by N. C. Reed
“I'm joking, Memmnon,” Parno told him, laughing. “I understand you have an eye on my archery instructor.” His brother delighted him just then by blushing slightly.
“I wasn't aware she was an archery instructor,” he said with what dignity he could muster.
“She might be one of three best shots in the kingdom,” Parno nodded. “Certainly one of the ten, without question. And, she's cute,” he grinned.
“I'm surprised you haven't already bedded her,” Memmnon said stiffly and Parno's face froze for a second, anger rising until he noticed a glint in his brother's eyes.
“I had that coming,” he laughed. “Not funny, but I had it coming.”
“I thought it was funny,” Memmnon folded his arms across his chest.
“Yeah, but you have no sense of humor,” Parno waved the comment away. “And no, just so you know, I haven't. She's a fine young woman, I know that. Her father is a fine man, and he probably is the best shot in the kingdom. Might want to keep that in mind,” he grinned.
“Anyway, I have a. . .an arrangement, let's say, with Lady Freeman,” he said gently.
“Arrangement?” Memmnon eyebrow shot up. “What the hell does that mean?” he demanded.
“It means if I manage to survive the war, then. . .we'll probably get married,” Parno shrugged. “We're a little fuzzy on the details, yet,” he admitted.
“Really?” Memmnon's shock was apparent. “Married?”
“Really,” his brother assured him. “Of course, I do actually have to survive the war,” he reminded him.
“You will,” Memmnon sounded sure. “You will.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
-
The funeral of a king is a solemn event at any time. For a king murdered in his own bed, in time of war, it's more so.
The people of the city and from the surrounding area turned out in droves to throw rose petals at the wheels of the carriage that conveyed Tammon McLeod down Royal Avenue one last time, carrying him to once more be beside his beloved wife.
Waiting at the tomb were Parno, Memmnon, Stephanie Freeman, Edward and Edema Willows and Dhalia Nidiad accompanied by Karls Willard, a host of other nobles, and Winifred Hubel, whom Memmnon could not seem to take his eyes off of. The girl had been irritated at first, then perhaps a bit flattered. As it began to sink in that the King of Soulan was staring at her the way a grown man stared at a grown woman, she began to be nervous.
Parno ignored that by-play, remaining calm and formal for the occasion. Stephanie was by his side, which would tell all and sundry they the two of them were together in some way. Parno regretted that in some ways, but in others he was glad. Had Memmnon been taken with her rather than Winnie, then he might have actually killed his brother. That would never do, he told himself daily.
The carriage was set up for a team of ten horses, but for this event one was missing. Tammon's favorite horse followed the carriage, unsaddled, reins hooked to the back, following his master on his last ride. It was a heartbreaking sight, and for most it resulted in tears. Parno was not among them. He had not shed a tear over Tammon McLeod in a very long time and would not be a hypocrite by doing so now when it meant nothing. He was stoic, reserved, even sad, but he was not mourning. It just wasn't in him.
Eight members of Tammon's personal guard waited to carry their king to his final resting place, their armor shined so bright it gleamed. The rest of the King's Own stood arrayed in splendor, swords drawn, angled over the final stretch of road where the carriage made its way to the sepulcher.
The service was surprisingly brief, the priest speaking words that he had said countless times over his lifespan, but never like this. One did not bury a king often. Parno was surprised when it was done so quickly.
Memmnon was taken back to the palace, where he had to preside, or at least open the feast that celebrated Tammon's life and rule. He managed to do that but no more as his carefully hoarded strength gave out and he was carried off to bed.
Parno was forced to stay, as the sole remaining member of the McLeod Dynasty that was not dead or guilty of sedition, and play host. He knew nothing of being a host. He did know that Winnie was attracting far too much attention for his liking, but. . .she was rather striking and she was single. There was little he could do without betraying Memmnon's trust. He had tried to get his brother to talk to the girl, but he refused until he was healed or at least back on his feet.
He raised his glass countless times as idiots and buffoons who had scarcely known Tammon McLeod and would never be allowed to sit at his table under other circumstances raised salute after salute to their fallen king. It was tradition, and Parno honored it though he wished to be anywhere else.
And of course they all had to pay their condolences. He lost track of how many times he heard “sorry for your loss” or he replied “thank you” of “that's kind of you”. He didn't feel loss, anyway. Not really. His father had never been a real father to him. He wouldn't miss him because he'd never had anything to miss. He wouldn't miss being able to ask his father something because he'd never been able to do it to start with!
As these thoughts raced through his mind, even as he continued to raise his glass and bob his head with useless thanks to useless toasts and eulogies, his anger began to rise. These people were parasites. Many of them lived from the fortunes their ancestors had made, doing nothing for themselves, their families, or the kingdom. Born into wealth by accident of birth, they served no purpose save to occupy a name or a title, and seek for more.
Parno hated them with a passion. His rage grew and grew as each one passed until suddenly his hand dropped to his sword and he decided, idly, that he'd kill the next one who offered false sympathy to him. Just cut their head clean off, right here. As a warning to the others if nothing else.
Just as a hapless potential victim was making his way down the table, Parno caught sight of a flash of black and green that drew his eye. He saw Stephanie Freeman, standing in the doorway, a black dress with green trim hugging her body. She had chosen the colors deliberately, announcing to everyone that she now had a place in the McLeod Dynasty. She walked steadily toward Parno, who stood and took her hand as she arrived by his side, raising it to his lips and kissing it lightly. He then pulled a chair out for her and helped her seat before he returned to his own place, beside her. The talk that had died down at her arrival was slow to start up again and many looked as if they wanted to say something, or at least ask something, but Parno's facial expression made it clear that would not be wise.
So no one asked anything. Or said anything. At all.
The rest of Parno's night went fairly well.
*****
“How are you, dear boy?” Edema Willows asked as the theater came to an end.
“I'm tired,” Parno admitted. “I'm glad you both could be here,” he added, embracing Edema and taking Edward's hand.
“Anything for you, dear Parno,” Edema smiled and Edward nodded his agreement.
“I appreciate that,” Parno said, his tone one of true sincerity.
“Edema,” Stephanie spoke into the silence, “since you're here, I wondered if I could get your assistance with something?”
“Of course, dear,” Edema replied at once. “What can I do?” Stephanie led her away, no doubt discussing Memmnon and Winnie. Parno shook his head, fighting a grin. Wouldn't do to be seen smiling.
“I understand that you were looking after my safety not long ago,” Edward said gently. Parno looked at him in puzzlement, then recalled where Edward had been.
“I appreciate that, given our. . .history,” Edward continued. “I hope you know how much I regret that foul business, milord.”
“Just Parno,” the reply came quickly. “For the two of you it's always just Parno. And I do know it. Don't think of it again. Therron and Sherron have been machinating behind our backs for years. I'm sorry you were a victim of their treachery.”
“Look, Parno,” Edward spoke swiftly, as if trying to get through
something. “Not to speak out of turn, but. . .if you need someone to speak to, about anything, I hope you know that I would be honored to help you any way I could. That I would be proud to be someone you believed you could depend upon.”
Parno looked at him for a long moment before nodding slowly.
“I appreciate that very much Edward,” he said evenly. “Thank you.”
“Not at all,” Edward looked relieved. “I will mingle a bit, I think, but don't hesitate to call upon me if I can do anything at all.” He shook hands with Parno once more and then withdrew. Parno watched the dissipating crowd another few minutes then took the opportunity to slip away to his room. It had been a long day, and tomorrow promised to be more so.
*****
Beaumont and Whipple stood before Parno in Memmnon's office, which he supposed would now be his as Memmnon was now King. The two men looked suitably grim.
It was the day after the funeral and the city was in mourning, though it was muted, as there was a war on. At some point there would be an official period of mourning, probably immediately before the coronation ceremony for Memmnon, but right now the war had to be fought, so essentially it was business as usual.
The matter of the Royal Twins was another one altogether.
“Alive if you can, their heads if you cannot,” Parno's voice had been like iron and the two battle-hardened warriors had fought not to wince at its hardness. “This cannot go unchecked. I want every single hint of this foolishness eradicated completely. Not so much as a whimper or whisper of it left. Understand?”
They understood.
“Destroy Callens and his regiment,” he ordered ruthlessly. “Take him and as many of his officers prisoner if you can, but don't risk the life of a single trooper to do so. They aren't worth it. If you have to, just kill them where they stand and then burn the bodies. Leave their heads on pikes around the cremation site as a warning to any of their friends.”
“Brock's men will join you, but you are in command,” Parno stressed. “They are there to lend the authority of the legal process to your actions. If you can arrest Therron and Sherron, do so and return them here in chains. The more humiliating the better, in fact,” a tiny hint of hatred peeking through his business like demeanor.
“Take no chances in returning them here,” he warned. “They could have help anywhere, and at any level of government. Kill anyone who gets in your way or attempts to stop you. I don't care who they are. We are at war, I am the Lord Marshal, and you are my official representatives. Interfering with your mission is grounds enough for execution and so far as I am concerned should be carried out on the spot. Remember that I want every ember of this sedition to be doused completely so that it can never be kindled again.”
“Yes sir,” both men replied in unison. They were seeing a new side to their Marshal here. Both men would later agree that they liked what they saw.
“You both enjoy my complete trust,” he told them finally, standing. “Do whatever it takes to complete this mission and protect the Crown. Thanks to my sister's actions I was almost King of Soulan, and that alone is reason enough for me to want her dead,” he grinned darkly and both men chuckled slightly.
“Take this day to may whatever preparations you need to make and then be gone when the sun rises tomorrow. Brock's men know where you are going and Callens does not. Not exactly. That may give you an edge, though they have a week on you, nearly. You will likely be too late to prevent them from reaching Therron, so hunt them down and destroy them.”
“Godspeed, gentlemen.” Both men came to attention.
“Thank you, Marshal,” Beaumont replied for them both and Whipple nodded. The two departed, already talking out their plan between them.
Parno watched them go, then returned to the chair behind the desk, turning to look out the window behind him. The city was bathed in sunlight, banner streaming at half-mast in honor of Tammon. He could see birds flying around the window and into the courtyard below, peaceful scenes that belied the fact that the kingdom was in a state of turmoil.
So much had happened so fast. It seemed like only days since he had been at Cove, staying away from his family and trying to make a quiet life for himself and a few friends. Trying to build a small legacy for himself other than a reputation as a womanizing, brawling, drinking young prince with a chip on his shoulder. That hadn't seemed like so much work, really. At least not now it didn't.
Now he was commander of the entire army, the present Crown Prince of Soulan. How had it all changed so quickly?
Because of the greed and insanity of his twin siblings. They weren't responsible for the war of course, but they had tried to use it to their advantage there was no doubt. Their actions could have seen the fall of the kingdom to the north. Could still, he admitted reluctantly. There was no promise that he would be able to drive the invaders out, at least not soon. The Nor were proving far more resilient that he'd bothered to give them credit for.
And now all of this. He shook his head as he contemplated all that had happened in just the last two or three weeks, leaving aside the events before that. Sometimes it seemed like a blur when he looked at it in hindsight. He sighed deeply, suddenly very tired.
“Parno?” a feminine voice drew his attention and he turned to see Stephanie Freeman standing in the doorway, looking as lovely as ever. She reminded him that not everything in the last little while had been bad. Some things had been very good indeed, she chief among them.
“Yes?” he smiled, his fatigue draining away a bit.
“Would you like to go for a walk?” she asked, smiling. “It's a beautiful day. We don't have to leave the palace. In fact, I'd prefer not to, considering how volatile things still are, but the grounds are lovely.”
“Yes, they are,” Parno admitted, standing. He'd never paid much attention to that in the past. He had hated this place with a passion. It reminded him of years of ill treatment and bad memories were the bane of his existence. Perhaps with Stephanie he could make new memories. Good ones.
Lasting memories to keep with him always.
“I'd like that very much, I think,” he smiled again, broader this time. Taking her hand, he walked with her toward the gardens, a quartet of soldier front and back reminding him that his life had changed forever, now.
But not all changes were bad.
*****
One week after the funeral of Tammon McLeod, Memmnon stood before the door to his brother's rooms, now apparently the permanent rooms of Doctor Freeman and one Winifred Huble. The King looked again to his dress, brushing imaginary lint and dust from his jacket and straightening a wrinkle that wasn't there, buying time. The soldiers escorting him were careful to take no note of their king's nervousness.
Finally, realizing he could put it off no longer, Memmnon used the knocker to announce his presence. Almost at once a shy young servant girl opened the door, eyes almost bugging out of her head at the sight of the King.
“M-m-m-milord?” she stammered. “How may I help you, sire?” she recovered quickly.
“I would like to see Miss Huble, please,” Memmnon replied amiably. “Would you ask her if she would receive me?”
“Please come in, sire,” Amelia backed out of the way, opening the door wider. Memmnon stepped inside and stifled a laugh at how feminine his brother's rooms had become in a few short weeks. Doctor Freeman had reluctantly agreed to stay on as the current Royal Physician, at least until Memmnon was completely recovered and someone suitable to take her place had been found. Parno had urged her to do so as the palace, now, was a very safe place to be. Winnie had stayed as well, though more reluctantly.
And now Memmnon was recovered enough to stand without assistance and walk unaided, save for a cane to steady him when needed. So here he was.
“I'll go and fetch her, sire,” Amelia said, closing the door. She hurried away as if afraid Memmnon would chase her. He heard a startled squawk from within and soon Amelia was back, looking apologetic.
“It will
be only a moment, sire,” she curtsied. “Miss Huble is preparing. Would you care to sit?” she waved to the sofas. “I could summon something to eat or drink, of course.”
“I'm fine, thank you,” he nodded, moving to take a seat near the window. He forced himself to be patient as he gazed out the window, eyes taking in the city beyond. He had known he'd be king someday, but had thought it would be some time yet. While not unprepared, he was surprised, and was only just now adjusting to it. He missed his father. Unlike Parno, Memmnon had enjoyed a good relationship with Tammon, all in all. He missed his father's steady hand. While he had not been a good father to Parno, he had been to Memmnon, and had been a good king.
“Milord,” a soft voice drew him from his thoughts and he turned to see Winifred standing in the doorway, her red hair cascading down a green blouse that was complimented by black trousers and soft leather brown boots. His eyes showed faint merriment at the dagger on her hip. There was only so much compromise she was willing to endure, it seemed.
“Miss Huble,” he rose smoothly, though not perhaps as smoothly as he once would have. “You look lovely as ever,” he told her, delighting in her blush.
“Thank you,” she attempted a curtsy, and managed it barely. More or less.
“I was wondering if you'd care to walk in the garden with me, my lady?” Memmnon asked and her blush deepened.
“I'm no lady, sire,” she said softly, though she looked directly at him.
“I beg to differ, Miss Huble,” Memmnon replied at once. “You are every inch the lady and I desire your company very much if you would so honor me.” He held a hand out to her tentatively. Winnie hesitated only a few seconds before accepting it. Memmnon touched his lips to the back of her hand and motioned to the door.
“Shall we, then?”
*****
Doak Parsons looked down from his vantage point and fought not to swear, since someone might hear him. As it was his lookout was shaking his arm to point toward an approaching outrider. Parsons lifted a hand signifying that he had seen him, but kept looking, raising his glass again.