To Make a King

by Kristi L Cramer

  “Master.”

  The altar broke in half with a resounding crack.

  Chapter Eight

  As Mari walked out of the convent, she saw the hooded woman standing in an alleyway beside the convent walls. The sight of her gave Mari a shiver up her spine, and she remembered the nun’s blessing as she hurried away. There was something spooky about her lurking there, near the convent. Mari decided she would inform someone the first chance she got.

  Darkness was just beginning to settle over Fair Haven as she made her way back to the castle. Having foregone the formal supper, Mari decided to stop by the kitchens on her way to the rooftop to see if she could cadge a slice of bread, and perhaps a bowl of the stew she had smelled cooking earlier.

  She paused outside the service entrance to the kitchens and saw it was still bustling with the activity of supper. She slipped inside and stepped over to a small table where a stew pot stood next to a stack of plain earthenware bowls and wooden spoons.

  “Excuse me,” she said to a passing servant who paused, blinking in surprise to see a lady in the kitchens. She indicated the stew. “May I?”

  “As you wish, mum,” he said, bobbing his head. “There’ll be some fresh bread along in a flash.”

  “Thank you,” Mari said, reaching for a bowl as the servant hurried off to hoist a platter bound for the dining hall. The stew was thick and hearty, but she ladled the bowl only half full, mindful that she was probably eating the servants’ food. Another servant bearing a tray of fresh bread paused when he saw her, then set the tray on the table.

  “Some bread, milady?” he asked politely.

  “If you’ve a slice to spare,” she said. The servant cut one of the small loaves in half and offered it to her. “Oh, that’s too much, really. I don’t want to put you out because I didn’t go to the supper. Really, a slice will do.”

  The servant gave her genuine smile and cut the half in half again, giving her the soft inner section. “You take that now, mum. I’d not want to eat with that lot either.”

  Mari giggled at the man’s accurate assessment and put a finger to her lips. “That will be our little secret,” she said.

  The servant winked at her. “Just you enjoy that stew now.”

  “Thank you, I will.”

  Mari took her bowl and bread and retreated to the rooftop to eat in peace and quiet. She noticed, with some disappointment, a bank of clouds had settled on the western horizon, blocking out the stars. She hoped it would stay off until morning—the star shower was bound to start tonight. But as she ate and the night deepened, she could see it moving closer.

  Her bowl was empty and her bread gone when she decided to give up for the night. The clouds obscured half the sky and looked to get worse. She kept her eyes skyward for a while longer though, dreading the thought of going back to the room she shared with her family. Perhaps if she waited long enough, they would be asleep and she could sneak inside.

  A sound on the stairs interrupted her thoughts and she turned, trying to see who was there. It was darker this night than the last, and she could only see indistinct shadows.

  “Hello?” she said tentatively.

  “Who’s there?”

  It was the prince, and he sounded...displeased.

  “Mari of Dewbury, Your Highness,” she said, standing up. She couldn’t see him, so she went on the assumption that he would come to the sound of her voice. “I’m afraid there won’t be any stargazing tonight. The clouds are moving in too quickly.”

  The only sound she heard on the rooftop was the scrabble of claws on stone. A dog? “Highness?”

  A shadow low to the ground became visible as it approached her. She recognized the shape of a big mastiff, the type of canine King Isaiah had employed as war dogs. She heard no growling or sounds of warning, but she held up her hand, palm down, to let the dog get her scent. It snuffled at her hand, then nudged it, asking to be petted. She obliged, smiling as the dog leaned into her hand and sighed with pleasure.

  “Oh, you’re good,” the prince said, and she jumped to hear him so close. “I should have known he’d smell Aslynn on you. Very clever, wearing her dress....”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t follow you, Your Highness.” His voice sounded rough with anger, but Mari didn’t know why he should be angry with her.

  “Of course you don’t,” he said, his tone mocking. “I suppose you are innocent of the whole scheme.”

  “Scheme? Really, I don’t—”

  “I didn’t really expect you to admit it. But you must be in Aslynn’s confidence. I can tell.”

  He paused, and she tried to break in. “Please—”

  “Everyone has my best interests in mind,” he said, cutting her off. “What I should wear to look more kingly. How I should act. When I should speak, whom I should marry. I swear, I’ll have no more of it!”

  Mari could not see him, but she could tell he was intensely angry. She also knew she must speak in her defense, even though her primary instinct was to flee. “Your Highness,” she said forcefully. “Will you let me speak?”

  His silence was frightening. She almost expected to be slapped for daring to raise her voice to royalty. Her mother would not have hesitated.

  But Prince Sebastian spoke, his voice still harsh. “Very well. Speak your piece, but know I suspect your words will be lies.”

  Mari drew herself up, bolstering her courage. “You do me an injustice, Highness. I have acted with naught but honesty and from my heart. I know of no scheme against you, only worries that Your Highness has endured great grief and pain by the death of the king. Yet you will not turn to those who love you for support. Many of us are concerned and wish to help. I suppose if that is a scheme, then yes, I am guilty as charged.”

  She stopped, her mind racing to find more that she could say, but no more words would come.

  “Leave me,” the prince said.

  “As you wish,” she replied, surprised that her voice remained steady. She curtsied, even though she knew he could not see, then hurried across the roof toward the stairs.

  Her fortitude left her before she reached them, and tears streamed down her face as she fumbled for the handrail. She stumbled when she hit the bottom step, and fell into the arms of a man she recognized as the prince’s bodyguard.

  He helped her regain her footing, and she looked up into his striking brown face, meeting his kind gaze with her tearful one.

  “He’s in a rare mood tonight, Lady Tidwell. I’d not take his words to heart.”

  “I...I’ll try not to.” With that said, she fled.

  ⇜⊂⊃⊂⊃⊂⊃⇝

  Sebastian stood at the parapet, listening to Lady Mari depart and thinking about what she had said. Her words had instantly cooled his anger—enough that he felt keen embarrassment for the way he’d acted, which was why he had told her to leave. He wished now that he had not, but he could not bring himself to send for her.

  Instead, he thought back to the events of that day, and the day before. After the funeral, he had displayed a temper very unusual for him, and again at breakfast. Yet again while ranting at Master Jabari about the dog, then at Jared out on the moors.

  But dinner this evening had been by far the worst display yet. It had seemed justified at the time, but looking back.... Sebastian groaned aloud.

  He had arrived disheveled and seated himself without acknowledging anyone in the room. He had ordered dinner to be served before anyone else had been seated, which created chaos as servers dodged guests and guests scrambled to be seated. Aslynn actually had to intervene and ask the servers to wait until everyone in the room was seated. Which of course sent Sebastian back into this black rage that seemed to be consuming him. Every time he turned around, it was there, biting at him, driving away his reason.

  Until Lady Mari had actually called him on his behavior, he had been unable to think that he could be wrong. All his accusations of a plot against him, his refusal to let anyone in on his feelings, his plain bad manners: all of
that he had somehow been able to overlook. Until a young lady found the courage to tell him he was being unfair to his face.

  And he sent her away.

  Artemis whined and leaned against his legs. Sebastian reached down to rub her head, then sat next to the big dog and wrapped his arms around her.

  “What a mess, Artemis.”

  He sat like that for some period of time—not thinking, not moving, except once to let Artemis lie down in a more comfortable position. Time passed, though he was not aware of how much; he heard the bells tolling the hour without registering the count.

  Finally, Artemis stirred, lifting her head and pricking up her ears. Sebastian recognized the posture as one of greeting an approaching friend, and brought his focus back to the moment.

  “Yes?” he said, his voice betraying his extreme fatigue.

  The visitor hesitated, but Sebastian recognized the voice immediately when he spoke. “Your Highness, would you like a cloak as cover against the rain?” Jared asked.

  “Rain?” Sebastian realized it had been raining for some time, the sort of light misting common on the coast. A breeze had picked up, too. “Oh. No, I’ll come inside.”

  He stood, feeling the stiffness in his legs from sitting so long in the damp. “What time is it?”

  “Quarter of three at the last bell, Highness.” Jared hesitated again. “Perhaps a hot bath?”

  “Now there’s a sensible suggestion,” he said, not knowing what else to say. Jared’s whole demeanor was that of a man who expected to be bitten by a feral dog. Sebastian wanted to apologize, but he didn’t have the words. Whatever had stolen away his reason had also left him bereft of any words that might remedy this situation. Not that he’d ever been eloquent in awkward moments, but now it seemed ten times worse. Lately, the only time he felt comfortable speaking to anyone was when he was with....

  He cleared his throat. “But there is someone I need to speak to first.”

  “Highness?”

  “I don’t suppose you know where Lady Mari went?”

  “No, sir.” Something in Jared’s voice hardened. “She was not in a condition to say.”

  Sebastian realized he meant she was very upset when she passed him, and he felt the sting of regret. He sighed and opened his mouth to say something, but he didn’t know what. “Oh dear,” was all he managed.

  He turned on his heel and went downstairs into the hallway. “Where is she staying?”

  “Lady Mari?” Jared paused to think a moment. “Her family is in the yellow room.”

  “We’ll try there.”

  Lady Mari was not in the yellow room. They roused everyone there with their looking, but were gone before the shrieks of dismay from Lady Rochelle and Baroness Tidwell could begin.

  Next, they searched the dining hall, the courtyard, the stables, and even rechecked the rooftops. The kitchen staff—already baking the morning bread—remembered seeing her at suppertime last evening, but hadn’t seen her since. Jared suggested the convent, but they knew its gates would be barred against all but emergencies until time for morning prayers. All the common rooms—the library, solarium, and study—were empty.

  The woman had disappeared.

  “Would she have gone home?” Sebastian asked at last. They were standing in the grand entrance of the castle keep, trying to decide where to look next. His desire to find her appeared to be infectious. Though Jared still did not know the reason for the search, he seemed just as anxious to find the missing lady.

  “Not without hiring a driver and she doesn’t seem the sort to go waking folks in the middle of the night.”

  Sebastian decided Jared was not referring to this night’s rousing search. Without meaning to, they had managed to awaken a good number of guests and servants alike.

  “Perhaps she is with the princess?” Jared suggested. “They are acquainted.”

  “Hmm, it’s possible, but I’ll only wake Aslynn as a last resort. We didn’t check the chapel, did we? She might have gone there.”

  Jared nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but the door swung inward and a pair of guards stepped through, escorting a third man.

  “Prince Sebastian,” one of the guards said upon seeing him. Both guards saluted him, and he returned the gesture absently. There was something familiar about the third man.

  “This man arrived by private boat and has insisted on seeing you,” the guard said.

  As the new man threw back his hood and shook off the rain, Sebastian recognized him. “Meedo?”

  The man smiled the crooked smile Sebastian remembered so well. “I found myself sailing in northern waters, and thought to myself, it must be time to visit Fair Haven.”

  Sebastian staggered back a step, and Jared reached to support him. Ideas began to click into place in his mind and the last few days began to make some kind of sense. “Is this more than...a social visit?”

  The sailor—whose last visit five years ago proved essential to the great changes effected then—hesitated, and then nodded. “It would appear so, Your Highness.”

  “Then we need to talk. Desperately. Jared, please rouse the princess and have her meet us in the study.”

  “And Lady Mari?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid speaking to her will have to wait.”

  ⇜⊂⊃⊂⊃⊂⊃⇝

  Sister Jamesetta paused at the doorway of the Chapel of the Virgin to check on Sister Katrona. She was impressed with the child’s level of devotion, but also worried about what had triggered it. The death of her father was traumatic to be sure, but enough to warrant three days of such intense prayer and fasting? As the young princess was her protégé, Sister Jamesetta was very concerned.

  The novice still lay prostrate on the floor. As Sister Jamesetta drew closer, she could see the girl shaking with an intensity approaching violence, and rushed to her side.

  Touching her hand, she found the girl sweating; her skin felt clammy and her pulse raced.

  Sister Jamesetta dared not move the girl; even three days of prayer did not warrant such reaction. There was more to this than could be seen. Sister Jamesetta went to find Mother Superior.

  On her way, she paused at the doorway of Saint Catherine’s chapel and frowned to see the doors shut. Those doors had been propped open for as long as she had been a nun. She tried the latch and found it locked.

  “Odd,” she said. She didn’t think there were even any keys for the lock anymore.

  A low sound reached her through the door, and she pressed her ear to the thick wood. Someone was inside, chanting. The sound sent a shiver down the sister’s spine, and she immediately recalled an image of the hooded woman who tried to enter the convent two days ago.

  The locked doors of the chapel had some connection to Sister Katrona’s affliction, she was certain. Sister Jamesetta quickened her pace toward Mother Superior’s office, feeling a cold shadow reaching out to her from that locked chapel. She shivered deeply.

  A small group of nuns stood in the hall ahead, bewildered looks on their faces.

  “Sister Jamesetta,” one of them called. “What is wrong? We feel...something.”

  “Pray,” Sister Jamesetta answered as she hurried by. “Pray for your souls, and for strength for Sister Katrona.”

  Behind her, the nuns all dropped to their knees where they stood, folding their hands and lifting their heads to gaze toward the morning light shining through a high window.

  Chapter Nine

  Mari woke to the sound of tapping.

  Confused, she stirred, felt the hardwood surface beneath her and remembered where she was: the Chapel of Saint Michael, inside the castle. She had fled here after her encounter with the crown prince, finding sanctuary in the quiet room. She did not remember stretching out on a pew to sleep.

  The tapping sound puzzled her. She opened her eyes to see Rochelle standing above her, glaring and tapping her foot on the stone floor.

  “I should have known I’d find you here,” she said harshly. “Not very pious o
f you to be sleeping here like that.”

  Mari sat up, rubbing her eyes. “What is it?” she asked, for once not letting her sister’s shrewish tongue fluster her.

  “‘What is it?’” Rochelle mimicked. “Only that half the castle’s been roused looking for you. The prince himself came to our room trying to find you.”

  Mari straightened in surprise. “The prince was looking for me?”

  “I don’t know what you’ve done to upset him, Mari. Really, I can’t conceive how you get in such trouble everywhere you go.”

  Somehow, Mari didn’t think the prince was looking for her because she was in trouble. He would have simply sent guards to find her if that were the case, and probably much earlier than now. Rochelle was still ranting on about how awful a person Mari was when Mari chuckled.

  “What do you find funny in all this?” Rochelle demanded.

  But Mari had an image of her sister with no face paint on, her hair wrapped around those silly wooden cylinders, and dressed in her shapeless sleeping gown. She chuckled again, lifting a hand to cover her mouth. “You must have been mortified to have the prince come calling at such an early hour.”

  Rochelle’s eyes snapped with anger. “I fail to find any humor in that, Mari. You have disgraced our family—”

  “I’ve no more disgraced our family than you and mother have with your attempts to...to seduce the crown prince. I’m sorry if you have been put out at such an early hour, but I have one suggestion to remedy you.”

  “And that is?” Rochelle demanded.

  “Go back to bed.”

  Rochelle’s jaw dropped. It was the first time Mari had ever interrupted her, not to mention effectively told her to go way. The remark, offered with the sole intent of silencing her sister, worked. Rochelle was speechless. Her jaw worked as she tried to find a response.

  “Mark me well,” she said at last. “If you bring disgrace on the Tidwell name, I will do my best to see that you never leave Dewbury again.” With that, Rochelle turned on her heel and stalked out of the chapel.

  “Oh dear,” Mari said, watching her go. But she did not regret her words. They had not been mean, intentionally or literally. She had just stood up for herself—again—and it felt good. The words her sister spoke had no real power over her, and that realization gave her power and strength.