by Nina Monroe
“No use in knowing our names, Princess. The less you know about us, the better. It is our job to protect you in the Prince and King’s absence, and I know you will try to save us over yourself if you come to know us,” the first soldier said as he looked out the darkened window. The sun was beginning to rise. “To keep a man in his place, you deny him his name.”
“My husband will reward you men greatly for your services when he returns,” Tamzin spoke loud enough for all three men to hear.
“You needn’t worry about us betraying you, Your Grace,” the second soldier spoke up as he dusted off a chair before he sat in it. “My loyalty was sealed when that false king burned my children alive in my home. No matter how vengeful King Gregory and Prince William will be, they would never burn children alive.”
The door opened abruptly and Jacque walked in with his medical supplies.
“No bed for the Princess? These men are worse than animals,” Jacque said as he placed his supplies on the floor and asked one of the men to remove Tamzin’s cloak. She cried out as the cloak pulled on her damaged skin and she felt the blood droplets drip down her back again. “I fear these injuries may scar, Your Grace. Have you pain anywhere else?”
She knew what he was referring to. Tamzin touched her belly and felt no pain and no blood between her thighs. She shook her head and bit her lip hard as he placed warm strips of cloth on her wounded back. The potion fizzed on her back and slowly her skin began to feel hot.
“Do I need stitches?” Tamzin asked as she continued to lie on her side and watched the soldiers lay down their cloaks for Tamzin and Kendall to rest upon. She heard the men begin to talk amongst themselves as they began to inspect the room for any more supplies.
“Doubtful, dear girl,” Jacque said kindly; his words were more soothing than anything he placed on her wounds. “You are more bruised than anything. Some of his strikes have sliced your skin but they are not battle wounds. I have brought you another potion,” Jacque whispered as he finished attending her wounds. “Women who drink this give birth to healthy children. You need it more now than ever.”
“I cannot lose this child,” Tamzin said as a tear slid down her cheek as the sun began to rise. “If Will falls, this baby will be all I have left.”
Jacque said nothing as he placed the cloak back over Tamzin’s shoulders. He looked around the damp and cold room and bit his cheek. This was no place for a Queen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Will sat atop Angus, and both were slick with the enemy’s blood. He had only been away from home for a month, but he chased down the Johansson soldiers like dogs. Their first battle came nearly a week after Will left Thurston Territory and even he was shocked by how quickly his men brought the Johansson men down. By the end of the battle, after the Johansson men fell out of line and allowed Will’s disciplined men to move forward and attack them line by line, followed by arrow strikes, the few survivors begged for mercy. The inexperienced Johansson soldiers yearned for blood and glory, and some trampled each other to flee or approach the Thurston soldiers for one-on-one combat. They never stood a chance.
The second battle followed two weeks later and the Johansson men had dwindled severely from both the previous battle and Douglas Johansson’s refusal to send extra resources to his men. Some of the men died on the field from hunger or infected wounds, and Will gave them their honorable death. Despite their status as enemy, Will gave all the fallen soldiers from the Johansson side proper burials. These men fought for a king they didn’t know and continued to fight for him despite Douglas Johansson’s refusal to help his own men. Will couldn’t insult these men further by throwing their bodies into ditches.
Will had lost less than one thousand men in the two battles and only one hundred in this final battle. While Will viewed this as a near complete victory (it would be complete had he not lost nearly one thousand men) and wished to return home, his father did not feel the same way.
“We haven’t killed all of them,” Gregory said as he broke bread with his son and the other soldiers around them. “I want to send a message to Douglas Johansson.”
“Killing nearly his entire army in only three battles sends quite a message,” Will said impatiently. He knew what today was and he was tired. “I’ve missed Tamzin’s birthday.”
“She will have other birthdays, Will. It’s more important that we put our enemy’s in their place. There is more to being a King than just spending days in bed with your Queen,” Gregory scolded in frustration. Will felt Garrett move uncomfortably next to him as Will began to bristle.
“You forced me to marry her, but now that I love the girl, you think I spend too much time with her? She is my wife and I am allowed to spend my free time how I wish after I spend all morning training these men and my entire afternoon dealing with the kingdom’s issues. I won’t let you demonize me for enjoying my wife,” Will said angrily as he finished his dinner and pushed his plate aside.
“We are chasing them down and finishing this for good,” Gregory ordered with his final word. “You’re naïve to believe that this all of Johansson’s men. Their population is nearly three times ours, and that includes Roth men.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Will said curtly as he walked from his men and into his tent. His tent was large, but only for the meetings with his men to go over their strategy. As he slept alone, Will had a small bed pressed up against the corner of the tent that was surrounded by heavy furs and right next to a water basin. There was also a stand for his armor and a seat by a fire pit where Will sharpened his blade at night when he couldn’t sleep, usually due to the cold. Though they were further south, the nights were still cold. Will had begun to take off his mail when he heard the flaps open.
“You’re on edge,” Garrett said as he took a seat in front of the battle strategy table with a goblet of wine in his hand. He was slightly drunk, as were much of the men, but even drunk, the men could easily take on a surprise attack from the Johanssons. Will brushed his hand across his heavy beard and winced when he touched his single wound from the month of battle: a sword slice across his cheek. He bled a bit and it was sore, but Gregory looked at the scar with pride. The scar made him appear more rugged and it would strike more fear into his enemies. It hardly disfigured him, and Will hoped it would not frighten Tamzin. Though a minor war injury for him, it would alter his face for her.
“I wish to return home,” Will said simply, as if the answer was obvious. It was obvious, but Will was on edge for more reasons. “Have you received much word from Kendall?”
Garrett’s eyes flickered towards Will as he drunk his wine.
“Not much. She has responded to some of my letters but they are short. I don’t know what to make of them,” Garrett said as he knocked his empty goblet across the map. “You’re not the only one who wants to go home. The men follow you unconditionally, but they all miss their wives and children.”
“I think something is not right,” Will said abruptly as he watched a drop of red wine touch Thurston Territory. “Tamzin’s letters are too impersonal. Her writing is not quite right, like it is strained. My letters to her are affectionate and probably the closest to a love letter I will ever write, but she doesn’t respond in a way I would think she would.”
“Will, you have been married for only seven moons. You are still getting to know Tamzin. She may be stressed,” Garrett explained as he wiped the wine drop from the map. It didn’t leave a stain.
“I feel like something is wrong. I don’t know how to explain it,” Will ran a hand through his hair as he pulled the mail over his head but kept his tunic on. He loosened his breaches as he sat down across from Garret at the table. “Do you think it makes me a bad future King for wanting to be with her all the time?”
“No, I don’t,” Garrett replied. “Your father isn’t the most loving man in the world. He is incredibly giving to his people, but as your best friend, he is difficult with you. Tamzin loves you and she lets you know it. It’s not a bad thing,”
Garrett smiled softly. “Kendall is the same way. I like being married.”
“You were married for a day and a half before we left. You haven’t been married yet,” Will laughed, though he could hardly criticize Garrett. His first days of married life went much smoother than Will’s, and that said something considering they were on a battlefield. “I’m surprised your member hasn’t shriveled up yet. You usually find some of the girls that come to help to quell your urges.”
“Married men do not dishonor their wives or their vows,” Garrett recited as if he had been memorizing the statement since his marriage ceremony. “Aren’t you the first person to say the same thing?”
“It’s not illegal to dishonor your wife, but it is frowned upon. I couldn’t do it; I wouldn’t want to. I haven’t visited Francesca in the brothel since our marriage, before Tamzin and I put our relationship on track,” Will said as he watched the Thurston Territory on the map. “My father is going to want to stop in Roth Territory before we return home. I know he will want me to smooth things over with Turner Roth.”
“You were a bit of a bastard to Tamzin in the beginning. I think Turner Roth has forgiven you; he has to. He really has no right to judge as he didn’t disclose the Lucy situation,” Garrett slurred his words slightly as Will rolled his eyes. “I wish we had the royal wine.”
“Soldier wine isn’t good enough for you?” Will teased before he rested his head on his hand. He then leaned forward and grabbed a fresh quill, ink, and a bit of parchment. As Garrett began to complain about the wine in great detail, Will pondered his own words to Tamzin. Will hadn’t told Tamzin where he was in any of the letters, and only spoke of his victories and how much he missed her. He blushed slightly when he spoke of how he missed her kisses everywhere and how his tongue was forgetting her taste. Her own letters were bare and congratulated him on his victories, though her words were not loving or happy.
Dearest Wife, Will began as his quill scratched into the parchment. I hope you are well, my sweet. I am writing you after my third victory against the Johansson army. We estimate that less than fifty men remain in the army sent to fight for Douglas Johansson and my father wishes to find them and end this. While we are certain there are significantly more men in Johansson Territory, the King has not sent any more men or supplies. This means that I am not sure when I will be home. My father hasn’t said so, but I expect that he will want to stop in your native territory on our way home.
I miss you more than anything, my love, and I wish you were with me. My bed is very cold without you, and I laugh at the thoughts of us trying to sleep comfortably together in the small bed provided for me. The wine does not taste as good, nor does the food, and my life is very sad without you next to me. When I return home, my sweet, I must warn you that you and I will not leave our bed for a number of days. The next time we stop, which may be in Roth Territory, I will write you again. Once again, I hope you are well and I love you very much.
All my love,
Will
Will sighed as he blew lightly on the black ink and folded the letter gently before he dropped a bit of hot wax and sealed it with his sigil, a large W. Garrett had let his head lull to the side and dropped the goblet from his hand and it hit the floor with a clang. The sound sent a chill down his spine.
~~~
A week later…
It was hard to really differentiate time. The men had told her a month had passed, but Tamzin, Kendall, and the soldiers hadn’t been allowed to leave the tower. The cries of the people kept repeating in her mind over and over again, to the point that she was never sure if the sounds she heard were real or not. Tamzin felt like she hadn’t slept a wink. It felt that way because she hadn’t slept much at all. She had been locked away in the cold and drafty tower, denied a bed, and she hadn’t been allowed to change out of the shift she wore. That hadn’t been the worst of it.
It had happened three or four days after Duke took his place on her throne. Despite how cold it was that night, Tamzin had slept peacefully for the first time in a long while, underneath the cloaks provided to her by the soldiers that stood by her side. At night, in her dreams, were the few times that she could remember Will properly. In her dreams, she remembered how he tasted and how gentle he was with her. That was before the Johansson soldiers had come.
She hadn’t heard the uneven footsteps up the stairs or the creak of the door opening. Tamzin awoke to a foreign hand and fingers between her legs and she let out a scream. Her shift and the cloaks had been pushed up and her legs felt like ice. She kicked the closest soldier away from her before another grabbed her ankle and forced her legs open. Tamzin watched as a Thurston soldier yanked the Johansson soldier from her. With a quick movement, the Thurston soldier severed the hand of the Johansson soldier with his sword.
Tamzin continued to cry as Kendall dragged her into the corner and watched as the three remaining Thurston soldiers literally beat the Johansson soldiers out of the tower, but the blood stained the floor. The detached hand rested not far from Tamzin.
“Tam?” Kendall asked as she brushed the tears from Tamzin’s cheeks and pulled the shift back down over her legs. “Did he rape you?”
“He touched me, but I…” Tamzin began before her voice faltered. Her hand immediately flew to her stomach before she spread her legs again. She waited for the gush of blood, the absolute pain of her impending loss, but nothing came. She looked back to Kendall, whose face was pale and ashen.
“Are you?” Kendall asked, unable to finish her question for fear that others were listening.
“Three months,” Tamzin confirmed before she heard the door slam shut and the three Thurston soldiers surrounded her. “I’m not completely sure.”
“Your Grace, are you alright?” The first soldier asked, whom Tamzin had nicknamed Red for his hair. He was an older man with his heavy beard laced with white and grey and his eyes could be kind, but mostly he was a hardened man. He had seen death and it didn’t seem to bother him that he had just cut off the hand of another man. Tamzin also listened to his various war stories at night, when the men thought she was asleep.
“I’m fine,” Tamzin sniffled.
The next night, another soldier had snuck into her tower, but he met the same fate. Tamzin had believed that Duke didn’t know or didn’t care until he had summoned her towards the end of the month. She must have received a new letter from Will.
Kendall helped Tamzin stand up and fixed the ties of her cloak. Now that another week had gone by, Tamzin was nearly four moons along with child and it had become very difficult to hide her mother’s stomach. Though her men didn’t make a comment or asked directly, Tamzin watched as they inspected her belly. They had regular discussions when they believed she and Kendall were asleep; they were planning her escape, if necessary. At the very least, the men were looking for a means of opportunity. The entire household was taken hostage and the townspeople were slowly being murdered for the most minor of infractions. Duke had shut down trading with other territories and Tamzin had been made aware that he, very quickly, depleted all of the money resources. She hadn’t been invited, but Tamzin listened to the cries of her people and the music from the Throne Room and the Great Hall. While Duke paid extravagant amounts for beautiful dresses for Lucy and the best food for his soldiers and himself, the people of Thurston had run out of food and were beginning to starve.
Tamzin felt the soldiers take her arms as they slowly led her down the long and windy steps of the tower. The gentle curve of her mother’s belly made it difficult to keep her balance on the steps and her soldiers took great care to make sure she did not fall. The soldier that had lost his hand waited for them at the very bottom of the stairs; his angry eyes grated over her form hidden beneath the cloak.
Tamzin noticed the cauterization burn on the stump of his arm, and smirked to herself. She knew Jacque had fixed the wound, but it would cause the man more pain. Jacque hated the cauterization method except in extreme situations; if the Johansson soldier h
ad not been an enemy, Jacque would have sewed the wound shut after he doused it in alcohol to help the infection. Tamzin had enough training to know that the man was in quite a bit of pain and the burn would hinder in his healing.
“If you take one step towards us,” Red said as he gestured to the soldiers, Tamzin, and Kendall, “I will cut you so deep your innards spill out. I should have cut off your cock instead of your hand and let you bleed to death on the floor.”