by Kel Kade
The servants removed the dishes and left the suite. Celise came to stand beside the queen with a tablet and quill. Erisial said, “You are a stunning young man, far too attractive and talented to be unclaimed; but, I am not easily swayed by a handsome face—or body, so do not delude yourself into thinking that is the reason for my claim. What is your age?”
Rezkin had not been prepared for the question. It seemed inconsequential, but then again, outworlders often focused on age as a measure of a man. He wondered if the truth would benefit or damage his cause.
Rezkin said, “My age is irrelevant.”
“It is required for documentation of the claim,” the queen said. “And remember, I can tell if you are lying.”
“I have not agreed to the claim,” he replied, “but my age is not a secret. I am nineteen.”
Erisial looked stunned, and her disbelieving gaze immediately sought Serunius. The man stared at him as if just noticing a new species of mythical beast. Celise shifted uncomfortably and glanced several times at the queen for confirmation that he was lying.
Erisial said, “I would never have guessed. You are barely more than a child.”
Rezkin captured her with an icy stare and said, “I was never a child.”
Erisial shivered and abruptly rose. “The breeze is cool out here.”
Rezkin might have believed she could be cold in the filmy garment except that there was no breeze and only stagnant heat and humidity had followed the rain. She entered her sitting room, apparently expecting him to follow, which he did. Serunius closed the doors behind them. Celise took a seat on a bench beside a table, preparing to take notes, and Erisial turned to stare at Rezkin for a long moment.
Finally, she said, “You are young—too young for my tastes, although you demonstrate a maturity not common to men your age. You say you have a legitimate claim to the Ashaiian throne. You are the right age, and you have the looks. Could it be that Lecillia’s youngest secretly lived? Or are you bastard born? Why have you not claimed royal blood?”
“What I claim and do not claim is my business. We are here about your claim.”
“This changes nothing,” she said. “I will claim you, regardless.”
“You have no ground on which to stand,” Rezkin said. “You will hand over Oledia whether I agree to the claim or not.”
Erisial chuckled. “Do not think that I have missed your play. I know of your efforts with my men, with the captain of my royal guard. I know what you have been doing to my Serunius.” She gazed at her consort and said, “I have seen the way he looks at her. She is the physical embodiment of a powerful Leréshi woman, and she is beautiful. With your backing, she could take the throne. She could gain favor by claiming my Serunius. He may even accept her claim.”
Serunius scowled at her, to which she shrugged one shoulder. She said, “There are few men I could choose as champion who might have a chance at defeating him. If he leaves me, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to retain the throne. This means that, if I am to remain queen, I must convince you to either accept my claim or leave and take your knight with you. This means giving you what you want. You have played an effective game. The only problem is that it was completely unnecessary. I have already decided to give you what you want and more.”
“How so?”
Erisial strode over to a settee and took a seat, motioning for Rezkin to sit on the sofa across from her. Celise rose and poured each of them a cup of tea, then returned to her place on the bench by the writing table.
“I have been queen for over six years. It is an eternity as far as my opponents are concerned. They grow anxious. I have already uncovered several plots to assassinate me, and a few have used ridiculous promises in an attempt to seduce Serunius into assisting. Celise, of course, has been a target. Despite what many think, she has never been permitted to serve me directly until now. Technically, she is here to serve you. She is quite committed to you now. I know how she is, though. She would never consider trying to claim you, even if I had not already announced my plans. She is weak and timid, traits she surely inherited from her father’s side.”
Rezkin noticed that Celise kept her eyes on the tablet in front of her, her face heating in embarrassment. He said nothing, though, but waited for the queen to make her point.
“I am only now entering my prime, and I have no intention of letting those vultures get to me. I need security. That is where you come in.”
“Claiming me will not stop others from plotting against you.”
“No, indeed, it would only stop them from openly challenging me. The prospect of assassination becomes more appealing to them. No, I need more. I do not intend to claim you as consort. I am claiming you as my husband. You will be the first king of Lon Lerésh.”
Rezkin stared at the woman, attempting to judge her sincerity as his mind ran away with all the possible reasons for her to do something so absurd. She smiled, apparently pleased to have left him speechless.
“You are surprised,” she said.
“No queen of Lon Lerésh would ever consider taking a husband. It is antithetical to your entire power structure. It is a sure way to incite rebellion.”
She set her teacup and saucer on the table between them and said, “I benefit little from claiming you as consort, especially since you will be leaving as soon as I release Oledia. Lon Lerésh is a matriarchy, a structure that has defined our culture since the founding of our queendom, and no one of any consequence wants that to change. If you are my husband, however, then you have equal right to the throne. If someone kills me, you become ruler. No one wants that to happen. Therefore, they must kill you before they kill me. You will not be here. You will be off fighting your war and claiming other kingdoms for your empire. It will be in everyone’s best interest, including that of my enemies, for me to continue living.”
“So long as I am alive,” Rezkin said.
“Yes. Of course, it will mean additional people after your head, but I doubt a few more will make much of a difference. They will have difficulty contracting with the Adana’Ro since you have dealings with them, and I intend to make refusing contracts against you a stipulation of allowing my daughter to join them. If they do not wish to take the endeavor into their own hands, I suppose my enemies could contact the Order or the Black Hall. With your disruptions in Channería and Ashai, one of them may be willing to take a contract against you.”
She tapped her bottom lip thoughtfully. “I have recently received an odd report that the Raven has endorsed your claim to the Ashaiian throne, so the Black Hall may not be an option either. Regardless, I am confident that you can handle whatever they throw at you.”
“So, you wish to place a target on my back to save yourself.”
“You want Oledia. I want to live.”
“Besides your release of Oledia to the Adana’Ro, which I believe you intend to do regardless of my decision, what do I gain from this deal?”
“By our traditions, as husband and wife, we are to be equals. That means we must have equal power over the people. It does not mean we will share the same power. I will continue to rule where I know best. I will maintain the business and politics. You will get the army and navy. I believe you will find them useful when waging your war. You must remember, however, that as a ruler of Lon Lerésh, your first duty is to our people. You will use our military to the advancement and security of our people. You will not carelessly sacrifice them to win Ashai.”
Rezkin placed his saucer and cup on the table and leaned forward. He said, “You overplayed your hand. Your disinterest in your eldest daughter has nothing to do with her or her father and everything to do with Serunius.”
Erisial was thrown by the abrupt non sequitur. “You speak of things you do not understand.”
“I understand that, in Lon Lerésh, daughters are prized above wealth and power, regardless of their sire. A daughter is a blessing of the Maker, and a fondness for one’s daughter is expected. True love for one’s consort, ho
wever, is cause for concern, a possible weakness.”
Erisial laughed. “It is no secret that I care for Serunius. He has been invaluable in helping me achieve my goals. His mind intrigues me, and he is a superb champion and an attentive lover. He knows his place, though, and he expects no more.”
“You love Serunius but cannot admit to it for fear of others discovering your weakness. In fact, I think you would do anything for him. You did not challenge Yserria for the torque because you would not risk losing him in a challenge against me.”
“You think too highly of yourself,” she snapped.
“Perhaps it is you who thinks too highly of me. The target you place on my back frees you and Serunius from plots against you, and you expect me to fend off all your enemies. You would never consider claiming Serunius as your husband because you would be immediately overthrown and killed—both of you. You want Serunius to know how you feel, though, so you have sacrificed your greatest love for him.” He nodded toward a wide-eyed Celise. “She is not his daughter, so you have disowned her and treated her with disregard and antipathy, all in a bid to prove to him your love.”
“That is absurd.”
“It is no coincidence that on the very night you announce your intention to claim me, you arranged for her attack. She might have been raped, your personal sacrifice to appease your guilt over claiming another man.”
“I did no such thing,” she said with a quick glance at her consort.
“You do not have to deny it. Serunius already knows. In fact, it is his own guilt over your treatment of your daughter that has led him to be so protective of her. He has never been far when she has been in my presence, but I wager it was he who assigned her to serve my party. It was also his idea for her to serve us here today, was it not? He has been arranging for her to serve in positions of honor far above the station you assigned her, giving others the impression that you secretly care for her.”
Erisial glanced at Serunius, who continued to stare at Rezkin blankly. “Why would he do that?”
“He shows his love for you by helping to raise the standing of your daughter while you work to tear it down. She has been the unwitting pawn in the struggle between your culture and your love for each other.”
Erisial looked at Celise disdainfully and said, “That is an interesting fantasy, but Celise is the product of a union between myself and a man I hated, nothing more. I do not see what any of this has to do with the present situation.”
“You have just proposed taking a man other than your consort—the man you love—as your husband and king. I interfered in the attack on Celise. How will you assuage your guilt now?”
“I have no guilt. It is a political maneuver, no more. Serunius understands the circumstances, and he will continue to perform his duties as Queen’s Consort with honor.” She stood and retrieved something from a drawer in a side table. She turned to him and held up a silver ribbon. “I am going to claim you either as consort or husband. The former will do us little good. You would not have to accept the claim, which means we would not be required to consummate it, but you would still be mine. The latter is dangerous and distasteful, but we both gain much. Which will it be?”
Wesson opened the door once again at the timid knock. He always felt uncomfortable when Celise, or any of the Leréshi women, came to their rooms. She never even glanced at him, like he was not a real man, and yet he was supposed to be grateful for it. This time, Celise seemed particularly anxious.
“You are all summoned to the throne room,” she said. She paused as if to say more and then closed her mouth, apparently deciding against it.
Wesson’s companions joined him in the sitting room. Knowing it was coming, they had all dressed in their uniforms to show unity and support for their king. They felt that this was a battle, whether it ended in a challenge or not. Frisha and Yserria had been blatantly irritable, Mage Threll and Reaylin unusually quiet. Wesson tried to stay out of the drama between the women, but he knew more than one of them were attracted to Rezkin. It was to be expected, though. Rezkin was everything a woman wanted in a man, in addition to being powerful and wealthy. The one thing he seemed to be lacking, though, was the most important. According to Frisha, Rezkin was incapable of feeling.
Wesson did not believe it. He had seen the effect Frisha had on Rezkin, and he did not think the man would go to so much effort to help people for whom he had no feelings. He wondered if it was not that Rezkin was incapable of love, but that he was incapable of loving Frisha.
They followed Celise down the many corridors and stairwells to the throne room that held at least three times more people than on the previous night. Looking around, he realized it truly was difficult to tell nightclothes from court dress in Lon Lerésh. Wesson had wondered, the night before, if it was appropriate to attend court in one’s nightclothes, but now he considered that the Leréshi probably did not own nightclothes.
Rezkin was already standing before the dais in the gifted garb, and Queen Erisial lounged on the throne with her consort standing behind her. The woman did not look pleased, and Wesson was both relieved and concerned that Rezkin had probably not agreed to her terms. Knowing Rezkin, though, he had likely managed to manipulate the queen into adopting his own plans. He thought it an ill omen when the massive chamber doors were suddenly closed and barred behind them, with guards stationed at the exits. He turned back to see the queen staring at him with a smirk on her painted lips.
“This is a claiming,” she said in explanation. “We always bar the doors. It is not uncommon for men to try to run from their destinies.” The observers laughed and nodded appreciatively as if it was a common joke, and it probably was. Then, the queen pursed her lips and said, “You need not worry, Journeyman. You will probably never have that problem.”
The crowd laughed again, some of them leaning to whisper to each other in jest, while others did not bother to conceal their crude remarks with lowered voices. Wesson felt a welling within him, the anger and drive for destruction that he so carefully kept bottled at his core. He muttered his mantra over and over in his mind and thought of hazel eyes framed by strawberry blonde locks.
Once he had reacquired his distance, he focused on the present. The queen was now standing and appeared as a goddess incarnate in the silky-blue strips of fabric she called a dress. They hung from her shoulders, stretching to the floor with gaps between them. The only thing holding them in place over her otherwise bared flesh was a silver sash at her waist and a few narrow horizontal strips designed to cover her intimate bits. Wesson wondered why she had bothered. He thought she might as well have been standing on the dais naked, and then he wondered if perhaps she sometimes did. He forced himself to stop wondering about that and looked to Rezkin for any indication of what might happen next. As usual, the man gave away nothing.
Erisial’s voice rang clearly throughout the hall. For the benefit of her guests, she spoke in Ashaiian. “I claim this man, the man with no name, the one known to his people as Rezkin.” She paused as the echo faded. Everyone watched in silence. “I claim him as my husband and name him King of Lon Lerésh.”
The crowd burst into an uproar. Although Wesson could not understand what was being said, it was obvious the people were angry. Queen Erisial held up a hand, and Serunius came to stand beside her with his sword drawn. When the crowd had settled down enough for her to be heard, she said, “Of course, anyone is welcome to challenge the claim.”
Matrianera Telía stepped forward. “I will challenge you. You have no right to claim a husband.”
Erisial smiled viciously. “Of course, I do. Every woman has a right to claim a husband. Your disapproval does not give you the right to disparage or reject my rights. You will risk your consort Naltis in challenge?”
Telía said, “I am not afraid of Serunius. Coledon will fight as my champion.” One of the royal guards stepped from around the dais and reluctantly took his place beside Telía. The man had broad shoulders, a chiseled jaw, and a hard stare. B
y the misery that suffused his stance and every mannerism, it was obvious he did not relish the fight.
Erisial said, “So you risk your brother but not your consort.”
Telía raised her chin. “Naltis is not here. You know Coledon often serves as my champion.”
“Too often, Telía,” Erisial snapped. “You are selfish. He should have been granted to another long ago. Regardless, he will not be fighting Serunius. I name Rezkin as my champion.”
Alarmed, Frisha leaned across Wesson to question Yserria, who stood to his other side. “She can’t do that, right? Not unless he accepts her claim?”
Rezkin did not look back at them as he said, “I accept the challenge.”
“Wait, no,” Frisha hissed. In a forced whisper, she said, “Yserria, do something. Challenge her.”
Yserria leaned across Wesson and replied, “If I challenge her, he could still fight as her champion. If he accepts, then I would be fighting him. If he doesn’t, I would fight Serunius. If I win, I would have to claim him.”
“Better you than her,” Frisha said.
“I do not want to claim him, and he would not accept.”
“Then be my champion, and I will claim him,” Frisha said.
Yserria said, “He already told you he would not accept.”
They glanced up to see that everyone was watching them. Rezkin turned and met Frisha’s gaze. His eyes were cold and empty as he said, “I have accepted her claim. Now be silent.”
Frisha gawped and then clamped her mouth shut. Her surprise was overtaken by expressions of anger and disgust, and Wesson could almost hear her thoughts as she seemed to remember Rezkin’s alter egos.
“The challenge stands,” Telía said.
Erisial’s gaze hardened. She said, “The challenge is to the death.”