The Road of Kings: A Strong Woman in the Middle Ages (A Medieval Tale Book 8)

by Lina J. Potter

  Only the gods knew what that could result in. Bran's second wife, for instance, had hesitated. She didn't want to cut her hand, sobbing and scared.

  What was done was done. Would Holosh bestow a little bit of happiness upon his priest?

  The choice was his. All Bran could do was to obey.

  When they left the cave, Richard met them, a question on his face.

  "Yes?"

  "Yes," Bran answered simply.

  Olav, who was the only other person present—Holosh didn't care for lavish ceremonies—had already understood it. He smiled and congratulated the newlyweds.

  That was right.

  Let the mercy of Holosh and the grace of Fleyna be with you. Live and be happy.

  Wellster, Cardin.

  "Thank you," Lily whispered to Olav when she got the chance.

  "Don't mention it," the Virman chuckled. "I see the girl's getting pretty good, isn't she, Your Grace?"

  Lily nodded. That was true.

  The monkey, who got the moniker of Mimi, was washed, treated, fed, and the training started. No, they weren't going to send her to a circus, but Lily insisted that if the animal was going to live with people, Mirrie had to school her.

  In record time, Mimi learned basic commands. She didn't obey every one of them, but could understand what was wanted of her, didn't poop all over the place, and overall considered Miranda to be her mommy just as Lilian wanted.

  Her daughter might not be a medical prodigy, but treating and training animals could very well be her true calling. She remembered people like Gerald Darrell or James Harriot.

  She would have to prepare her, though. At that moment, the palace already had three Virman dogs running around, Miranda enthusiastically helping the princesses train them.

  The princesses also, having recovered under Milia's protective wing, were making active hints about getting their own monkeys. And how about horses, too? Even the young king couldn't help but be curious.

  Altres Lort knew where the wind blew from but didn't mind. It wasn't his child to lecture or raise. The choice of occupation seemed unusual for a noblewoman, but not everyone was fit for embroidering all the time. Miranda Catherine Earton's life would be an eventful one; there was no doubt about that, seeing as she was going to get married in the Khanganat.

  Slowly, everything came to order. People got used to King Edwin sitting on the throne with Altres Lort as his regent, both of them pursuing the same goals. Her Highness Maria was gradually recovering, and so were the Ativernans after their torture. Lily received a palatial estate for her hospital and spent her days and nights there, alternating between giving lessons and getting it up and running. Jerisson became fast friends with Altres Lort. While Marquis Losan was ill, he acted as the ambassador, writing letters to His Majesty and visiting the court.

  Miranda spent all her time with the princesses, much to the entertainment of Mimi, the monkey, and to the court ladies' utter displeasure. Monkeys didn't care for titles or ranks, but they could start searching a person for fleas, throw fruit at them, or pick their pocket. Complaining was pointless. Milia was simply too kind, and the regent, too terrifying.

  ***

  Robert Alcine's execution went down quietly.

  It was painful but private: he was staked in the prison courtyard. When Altres was sure that nothing more could be extracted from him, realizing that that sliver of a human (what else could he be after all that torture?) was about to lose what vestiges of reason he had remaining, he ordered his death.

  The duke agonized for several days. It might not be humane, but Altres made a note to visit him a few times over his torment.

  The story that had started so long ago was finally ending with blood and pain.

  He didn't feel sorry for Alcine, not in the least.

  His duchy was divided into several parts and given to loyal people, his coat-of-arms was turned upside down and struck from the Golden Book, and the duke's grave, salted.

  Altres thought that wasn't enough.

  He acknowledged that Alcine and Albitta had the right to vengeance; he could understand them.

  What he couldn't do was to accept it, justifying and forgiving them—and he could definitely not let them live in peace.

  Gardwig was to blame for a lot of things, but should each of them result in a mutiny? By arranging a coup, they had brought a lot of pain and suffering, killing many people and paving the way for many more deaths.

  Now, if Alcine simply tried to assassinate the king, it would have been different. He could have simply drawn a dagger and struck. He had his chance.

  What he had done was unforgivable, especially to Milia and the innocent children.

  ***

  The Ativernans left Wellster at the start of winter.

  The children had said their goodbyes in advance, and Altres Lort personally escorted the procession to Fort Shedar to show his respect.

  Princess Maria had completely recovered. The nasty wound had brought her down for more than a month, but she got lucky. The swelling wasn't serious, and the resulting scar was barely noticeable.

  The same could be said about the Roivels, the Elonts, and Losan. They got lucky, too. Nobody had died or become a cripple, and Lily managed to deal with the consequences. They would never forget, of course, but they would live.

  Lily left a lasting impression on Wellster. The hospital she had built received King Gardwig's name. The people who fought against the coup had mostly recovered, while the doctoruses underwent a short training. In the future, they would have to upgrade their skills by themselves.

  Milia wept as she bid goodbye to her good friend. They knew that they would likely never meet again. There were no trains or airplanes, even phones. Each of them was too attached to their own home to travel. At least they could correspond in writing.

  Lilian kissed the queen for the last time and took her place in the caravan.

  Thomas Concord rode back and forth along the procession, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

  Lily released Lidarh, and the Avarian flew like a bird over the road and the fields. He was finally free, and soon, he would be home. His hooves evenly clattered along the frozen ground. The countess returned to the others only after a while.

  "You seem happy to leave," Lort finally said, seemingly in a chatting mood.

  Lily smiled at the regent.

  His romance with Lydia was developing slowly, but surely. In any case, she had stopped hissing at him, while Altres started contemplating marriage, Lily knew for sure.

  He also became a frequent guest in the embassy of Ivernea, while Their Highnesses decided to stay in Cardin for the winter.

  "Home is always better," she said simply.

  "We'll always be happy to see you, Lilian. Don't forget us."

  Lily smiled.

  "I promise I'll keep in touch. Maybe I could even attend the wedding."

  Altres chuckled, not embarrassed in the slightest.

  "Not before the fall."

  "Time doesn't matter, but the bride does," Lily retorted.

  "If Her Highness accepts..."

  "Her Highness will be happy. I'm certain of it."

  Altres smiled, content.

  "I'll try to make her happy."

  "Children would be good, too."

  Altres glanced at Jerisson.

  "What about you, then?"

  "We're working on it."

  "Do so, then," Altres said with an amicable nod, briefly casting down one of his many masks and becoming a plain jester. "One alliance doesn't seem to be enough. Maybe we'll need a few more."

  "You still have princesses left."

  "And Miguel is already courting the eldest one." Altres winced.

  "I hope the girl doesn't mind."

  "She isn't sure yet, but she seems to like him," the count said, waving his hand. "Maybe we'll become relatives yet."

  Lily smiled.

  "Fairy tales are supposed to end with weddings, are they not?"

/>   "And then comes the real life. A damnably hard thing."

  "That's how it was for me."

  Altres nodded thoughtfully.

  Yes, life was hard and unpredictable in all its richness and hideousness, but there was no refusing it.

  "Do come to visit, Lilian."

  They were in no hurry to make promises.

  After all, Altres Lort was a regent, while Lilian had a lot on her plate as well. Unlike the twenty-first century, where one could get anywhere on the planet in the span of a day, not to mention the neighboring regions, parting ways might mean never getting to see each other again.

  It was sad, but at least it made you appreciate the people who were always by your side.

  Some of the Eveers were leaving with Lilian. Gael had proposed to Rutha, and she accepted. However, both simultaneously refused the offer to stay in Wellster.

  Ativerna was the only option.

  Castle Taral, be sure to write letters.

  Lily and Jerisson were homesick.

  Farewells, a few tears, and once again, cold ground spread under the hooves of their horses, thoughtful wind drying their moist cheeks.

  It was time to go home.

  Virma, the lands of Clan Hardring.

  "Holosh help you, Bran!"

  Olav once again hugged his friend goodbye. He knew they were unlikely to see each other again.

  The last month had been hard on them. Bran could leave any moment. Richard was fine with departing for Ativerna. It felt like torture to remember Tira and watch the sea that had taken her far away on a burning ship. Even looking at someone else being happy was hard.

  To His Highness' credit, he did good, being truly happy for his sister.

  Bran was working. He and Olav made lists of people to be executed or pardoned and put their decisions into practice. Bran drew up chats for his friend, suggesting various courses of action...

  A month? Even a year wouldn't be enough, but the storms were about to stop, or at least the autumn ones were, and they needed to avail themselves of the opportunity to slip into Ativerna unless they wanted to wait for spring.

  Nobody did.

  And thus, the two schemers hurried to get everything over with before they set sail, by fits and starts.

  Angelina said her farewells with tears in her eyes. Her ladies-in-waiting had come to see her off. Jean was already expecting, her husband glowing with happiness. His line would continue; wasn't it a cause for celebration?

  The princess was shuddering at the thought of meeting her father, but that couldn't be changed. She was an adult, and she had made her choice, never regretting it.

  If Aldonai himself appeared before her and offered a chance to do everything anew, Angelina would have sent him packing. Fat chance!

  She was grateful for her happiness. Change it? Marry someone else and spend her whole life being miserable? Never!

  On the ship, she and Bran would marry in Ativernan tradition. The third wedding would take place in Laveri, in the main temple of the capital, for the public to see so that nobody could dispute the marriage. Richard had promised her that. Yes, there would be issues, but love was worth it.

  Angelina once again hugged her former handmaidens and searched for her husband with her eyes. Bran turned around, having noticed her stare, and smiled at her, his beloved.

  Yes, it was worth it, a million times and more.

  Ativerna, Laveri.

  That time around, there were no storms. The ships obediently crossed the channel and dropped anchor at Laveri harbor.

  "You'll wait on the ship," Richard said once again. "I'll go to the palace."

  Bran didn't argue. His time to fight would come later. All he could do was wait. Holosh, after all, had said that everyone had to time their own battles.

  Coming ashore didn't take long, and neither did getting to the palace.

  At last, Richard entered his father's study.

  With Tahir Djiaman din Dashar sent off, father and son stared at each other.

  For the first time in his life, it dawned on Richard how old and tired his father really was. Something like that could only be realized after losing someone close. Having lived through that, Richard didn't want to lose anybody else. Too bad life might have other plans.

  "Father... "

  Richard made a step forward and embraced his father.

  Did he imagine it, or did a tear roll down Edward's cheek?

  Are you crying, Your Majesty?

  "My son. My boy..."

  It was nothing more than a whisper, but it was an ocean of truth and love. For Richard, those several words meant volumes. For a few minutes, they stayed locked in each other's embrace, before Edward finally pulled himself together and pushed Richard away.

  "What happened in Virma?"

  Richard didn't omit anything, telling the entire story from the storm to their arrival, from Tira to Gardren.

  Cutting corners would come later. Some things, he would never tell even to Jerisson...but he would never conceal it from his father.

  Edward didn't interrupt, quietly listening, sometimes nodding or putting his hand on his son's shoulder as a show of support.

  Yes, such was life. He had gotten lucky with Jessamine. Aldonai wasn't as kind to his son. As for his daughter... Edward had never wanted that for her, no. But whatever happened, happened.

  "I want to see this Gardren before I make a decision."

  "I'll send a messenger for him."

  "Do that."

  A year before, Edward might have decided differently. Not anymore.

  The Ivelien conspiracy had done a number on him. The sentence he had passed, his pain, his tears, his despair... He wouldn't ruin his children's life. Whether good or bad, their choice would be their own, not his.

  And so, Edward patiently waited while talking to Richard. At last, a blue-eyed man of middle height entered the room. Edward didn't even notice his hunched back at first; Bran had long since stopped paying attention to his disability, influencing the others around him.

  "Your Majesty."

  He bowed, and a strange feeling came upon Edward. A predator had just entered his office: fierce, cunning, and dangerous. Yet, his daughter had tamed him.

  "Lord of Gardren."

  "Just Bran Gardren now. At your service, Your Majesty."

  Edward permitted himself a brief smile.

  "Not just Bran Garden. You're also my daughter's husband."

  "I suppose I am."

  "What if I order you killed?"

  Bran nodded.

  "I won't kill you in turn, Your Majesty. It would upset my wife. However, I hope that you won't transfer your rage to her and my children."

  "Whom will you kill, then?" Edward wondered.

  "I won't resign myself to being killed, Your Majesty. I think I can dispatch half a score of men, maybe more."

  Bran understood that he was being tested and tried to avoid overdoing it. It was the moment of truth: his future was at stake, and so was Richard's.

  Previous arrangements were one thing. Nobody knew the final outcome.

  "You're a pagan."

  "I can get Aldonai's blessing in his temple. My faith allows for that, Your Majesty."

  "And be married in a church?"

  "For Angelina, yes."

  Edward chuckled.

  "What if I told you that my daughter can do better than you?"

  "I agree, Your Majesty. All I can say is that I did try to dissuade her."

  Edward laughed.

  "Do you love her?"

  Bran looked at him with all sincerity a man like him could muster.

  "I will die without her. As for love...well, I never knew what it was like."

  Edward slowly nodded.

  "I suppose we can postpone the execution."

  "What about marriage?"

  "We'll speed it up," His Majesty stressed.

  Bran smiled with the corners of his mouth.

  "Can I relay the happy news to my wife?"


  "I will do that myself. I'll also cuff her ears. She did come here with you, didn’t she?"

  "That's right."

  Edward chuckled. He knew his daughter.

  "Then both of you are free to go. And call that brat here. I'm going to give her a spanking."

  Bran bowed.

  "With all due respect, Your Majesty, I have to say that it's her husband's prerogative."

  Edward concluded that Bran was one cocky bastard. Still, even people like them could be of use.

  "Will you find the door?"

  Bran replied with a mischievous smile, bowed, and left.

  Richard lingered for a minute.

  "Father?"

  Edward gave him a cheerful smile.

  "He's a right snake, of course. But...Angie made a good choice."

  "I've never doubted that."

  "You shouldn't, either. Call that scamp here."

  Richard bowed and left.

  His sister was going to get a real dressing-down. Whatever. Maybe it would be good for her.

  The most important thing was over. Father had recognized his sister's marriage. Soon, the official wedding would take place.

  Be happy, Angie. Be happy for both of us.

  ***

  Richard wished the best for his sister, and so did His Majesty Edward. However, all concerned parties knew very well that the marriage would cause a public outcry, to put it mildly.

  The slackers at court could accept the princess being married off to another country or maybe being given to a worthy nobleman, such as a duke or a marquis. There were even a few candidates, considering that His Majesty had two marriageable daughters. Everyone wanted a princess in their family: it meant certain prospects, if not for the current generation, then for the next one. If everything was all right, it meant a link to the royal dynasty. In case the ruling family encountered difficulties, it meant rights to the throne. Who'd refuse an opportunity like that?

  And then, out of the blue, Her Highness had sailed to some island and gotten married to a local, halving down the chances of old blood nobles. Maldonaya take this Virma! Did it really have anything except for fish? True, they said that her husband was the leader of some clan, but did it really mean anything on the mainland? It wasn't even funny! He had no lands, no title, not a thing to his name. How could they just swallow it? After all, a widow was still marriage material!