grass—utterly common. And Cassandra was certainly a flower. But he had tried to be more than just a blade of grass. He had tried to distinguish himself through battle. “I won’t apologize for what I am, my lady,” he
said. “You are royal. You don’t know what it means to be a commoner.”
Cassandra seemed perplexed. “But you’re not a commoner. You’re a knight.”
“I am a knight now, true. People call me ‘sir,’ but it wasn’t always so.”
The princess leaned closer. “Tell me. I want to know about you.”
“I was an orphan, living on the streets of Koth. My father abandoned us and my mother died shortly thereafter. I was alone and had to fend for myself. And Koth is a big city, my lady. Bigger than Hes. It’s not a place for a boy to grow up alone.”
“How did you survive?” asked Cassandra.
“How does anyone survive on the streets? I stole. And I worked, when I could. The smithies were always looking for boys to exploit. They drove us like slaves. I lived like that for almost four years, all alone.” A smile cracked Lukien’s face. “Until I met Akeela.”
Cassandra noticed his grin. “You’re very fond of each other, aren’t you?”
Lukien nodded. Despite all the arguments he’d had with Akeela, he truly loved him.
“And you are Akeela’s champion? You protect him?”
“I protect him because I love him, because he is the closest thing I have ever had to a brother,” said Lukien. “And I protect him because he is the son of King Balak, whom I adored.”
“But he is a mystery to me,” said Cassandra. “I know so little about him, and who better to tell me about him than you? Do they really call him ‘Akeela the Good’ in Liiria?”
“They do,” said Lukien, laughing. “And it’s a name he deserves, believe me.”
“So he is a good man?”
“Oh, yes.”
“And will he make me a good husband?”
Lukien looked at her again. Her face had changed, set with worry. He told her, “My lady, Akeela is the dearest man I’ve even known. It’s why I pledged myself to him, and why I followed him here to Reec. There is no evil within him. He’s not capable of harming anyone, least of all you. Are you looking for a gentle husband? A man who will honor and worship you, and ask himself every day how best to make you happy? If you are, then you have found him, my lady.”
Their eyes remained locked, and for a moment they shared a thought, wondering exactly who Lukien had just described. Lukien felt his face grow warm with embarrassment. He looked away.
“Akeela will be a good husband, and a good king,” he said. “You will be happy with him, my lady.”
Cassandra was quiet. The flower in her hand had dropped to her lap. Now she was the one who was staring.
“You are not what I expected,” she said softly. “You aren’t a villain. I think you are . . .” She stopped herself, changing direction. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you, Sir Lukien. You must think me a shrew.”
“Don’t apologize, my lady. If your Uncle Raxor came to Koth, I’d probably treat him the same way.”
“No,” said Cassandra. “I must apologize.” She reached out and touched Lukien’s hand. “Since Akeela is so fond of you, then you and I should be friends, too.”
The touch of her hand was magical. Slowly Lukien let his eyes drift back to her, and saw in her expression something far worse than friendship.
“Yes, my lady,” he said. “Friends.”
Cassandra’s lovely face shone, but then went horribly twisted. She jerked back her hand with a cry, putting her hands to her stomach and doubling forward. Startled, Lukien rose and knelt beside her.
“My lady?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
The girl let out a horrible gasp. Her eyes were clamped with pain.
“Princess? What is it?”
Barely able to put up a hand, Cassandra moaned, “Nothing . . . I’m all right.”
“No you’re not.” Lukien took hold of her arm. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s nothing,” Cassandra insisted through gritted teeth. She was on the verge of tears.
“It’s . . . my moon blood, that’s all. That must be it.”
“Your moon blood? No, that can’t be it.”
“And how would you know about my blood?” she snapped. She rose to her feet unsteadily, pushing him away, stumbling toward her horse. Her face was colorless. Before she could reach her mount she collapsed to her knees.
“Cassandra!” Lukien rushed forward, putting his arm around her. “God, let me help you.”
The princess shook her head. “It will pass. It always does.” She took deep, painful breathes, steadying herself. “Please, just let me rest a moment.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Lukien insisted. “Tell me, please.”
Cassandra’s expression was poisonous. “There is nothing wrong with me. Just my monthly cycles, that’s all. And don’t you dare tell anyone about this, do you understand? Don’t utter a word of it.”
“My lady . . .”
“Not a word,” sputtered Cassandra. She closed her eyes to compose herself. The worst of it seemed to pass as quickly as it had come. Lukien released her, watching her fretfully. Carefully she got to her feet, her head drooping, one hand still pressed against her abdomen. “I must get back to the house,” she said. “Help me to my horse.”
Unsure what to do, Lukien obeyed, getting the weakened Cassandra into the saddle. He checked her for steadiness, then mounted his own horse. Cassandra found the strength to ride and urged her mount forward, returning the way they’d come. Lukien followed closely, watching her. She was already much better, but her color hadn’t returned and her shoulders remained slumped. He had never seen a moon cycle do that to a woman, and he was sure the princess was lying. But he said nothing as they rode, and eventually they arrived back at the lake where the picnic was still going on. They were on the far side of the water, where Cassandra had been painting. As they neared the gathering, Cassandra straightened in her saddle, putting on a counterfeit smile. Jancis saw them at once and came to greet them.
“Did you have a nice ride?” the maid asked, taking the reins of Cassandra’s horse.
“Yes, nice,” said Cassandra. She frowned at her companion. “But I want to go inside now. I’m tired.”
The worry on Jancis’ face was plain. “Get down,” she ordered, helping Cassandra off the horse. Lukien dropped down after her, shadowing her as Jancis led her away. It was then he noticed the painting, still sitting undisturbed on its easel.
“Let me get your painting for you,” he said, going towards it.
“No!” shrieked Cassandra. She wrenched free of Jancis and dashed forward. Lukien had picked up the painting, its canvas cover still draped over it. He looked at Cassandra in shock.
“What’s wrong with you? Just get inside. I’ll look after this for you.”
With a lunge Cassandra snatched the painting out of his hands, but it slipped from her grip and fell to the ground—just in time for a breeze to blow off its canvas covering. Cassandra went as still as stone. She glanced down at the exposed painting, then up at Lukien. Lukien’s eyes studied the painting, and for a moment he didn’t recognize himself in the work. But when he did, he gasped. Slowly he knelt down and picked it up. It was him, sitting by the water in his golden armor.
“Oh, my God,” Cassandra gasped. She put her hand to her mouth, mortified. “Jancis . . .”
Jancis hurried forward and took the painting from Lukien. The knight and the princess stared at each other. Cassandra’s face collapsed with grief.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m . . .” When she couldn’t find her voice, she turned and dashed away. Jancis lingered a moment longer, offering Lukien an apologetic smile.
“Don’t tell anyone, all right?” the girl asked. “Please, she’s embarrassed enough.”
“I . . . I won’t,” Lukien said.
He watched Jancis go after the princess. Across the pond, Trager was looking at him. But Lukien didn’t care. Something told him his life had just become a lot more complicated.
8
As the morning sun rose over Koth, Akeela walked
alone through a field of bricks and limestone, enchanted by his strange surroundings. A mountain of quarried stone lay to one side of him; to the other, a span of earth cleared of trees and grass. The foundation of a tower had been laid, and the outline of a main building could be seen cut into the dirt, a huge, rectangular footprint that could easily swallow most of the chancelleries. Akeela arranged his cape around his shoulders to stave off the morning chill, his chin held high with satisfaction. Not far away, the constructs of Koth threw shadows onto the work site. He could see Lionkeep on its hill, surrounded by the government halls of Chancellery Square, and knew that he had picked the perfect place for his Cathedral of Knowledge.
“Perfect,” he whispered over the breeze. No one heard him. He had come alone, except for Breck, who was on the other side of the site marveling at the mountain of limestone. It was an ambitious project and Breck had voiced his doubts, but upon seeing the work that had been accomplished in the past few weeks, the soldier was becoming a convert. They all were, even the stodgy lords of the House of Dukes, and that pleased Akeela. His enthusiasm for his library was contagious.
He strode through the site toward the foundation of the tower. The first inklings of its construction revealed a round base that would one day rise high above the main building, looking down upon the rest of Koth. It would be a symbol to all Liirians, calling them to knowledge and its bond-breaking power. A thrill went through Akeela as he studied the tower’s base. For a moment he wondered if his father would have been proud of him, then decided not. His father had been a strong king, but not a visionary. The same blindness that had made peace with Reec impossible had also robbed him of dreams. Akeela’s good mood flattened.
“He would have said this was folly.”
But it wasn’t. Now Akeela would have to prove it, not only to his father’s ghost but to the entire world. Even to Cassandra. She had laughed at his plans for his library. It had been an innocent chuckle, but it had hurt Akeela. He worried that his new wife would be like his dead father—pragmatic and short-sighted.
When Cassandra arrived from Hes he would take her here, he reasoned. He would show her the tower being built and the enormous main library, and she would marvel at the number of books it would hold, and realize then that he was building something grand. After years of awkwardness, he was finally becoming an impressive young man. He was sure it was the reason Cassandra had agreed to their marriage so quickly. She had seen the emerging greatness in him.