by B Lynch
“Yes,” Caliandra said, looking about the dining hall; it was filled with nobles, and dignitaries, most of whom congratulated her on the strength and resolve her decision showed to the people. Only a handful of the nobles asked how she felt, or if she was well. She wondered if any of them had shed blood before, and had the slightest idea how it felt.
“Let me go talk to him,” Fenwyn said. “And Caliandra?”
“Yes?”
“What you did today…” Fenwyn paused, and frowned slightly. “It was something I wish you didn’t have to do.”
“Thank you, Fenwyn,” Caliandra said softly, as she sat on her seat, at the head of the table. Soon, Josske wove through the crowd, and appeared by her side.
“Let’s talk outside, Your Majesty,” Josske said, as he offered his hand. “If you will excuse us,” he said, to the table, “We have important manners of security to discuss.”
“You aren’t my new Captain of the Guard,” Caliandra whispered to him.
“They don’t know that,” Josske replied, with a smirk, as she took his hand. He led her away from the table, out of the great hall, and into the courtyard. It was wide, and open; the summer air was still warm, but not overbearing. “Shall we walk?” he said.
“Yes,” Caliandra replied, as she took his arm, and they began to stroll about the courtyard. The air felt good in her chest, and her nerves settled. She was glad to have some respite from the boisterous hall.
“The pants were a bold choice,” he said, “By the way.”
“Thank you,” Caliandra said, flattered. “I think they had a better reception than I expected.”
“I would agree,” Josske replied. “I do not think these people were accustomed to it, but… I think it was good to show them you are not afraid to try new things.”
Caliandra turned to him. “You don’t think I frightened them?” she asked, inquisitive.
“Some, you frightened, yes,” Josske said, and her heart sank, “But those were the kind who would be easily startled by anything new. Piero il Giono could build them a machine that harvested a season’s wheat in a day, and they would burn it without a thought.”
Caliandra laughed. “They certainly would,” she said. “I can’t imagine what a woman wearing pants would mean to such men.”
“Change,” Josske replied. “They will become used to it, sooner or later. But you cannot be afraid to cause it.”
“I’m not,” Caliandra said, “I just… I’m concerned about what I’ll need to become, to be King.”
Josske thought for a time, as they walked. “You do, I think, what is needed of you,” he said, and Caliandra looked at him; there was a sadness in his face that she recognized. She pulled the velvet cape closer, around her shoulders; it was hardly cold. But it made her feel more at ease.
“When you… How did you feel, after the first time?” she asked, barely able to say the words the first time you killed a man.
“It was about eleven summers ago,” Josske began. “I’d taken my first job as a mercenary, after several years of being a soldier in King Valkko’s army. I did it because I was bored,” he said. “We were trained to fight, and some of us crave it. And when there is peace, you find no fighting… then one of my friends invited me to join him in the Wolves of Thunder, for the money was better, and there was fighting to be found. Shortly after, I resigned, went to the Wolves of Thunder, and within a week, I was marching south, towards Silenia.”
Caliandra listened intently as Josske spoke. Fenwyn had shared very little about his husband’s past; so much of it remained a mystery. It was like knowing the shape of a river’s course, and the strength, but having no inkling of the depth, the temperature, or what inhabited it. “For the Three Dukes’ War?” Caliandra asked. She was just a babe when it occurred, but it was part of her family history; her uncle Esio, on her mother’s side, was one of the Dukes in question.
“Yes,” Josske said. “Duke Poleno had hired us to fight with his men in the Toscana Valley, to put Duke Niro on his heels. Your Uncle’s forces were pushing in from the south, which I am sorry to say, they were not on our side.”
“Not in the least,” Caliandra said. “But continue.”
“We had very little time, and our hope was to push Niro back, so that he would be caught between us and your Uncle’s men. We gave up the high ground to push against him, and succeeded, but… there were new men, who did not have the stomach for real fighting. These were good soldiers, men I had known - but that is something you do not learn about yourself, until you are in battle. You may be trained, you may think you want to fight, but when you get there, there is no in-between; either you are brave enough to fight, or you are not.”
“What happened to them?” Caliandra asked.
“The Wolves of Thunder are well-known among mercenary groups for their ruthlessness,” Josske said. “I had heard stories, but… I learned that day that I was lucky. I had run. But I was the newest member, and the others who ran had been with them longer than I. They should have known better. And it was the Wolves’ custom that if anyone should run in battle… it is the newest who must punish them.”
Caliandra’s heart sank. “Yom above,” she said.
“Yes,” Josske replied. He spoke plainly, addressing his deed with honesty, and an emotion that surprised her. “I killed six men. My captain thought that was punishment enough. After the first, my mind went to a different place… the rest were easier. But the shock… it was a great shock to me. I’d hurt men before, but never taken a life. Part of me felt numb, for a time after-wards. No sooner had I finished the task than I found a bush to vomit in, and then, they got me good and drunk. I was one of them, they said… I never ran from a battle again, because I knew what it would cost.”
Caliandra was stunned. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought… to kill one man was hard enough.”
“Your task had its own difficulty,” Josske said. “After all, Marrol was your father’s friend, and well known to you. But when you are faced with a line of frightened men, staring at you, hoping you’ll stay your spear… and seeing the change on their faces as you kill the man next to them, it is… it is a great deal to ask.”
“Was that why you left?” Caliandra finally asked, after silence.
“No,” Josske replied. “I was part of their group for several years after that day. I’d earned their trust. And it was not until we protected a diplomatic mission to Ariac that I met Fenwyn, and… I began to consider what else I could be.” It surprised Caliandra that he could be so warm, knowing what he’d done. “It was difficult, later, when I became comfortable with death, and killing. Part of me wondered if I could lead a normal life, and be happy - because after that first day, I embraced it, and I came alive on the battlefield. To live, when others had died, was its own thrill, but to be as I am now… some days, it still seems as if the world is out of joint. I will be at a market, wondering about the quality of the meat I am buying, and wondering why that even matters - or I will be purchasing cabbage, and things that seemed so simple before the Wolves, as picking the best one, seem almost overwhelming.”
Caliandra became immediately concerned. “Will that… will it happen to me?” she asked.
“It is hard to say,” Josske said. “But I do not think so… for me, I think it came from too much time in the fields, and too many blows to the head.” He paused, and seemed to be about to speak, but stopped. “Sorry,” he said. “I forgot what I was going to say.”
“Never mind it,” Caliandra said. “It’s not important. I just… I’m glad to talk with someone who understands what it felt like.”
“I do, too well,” Josske said. “I wish neither of us had. But if I hadn’t, I would be dead, and I wouldn’t have met Fenwyn. And he alone has been worth so much. He makes me feel loved… and I know it’s stupid to say that of a man you love enough to marry, but that is the most important part. When you feel… rejected. Like a person apart from the world. Your brothers and sisters are the ones w
ho’ve been to battle, because they share the pain you have, but someone who takes you into their heart… who loves you, when you can’t love yourself? They are worth more than jewels and gold.”
Caliandra felt an ache in her heart, for something like that. She’d lost it when Iaen left her. But perhaps, it was never so strong as she thought it to be. “How did you know?” she asked.
“I didn’t, at first.” Josske replied. “I thought he was handsome, and clever, and kind, but I’d known many such men. But being around him, and seeing his gentleness, the care he has for others, and his generosity… it was something I wanted to protect, and keep to myself. It made me jealous, at first, until I realized that was just his nature. And then, I found myself caring more deeply for him, and more, and then, I had passed the point where it had become love.”
“I… wish I could find that again,” Caliandra said. “I thought I had it, once, but then, it slipped away. I don’t know if it was love at all.”
“Not all love lasts,” Josske said. “I’d be willing to say you had it. But it can fade. But it will find you again, Your Majesty.”
“Please,” Caliandra said, “Don’t call me that. I think I’m already sick of it, and I’ve the rest of my life to live with it.”
“Caliandra, then?”
“No,” she said. “Callie.”
“It is a rare privilege, to speak to a King on such friendly terms,” Josske said, warmly, smiling. “I’m honored.”
“It’s very rare indeed,” Caliandra replied. “More so, a woman king. But I think I’d like to have as many friends as I’m able.”
“Of course. A wise decision,” Josske said. He thought for a second, and stroked his chin. “There’s a Kersikki proverb - it would be difficult to explain, but to be brief, a man’s strength is not in his arms, but in all the arms of his friends; one shoulder cannot bear many loads, but many shoulders can hold the greatest load of all.”
“I like it,” Caliandra said. “And what is that greatest load, if I may ask?”
“To be a people,” Josske said. “To build for the future. To defend yourselves. To raise children. To tell the stories of your country, and your kingdom. And I think you are willing to take a great deal of that burden on yourself.”
“Will you help me carry it, my friend?” Caliandra asked.
“Of course, Callie,” Josske replied. “My arms are your arms.”
“Splendid,” Caliandra said, as a smile returned to her face. “Shall we go back inside? I think they expect me to make a speech.”
“No,” Josske said, “I think they expect you to be drunk, and merry. You are welcome to please or disappoint them, as you wish.”
“I have a choice?” Caliandra replied, as she turned about, and faced the hall. “My. It’s good to be the King.”
“It is, indeed,” Josske said, as he offered his arm, and she took it. They walked back towards the sounds of merriment in the hall. “Very good, indeed.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
No sooner had Caliandra sat down at her table than a well-dressed man appeared beside her, with a crutch. “Your Majesty,” Darryn said. “I hope you’re a woman of your word.” She eyed him carefully; his soldier’s uniform had been traded in for a fashionable doublet. And if it was possible, he looked the more handsome for it.
“What do you mean?” she asked, confused.
“I believe you owe me the honor of a dance,” Darryn said, allowing himself a sly smile. “As thanks for my cooperation.” She was flustered; with everything that had encompassed the coronation, she’d all but forgotten. And yet, her heart beat a little faster for it. She was glad he’d remembered.
“So I do,” Caliandra said. She regarded the crutch with worry. “Are you sure you are able?”
“To dance with a King?” Darryn said. He let the crutch go, and balanced himself on his leg; he still did not put the full weight on his other. “Some things are worth the risk,” He added.
Caliandra caught her mother’s glare out of the corner of her eye. She shook her head. No, she mouthed. I have to. Darryn held out his hand, and Caliandra stood up to take it. His steps were uneven; he still did not fully favor his weakened foot, but he capably led her from the table to the center of the room, where the dancing took place. The musicians put on a lively tune, and Darryn led her into the crowd. “Those are lovely pants, by the way,” he said, as he took her other hand in his. “It’s very brave of you.”
“Thank you,” she said, blushing. “But I am not the only brave one, after all.” They started the first of the steps to follow the tune - a hop and a step to the left, and a twist, and another series of quick steps in a circle, palms held against each other. It was not a graceful display, as Caliandra did her best to help keep Darryn standing up. “You took a great risk in helping me.”
“And a greater risk, if I did nothing,” Darryn replied. He winced slightly as he stumbled, but continued with the dance. Caliandra stopped.
“Are you hurt?” Caliandra said, concerned. Darryn shook his head.
“A sprain won’t stop me,” Darryn said, with a smirk. “Come, come. Keep dancing,” he said, as his fingers threaded through hers, and pulled her back into the dance. She allowed herself a smile, and didn’t refuse his touch. It was the first time since Iaen that she held a man’s hand - well, one that hadn’t belonged to her father.
Then, she saw him out of the corner of her eye, and her mood soured instantly. No, she thought. Not now. He was approaching them - but why? “What’s wrong?” Darryn asked, oblivious to who was coming. His eyes searched around the room.
“Iaen,” Caliandra muttered. “Let us keep dancing. I don’t wish to talk with him.” She kept the dance going, and tried to shut the thought of being interrupted out of her mind. But then, he was upon them, and she stopped. Darryn, too, stopped moving.
“Your Majesty,” Iaen spoke, eying Darryn with suspicion, “It’s very generous of you to dance with mere soldiers, isn’t it?”
“I think it’s generous she even hears you speak,” Darryn replied. Caliandra held up a hand to Darryn’s chest.
“Darryn,” she said, “If Lord Iaen wishes to make a fool of himself, that’s his prerogative.”
“Then I’ll stay and enjoy it,” Darryn said, as he crossed his arms. “I think I’ll like watching this.” Iaen sneered at him, and shook his head at Caliandra.
“Where is your sense of dignity?” Iaen asked. “You shouldn’t be fraternizing with peasants like him.”
“But I should,” Caliandra replied, her tone sharpened, and eyes narrowed. “He has shown honor and grace, and without his aid, I would not be wearing the crown upon my head. You discarded me because you wanted wealth.”
“If I had known -”
“If you had known?” Caliandra said, in disbelief. She had never imagined it would have been so easy to deny him; she never knew she would have had the strength. “I would have found out, sooner or later, how untrustworthy you were. My heart bled and ached for you, but now, I see you for what you are,” she said. “And I pity your wife. I pity any woman who shares your bed, and I hope that your prick is like your heart; small, shriveled, and all but useless.” Iaen was stunned by her words; Darryn, too, and it seemed that the musicians had gone silent.
“You’ll regret saying that. Wait and see,” Iaen said, fuming, as he stormed off. Caliandra looked up at Darryn, who seemed wholly impressed.
“I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a dance so much,” he said. “Well done, Your Majesty.”
“He deserved it,” Caliandra said, through gritted teeth. She nodded to the musicians, who started up again, and the dancing continued. Caliandra paced through the steps with quickness, and frustration, but Darryn slowed down, forcing her to adjust her pace.
“You go too fast, Your Majesty,” Darryn said. “Dancing is peaceful. It’s not a fight.”
“Sorry,” Caliandra said. “He… he made me so damn mad.”
“Former lovers will do that,” Darryn
said. “But remember, you’re King. You could have him stripped of his title and thrown out of his castle naked if you wanted.” She chuckled; she hardly thought it within her power, but the thought was amusing.
“I could, couldn’t I?” she said, briefly considering the possibility.
“Then you could give his lands to me,” Darryn said.
“So you want more than a dance, do you?” Caliandra replied, with a raised eyebrow.
“I wouldn’t say no to more,” Darryn said, with a smirk. “Then you wouldn’t need to worry about dancing with a soldier.”
Caliandra’s eyes darted past him, to her mother, who looked at her with stern disapproval. She leaned in, towards him. “Who says I’m worried?” she whispered, with a mischievous smile.
She gave him the dance, and the next one. And as they danced, she found herself enjoying his company, and laughing at his jokes - and relishing the touch of his hand, as well as the surly looks that Iaen shot her from across the room. And she wanted more of that feeling; it was the closest she’d felt to her old self, before her brother’s passing. And yet, stronger. No longer was she in the position to wait, and hope - she had power, now. Maybe I can’t strip Iaen of his land and his money, and hand it to Darryn, but maybe, there are more subtle ways for me to be able to see him? She wondered.
Her mother still glared at her from across the room, in disapproval. But nearby, she saw Mae and Janni, who were delighted.
What does Mother know, anyway? Caliandra asked herself, as she looked back up, into Darryn’s eyes, and felt a flush of excitement in her body. She’s never been King.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
Patta was far, far away from the King’s inaugural dinner; she shared a dinner table with Talwyck, and his wife Cait, and their three children, in her brother’s home. It was a comforting touch of her Brother’s to eschew the King’s favor for such an event, but there was little else he could do for the pain of loss, and the sudden loneliness.