Queen of Hearts (The Risen King)

by Samantha Warren

  Arthur shrugged into a soft leather vest. “Maybe. I would prefer to not dally, though. We do not know what she is capable of at this point. A wounded beast is often more dangerous than a healthy one. We cannot underestimate the woman's power, or her wickedness. She is crafty and conniving, and I would not put it past her to pull some evil stunt that we are entirely unprepared for.”

  “I completely agree, m'lord. But still, the generals will be here this afternoon, in about three hours. I am sure they will see the wisdom of your words. None of them are fond of sitting around and doing nothing. They will be on board with your plan of attack. I will have your armor at the ready, in case they choose to move out tomorrow.”

  Arthur clapped Rogan on the shoulder. “You are a fine servant indeed, Rogan. I would not have another in your place if I had my pick of all the servants in Faery.” He gave the man a grin and eyed himself in the full length mirror on the wall. “And now it's time to eat.”

  *~*~*

  FOUR

  *~*~*

  Arthur and the knights were eating a light noon meal of bread, cheese, and wine when Aiofe walked into the dining hall, followed by her grandmother and Zela. Arthur and the knights rose from the table and bowed to the women. The king stepped around the chairs and walked over to Aiofe. He took her hand in his and bowed deeply before her.

  “My lady, you look lovely today.” He kissed her fingers and grinned at her as he rose.

  The young red-head colored from the neckline of her blouse all the way up to her hairline. She coughed and brushed a non-existent stray strand of hair away from her face. “Thank you,” she whispered. Zela giggled behind her.

  “Are you hungry?” Arthur asked as he gestured toward the table. “We are just sitting down to our meal. You are more than welcome to join us.” He turned his smile on the faery and the older woman. “All of you.”

  Aiofe mumbled something unintelligible as she took a step back away from Arthur, but Zela came to her rescue. “We would be honored, King Arthur, but unfortunately our duties call us elsewhere. Your wonderful servant, Rogan, has gone above and beyond his duties and he had one of the cottages in the village fixed up. As soon as Aloysius arrives, we're heading out to see it, to make sure it is a suitable place for Alo and Maureen to settle down.”

  “I'm sure it will be just fine. We don't need a lot.” Maureen carried on the conversation, but her eyes were darting between Arthur and Aiofe and she held a small smirk on her wrinkled face.

  “If it is not, you tell me at once. I will not have you staying in any home that is unsuitable. You are my guests and you will be treated with the utmost care.” The king half bowed before Maureen and took her hand. He kissed her fingers like he had Aiofe's and smiled up at her.

  Maureen smiled at him and inclined her head. “Thank you, Arthur. You are too kind.”

  “Why are you fondling my wife?” Aloysius Callaghan's gray head appeared over Maureen's shoulder.

  Arthur straightened and took a step back. He squared his shoulders and raised his jaw, setting it firmly with indignation. “I was not fondling your wife, Aloysius. I was merely showing my respect.”

  The old man laughed. “I know, boy, I know. I was just busting your chops.”

  Several of the other knights had risen from their chairs, ready to defend their king's honor should it come to that. “What does this mean, 'busting your chops'?” Galahad walked up beside Arthur with a perplexed look on his face.

  “Teasing,” Alo said. “Making a jest, all in good fun. No harm was meant by it.”

  Galahad nodded and tilted his head to one side. “Bust your chops... an interesting phrase.”

  “A phrase, anyway. Would you like some company as you tour the village?” Tristan came up on the other side of Arthur and looked at Alo and the women with hope.

  Zela swooped over beside him and hooked her arm through his elbow. “Absolutely. You can be my escort.” Percival was still sitting at the table and she tossed him a wink even as his mouth worked like a fish. “Shall we be off?” she said to the others. “We need to be finished before the other generals arrive.”

  Her declaration dampened the light mood. They all nodded and the five of them headed out of the castle toward the small collection of buildings that served as the castle's village. Arthur and his men returned to their meal.

  “What do you think is going to happen today?” Bors asked as they ate. “When will we be heading into battle?”

  Arthur shook his head. “I don't know. Soon, I hope. Within the week, if I have my say. We cannot let Leanansidhe rebuild her army. We cannot let her recover from the defeat we handed down before. She is weak now. We must hit her while she is weak, while she is unprepared. We have to stop this once and for all.”

  “What happens when we do stop it?” Yvain sat near the end of the table. His words were quiet, barely loud enough for Arthur to hear.

  The king pondered the question, unsure of how to answer. Finally he looked at his knights. “We will worry about that when the time comes. For now, we have one job to do, and that is our only focus. What happens after all is said and done will happen whether we want it to or not. We must complete the job we were brought here to do, or all is lost. For us and Faery.”

  The men nodded and a couple “here here“s echoed around the table, but a silence fell over them as they continued to eat. They were almost done when the ghostly young lad they had run into earlier burst into the hall. “My lord, your majesty,” he cried as he raced up the length of the table. “Come quick. You must come.”

  Arthur rose from his seat, as did the knights who were seated with him. “What is it, boy? What happened?”

  “A girl,” the boy wheezed. “There's a girl.”

  The king glanced at Lancelot, who shrugged. “What do you mean? What girl?”

  The boy shook his head and waved his arm toward the door. “I do not know, your highness. You must come. Please.”

  The pleading in his voice and the fear on his face had Arthur's heart pounding. He followed the faery out of the dining hall and walked quickly through the castle. The other knights followed. “Where are the twins?” Arthur asked as they stomped across the stone. “And Gareth and Gawain?”

  “They were still in the courtyard, training,” Lancelot said as he strode alongside Arthur. “Would you like to me to get them?”

  Arthur thought for a moment before responding. “Yes, I think that would be best. We are not sure what's going on. I would rather be prepared than caught with my pants around my ankles.”

  Lancelot snorted a small laugh, but trotted off in the other direction toward the training yard. The other knights continued outside and down the steps. The boy led them across the large courtyard out front. They could see a group of the ethereal beings gathered at the wall. Only the guards had permission to be atop the wall and they all hovered near the gates. The others were in a group at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at the guards and waiting for them to relay what was happening down to them. Arthur had never seen the servants of the castle act in such a human way. Since he had arrived, most of them had simply gone about their daily chores, never bothered, never distracted.

  “Make way for the king!“ A booming voice echoed off the walls, coming from somewhere unseen. The crowd of servants parted and quieted, but they did not disperse. They stared at the knights with wonder and expectation.

  The boy stopped at the foot of the stairs and beckoned for the king to go up the wall. Arthur's suspicion and worry was growing as he mounted the steps, two by two. The other knights followed right behind him.

  “What is it?” The captain of the guard was standing nearby and Arthur addressed him directly.

  The man turned halfway and looked at the king. His face was a mask of confusion. “A girl, your majesty.” He raised his sword, which was permanently attached to his hand, and pointed off toward the woods. Arthur narrowed his eyes and looked out over the massive expanse of field that surrounded the castle. Part way down th
e hill, near the farthest corner of the woods from the wall, was a woman. She was running toward the castle gates, waving her hands in the air as she did. Her blond hair trailed out behind her and faint shouting could be heard. Arthur walked down the wall, trying to get a better view.

  As she drew nearer, her features grew a little clearer. She wore a blue dress that was dirty and torn and her leather boots were caked with mud. Her arms were covered in scratches and her hair was a tangled mess. He stared at her, squinting and blinking, trying to make his brain comprehend what he was seeing. The other knights were gathered around him. Some were rubbing their eyes, others were gaping with open astonishment.

  “Is that...” Bors stood beside Arthur, his jaw hanging to his knees.

  By then, the woman was three quarters of the way across the field. She looked up and noticed the knights on the wall. With renewed fervor, she began waving her arms at Arthur and shouting. He craned his head to hear what she was saying. “They're coming!“ She pointed back toward the woods as she ran and nearly stumbled over a rock. “They're coming,” she cried again. “Help me! Please, save me!“ She was nearly at the wall now. Her blue eyes locked onto Arthur's as tears streamed down her face. She stopped running and clasped her hands over her chest. She was breathing so hard she could no longer speak. “Please“, she mouthed to the king.

  As she did, a crash was heard from the woods. As one, the group of knights looked up, just as a troll broke through the trees. It bellowed and lumbered down the hill toward the woman. Faeries of all sorts spilled out behind and around the troll as he made a beeline toward the castle. Blood whelps, banewolves, fire imps, and other wicked creatures howled with blood curdling screams as they waved their weapons and pursued the young woman across the field.

  “Open the gates!“ Arthur broke out of his reverie and shouted to the guards. “Open the gates! Now!“

  The stone giants who guarded the gates ground into action. They rose from their position with a roar and jumped from the wall. The earth shook as they landed and a few of the attackers slowed their pursuit. But the troll and most of the others continued on, undeterred.

  “A sword,” Arthur called as he raced down the stairs. “Bring me a sword, and a shield.”

  Upon the wall, the guards and several of the knights prepared bows for an assault. Bors and Galahad flanked Arthur, both armed with swords they had appropriated from some of the guards. Someone produced a shield and sword from somewhere and Arthur grabbed them as he ran by. The doors swung open, revealing the long expanse of swaying grass. Arthur charged out of the gates with his sword in one hand and the shield in the other. With Galahad and Bors behind him, he cut to the right, keeping close to the wall. Bow strings pinged overhead and the cries of falling faeries rolled across the hill as the archers hit their targets.

  The woman was running toward them as they rounded a corner. “Arthur,” she cried as she reached for him. “Oh my God, it's really you.” She threw her arms around him and clung to him.

  By then, the horde was drawing closer. A bolt of fire splashed against the stone overhead, raining sparks down upon them. “We have to get her inside,” Arthur called to the other knights. He held up his shield, covering the young woman as best he could. They ran back toward the gates. The troll was in view by that time. He hoisted a large rock and sent it sailing down the hill. The doors closed together just as the rock smashed against the thick wood. The horde howled and moaned outside the door, but they could not get inside.

  Arthur let the woman sink to the ground. Several faery maidens swarmed around her, covering her with blankets and bandaging her wounds. Arthur stepped away from the girl just as Lancelot jogged up to him. “What happened? Why were you outside the wall?”

  The king jerked his head toward the girl on the ground, who was staring at them both with wide blue eyes.

  Lancelot's jaw dropped. “Is that...”

  Arthur nodded. “Guinevere.”

  “Arthur.” Guinevere held out her hand to the king as he stood next to Lancelot. Scratches covered her face and arms from running through brambles in the woods. Tears streamed down her cheeks and left tracks in the dirt on her face.

  Arthur stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to do, but Bors stepped up and helped Guinevere to her feet. She ignored the knight and threw herself at the king. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her faced into his chest. “Oh, Arthur,” she sobbed. “You have no idea what I've been through.” She squeezed him tightly and refused to let go.

  Cautiously, he brought one arm up and wrapped it loosely around her back. He raised his head and looked at Lancelot with wide, questioning eyes. Lancelot shrugged at him. Arthur was trying to disentangle himself from his former queen when a red head appeared behind the gathered crowd of ethereal figures. As it broke through the horde of faeries and reached the front, Guinevere raised herself up on her toes and planted a kiss on Arthur's unsuspecting lips.

  “Uh oh,” Lancelot whispered as he turned away from his friend and former lover.

  *~*~*

  FIVE

  *~*~*

  Aiofe spotted the crowd as they walked toward the edge of the village after inspecting her grandparents's new house. “What's going on? I've never seen them do that before.”

  Zela stepped up beside her and surveyed the growing group of servants gathered near the gate. “I have no idea, but that is cannot be good. Come on.” She led the way across the courtyard until they reached the edge of the crowd. “Coming through,” she said and the servants parted in front of her. Aiofe and her grandparents followed in her wake. She made her way to the front and elbowed a newer servant out of the way who didn't have the good grace to move on his own. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded when she stepped out into the open.

  Aiofe brushed past the faeries and stepped around Zela into the small circle that had formed. Her jaw dropped and her heart plunged into her feet. Standing in the middle, clinging to each other like there was no tomorrow, stood Arthur and another woman, a beautiful woman. And they were kissing. Tears welled in Aiofe's eyes and she spun away from the pair.

  “Aiofe!“ Arthur called out to her, but she was already pushing her way through the group. She broke out of the throng of faeries and sprinted away from them as fast as her legs could carry her. Behind her, she heard Arthur call her name again, but she blocked out the sound of his voice. She propelled herself around the castle and through the village, startling both chickens and faeries along the way. When she came to a stop, she found herself deep in the woods in the far corner of the castle grounds. She sank down beneath a tree that carried a strange purple fruit and wrapped her arms around her knees. Her stomach hurt, her chest hurt, and she couldn't breathe. Her heart was trying to tear itself into a million pieces, her brain was racing around in an attempt to make sense of what she had seen, and all she really wanted to do was curl up into a ball and never speak to anyone again.

  “Please do not cry so, my dear girl. You are disturbing my children.”

  The tree bark vibrated against Aiofe's back and she scrambled away. A pair of eyes stared out at her from the branches. The tree shuddered and leaned part way over, examining Aiofe. A small gap formed just below the eyes when the tree spoke again. “Oh, my. Are you the child I have heard so much about? The hunter offspring of Kane himself?” Soft, green leaves brushed against Aiofe's cheeks as the tree bent over her and brushed the tears away.

  Aiofe nodded. “Yes, I am. My name is Aiofe.”

  The leaves shook gently. “Aiofe. What a pretty name. Why are you crying, honey?”

  Aiofe glanced around her. She couldn't be sure, but it felt like the trees were crowding in, listening to her every word. “Um...” She pushed herself into a seated position and folded her arms around her knees. “Well, there's this guy...”

  “King Arthur?”

  Aiofe nodded. “Yeah, him. He was...” Tears started flowing down her cheeks again as the image of Arthur entangled with the blond woman rac
ed into his mind. “There was another woman.”

  The gentle branches overhead stroked the girl's red hair and the old tree cooed softly. “There, there, my dear. I am sure it is not as bad as it seems. Who was this other woman?”

  Aiofe shook her head as she sniffled. “I don't know. I've never seen her before. But they were, they were kissing.” The admission hurt her throat and she broke into a fresh stream of tears.

  “Oh my, that does sound serious. Why don't you stay right here, safe and sound, and we'll find out what's going on for you, all right?”

  Aiofe nodded and scooted around toward the large trunk. She nestled against the bark and let the tears flow.

  *~*~*~*

  “Aiofe!“ Arthur called once more as he pulled himself free of Guinevere, but the red tresses had disappeared beyond the sea of faeries in front of him. He stared after her for several seconds before turning on Guinevere. “Why are you here?” he spat as he glared at her.

  She cowered under his gaze and her bottom lip quivered. “I... I...” Her blue eyes grew wide and glassy with tears as she glanced from Arthur to the faeries surrounding them. She sank back to the ground and tried to make herself as small as possible. “I don't know,” she whispered as she began to shake.

  Lancelot knelt down beside her and wrapped his arm around her. “Don't be so cruel, Arthur. We don't know what the girl has been through. Look at the state of her. It clearly has not been pleasant.” He helped her to her feet and kept his arm around her waist as Arthur shot him a glare.

  Zela stepped up beside the king and stopped whatever retort he was going to make to his friend. She stood between him and the dark haired man and glared at the blond woman. “Who is this?”