Queen of Savon

by Tricia Andersen

  Cassandra looked up, blinking to adjust her eyes. She caught Victor's pained glare. “How dare you?” he accused, betrayal in his tone.

  “Victor…”

  “Do you think I made my proposal in jest?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Do you think I do not see what you are doing? How you are sabotaging our plans?”

  She hung her head in shame.

  Victor continued, “Promise me you will stop. Promise me, if you have any intention of spending your life with me.”

  Cassandra looked up at him. “I do, Victor. I promise. I will not anymore.” She clasped his hand in hers and held it to her heart.

  Victor gazed at Cassandra for a moment longer then smiled. “All right. Now go home.” He walked away from her into the commotion. She watched him go before releasing the spell. She slipped down the steps and out the back door of the kitchen.

  It took less than a week for Joseph to find another candidate for Matthew’s bride. Cassandra stood beside the throne in the midst of the sudden throng, swallowing her jealousy the best she could. She watched the beautiful, golden-blonde princess—dressed elegantly in a lavender gown and draped in diamonds—bow low before Matthew, who was seated on his throne. The princess looked up, her crystal blue eyes gleaming brightly in the candlelight. The amber glow of the fireplace radiated off her perfect ivory skin.

  Cassandra glanced down, seeing the glitter of fascination shine from Matthew's eyes.

  “Princess Stephana of Azgone,” Joseph announced.

  Matthew rose to his feet as Stephana straightened. He took her hand, his eyes never leaving her deep blue ones.

  “The pleasure is mine,” he softly spoke.

  Cassandra swallowed hard to stop herself from exploding. The feel of Victor's hand on her hip snapped her back into check. She stared up at Victor, seeing him eye Stephana with raging desire. The princess's influence has spread wide throughout the room. Cassandra groaned miserably to herself.

  “Joseph, please find the best room for the princess. The one with the rose tapestries,” Matthew instructed.

  Cassandra opened her mouth to object, but silenced herself as Victor's fingers dug deep into her flesh. She mused to herself bitterly, feeling suddenly rejected.

  In the two days Stephana had graced the palace, a romance seemed to bloom between her and Matthew, awkward but proper and dignified. Cassandra watched the stone floor beneath her feet as Victor led her behind the royal couple from the dining hall.

  Matthew gently kissed the princess before motioning her to the garden. Then, he faced his friends, “I am going to propose to Stephana in the morning, before she leaves.”

  “Congratulations,” Victor responded cheerfully, a possessive arm wrapping around Cassandra's waist.

  “Thank you.” Matthew met Victor's gaze.

  Cassandra could see his look of defeat. Shouldn’t he be happy with this news? Then, Matthew turned away and followed Stephana, avoiding the shattered expression on Cassandra's face.

  “Just a matter of days,” Victor murmured. “Shall we follow?”

  “I would rather not,” Cassandra replied. “I think I will go to my tower.”

  “Suit yourself.” Victor let her go. He captured her lips softly before slipping outdoors.

  “Forgive me, my lord,” Cassandra whispered regretfully to Victor's departing figure. “I must break my promise.”

  * * * *

  Matthew awoke with a start, the sounds of terrified screaming echoing into his room. He pulled on his pants and shirt quickly then dashed out into the hall, desperate to reach his new beloved. Several squires and Victor had assembled outside Stephana's bedchamber, struggling with the door. He ran towards them to assist then stopped short.

  He stomped his foot down in front of a small white mouse scurrying in the dark damp corner of the hall. He scooped the creature up as he retreated to a deserted passage.

  “What are you doing?” Matthew demanded, holding the rodent by the tail. It dangled limp and silent.

  “Answer me!” Matthew shouted. Still the mouse hung lifeless, trying his patience. He sighed. “Fine.” Matthew strode out into the hallway and caught a young squire, clothed in a bed shirt, by the arm. “Go get the cat from the kitchen. I have found a treat for it in the halls.”

  The boy ran off to obey the command. The mouse struggled fiercely, reaching her tiny claws to scratch her escape from the king. Matthew laughed at the animal. “Oh, now you want to talk.” Matthew held her to eye level. “I will put you down, but if you run, I swear I will stomp you to death myself.”

  Matthew roughly set the rodent on the floor and took a step back. In a burst of light, Cassandra appeared before his eyes.

  “You traitorous bitch,” Matthew spat. “Is this how you treat your queen?”

  Cassandra swallowed back her tears. “You should not marry her.”

  “And why not?”

  “She does not love you.”

  “Love has nothing to do with it.” Matthew gritted his teeth in anger. “Do you have someone better?”

  “Yes!” Cassandra cried. “Maybe.” She paused. “No.”

  Matthew stared at Cassandra, confused by her answer. He shot his head around to Stephana's screams. Cassandra swept her hand down to release the spell then turned and ran. Matthew turned back to follow her, but stopped as Stephana's bedchamber door flew open. He ran to Stephana as she fell in his arms.

  “A ghost,” Stephana sobbed.

  “Yes, my sweet,” Matthew comforted. “I will find out what is going on. I promise. Joseph, please find Stephana new sleeping arrangements.”

  He kissed Stephana before sending her off with Joseph. Then, he dashed down the stone steps of the entrance hall and ran out of the palace to the garden. He grasped Cassandra's arms as she raced to escape.

  Cassandra stared at the ground, hiding her face. “Your majesty,” she whispered.

  “Who is she, Cassa?” Matthew demanded.

  “Who, my lord?”

  “The one you feel I should marry.”

  “I said no one.”

  “No. You said yes then maybe.” Matthew gently shook her. “Who is she?”

  Cassandra paused a moment then lifted her face to his. Her cheeks were tearstained. She swallowed a sob before breathing, “No one, my lord.”

  “Cassa, I trust you above anyone else. Tell me her name, please.” Who could she mean? Why didn’t she tell me of this woman before?

  “There is no one, my lord.” Cassandra shook free of his hold. “I need to go home before I cause any more trouble. Good night, your majesty.”

  She brushed past him and quickly disappeared into the darkness. Matthew watched her go as the sudden realization of whom she meant struck him like a bolt of lightning. His soul demanded that he chase after her, capture her, and never let her free from his arms. But his feet stood rooted to the ground.

  “Cassandra, my love,” he murmured as he stared down the wooded trail. Glancing back to the palace, he thought of Stephana, who was hopefully sleeping peacefully now. He shook his head. My plans have changed. I cannot marry Stephana. I cannot be joined to a woman I do not love.

  Slowly, he trudged his way to his bedchamber, closing the door behind him. He pulled his shirt free from over his head and slipped his pants from his legs. He climbed under the sheets, pulling the comforter over him.

  Staring into the roaring fire, he tried to sleep. Yet, every time he closed his eyes, his beautiful sorceress filled his mind. Whatever I do, I have to stop Victor and Cassandra’s escape. I cannot let her go. And I won’t let him take her from me.

  * * * *

  Cassandra firmly capped the bottle of herbs with a cork and slipped the container in her bag. She marked her books, stacking one on top of the other. Glancing out the window, she watched as Matthew gently kissed Stephana before helping her into the carriage.

  Sighing, she pulled herself away from the window to gather more herbs. She picked up her books and the
bag of bottles. Then, she hobbled to the door and struggled to open it with her one free hand.

  Cassandra jumped back, startled, as she discovered Matthew standing in the doorway. He clung to the doorframe as he stared at her.

  “How may I serve, my lord?” she greeted as she awkwardly bowed to him.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, barely audible.

  “Home. I have much to do before I return in the morning and you leave for battle.”

  Matthew paused. “I did not propose to Stephana.”

  Cassandra set her items on a table nearby. “That was unwise, my lord.”

  Matthew stared at her as he dug his fingernails into the wood of the frame. “Cassa, do not leave me like this.”

  Cassandra swallowed as she heard the urgency in his voice. “Like what, my lord?”

  “Like this—the formal address, the subservient nature. This.” Matthew stood up straight, taking a step to grip her arms in his hands.

  “Tell me her name,” Matthew demanded.

  “There is no one.”

  “Tell me her name,” Matthew begged. “Tell me, and I will give her my heart and make her my bride. I swear this.”

  Cassandra stared at him, tears filling her eyes. “What if she belongs to another man?” She looked away as the words she spoke seemed to crush him. He closed his eyes, fighting to defeat the truth, the truth he already must know. Capitalizing on his weakness, Cassandra pulled away. “I told you there is no one.”

  He grasped her hand, pressing it to his heart. “No, my lady, I will win her. I will fight, and I will not stop until she is cradled in my arms. This I promise you. Do you hear me? This I promise you.”

  Her tears burst their floodgates as she slipped her fingers from his. “I must go,” she stumbled out. “I have much to do. I must go.”

  Cassandra scooped up her books then swept by Matthew and ran down the stairs. She cringed as she heard him call her name, his voice betraying his pain.

  Cassandra could not sleep. She lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling of her room as the night passed by. As dawn brushed the sky, she pulled herself from her covers, dressed, and trudged her return to the palace.

  In no time, she stood in the courtyard, the soldiers around her completely oblivious to her presence. She glanced up as Victor rode next to her. “Lock yourself in the tower. I will see you when I get back,” he instructed as he kissed her on the cheek.

  “Stay safe,” she murmured.

  Cassandra looked to the ground as Victor’s horse trotted away. Then, she raised her head as she heard hoof steps approach. Matthew wandered across the courtyard, leading his stallion behind him. His eyes, yearning and desperate, locked on her.

  She shuddered as he approached, his stride determined as he wove his way around the soldiers scattered around the courtyard. He stopped, dropping the reins of his horse, when he reached her.

  Without warning or care for decency, Matthew cupped Cassandra’s face in his hands drawing her lips to his and parting them in a soul-wrenching kiss. She clung to his arms as he tasted her, clearly searching for confession, answers—her love for him. As he pulled away, he whispered, “Lock yourself in. I could not live another day if anything happened to you.”

  Matthew’s fingers caressed Cassandra’s skin once more before they slipped away to grasp his horse's reins. He glanced at her over his shoulder before he disappeared behind the wall. Cassandra hugged herself tightly, her limbs shaking in uncertainty.

  Collecting herself as much as possible, she wound her way to her tower blindly. Her thoughts were incoherent. Matthew? Victor? She rubbed her fingertips against her swollen lips. Both had made their feelings for her abundantly clear. And both were riding out to battle. Above all, the vows she had taken as a child dictated she could have neither of them.

  Tears filled her eyes as she collapsed onto her cushion. The only thing she knew with clarity was that she needed to get her thoughts together. It wouldn’t be long before she would be joining them on the battlefield.

  Chapter Seven

  Victor swung his sword, fighting off the soldiers that attacked him. He glanced around, disoriented, unable to discern in the sea of silver which soldier was from Gorgon and which was from Savon.

  His arm throbbed in pain where his shirtsleeve was damp with his own blood. He looked up to find an iridescent butterfly flapping her wings frantically. As he blocked a blow to his head, it took off, descended, and landed at the base of a cedar tree.

  Instantly, Cassandra transformed and ran to him through the bloody field. “Cassie!” he shouted. “What are you doing?”

  “Hold onto me now!” she pleaded.

  Victor grasped her gown as she spread her arms wide. He watched as the soldiers on both sides froze in their places.

  Cassandra spun on her toe. “Where is Matthew?” she begged.

  “We were separated,” Victor answered, shocked.

  Cassandra raced between stone still warriors, searching frantically for her king. Reaching him, she dropped to her knees, obviously overjoyed to find him alive and, for the most part, safe. Her gaze took in the men around her, grasping each other in struggling and fighting poses.

  She stood slowly, smiling, Victor guessed, in amusement. He jogged up to her, clutching his wounded arm. “What are you thinking?”

  Cassandra giggled then raised her hand and snapped her fingers. Suddenly, the horses of Gorgon's army burst to life, knocking off their riders and running away. She clapped her hands excitedly, like an entertained child at play.

  When she looked to him for approval, she must have found a stunned expression embedded on his face. Turning back to the battle, she gently blew across her hand. The swords of Gorgon's soldiers turned to dust and blew away in the breeze. Finally, she focused on him, gasping when her gaze found his bloody arm.

  “You are hurt.” Cassandra unlatched Victor’s armor and pushed up his sleeve to examine his wound. She took his hand gently in hers. “Come. Sebrone is not far. Let me take care of you. In a moment we will not want to be here anyway, or we will be killed by our own army.”

  Cassandra led him down a wooded path, away from the battle that suddenly came back to life behind them. Within minutes, they stepped into the streets of Sebrone. He followed her into a crumbled cottage, discovering only a spiral staircase inside reaching high into the air.

  “Come.” She climbed a couple steps, tugging on his hand to urge him along. He trailed after her as they ascended higher and higher—much past the structure of the cottage. As they approached a heavy, wooden door, he stared at her, dumbfounded.

  Reaching inside her gown, she pulled a small brass key from a chain around her neck. She bent over to unlock the door. He followed her inside the two-room tower, gasping at its mystical furnishings—tables of herbs and potions in glass bottles, shelves of books with titles in strange lettering, a bowl of clear water illuminating an image of the palace. And in the center of the room stood a large, cedar bed draped in fresh white sheets.

  Cassandra pressed her hand against the gash on his arm and held it there as she closed her eyes. When she pulled it away a moment later, Victor found his flesh healed.

  “Sit,” she commanded quietly, motioning him to the bed. “I will prepare you some tea.”

  Cassandra scuttled into the spare room. Victor's gaze searched the small space. It rested on her training stone lying in a lavender glass bowl with the brass key. The bowl sat on top of a podium bearing a large black book.

  “What is this book?” Victor shouted to her.

  “It is a book of prophesy,” Cassandra called back from the other room. “I cannot ask it to predict as my grandfather can, but it will predict on its own when the mood strikes it.”

  Cassandra appeared from around the corner, balancing two cups in one hand and a ceramic container in the other. She set them on the table, carefully spooning the tea leaves into each cup before disappearing into the other room again.

  “I thought you did not bri
ng anyone here,” Victor stated.

  “I do not. You are the first.”

  “Why am I the first?”

  Cassandra looked at him from the doorway. “The magic I possess is incredibly powerful. This seclusion keeps me safe.”

  She disappeared from the entryway, leaving Victor alone again. He stood and walked over to the ancient tome. He stared at the blank page that rested open. His eyes grew wide as the words began to flow rapidly across the paper. Panicking, he pushed the book to the floor to silence it.

  Cassandra rushed into the room as Victor picked it up and set it on the podium again, opening to a page already filled with words. Dutifully, she began to flip to the blank page, until his large hand stopped hers.

  “Will that book tell you anything in the next ten minutes?” Victor asked her as he weaved his fingers between hers.

  He pushed her hair from her shoulder to kiss her neck as he pulled her against him. His lips wandered to her ear, across her cheek, and finally attacked hers, consuming her with pent up desire. His hands skimmed across her breasts, caressing them gently before quickly disengaging the clips of her gown. He tugged both it and her dressing gown off her shoulders.

  Cassandra pulled away from his kiss. “No, Victor.” She clasped her hand over her undone dress.

  “Please,” Victor moaned. He laid his muscular hands on her hips.

  “No. I am not ready.”

  “Cassie, I am going to be your husband. Will you be coming to bed fully clothed? How are you going to conceive?” He roamed the ivory velvet of her neck with his lips.

  “I am not sure,” Cassandra groaned in pleasure.

  “I now know how much you love me,” Victor whispered as he placed a kiss on her ear. “You trusted me enough to bring me here. Let me show you how I love you.”

  He yanked Cassandra’s garments from her hand, pulling them to the floor. Spinning her to face him, he gazed at her naked figure in awe before leading her to the bed. He laid her down on the snow-white sheets then undressed himself and settled beside her.