Tales of the Crown

by Melissa McShane

  Even Felix had what he wanted—hell, he was probably the happiest person in Tremontane and Eskandel tonight. Her heart ached, missing him already, but only a little, because she couldn’t stop seeing the look on his face when she’d told him he didn’t have to be King, how joyful it was. She’d managed not to show her own despair while he was still standing there before her, had kept it under control for that long first meeting with her new councilors, but now….

  She realized she’d been holding the brush stationary at about shoulder height for long enough that her arm was starting to cramp and lowered it, then turned to go back into the dressing room to put it away. She should probably light a lamp or something, but the darkness calmed her. She remembered so many nights spent crossing the roofs of Aurilien, crouching low to the ground as she crossed gardens or courtyards, jigging a window open…well, that was all in the past now. Willow the midnighter was as dead as Felix Valant; Queen Willow North had to keep her feet on the ground. She’d chosen the path, and it was unworthy of her to pine after what she’d given up.

  The dressing table was in perfect order, but she spent a few minutes tidying it anyway. She’d told the maids to take away the silver brush set and find her a wooden one, and they’d done it without argument. Was that what it meant to be royalty? You could make absurd demands and have them unquestioningly obeyed? Willow shuddered. She was never going to turn into someone like that, no matter what else she had to give up.

  The dressing room looked empty compared to the others she’d seen in her career, but then it was going to take time for them to assemble a proper wardrobe for the new Queen. She opened a few drawers and was relieved to see sensible trousers, hose, shirts, and some of those tunics that were becoming fashionable for men and women. She wondered when she’d be allowed to wear them, caught herself, and thought damn it, I’m the Queen, I’m allowed to do whatever the hell I want. Except it wasn’t true, was it? She’d always thought the ruler of Tremontane was the freest person in the kingdom. She’d learned today that was so far from the truth it was almost a lie.

  She shut the drawer a little too forcefully and set about getting out of the dress. It took only a few seconds for her to realize that would be impossible on her own. She cursed. She didn’t want to call the maids back and endure their constant “yes, your Majesty” and “as you wish, your Majesty” just yet.

  She wandered back into her bedchamber and sat on the bed, adjusted the bodice, and stared at her hands, clasped in her lap. She’d met with the Council, spoken to the housekeeping staff, taken a quick tour of the parts of the palace that were currently in use—that had taken a while—eaten her supper, and now there was only one thing left to do. And she would give anything not to have to do it.

  Kerish was right: she’d been unfair to him. She’d demanded he change to suit her desires and scoffed at him when he protested. And now, just as she was prepared to return with him to Eskandel…when had she turned into the sort of person who could sacrifice her own needs for the sake of a country she hadn’t even cared about a few months before?

  She tasted salt, and realized she was crying, and quickly wiped away the tears before they could stain the satin. He was a Deviser; he belonged in Eskandel, where he could develop those skills, and it was wrong of her to ask him to give that up for her. Again. She wiped away more tears. She wasn’t going to burden him with her misery. She’d see him tomorrow, and thank him for his help, and say goodbye, and then go on to the next item on her task list. She had a Chamberlain of the Hall now, someone to keep track of her appointments, and the daunting thing about that wasn’t having yet another servant, it was that she would have so many appointments she’d need someone else to keep track of them all.

  Something scraped along the wall outside the window, the smallest sound that nevertheless sent Willow to her feet. She flexed her wrist and cursed again when she remembered the blade was gone. Another scrape, and a tap, then movement along the side of the window. Willow scanned the room with physical and magical senses, hoping for something she could use as a weapon—nothing.

  She crept as quietly as she could in the stupid gown to the window next to the one her visitor was attempting to open. He or she bore little metal, just a belt knife too short to be anything but utilitarian and the usual sprinkling of brass buttons, no money or jewelry except a couple of rings in a belt pouch. Willow carefully opened the window a crack so she could see out more clearly. Male, dangling awkwardly from a rope, fumbling with a wire he was trying to insert into the crack in the other window to raise the latch. He bent his head further, and Willow recognized him.

  “Kerish,” she said, then gasped as his grip on the rope slipped and the wire fell from his hand.

  She swiftly unlatched his window and took hold of his shirt to pull him toward her. “What in the hell are you doing?” she said as he grabbed the window frame, hooked his legs over the sill, and landed a little gracelessly in front of her.

  “Well, you came in through my window once,” he said, breathlessly, “and I thought it was my turn. Sweet heaven, you made that look so easy.”

  “This window is five stories up! You could have been killed!”

  “I realize that now.”

  “Why didn’t you just come in the normal way?”

  Kerish took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I couldn’t convince anyone that you’d want to see me, let alone that I should be allowed near your bedchamber. You have very diligent servants, your Majesty.”

  “Don’t call me that. Ever.”

  “All right. It was meant to be a joke.”

  “I guess I don’t have much of a sense of humor left after today.”

  “That’s too bad. I’ve always loved your laugh.” Kerish walked past her into the room. “Is there some reason all the lights are out?”

  “I…was watching the fireworks.” She turned back to the window as if that would make her lie into truth. What was he thinking, coming here like this? Her momentary fear for his safety was gone now, replaced by that terrible aching sorrow at losing him yet again. She wanted him gone; she wanted to be alone with her pain.

  “You look extraordinary,” Kerish said. “It’s strange…you look so different in that gown, and yet you look exactly like yourself.”

  “I wonder how long that will take to change,” she said. She closed the window and twitched the latch shut out of habit. “How long it will be before Willow North the midnighter vanishes entirely?”

  “I don’t think it works that way.”

  His assured, amused voice enraged her, and she turned on him and said, “Really? Then how does it work, Kerish? I’ve already given up midnighting and I’ve given up Felix and I’ve given up every friend I ever had in Lower Town, and I did it because it was the right thing to do, but that’s no comfort when I look in the mirror and all I can see is the Queen! I don’t even know if I like her! So spare me your reassurances, because I don’t need platitudes.”

  She couldn’t see him very clearly in the darkness, but she could sense his metal moving toward her a few paces, then stopping before he was close enough to touch her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to sound flippant. All I meant was that you are the strongest woman I know, and it’s true you’ve changed and you’ll probably go on changing, but who you are, at the core of you, isn’t going to disappear no matter what happens. I’m certain of it.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Willow said. She suddenly felt very tired and wished she could just tell Kerish to go away. But she loved him, and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so she said, “Are you leaving in the morning? Is that why you came? I was going to come to the hostel to say goodbye.”

  Kerish was silent, only his quiet breathing and the metal scattered about his person telling her he was still there. “If that’s what you want,” he said finally.

  Fury gripped her again. “Why do you always say that?” she shouted. “I don’t even know what it means! It’s like you’re putting the burden of
what’s going to happen on me and you never, never say what you want! I can’t—” She turned away from him and walked back to the window, leaned her face against the glass, and closed her eyes against the hot tears that filled them.

  She felt him approach, again stopping just out of her reach. “Willow,” he said. “I didn’t think—I only mean that I want you to have what makes you happy, even if it’s not what I want. I’ve only ever wanted to make you happy.”

  “And you think your leaving is going to do that? That I could possibly be happy with you gone?” The words spilled out of her before she could stop them, and she closed her fist against the glass. Too late to let him go with a polite lie. “I never should have made you choose between me and your magic. I was selfish and stupid and proud and I lost you because of it, and I lied to myself for five years that I didn’t love you anymore, that it didn’t tear me apart inside to be without you. And then—this was all going to be so damned easy, Kerish, but you need to be in Eskandel and I just can’t be with you. And my happiness doesn’t matter.” She laughed, a short, bitter sound. “Just one more part of Willow North chopped off and fed to the fire of queenly responsibilities.”

  He was once again silent, motionless, and Willow swiped at her eyes and wiped her wet hand on her gown, no longer caring if it stained. The maids would probably come up with a dozen others to take its place. Then he came forward and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “How long have you been carrying that around?” he said.

  “What difference does it make?”

  “You sounded like someone who’s been under a great burden for far too long. Will you look at me, please?” He tugged at her shoulder, and she turned in response, feeling the skirt twist around her legs. His dark eyes were intent on her face, and she remembered a cold midnight, so many years ago, and the pain of memory was like a knife through the heart.

  Kerish sighed. “Come here,” he said, and put his arms around her, drawing her close. She automatically put her arms around his waist and hugged him, feeling tension drain out of her with the comfort of his embrace. Life should always be this simple, she thought, and tried desperately to find a reason for this to go on indefinitely, just the two of them holding each other silently in the light from the stars and the glittering fireworks.

  He began stroking her back, making her tingle with pleasure. “I was right,” he said, “your skin is like satin.”

  Willow laughed quietly. “It’s been a long time. I can’t believe you remember that.”

  “I’ve never forgotten anything about you.” His hands moved upward to touch the skin at the base of her neck. “How you’ll never climb stairs if you can climb a wall instead. How you only drink red wine even if white’s all that’s available. How everything you feel, your whole heart, is in your kiss.”

  The ache was growing stronger. “Kerish, why—” she began.

  He put his finger to her lips. “You’re still the only woman I’ve ever loved,” he said, “and I’m not stupid enough to let you go again. I’m not going back to Eskandel. I’m staying here. With you, I hope.”

  “Kerish, no. I don’t want you to give up your magic. I swore I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

  “You haven’t. This is my choice. And I’m not giving anything up. There’s no reason I have to stay in Eskandel to be a Deviser, Willow.” He brushed her hair gently back from her face. “If anything, I’ll be more successful if I stay here. So much source, and no one insisting that my inventions have artistic unity.”

  Willow gaped at him. “Oh,” she said. “I didn’t think of that.”

  “Well, you’ve been overwhelmed, so I’m not surprised you didn’t think it through.” He ran his fingers through her hair again, and she shivered. “You were really going to let me return to Eskandel without you? How much did you think you should sacrifice for your country?”

  “I don’t know,” Willow said. “Up until forty-eight hours ago I didn’t realize I cared so much about it. And I thought…I don’t know what I thought. That I didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.”

  “We’re not the same people we were five years ago. I think we’re guaranteed to make entirely new mistakes.”

  “I think I almost made a really terrible one. You wouldn’t have gone just because I told you to, right?”

  “I’m not your subject, Willow. I would have kept climbing through your window until you gave in or I fell to my death.”

  “Promise me you won’t do that again.”

  “I can’t believe I did it once.” He ran his hands down her back again to rest just above her hips. “Tell me something. Am I allowed to propose marriage to you, or is that the Queen’s prerogative?”

  She laid her head against his shoulder and smiled into the darkness. “I think the Queen could allow it, just this once.”

  “I hope it won’t take more than once. Will you marry me?”

  “Yes. Soon?”

  “I’d marry you right now if I could. I even came prepared.”

  She drew back a little. “What do you mean?”

  He let go of her to reach into his belt pouch and rummage around. “This thing is too cluttered…here, hold this.”

  He held out a ring toward her, and she gasped. Gold inlaid with stars of silver gleamed in the starlight. “You kept it.”

  “Of course I kept it. I’m never without it.” To her senses, it burned, like a star giving off bursts of fizzing light. She folded it into her skirt, closed her hand around it and watched him search. “This wasn’t supposed to be so awkward,” he said, and came up with a bright silvery spot. He hesitated, then said, “I thought wood might be too plain, and stone couldn’t alter if it was the wrong size, so I hope I guessed correctly.”

  Willow reached out to take the ring in wonder. Solid steel, the only metal she could easily handle, but slimmer than his, and set with a dark faceted stone that might be any color. Sleek, unadorned, something that might fit easily under a glove.

  “Sapphire,” Kerish said. “I hoped…I know it will take a lot of caring for, but you do like it, yes?”

  “I love it.” She slid it onto the middle finger of her right hand. “It’s only a little loose.”`

  “Well, it’s not as if you have any other rings I could borrow for a better fit.” He took both her hands in his and kissed them, one at a time, his lips lingering on her knuckles. “I love you.”

  She put her arms around his neck. “Show me,” she said.

  Willow: Alternate ending 2—Saying goodbye to Felix

  Originally I intended Willow to seriously consider Alric Quinn’s demand that she divorce Kerish, and to say goodbye to Felix on her own. My husband convinced me this was idiotic and completely out of character. He was right. Here’s the original version.

  * * *

  The night was clear and dark, with no moon to show the way, but it was a path she’d trodden before. She pulled the cloak close about her body, wrapping its folds around her gloved hands. Breathing in the cold, sharp air that felt like knives in her chest, she hurried along the road. It was nearly midnight, but the palace would still be lit by a thousand torches as the nobles danced Wintersmeet away. Her absence would be noticed, but she didn’t give a damn about that. Let them wonder where she’d gone. Quinn would take up the space she would have occupied.

  Her boots crunched through the snowdrifts, their surfaces melted by the sun and frozen again with nightfall. It was a pleasant sound that distracted her from her thoughts, for moments at a time. She stumbled over a hidden branch, caught herself on the tree nearest her, and stood hugging it as tears slid down her face. Her heart was already breaking, and she hadn’t even seen Felix yet.

  Finally she pushed away from the tree and proceeded down the road. She shouldn’t have sent him so far away, but it was the only safe place she knew outside Aurilien. And at the time, she’d thought she would be going with him.

  She’d sworn to protect Felix from all harm, and until now, she’d managed to keep that promise. What
would he say when he learned the truth? How devastated would he be, despite everything she’d done to ease the blow? Or would he think she’d chosen power and the honors of men over him? As if any of that mattered to her. As if she hadn’t been forced to this point. He was an eight-year-old boy; everything he knew about responsibility he’d been taught by someone else.

  She felt a twinge in her chest, something sharper than the cold, and knew the solstice was upon them. More tears spilled down her cheeks. All her dreams shattered at once. No more Felix. No more Kerish, if she gave in to Quinn’s demands. No family of her own except the empty one Richard Quinn would give her. Queen Willow North, giving up everything she was for the sake of a country she hadn’t even cared about six months ago. She hated that woman.

  The forest drew in more closely around her. She was the only one on the road that night, and it was easy to imagine being the only person in the world. How much easier life would be if that were true. Willow tugged the hood of her cloak lower over her forehead. It was as cold a night as the one when she’d met Kerish for the first time. You could say that was the night all of this had started, seven years ago, because he never would have brought Felix to her if they hadn’t met, hadn’t fallen in love. If she’d known how much pain would come from that meeting, she’d have let the guards catch her. Losing a hand, or dying, couldn’t possibly be worse than this.

  She counted the paths that branched off from the road until she found the one she wanted. It was easier to follow than it had been when she and Felix had left Aurilien in the summer, with most of the leaves gone and the undergrowth shriveled away in the cold. She stumped along, hoping and fearing to see firelight. What she didn’t need right now was someone finding Felix and Gianesh and asking the right questions.