To Make a King

by Kristi L Cramer

  “Let the fireworks begin!” he said loudly.

  The crowd cheered as the first fountain of sparks shot skyward.

  Sebastian only watched the flashing spark showers for a few moments before turning to find Lady Mari watching him. She quickly looked away, but he thought her face was flushed pink. He glanced over at Jared and saw him, apparently engrossed in the show, walking casually away from them as though to get a better view.

  Reaching out, he touched Lady Mari’s hand. When she looked up at him, he leaned close to whisper in her ear. “I owe you an apology.”

  She pulled back in surprise, but not away. “Your Highness?”

  “The things I said last night were out of line, and I upset you. For that, I’m sorry. Please forgive me?”

  Smiling, she raised her hand as if to press fingers to his lips, though she halted the movement, presumably remembering whose company she was in. Her eyes shone suspiciously in the lights flashing from below, and he knew it was tears. Voice little more than a whisper, she said, “There is nothing to forgive.”

  “But I said awful, awful things,” he protested. “Surely—”

  “Once I gave it some thought, I knew the words were not meant for me.”

  He took her hand and brought her fingers to his lips. “Thank you,” he said. “I’d love to know how you can be so self-assured.” He released her hand, but did not move away from her.

  “It is a gift newly discovered, Highness.”

  “Discovered where, my lady?”

  “In Saint Michael’s Chapel, of all places. I went there last night, and this morning, my sister woke me to tell me what a wicked person I was. I came to the realization, the understanding, that her words did not make me a wicked person, her thoughts could not dictate who I am. The only thing that gave her any power over me was my believing her. Once I accepted my own self in my heart, her words ceased to have meaning.”

  “That is indeed a wondrous gift. How does one go about receiving it, I wonder.”

  “By opening one’s heart and mind to the great Truth, and more importantly, staying open to love.”

  Below them, the fireworks sparked on. Sebastian let his mind dwell on her words, considering the implications. Considering the woman. He knew he had to find out more about her. He was hardly aware when the fireworks ended, of the courtyard below emptying of people and plunging into darkness with only a few way-finding torches lit.

  ⇜⊂⊃⊂⊃⊂⊃⇝

  Mari waited, unsure what to do. The prince had been silent for a very long time. Jared had slipped away down the stairs, undoubtedly to take up his watch at the foot. Unsure whether she should stay but not wanting to disturb him by leaving, she watched the stars and hoped to see the star shower.

  When he spoke, she jumped a little, having resigned herself to spending a quiet night. It appeared he was taking up the thread of conversation where they had left off hours before.

  “I’ve had reason to doubt the truth of what I know in these last few days,” he said softly. “Things that once seemed so clear are clouded now, especially in regards to people. As though something or someone has reached into my mind and scrambled my memories and beliefs.”

  She waited.

  “Do you think that could happen?” he asked. “Or am I just losing my way?”

  “Someone could try, Highness. And perhaps someone could succeed, for a time, especially in a moment of grief or worry. But your heart knows the Truth, and you will find your way back to it.” She nodded to herself. “You are strong.”

  “And you seem to be a woman of great passion, Lady Mari.”

  She took a deep breath of the night air, still smelling of lingering sulfur. “Conviction, perhaps. I have seen much passion in my short life, Highness. Very little of it glad. I allow myself passion only on the subject of the stars. They are a good distance away and cannot be ill affected by it.”

  “Is passion so very horrible, then? I have always heard it spoken of with awe.”

  “It is not always horrible. Not when it is allied with the likes of love or Godly purpose.”

  Sebastian scoffed. “I have little use for love. It sends me ambitious pretenders dressed in all the trappings of deceit. Tell me, how is a prince to sort through them all to find the one he can love as a man loves a woman?”

  “I would never presume to instruct you on the subject of love, Highness. What little I know of it I learned at my grandmother’s knee. And my mother always claimed Grandmother was a fanciful fool.”

  “In matters of love, all men and women are made fools. Will you teach me as your grandmother taught you?”

  “But, Highness—”

  “Please, Mari. Let me be your student in this.”

  “I...don’t know what to say. How would I start?”

  He paused, and she hoped he would not press. Her hope was in vain.

  “Tell me what love is. Aslynn and Adam have a great love for each other, and she and I have great love for each other. What quality is it besides shared blood that makes this different? How will I know when I am in love?”

  “Oh, Highness. You ask a hard question of me, but I will endeavor to teach as I was taught.” She turned to lean against the parapet, looking up at the night sky. The prince turned and looked up, too.

  “The first thing Grandmother taught me is that love is not a feeling, rather a condition inside you. If you hold the condition of love inside you, then you can truly say you love everyone. As your sister loves both you and her husband. As your father loved all his subjects.”

  “And this includes my enemies?” His tone conveyed his disbelief.

  “It especially includes your enemies, Highness. How can your enemies have power over you if you hold nothing but love for them in your heart?”

  “Does love dull the point of a sword? Or halt armies mid-stride?”

  “You’d be surprised, Highness.”

  He paused to consider her words, then sighed. “I do not doubt I would be. What else did your grandmother teach? Did she speak of soul mates, as Aslynn does?”

  “She liked the idea of everyone having a perfect match, but she always told me not everyone finds their match. That is one of life’s greatest tragedies.”

  “So how does one know? What signals this soul mate to prevent her from passing by without notice?”

  Mari sighed. “Destiny throws them together, so that there is no ‘passing by.’ They may not know immediately, but there will be something between them. A look, perhaps, or courtesies exchanged. Then....” She stopped. “My apologies, Highness. My tongue runs by leaps and bounds ahead of my brain. I got carried away.”

  “No, do continue,” Sebastian said. “Please.”

  “It’s just the fancies of a foolish girl,” she protested.

  “Please. I’d like to hear some insight into a woman’s mind. I find your gender incomprehensible these days.” She opened her mouth to protest again, but he repeated his plea. “Please.”

  “As you wish, Highness.”

  “Oh, my lady. Do not tell me as if I was your prince and commanded you. Tell me as a friend tells a friend. And only if you will.”

  Mari sighed again. “It’s rather embarrassing, really, and I do not know if other women feel this way. But I will tell you if you promise not to laugh.”

  “On my honor,” he said. “They are thrown together by Destiny and they exchange a look, then...?”

  “Then....” She drew the word out, not sure how to proceed. But the doubtful look she saw in his eyes as she met his gaze was a challenge to tell him the truth. “Then they will come to know of the attraction. They will be drawn together by undeniable forces. They will find comfort in and for each other with ease. When he has occasion to kiss her, they will both know for certain then.”

  “Ah, the kiss. Aslynn spoke often of the importance of the first kiss. When it happened for her, though, they did not actually kiss.”

  “Yes, it is the moment of the intent more than the act. Or...at least
Grandmother said so.”

  “Have you never been kissed?”

  Mari looked down, and whispered, “Never, Highness.”

  “Neither have I. At least, not in earnest. How would you have it done?”

  She chuckled, remembering an exposition on the grandeur of love from her sister. “My sister talks of fiery passion, urgency, and unclasping secret desires in a rush of wild abandon.” Mari had had the sense not to tell Rochelle what she spoke of next. “But I would have it a quiet moment, intensely personal. He would take my hand and clasp it to his heart—gently, not forcefully, so I could pull away if I wished. He would say something...poetic, perhaps, but short. Then he would softly touch his lips to mine, his gaze meeting mine so I will know the depth of his attachment.”

  “And then?” the prince asked. Mari realized he was leaning in close, apparently hanging on her every word.

  “Then...I do not know,” she said briskly, pushing away from the parapet and walking the distance across the rooftop to the far parapet. The great dog rose from where she’d lain and followed her. “It is beyond my imagination.”

  Prince Sebastian was quiet, and she cursed herself for being a fool. She did not know how the topic had turned in the direction of her foolish, girlish fantasies. She felt trapped, with no way of taking her words back, and no way of leaving without permission.

  He appeared at her side without her hearing his approach. “It is a good fancy,” he said gently. “I hope your match knows the way of it when you meet him.”

  “He’ll know,” Mari whispered, unable to look at him. “He’ll know.” She did not say it was a scenario she had played out a hundred times in her mind since they had arrived on the rooftop that night.

  They stood in silence together for several moments, Mari very aware of his proximity. She could feel the warmth of his shoulder through their clothing. She could not relax, but then, she didn’t want to. The moment was exhilarating.

  As if to signify the importance of the moment, a shooting star crossed the sky before them.

  “Oh, did you see, Highness?” she asked, putting her hand on his arm in her excitement. “The star shower is beginning.”

  “Just as you said,” he allowed, covering her hand with his.

  She turned to him and saw he was not looking at the starlit sky, but at her, and she was glad for the darkness. She knew she was blushing. Mari removed her hand from his arm—what audacity to touch him so familiarly—and returned her attention to the heavens.

  Another star flashed across the sky, and another.

  Chapter Twelve

  Edward reined his horse in sharply as their destination came into view. The witch stopped too, and brought her horse around to come even with his. They had been riding their beasts hard in order to reach their destination before midnight, making what was normally an eight-hour ride in just over five.

  “What?” Maudette asked, somewhat impatiently.

  “This is Dewbury,” he said. “What is Earl Hise doing here?”

  “Waiting for you,” she said sharply.

  “I realize that,” he said, matching her tone. “But why here?”

  “It’s on the way, and lies within striking distance of Fair Haven.”

  “And it’s defenseless,” he said, knowing Lady Mari, her mother, and sister were in Fair Haven, leaving her crippled father virtually alone on the small estate. Better that the ladies were gone.

  “Exactly.”

  “How many men are with him?”

  “You’ll see—”

  “If I am to lead these men,” he snapped, cutting her off, “then I must at least appear to know what under heaven is going on.”

  “Very well, Your Majesty,” she said, executing a mocking bow from her horse’s back. “Fifteen are Earl Hise’s household guard, all the estate was allowed to keep after his father’s little insurrection. Don’t fret. They are trained more like soldiers than guardsmen. Another twenty are mercenaries I found here and there.”

  “Mercenaries.” The word left a bad taste in Edward’s mouth. Not to mention, if the witch had “found” them, they were surely a mean, soulless lot. “Then I’ll have to make an impression when I arrive. Take care that you back me up.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he put spurs to his tired horse’s flanks and galloped the last quarter mile to the gates of Dewbury Estate.

  He heard the challenge from guards at the gate, but did not heed them. The heavy portcullis was already rising, courtesy of the demon-witch. They rode past the guards, who dodged out of the way.

  In the courtyard, Edward leapt from his horse’s back before it even came to a complete stop and strode with purpose up the steps to the lodge.

  A few mercenaries in the courtyard rose to their feet, heading for the hall even as Edward entered. He took note of them but pushed the wooden doors open without waiting to see what they would do.

  ⇜⊂⊃⊂⊃⊂⊃⇝

  Earl Hise looked up as the doors crashed against the walls with a hollow boom. In the shadows between the lighted hall and courtyard, two figures stood. He recognized the silhouette of the demon-witch Maudette, and could only assume the other was the would-be boy king. He leaned back in his chair to watch.

  They walked forward into the light, and Hise saw the boy looking around with a frown.

  “You’re late,” Emery said. The leader of the mercenaries sat beside Hise with his feet on the table, picking under his fingernails with the point of a dagger.

  “You’re expendable,” the young prince snapped, without sparing the man much of a glance.

  Not a wise move to dismiss such a dangerous man, Hise thought.

  Emery’s feet crashed to the floor and he stood, leaning forward over the table.

  “I don’t think you realize who you are speaking to, boy,” Emery said.

  “I know you well enough, Robert Emery. You’re a foul, offensive dog, and your men fear you more than they respect or trust you. You would not be missed.”

  “And you think you could dispatch me?” the mercenary snarled.

  “Easy,” Hise said, wondering if the boy was quite sane. Hise didn’t want him to get himself killed before they overthrew the crown prince. The younger prince—sane or not—was the link to the legitimacy of the coup. After that…well, let the boy be insane. All the more reason for Hise to take over. He could claim a drop or two of royal blood from a few generations back. From the inside, he could take and hold the crown with an iron fist.

  The boy stood in the center of the room with his hands on his hips, his very attitude a challenge. “If it proves necessary,” he said in a cool tone.

  “Why, you little snippet of a boy,” Emery said, and leapt onto the table with dagger raised, crashing over platters, goblets, and trenchers. “Care to try it right now?”

  “If you insist on acting like a fool.”

  Emery moved quickly, dropping down off the table and coming at the boy low instead of leaping, as one might expect. He was very fast, Hise noted with some despair.

  But the boy was quick, too, dodging aside and slashing down, his empty palm striking Emery’s knife hand away. With his empty left hand, he delivered a crushing blow to the bigger man’s windpipe, felling him like so much timber.

  Emery lay on the floor, gasping for air like a stranded fish. No one else in the room had moved.

  “Oh, breathe,” the prince said in disgust. “If I had wanted to kill you, I’d have saved the drama.” Emery scrabbled on the floor, struggling to climb his knees. The boy turned his back on him. “I didn’t come here to play games. We’re here because we’re going to take back what is rightfully mine. Any man who assists me in this will be rewarded. Any man who moves against me will pay. Am I understood?”

  Silence greeted this proclamation, broken only by the sound of Emery gasping for breath. Hise scanned the room, noticing the mercenaries who had come in from the courtyard to watch and those who had already been in the room. They appeared tense, though not outwardly ho
stile toward the boy. Some seemed impressed by his display, and Hise realized that was what the boy was attempting. It was a dangerous game, but Hise had to respect the boy for even conceiving it, much less implementing it.

  “Good,” the boy said after a considerable silence. “We march for Fair Haven at first light.”

  Hise had been expecting it, so he was not surprised to see Emery rising from the floor to strike at the boy. What surprised him was that the boy was not there to receive the strike. He had turned away in an abrupt pivot, spinning himself out of Emery’s reach.

  Hise was ready, too, and his knife and flew straight and true, right into Emery’s black heart.

  The boy looked at Hise in surprise. His own knife was at the ready, but Hise hadn’t wanted to leave it to chance. He straightened and walked slowly around the table, taking a good, long time to eye everyone in the room, ensuring they understood what had just happened. Emery was dead, and Hise had killed him, choosing the young prince over the mercenary.

  Once he reached the body sprawled on the hall floor, Hise reached down and yanked out his dagger. He took a quick moment to swipe it clean on the dead man’s shirt, and then straightened, squaring shoulders with the prince.

  “You lot will swear allegiance to your prince first, and then to me. Do you swear?”

  Every voice of the room shouted, “Aye!”

  “Good. Then be prepared, and get some sleep. We march at first light.”

  The boy turned to Hise without preamble or introduction, and said, “Where is the old man?”

  Hise blinked. “Wha...?”

  “Baron Tidwell. Where is the Baron?”

  ⇜⊂⊃⊂⊃⊂⊃⇝

  Jared heard the bells of the convent ringing and realized it was nearing the breakfast hour. He stirred, feeling his joints moving stiffly after another long night of inactivity. He would never say it out loud, but privately, he hoped this up-all-night business would not last much longer. Of course, there was only so long a man could go without sleep.

  The stairs were a chore to climb on his tired legs, but once he got to the rooftop, he could have shouted in relief—except that would wake the prince.