by Lana Axe
Efren wrapped his arms around her and said, “Be well, Sister. May all your days be happy ones.”
Ryshel said, “I regret I did not arrive sooner. I would love to know you better.”
Her words cheered Aubriana a little. “I shall write to you, if you like.” She sniffled quietly, her eyes glistening from uncried tears.
“I would like that very much,” Ryshel replied. She kissed Aubriana on both cheeks and hugged her tightly. Ryshel was fully aware of the pain involved in leaving one’s family. It was the duty of many noblewomen to be sent away to husbands they did not know. Her marriage had taken her halfway across the kingdom, but her husband’s plan of country living would place her closer to her own family. She considered herself among the luckiest women in Ra’jhou.
Aubriana turned to take one last look upon the castle where she had grown up. Backing up to the Wrathful Mountains, the castle appeared as a fairytale land to her eyes. Fond memories of playing with her brothers and learning how to dance filled her mind. She wished with all her heart she did not have to leave. Surely Na’zora’s palace would be a thing of beauty, but her heart would ever lie here among the mountains.
Finally, she stepped inside the carriage, followed by her servant. As the door closed, she stared out of the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of her parents. They were not near the entrance, nor were they present on the balcony leading from their chambers. They had not spared a moment to say goodbye to their only daughter. Regretfully, she looked again upon Ryshel and Efren as they stood arm in arm. They appeared genuinely happy, and she hoped only good things for them. For herself, she hoped her husband would be as kind as her brothers had always been to her.
Efren and Ryshel lifted their hands in farewell to the princess as the carriages began to roll away. Aubriana waved back, her tears spilling over. Would she ever see either of them again? Only time would tell.
“My lady, you should not weep,” Shala said. Tucking in a loose strand of hair on the princess’s head, she said, “You are too beautiful for tears. A smile suits you better.”
Aubriana managed a weak smile. “Thank you, Shala. I’m all right.” In truth, she was far from all right. Too much was uncertain, and the reality of leaving home had not set in until she was inside the carriage. She made up her mind to sleep as much as possible during the journey. The hours she was awake would no doubt be filled with worry, so sleep would help pass the time. Tucked in her bodice was a small pouch of herbs that would ensure a calm mind and dreamless sleep.
Ryshel waited for the carriage to move out of sight before escorting her betrothed back inside the castle. “I hope she will find happiness as I have,” she said.
Efren kissed her cheek. “She will,” he said with confidence. “Now, it’s time we were dressed for our wedding.”
“I suppose it is,” she agreed. Their marriage would take place in a matter of hours, and the king would expect it to happen without delay. He was a man who hated to be kept waiting, and this was an occasion for celebration, not a king’s anger.
A manservant in a dark red tunic approached them in the hallway. Bowing, he said, “I’ve come to escort Prince Efren to his chambers for dressing.”
Efren turned and smiled at his bride-to-be. “I shall be with you again soon,” he said, kissing her on the forehead.
“I leave him to your care,” she said to the servant, who bowed a second time. Ryshel returned to her own room to find several servants buzzing about.
“There you are, my lady,” one of them said. “We must get you ready.”
Ryshel allowed herself to be undressed and sat patiently in her undergarments as two servants fussed over her hair. She preferred something simple, but the maidservants wouldn’t hear of it. After nearly two hours, they had finished an intricate style that stood several inches off the top of her head. There were braids and loops and long tresses dangling on each side of her face. She had never seen any hairstyle so complicated.
A silver wedding gown was brought out for her to wear. It was a lovely dress with sparkling threads arranged throughout. All of the dresses she brought from home paled in comparison. Her life as a princess was about to begin, and she made a mental note to hire a tailor. If she was to attend court functions, she would need better clothes than the ones she owned. Her family had been far from poor, but a princess was expected to outshine everyone else in the room.
On the opposite side of the castle, Efren was dressed in a blue-and-gold satin tunic. A circlet of silver was placed upon his head. The servants complimented him on his looks, and he smiled politely in return. He felt slightly nervous at becoming a husband, as he had not had any prior experience with women. Gannon roamed freely about the castle and encountered many young maidens, but Efren was given little opportunity to be alone. There was not a moment he could remember when no one was at his side. The king had demanded that a servant sleep in the corner of his bedroom, should he require any assistance in the night. This left little opportunity to experiment with women.
After today, Efren would make his own rules. With a loving wife at his side, he would preside over his own household and have children of his own. He looked forward to being a father and hoped he would make a good one.
The servants accompanied him to the castle courtyard, where the king and queen were seated. Gannon had also cleaned up from his morning activities, and he stood at attention near his father, dressed in a dashing red doublet. A crowd of citizens had gathered to witness the ceremony, and the noise of hundreds of voices filled Efren’s ears. He was led first before his parents, to whom he bowed before being taken to the altar.
As Ryshel appeared before the crowd, the citizens cheered to welcome this new member to the royal household. The shining threads of her gown caught the afternoon sunlight, giving her a radiant glow. She dipped her head shyly, being unaccustomed to receiving so much attention. Curtsying before her future in-laws, she proceeded to the altar next to Efren.
His heart raced at her approach, the rustle of her gown announcing her nearness. Extending his hand, he closed his eyes as her small fingers interlaced with his. Her grip was delicate yet strong, and he savored this moment.
Lifting a golden chalice from the altar, Ryshel declared, “I take you, Efren, as my husband. I shall love only you for the rest of my days.” Taking a small sip of purple wine, she passed the goblet to her husband.
Grasping the goblet and holding it high, he said, “I take you, Ryshel, as my wife. I shall love none but you for the rest of my days.” He took a long sip of the wine before placing the cup back on the altar. Taking his wife in his arms, he kissed her long and full upon her lips. Before releasing her, he nestled his face in her dark hair, inhaling its pleasing fragrance. The crowd erupted in cheers, many of them throwing flower petals as the couple made their way back to the castle.
The king and queen rose and applauded the young pair, before following them inside. The occasion had gone smoothly, and the king was pleased with himself. The young couple would undoubtedly come to love each other.
“Once the marriage is consummated, you may leave for your own house,” the king said to his son. “Everything has been prepared. You will have the funds you need, and you will no longer be a burden to me.”
Efren said nothing as the king walked away. Ryshel felt anger rise in her, but she also remained silent, not daring to insult the king. His footsteps grew fainter as he walked away, leaving the young couple in peace.
“Don’t worry about him,” Efren said, sensing Ryshel’s displeasure. “He has never come to terms with having a less-than-perfect child. I am happy to be leaving his care.”
“You are your own master now,” Ryshel replied.
Chapter 4
After spending several days cramped in a carriage, Aubriana’s body ached. The wooden wheels were not forgiving when they encountered a bump, and the longer she sat in her seat, the more bruised she became. Finally, they reached Na’zora’s palace district near the sea, where King Tyrol d
welt. Aubriana’s first glimpse of the ocean took her breath away as she stared out the tiny window of her carriage.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
Shala nodded, her eyes staring off into the blue.
Stepping out of the carriage, Aubriana took a moment to stretch her back. “I’ll need a bath immediately,” she said. “We must take care to avoid Prince Ivor at all costs. He mustn’t see me before I’m prepared.” Lightly touching her hair, she knew it was a mess. Her future husband would certainly be displeased if he saw her in her current state. She planned to shine when he first laid eyes on her.
Five servants appeared out of nowhere to assist with her luggage and escort her to her rooms. The princess smiled nervously, wondering what they must think of her. She was probably the first Ra’jhouan they had seen, and she looked dreadful after her travels.
“This way, my lady,” a servant said. “Your rooms are in the east wing.” The servant turned immediately and proceeded up the palace steps.
Aubriana hoped that being in the east wing meant her rooms would look to the ocean. It would be a welcome sight to see such beauty each morning. She followed the servant up two flights of stairs and across a polished marble hallway before arriving at her chambers. To her delight, the spacious rooms included a balcony, where she could stand and admire the sea beneath her. There were velvet drapes and cushioned chairs all around, providing a suitable area to entertain her ladies in waiting. A large fireplace graced the far wall, and gold candelabrums would provide light in the evening. A tub had already been prepared in anticipation of her needs, and the servants hurried away to fetch warm water.
Shala began unlacing the princess’s dress, while Aubriana pulled out the pins that once held her hair in place. She ran her fingers through her disheveled locks in a feeble attempt to smooth them.
“I’ll fix them, my lady,” Shala said, moving Aubriana’s hand away. “Don’t worry.”
Aubriana’s heart was pounding, and she wondered if her maid could hear it. After a few moments, the servants returned with buckets of warm water. Aubriana climbed inside the tub and felt immediate relief.
“My rosewater,” she said. “I can’t remember which bag it’s in.”
“I know just where to find it,” Shala replied calmly. “Relax.”
Aubriana settled into the tub and closed her eyes. Focusing on her breathing, she tried to stop her mind from racing. If the prince was displeased with her in any way, she feared for her future. She must impress him with her beauty first and then let him get to know her. All her life she had been taught to conform to her husband’s wishes. Now, it was time for her to perform her duties and become a perfect wife. What if she failed? The thought did nothing to ease her mind, and tears came to her eyes.
“Shala, what shall I do if he dislikes me?”
“Shhh,” the maid replied as she added rosewater to the bath. “He will love you the moment he sees you. There could be no other as beautiful as my lady.” She stroked Aubriana’s hair softly with a shell comb.
“I wish that might be true,” the princess replied. But what if he doesn’t? The warm water comforted her, allowing her to drift off to sleep. As dreams of her wedding filled her mind, a disturbance at her chamber door forced her back to reality.
“My lady,” Shala said. “A servant of the prince is insisting you make yourself presentable. The prince is awaiting you. Your wedding is to be immediate.”
Aubriana sat up in her tub. “Now?” She had yet to meet her husband, and she was not expecting to be wed the moment she arrived. Rising to her feet, she said, “Help me, Shala.”
Shala rushed to her side, wrapping her in a white robe. “We’ll have you ready in no time,” she promised.
Aubriana’s heart was racing as she hurried to her mirror. “Bring my finest gown,” she said. “It seems I won’t have time to choose a wedding dress.” As she stared at her features in the mirror, she found it impossible to smile. Behind her, a group of young girls had entered the room to prepare her for her wedding.
Shala tied the princess into a long, champagne-colored gown. Her fingers worked quickly at the lacings, and Aubriana took shallow breaths to allow herself to be cinched tightly into the bodice. The young girls began fussing over her hair, adding pearls and sparkling shells to her golden locks. Her lips were painted soft pink, and her cheeks were given a rosy hue.
“How do I look?” she asked nervously.
“You’re the loveliest woman in the kingdom,” Shala replied, beaming.
Aubriana said nothing as she followed her servants out of the room and down the long palace corridor. She felt as if she might faint but did her best to remain calm. Entering a small chamber adorned with velvet tapestries, she finally glimpsed her future husband. He stood tall and proud near the altar, his expression severe. He had sandy hair and dark eyes, as well as a nicely groomed beard. Aubriana found him rather plain for a prince, but she hoped his lack of beauty might be replaced by kindness.
Prince Ivor looked her over with contempt. Marrying the daughter of his enemy was his father’s idea—one that he reluctantly agreed to. As she approached, he grabbed the goblet from the altar and thrust it at her without a word.
Aubriana was surprised by his gesture, but she reached out for the goblet, her face remaining calm. Due to their common ancestry, the two kingdoms performed the same marriage ritual, which meant Aubriana knew exactly what to do. “I take you, Prince Ivor for my husband. I shall love and honor you for the rest of my days,” she said before sipping the wine. She handed the goblet back to the prince with a shy smile upon her lips.
Snatching the goblet from her hand, he said, “I take you for my bride.” Rather than sip the wine, he threw the goblet to the ground with a loud clang.
The assembled nobles gasped and muttered among themselves. Aubriana was startled but remained composed. This was not the time to upset her husband.
“I have no desire for you,” he declared. “But you are my wife now, and I shall do what I must, no matter how it disgusts me.” With those words he stormed out of the room, leaving behind his new bride.
Shala, who had been watching from the back of the room, rushed to the princess in time to prevent her from collapsing. Aubriana wept, her face pressed against her maid’s shoulder as the nobles made their way to the exit. No one spoke a word to the new Na’zoran princess.
“I fear I’m destined for unhappiness,” she said.
“Hush,” Shala said. “All will be well. You will see.”
Her words did nothing to comfort Aubriana. Determined not to live a life of misery, Aubriana resolved to conform to her husband’s desires. If he preferred a wife who would keep to herself and leave him to his own devices, she would gladly oblige.
Chapter 5
King Tyrol stood at his map table studying the boundaries of his realm. During the last few years, his figure had grown less muscular and more round, and the majority of his gray hair had left his head. Peace did not sit well with him. It had aged him and caused him to grow fat. He yearned for action to fill his days, as it had in his youth. Conflict with Ra’jhou had given him vigor in those years, and he lusted to feel so alive once more.
Prince Ivor strode into his father’s study, a stern expression on his face. The king looked at his son with a smirk.
“How was your wedding night?” he asked.
“I did what was necessary,” Ivor replied.
“She is beautiful,” the king admitted. “I would think you would be pleased.”
“I have no desire for that woman. She is my enemy.”
“Be that as it may, the marriage was necessary,” Tyrol replied. “If we are to give Na’zora a sense of security, we must play their little game of peace.”
“I fail to see the point,” Ivor said. “It would be better to invade without involving a silly girl.”
“That, my son, is where you fail to understand the need for subtlety. Open war would only lead Nilan to prepare an army of his own.
Look at them now. Their defenses are weak, their army is ill-equipped, and they have no allies to assist them. They truly believe we are dedicated to keeping the peace.”
“Congratulations, Father,” Ivor said with sarcasm.
“They have no idea of my true plans,” the king said, anger rising in his voice. “You would do well to learn a thing or two about your enemy. Why make an invasion harder than necessary? We want to expand our borders, not sacrifice soldiers. With our allies on the islands and our enemy complacent, we are assured a swift victory with minimal cost.”
Ivor laughed. “Minimal? Those elves are robbing you blind. You’re too consumed with your plans to see it.”
Tyrol slammed his fist against the table. “Those expenses are necessary! No one in Nōl’Deron could train our mages the way the elves can. Without their training and potions, we would have no fire mages. That would be unacceptable!”
Ivor shook his head. “Our people have won victory for generations without the need of elves or magic. You are taking the easy road.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” the king asked. “This path leads to certain victory and a place of honor in the annals of history.”
“We come to the truth at last,” Ivor said with a grin. “My father wishes to be remembered as a great war leader.”
“Naturally,” the king admitted. “I will lead my army to victory, and you shall be at my side.”
“But when can we strike?” Ivor asked, fire blazing in his eyes. All his life he had trained for battle, but peace with Ra’jhou had prevented him from riding against them. Yes, there had been petty skirmishes along the border, but outright war had escaped him. Now, he would experience the thrill of riding into battle and facing his enemy on a larger scale. His dream of fighting open war in the fields was about to be a reality.