The Noble Throne

by Logan Keys

  The crowd is silent, no doubt some are giving my backside glares over lack of decorum.

  I break the arrows in half. Liana watches me with shining eyes, then breaks hers and says with a gentle nobility that rings fair and true, “We shall protect each other.”

  To see how thankful she is for the offering, it makes it worth the judgment of the people in attendance.

  We turn during the final portion after admitting death do us part, to face the crowd of gathered people from both of our realms. The lions have shown in full regalia. One side of the gathering is darker heads of wolves, and the other, the golden fairer lions.

  Tensions are high, but I’d made sure the kitchen had the best drink flowing before the ceremony even began. Cook had guffawed at my offer, saying it wasn’t even noon, but I’d told him pour it all down their gullets and keep it coming.

  The only chink in the perfect day has been the absence of my father. With more trouble in the village, he’d ridden out early in the morning to aid them in their plight, but not before stopping to see me on my wedding day. The big black wolf had told me that on his own nuptials, he’d been shaking so hard he’d dropped the arrows…twice. My father had then hugged me in a rare show of affection, called me son, and said, “With any luck I’ll be back before the party is over.”

  He’d beamed with pride. Told me to look over the Kingdom while he was gone.

  My father. The black wolf. Proud of his son for the first in a long, long time.

  “You may now kiss your bride,” the priest says.

  And with a flare, I do. As hard as I dare. And the best part is, she kisses me back.

  The crowd cheers. Some are overly excited for such an occasion as this one. And I wink at the cook who lifts a decanter full of more drink before filling the glasses of our council members. Spirits are pouring, spirits are high. “My lord,” he says, bowing as I pass his place.

  “That dagger,” I whisper. “The one in the great hall that you’ve been eyeing since we were pups?”

  “Aye, my lord?”

  “It’s yours.”

  He practically leaps into the air. He can retire on the handle alone, but I know Cook will probably sleep with it under his pillow. He greatly values our history. Cook bellows, “My fellow lion lords, ladies, and wolves, please follow me into the banquet hall for food and more drink!”

  They cheer again, and everyone staggers after me and my bride, who is chuckling beneath her breath. “Getting my parents drunk are you, Noble?”

  I steal a cup on the way and pass it to Liana. “And my wife.”

  We both lock eyes over the first utterance of our union proclaimed. I feel her arm tighten its grip. Liana takes a good long drink and my eyes widen.

  She laughs after finishing the cup. “If you can keep up I’ll be surprised…husband. My family will drink you poor, my lord.”

  I feel heat strike me at the sight of wine drops on her lips, and more, to her tasting of them one by one.

  Her pink tongue then does a sweep over her lips, just in case.

  “Noted,” I say with a choked voice.

  Liana seems pleased. She practically purrs close to my ear as we walk, “My lord,” she whispers. “You are stalking me like a wolf and everyone is watching you.”

  “Let them,” I say with an unreasonable need to howl at the moon.

  Liana smiles at me but to my frustration, gets pulled away by her women who flock to her side. I can hear them giggling and asking about the arrows, and if they’d hurt when they’d struck.

  My new wife winks at me but answers them, “Not at all. In fact, it was very fun to watch the men try to hit me but not hurt me. They will learn soon enough; we lions are not made of such thin skin.”

  With the winter cold, Liana and her people, their noses and cheeks are rosy. With the color high in the lions’ tan faces, I’ve caught no less than a few wolves staring.

  Right now, the female pride is guffawing over Liana’s ring. It had been my mother’s.

  “She’s fitting in well enough,” my mother says, coming to stand next to me.

  “Thank you,” I say to her now as we watch Liana hold up her ring, “for trusting her with such an heirloom. I think it will prove to the pack that this is not a sham.”

  “I can see that. Anyone with eyes can see that. The way you two go about, if you haven’t bed her yet, it’s a miracle.”

  “Mother!”

  “It’s true. I used to be fun once upon a time, Noble.” My mother smiles.

  But it’s strained. This is not what she’d wanted for me. I watch her eyes stray to Emilie. If it were her choice, I’d be filling the halls with pure wolves from a girl who’d saved her own village, and a wolf who was destined for greatness. You only have to meet the girl to know, she is fit to be a wolf queen.

  Looking between her and Liana, the difference is as night from day.

  My mother gave me the ring without question, though. She wants me to be happy and she’d realized that somehow the lion who attacked her son is suddenly his passion.

  I’d felt joy and trepidation staring at the plain silver circle of a wolf eating its tail, but with the opposite of plain ruby the size of a robin’s egg in the middle. It could feed a village for a decade such a rare gem that it is. But it hadn’t been Emilie or even Katarina, it had been Liana who’d placed it upon her slender finger.

  Thinking of that night in the cold when I was but a child, losing Kat, I swallow and feel my mood change swiftly.

  Liana’s head swivels and she meets my gaze. With grace, she brushes off her ladies, and is immediately at my side. Where she belongs.

  When I say nothing, she frowns. “I want you to share with me whatever it is that bothers you so,” Liana says.

  I pat her hand. “In time,” I reply. “Today, let’s celebrate.”

  The music begins as if on cue, and we move to the hall to find our seats at the front of the table decorated with rose petals from Spring.

  I spin around and eagerly search the room until I see her. Winnie has arrived, late, but she’s here, and she practically bounces like the bunny she is through the room to grab me tightly into her arms. I lift my childhood friend while she lets out a squeal of excitement.

  “How I have missed you!” I say.

  “It seems like ages, Noble,” she replies wistfully.

  I set her down, squeezing her shoulders to steady her. “I thought this day would never come,” I murmur for her ears alone, and she nods, her smile an elated show of teeth. Winnie’s eyes glistening with unshed tears such is her joy.

  I turn, and my gaze meets two very golden, very unhappy eyes watching me from over the head of Winnie.

  My mouth drops open, and I stutter over an explanation. “This is…Winnie…” I say, as if that is enough.

  My mother, wiser than us all, merely snatches Winnie’s hand and tows her away, asking questions about the best treatment of the new royal garden.

  Liana crosses her arms, eyebrow raised, but then we both hungrily take in our place settings. Food is in abundance, spilling across the royal blue table cloth.

  I ask her, “Are you hungry?”

  “Famished!” Liana says, pulling a leg off a nearby turkey. My wife is distracted by food. Such a godsend.

  We are not going to pick at small snacks, my lady and I eat our fill because, “You’ll need your strength,” she says, pushing a plate of ham towards my side, making me grin from ear to ear.

  My men are wary of the union, but I catch them eyeing the bright golden ladies of the lion pride. They do draw the eye, there is no denying it. The pale skin of the wolves and dark hair does have its exquisiteness, but these hardy and bright creatures are something new to our realm, and a few wives have had to elbow their husbands.

  My lady is the prettiest of them all. That is no contest. As the gifts come in, piling up above our heads, Liana is as gracious as she is regal.

  Obviously raised in court, she spends ample time thanking each giver indivi
dually, asking their name, their position, and mentioning something that shows interest before welcoming them again with heartfelt meaning. I see her taking note of each who bring us well wishes, and equally, my lady takes note of those who do not.

  I interrupt her and the gifts to ask, “Shall we dance, wife?’

  Her eyes widen and her lips purse, “Of course, husband.”

  She takes my hand. As we approach the dancing area, and the music changes to a moving piece the wolves will recognize, my heart fills to its limit with a flood of new happiness.

  A saying the wolves have now makes all the more sense to me. Its ancient wording translates into: My soul is well.

  “What?” Liana asks me, and I smile.

  “Nothing. My soul is well.”

  She grins and lets me lead her into our first dance as a married couple. The music, it is a song that all first wives and husbands will dance to in our realm. The significance is equal to the first run with the pack. Another big moment.

  The melody brings a nostalgia my younger self would not feel. Because now, it means something. Liana is in my arms, learning our ways, our history, even in just a song. Taking in stride, what would be too absurd to another.

  I pull her close, and feel the world shrink away. I’m free momentarily from responsibilities and everything else but this one thing as I tether myself to Liana.

  We lean into one another, her hair tickling my chin, and I close my eyes soaking in the feeling of two people propping each other up against a realm that is ready to tear them apart.

  “Noble,” Liana says softly.

  “Hmmm-mm?”

  “The music has stopped.”

  I open my eyes and halt our spin. Liana stares up at me with knowing eyes, and the attendees begin to clap. We bow, and the rest join us in the next dance.

  Liana tugs my hand, leading us back toward our seats.

  “Tired?” I ask.

  “Not at all,” she says, passing our place at the table, and pulling me into the hall instead.

  Empty at the moment, we are alone together at last. She toys with my jacket, hands finding their way beneath, and then she kisses me on the chin, before moving my cravat aside in an eager jerk and tug.

  Liana presses smooth lips to my neck, and I groan.

  I let her explore as long as I can before I spin her around, and press my prize against the wall with a growl.

  “Husband,” she breathes.

  “Wife,” I say, each of us running our mouths over every bit of skin we can find, and I’ve stumbled upon a wealth of it just above her dress line. Liana makes lovely noises when I nip at tender hollows and divots of flesh.

  Never has the making of a person been more fascinating to me. I want to toy with every part of her, see what makes it work, and what makes her cry out in passion.

  “To bed?” she asks.

  I lean back and growl.

  “We should stay longer,” Liana chides.

  I laugh. “You’re being a tease.”

  “I hear wolves like to chase their prey.”

  I drop my gaze to hers in warning. “They do.”

  She pushes away and walks toward the dining hall, her eyes beguiling me over her shoulder, her hips swaying with menace, and I scrub my hands over my face to wipe away the dumb look I must be giving.

  “Let the chase begin,” I say, ripping my cravat the rest of the way from my neck.

  My fellow wolves pat me on the back when I return, followed by good natured jeering about us trying to escape all too soon from the party. Everyone is enjoying this moment as the toasts begin. Well wishes are given to me and my lion wife who watches me across the room without ceasing. The doors open, and the noise dies like a fire snuffed out. A councilman stops mid-speech when we hear a commotion before a gasp and yelp of alarm.

  After, a hush falls over the hall.

  I see Oren, tall above party-goers, striding my way, still in his battle armor. Behind him more of our men have arrived, and they carry a burden.

  I hear glass shatter as a plate is dropped. A keening moan begins of pure devastation that echoes in my head, rattling me to the core. Everyone’s eyes turn as one toward me, and before I even understand what my heart already seems to know, a dread takes hold at my core.

  The burden they carry is my father.

  Chapter 20

  Noble

  Oren rushes forward, bows to a knee. “My lord,” he says with a somber tone Oren has never used before, not to me.

  With a bent neck, he has never given anyone but my father, he delivers the blow. “The great black wolf has died, sire. He fell in battle. We were attacked. I’m so sorry.”

  It doesn’t register. “My mother, where is my mother?”

  And then I remember that sound I’d heard. Women wolves cluster around someone, and I spot her between them. She’s on her knees, crying in a puddle of disbelief.

  Her pale face turns upward, begging, “Whywhywhywhy?”

  Pale and stricken, my mother falls to the side and Emilie catches her. I close my eyes as a terrible scream bursts from my mother’s mouth, the only sound in the hall.

  I sway on my feet, the world spinning, and it forces me to open my eyes and watch as they bring my father’s body into the center of the hall. They won’t lay him down, they will hold him high. The king must not touch the ground again until he is buried.

  On feet I cannot feel, I stride forward, steadier than I should be. It’s as if disbelief aids me in my motion.

  “Attacked by men?” I ask.

  I touch the cape that covers my father’s body, all except his slack face, as if he is sleeping.

  Pushing at the fabric, I mean to remove it, but Oren leaps forward and tries to stop me. “You mustn’t, milord.”

  I stay Oren with a hand and throw the cloak back.

  The crowd gasps, and several of the nearest women fall into a dead faint. Oren rushes to cover my father’s body as I back away, and bite my fist to keep from crying out.

  Oren pauses, and I nod. “Cover him.”

  He throws the cloak back in place. I now see how soaked in blood it is. How it’s not the color red originally, but had been some other lighter color before. My father’s life-blood has turned it crimson.

  Everyone is watching me, expecting me to crumble. It’s hard not to be the son I’ve always been. Not to be the three-year-old Noble wanting to ride on my father’s knee, or teenager Noble finding out he was rogue but knowing the black wolf would never disown his son. He’d taken care of everything, even when I’d killed my own betrothed as a child.

  There is---was -- nothing he couldn’t do.

  My mother is crying and staring at me, and waiting with the entirety of Winter to see what I shall do.

  I glance at Liana. My wife’s eyes are sad, and she’s lost her tan to a white sheen of shock. She’s holding her own mother’s hand tightly and waiting as well.

  Oren also glances at the lions, and his jaw firms when he looks back at me.

  “Who was it?” I demand, knowing the marks across my father’s chest had been no hunter.

  There had been no arrows.

  Oren confirms what I’ve already guessed. “It was a lion, milord.”

  Chapter 21

  Noble

  “Out. I want everyone out, right now,” I bellow, pushing my way to my mother.

  I rush to her side, and she grips me tightly, rising to her feet, but she’s weak and I have to let her lean on me to stand. “See that she gets to her rooms, Emilie.”

  “No,” my mother argues. “Please. I want to stay, Noble.”

  “Mother,” I whisper seeing the pleading look she gives that threatens to undo me. “Let them wash him first.” I touch her face. “Let me deal with this. With justice. For him.”

  Her eyes harden. “Son, you will not let this beast get away with this. Please, we mustn’t let this go unpunished. Noble…” She pauses, a realization in her eyes. My mother stands tall. “King Noble.” Her voice rings th
rough the quiet hall.

  I frown at her, and when I turn toward the others, my men take a knee. Even Oren sinks down low, head bent, and the rest follow. Everyone but the lions have bowed to the ground, and I search for Liana who is standing with a detached expression of confusion. It’s understandable. She’d married a prince just hours ago.

  And now he’s king.

  I feel as she does. Confused.

  My own mother is stronger in this moment than I ever thought possible. Chin raised, she shouts, “Long live King Noble!” And everyone replies the same.

  Oren rises, “My king, you must take the throne. It is tradition.”

  “Not now,” I say but my mother grips my arm and shakes her head subtly.

  Lip quivering, eyes holding an ocean of tears, she whispers, “He’s right. If you don’t, anyone who sits on it before you, may challenge. If your father were here… You must go now, Noble.”

  Oren would be the first to challenge me, or so I’d thought, but I see nothing in his gaze other than sadness, and grudging respect.

  My father is not even dead to me mere minutes and I cannot stay. I cannot even be there for my mother, and I cannot even enjoy my wife. It is my duty to sit on that throne, and it’s as if the black wolf’s spirit urges me to do so. This is what he would want more than anything. No doubt it would even have been his dying wish could he have uttered one.

  I move to leave, and startle when Liana touches my arm. I think she means to ask me to stay, but she only says, “You won’t kill the lion without a trial. Noble, tell me you’ll listen to his side, at least.”

  In front of everyone, I glare at her, moving away. Before the entire realm, my queen, not seconds ago made queen, is already questioning her king, who has not even sat upon his throne.

  I know my voice is filled with disgust as I call, “Bring the lion!”

  And I leave her and the rest for the main room. For the throne.

  I approach the intricately carved wooden chair like a live thing ready to grab me. It is painted gold, roses carved in a weave around the arms, and a giant wolf head resides above the cushioning. It is a throne for a king, and even as old as it is, it still seems new to me every time I see it.