Severance (The Sovereign Book 1)

by Michael Pritsos

  Patrick grinned. His dark blue eyes rested for the flutter of a heartbeat on the tops of her breasts showing white to contrast against her scarlet gown. “I desire nothing else, as well. Let’s fetch your ring and share this news with the king and queen.”

  That was just too easy. Roselyn laughed outwardly in feigned excitement over her engagement to the blandly handsome Patrick, while inwardly in sincere excitement over the skill of her ruse. She walked close at his side, her arm in the crook of his and her head on his shoulder.

  “There we are,” Patrick said as he pulled the small wooden box that held her ring out of his saddlebag. “Let’s see how magnificent it looks on that hand.”

  Roselyn smiled widely as she watched him place the massive ruby stone in its gold setting on her tiny finger. This will do quite nicely, she thought, smiling up at her new fiancé. His round lips were curved into the most triumphant of smiles, rightfully so after securing the hand of Pontos’ princess. He stooped to kiss her and she allowed it, marveling at the difference between his soft and delicate kisses compared to the passion that consumed her with Xander’s embrace. He stared at her for a moment after their lips had separated, and she grinned back at him, noting that his dark brown hair was almost the same tone as Xander’s. This would be convenient if the child came out with darker features. The only hitch would be that Patrick had blue eyes instead of Xander’s amber, but it was doubtful that small difference would ever give away the truth.

  They walked hand in hand up to the castle’s back foyer and nodded at the two guards who held the doors open for them to enter. Based on the time of day, Roselyn figured her parents would be separated and busy doing different activities. She waved for the attention of a young maidservant who hurried over.

  “Find my parents and tell them I bid their company in the great hall,” she told the red-headed girl whose name she could not for the life of her recall.

  “Yes, Your Highness,” came the curtsied response, and she rushed off to do the princess’ bidding.

  Roselyn and Patrick made their way down torch-lit corridors leading to the great hall. Only the most lavish celebrations occurred in this room, with the elaborate thrones at the north end of the room. Roselyn took her place in the seat on the queen’s left and looked over at the empty chair on the king’s right, where Daemyn usually sat. She wondered when he would return from Triton, and wished for his presence to see that she had successfully executed the first part of their plan.

  She gazed at the unsuspecting Patrick, who was standing pin-straight with his arms folded neatly before him. She was grateful that his affections for her blinded what little astuteness he possessed. He had no idea of her intentions. She felt no remorse for the stipulations of this arrangement. Not only was she saving herself as well as the entire Coren family from the social ruin her affair with a guard would bring, but she was also providing a constant and secure life for her unborn child by marrying a nobleman. He exuded stability, and he was attractive enough without being awe-inspiring. She noticed how patiently he waited for her parents to enter and imagined how happy it must make him to be on the brink of asking for their blessing in marriage.

  “To what do we owe this pleasure?” The thundering voice of King Philip filled the room as he strolled in with his wife on his arm. He still wore the drab riding clothes of a man who had just been at hunt, while the queen’s elegant garb betrayed a day in the town. She wore a gown that could only be rivaled by Roselyn’s own wardrobe, crimson with gold, accented by a garnet necklace.

  “Hello, Father,” Roselyn greeted him, sauntering towards him from her seat on the throne. She stood on her tiptoes and planted a loud kiss on the king’s cheek, followed by a softer embrace for her mother, Queen Isabelle.

  “Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” Patrick stepped forward and bowed. “We are here to ask your blessing in marriage.”

  Well, that was straight to the point. I suppose I convinced him to be urgent. Hopefully my parents acquiesce. Roselyn smiled at her fiancé as he reached for her hand, and she stepped to him gracefully. She stretched her left hand towards her parents with pride, showing off the royally colored ring on her third finger.

  “Oh, how beautiful it is!” Queen Isabelle cooed, grasping her daughter’s delicate hand.

  King Philip clapped Patrick hard on the back. “Of course you have our blessing, son! We’ve been hoping that your relentless courting of Roselyn would pay off eventually. She has my stubbornness in addition to her mother’s beauty.”

  “The best of both worlds, Father,” Roselyn teased.

  Patrick blushed deeply. “I thank you for the compliment, Your Majesty.”

  “We wish to be wed very soon,” the princess stated, moving to her place on the throne. It’s amazing how tiring it is to be with child, even so early on. I fear for when this baby weighs more than a pea.

  “Yes, a spring wedding would be wonderful!” Isabelle sighed.

  “The whole island… Nay, the entire nation shall be in attendance!” the king’s voice boomed.

  Patrick laughed, looking at Roselyn. She gave him an encouraging glance and he nodded in understanding. “Actually, Your Majesty, we were hoping for much sooner. We are overjoyed to be engaged and eager to begin our lives. If I may speak frankly, we were imagining a more intimate ceremony perhaps tomorrow evening.”

  For a moment all was still, the smiles on the king and queen’s faces were frozen in place. Roselyn was breathing steadily and trying not to fear the worst. “Mother? Father?”

  “Without your father present, Patrick?” the king inquired. “You are his only remaining child. I do believe Vladimir would wish to be there for your wedding.”

  “My father rarely goes to any ceremonies on our own isle let alone another,” Patrick replied with a wave of his gloved hand. “The princess and I will see him in due course, and he will be happy enough of the choice I have made as it is.”

  King Philip’s beady eyes turned to his child. “Why do you wish to take away my glory, dear girl? The gods only know if Daemyn shall ever take a wife, given his record.” The queen blushed at his side but he continued, “My only daughter is going to be married and I want the world to know how proud I am. A spring wedding it is, and what a gallant affair it will be!”

  Isabelle smiled kindly at Roselyn and then at Patrick. “I’m so very happy for you both, and I agree with Philip. We must celebrate this blessed event.”

  Patrick nodded, returning the beaming smiles that were pointed towards him. “It seems to be a settled matter then. I am a very proud groom-to-be, and I cannot say that I do not revel in the notion of showing off my glowing bride.”

  Roselyn smiled tightly. Spring? With all the kingdom attending? By the gods, even the baby will be in attendance if this goes through. Someone with some gumption would be rather useful at this moment. It is quite unfortunate that Patrick does not possess the fire of my Xander. Though, I suppose the point of all of this is because that man is no longer mine. Oh, Daemyn where are you? I need your quick wit to get me out of this mess!

  “What say you, Princess?” Patrick’s voice and large hand over hers called her away from her thoughts. “Is a lavish spring wedding acceptable, my love?”

  “Yes,” answered Roselyn. “That would be lovely.”

  Xander

  The sword arched silver in the dawn’s light, coming down with a crash against Marcus’ pine shield. The thirty-year-old guardsman backed away quickly. He let his blunted sword rest for a moment with its tip pointing to the dirt. Xander moved forth again, hammering his sword into his opponent’s shield and looking for a weak spot in his defenses. Marcus feigned a strike against Xander’s face and then back swung against the watchman’s waiting iron. After the parry Xander shoved his shield forward to smash against Marcus’ own, throwing the man off kilter long enough for Xander to slam his sword against Marcus’ calf. Marcus grunted and tried to block the following blow but his sword rose too late and Xander’s blunted weapon struck his iron
helmet.

  “Damn do I hate it when you do that,” Marcus said as he took the helm up and over his ringing ears.

  “You must learn how to block it,” Xander scolded his guardsman.

  Victor approached then with a look of apprehension creasing his young features. He stopped a few paces from his commanding officer and Xander spread his arms as if to ask what was wrong. “Prince Daemyn is not answering his door,” Victor began.

  “He’s probably feeling ill after all of that ale last night,” Xander replied with a shrug. “It’s only dawn. If we give him a few more hours of sleep he’ll be out.”

  “When I brought him to his room he asked me to wake him at dawn,” Victor said. “There was something he wished to tell you.”

  Xander chewed the inside of his cheek for a heartbeat. “Whatever it is can probably wait. I’m sure he hadn’t the foresight at the time to know how terrible he’d actually feel at dawn. Do you want to suit up and practice with us?”

  “Not really,” Victor answered, rubbing the back of his left thigh.

  “It was a rhetorical question,” Xander said with a grin. “Arm yourself. We still have a bit more time.”

  Victor groaned and the other three guards followed his example, but their officer ignored the protests and looked back towards Marcus. He kindly informed Xander that he would rather practice with George for the time being, and those two guards began to square off in a barely visible circle drawn out in the dirt. Xander waited for his youngest soldier to return from the barrack with a blunted sword. When he did, Xander drug his weapon against the ground to mark their own battle circle.

  Their fight lasted longer than Xander and Marcus’ had, not for an immense skill displayed by the younger soldier but because his apprehension caused him to recede beyond the circle’s boundaries several times. Xander was patient with him. There were already a score of bruises on the younger man’s body that marked every loss over the past week he had taken against the watchman or one of his fellow guardsmen. When the duel began in earnest Xander defeated him quickly, parrying two wild strikes before riposting in a swing that would have torn Victor’s throat out if he had been using a sharpened weapon. The young soldier fell to the ground clutching his neck in pain and Xander felt pity for an instant, dropping his own weapon to check on Victor’s wellbeing. He recovered after a few moments and rose again. A splash of red spread beneath the surface of his sun darkened skin.

  Xander dismissed the men from training and stood alone with the battered guard. He felt guilty for having landed a blow he was certain Victor had skill enough to block. “If you wish we can take a walk to The Trident Inn.”

  “Sure, if you promise not to bring that,” Victor replied with a nod toward Xander’s discarded weapon.

  Xander laughed and they both went to retrieve their weapons belts and put away the blunted swords in exchange for deadly ones. Once they were armed and ready, Xander and Victor walked the main street of Triton with an easy pace. Victor waved hello to one of the tavern wenches and she giggled in return before continuing down an alley to empty a bucket of dirtied water. The sun had risen in full by that time, resting high above the eastern waters to cast a bright light into Triton. Fall was on its way, but still the sun’s warmth cascaded over the two soldiers to wrap them and heat the iron mail each man wore.

  The Trident Inn was just serving breakfast when they walked in, and though there were no tenants seated at the table there were a few men and women from about the town enjoying meals they did not have to prepare themselves. Xander and Victor nodded short greetings to Triton’s villagers before walking up the stairs. Their leather boots tromped heavily on the wooden boards as they made their way to the prince’s room. The watchman knocked on the basswood door and waited for an answer.

  “See?” Victor said. “No response at all.”

  “Could he have left already?” Xander thought aloud.

  “What the hell would he have to do before dawn?” Victor answered. “The meeting at the embassy is over already and now he’s just in the town to enjoy ale and the company of as many women as he can before he goes home.”

  “He is our prince, you know,” Xander reminded the guard to watch his tongue.

  Victor chuckled. His brown eyes seemed to smile and reveal just how young he really was. “I was not saying he was a bad prince… I’m merely jealous.”

  Xander rolled his eyes and knocked again, this time calling Daemyn’s name. When he received no answer, he banged louder the third time, practically denting Jed’s door in his attempt to get some sort of reaction from the prince. Xander was at a loss for a moment, and then ultimately decided that he must open the door and if Daemyn was in an embarrassing position then it was his own damn fault. The handle turned but the door would not budge. Xander frowned. He rapped his knuckles against the wood once again, and when there was no answer he took a step back.

  Victor was startled to see his officer suddenly kick the room’s entrance with a mighty blow that cracked the framing and set the door akimbo on its hinges. He swiftly kicked again and the door swung open to crash against the wall. The smell overpowered both men instantly. There was blood everywhere, so much blood. It stained the sheets of the bed and dyed the wooden planking above it a dark brown. The liquid was all over the floor in a lake around a limp corpse. The graying hand still clutched a flintlock pistol.

  Xander’s heart stopped in his chest and he sprinted into the room to lift the head of his close friend. There were tears blurring his vision and he was unaware of the fact that he was rocking back and forth, cradling the ruin of the prince’s head in his lap. Victor retched outside the door and the stench of blood quickly became muddled with that of sour eggs and bacon. Xander moaned in loss, but that was all he could do. He wanted to scream and tear the room apart and punch his dead friend for being so selfish, but his limbs and lungs would not respond to his mind’s wants. He couldn’t have, Xander thought as the tears streamed down his face. Yet there was the pistol, the hammer fallen and with tight fingers gripping the handle. Why would you do it? Why? He was dimly aware of Victor’s hand resting on his shoulder. Finally his lungs responded and Xander screamed as hard as they could bear, and the citizens nearby knew then that great sorrow had come to a man of Thalassa.

  *

  “Why would he do it, why?” Xander slurred. He took another drink of the wine before him and Victor found himself at a loss of what to say once again. The Blue Dolphin was empty except for the two soldiers who had been released early that day on account of trauma. “You were with him,” the watchman continued. His amber eyes looked into Victor’s brown ones for some revelation. “Why did he do it?”

  “I don’t know,” Victor answered softly. “He seemed fine when I dropped him off. I could still hear his laughter as I walked down the stairs from his room.”

  “Why?” Xander mumbled. He took another drink.

  The constable had been informed immediately after the body was discovered, and it was decided then that Xander would leave the following morning to tell the royal family of the news in person. Triton was well aware of the prince’s death by noon, though the nature of it was hidden for the time being. How would it look if their noble and goodhearted prince died by his own hand? There was a general silence that hung over the entire isle, men and women only going about their day with a feeling of mourning in the air. Daemyn had been well known, and indeed well liked, among the people of Triton. His death came as a shock to everyone, but most of all to Xander. He could not fathom why the prince would wish to die.

  Nicolette and her Gaian vessel had been surprised by the news as well, and they respectfully noted that it would be a sad day in Gaia for the High Council to learn of such a young death. As expected, the nature of his death was hidden from the Gaians as well but whether they trespassed into Aldous’ mind or not they did not feel the need to prod and pry about what could have happened. They decided they would depart that very evening. The air of Triton gave off a melancholy dar
kness. Nicolette felt it only appropriate the Gaians take their leave a bit early to give Triton time to mourn their loss.

  “You should stop drinking,” Victor announced suddenly at Xander’s side. “You will feel terrible tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll feel terrible either way,” Xander slurred and finished the cup. “What’s the difference?”

  “It’s not even dusk yet,” Victor argued.

  “You speak some truth,” Xander admitted and stumbled off his stool. He slid a handful of coppers along the bar and figured that would cover his tab before walking towards the door. Victor offered to help him but Xander brushed him off, moving rapidly towards the exit to vomit outside. He threw up nothing but wine and realized he had not even eaten that day. Right away he felt both better and worse. The drink was leaving his body and returning his stomach and spinning head to normalcy but there awaited reality’s pain to swallow.

  “I think I’ll go home and rest a while,” Xander announced. He wiped the vomit from his mouth.

  “Do you want me to stay with you?” Victor inquired.

  “No,” Xander replied curtly. Too curtly, and he apologized for it. “I wish to just be alone for a bit.”

  Victor nodded and saluted the officer. Xander stumbled his way back to house two thirteen. He opened his door and shut it behind him with a bang, not even bothering to set the lock as he walked into his room and plopped down on the bed. His head was filled with grief and throbbing from drink, but somehow sleep found him and he drifted away into dreamless slumber.

  * *

  When Xander awoke his muscles ached all over from the alcohol mixed with having slept with his armor and weapons still strapped to him. He took all of it off and looked outside to find that there was still light in the yellowing sky, though that would change soon enough. His breath tasted like a latrine and he rubbed salt on his teeth and swished cold water in his mouth until he felt the smell had dissipated.