Tales of the Crown

by Melissa McShane

  Miss Farrell lay on her back on the far side of the clearing from Nettles. He’d have imagined her afraid of the donkey if he weren’t totally certain she wasn’t afraid of anything. On a whim, he crossed the clearing and settled down to lie beside her. “She’ll be all right in the morning,” he said. “Just needed some salt. Lack of that can kill a person here in the jungle.”

  “Thank you,” Miss Farrell said stiffly. She refused to look at him, but under her irritation he could hear embarrassment. Well, it wasn’t as if she should be expected to know how to survive in the jungle.

  He chuckled. “I’ve got some in my supplies you can have,” he said. “I’m not completely heartless.”

  Miss Farrell snorted. “Heartless enough to abandon us.”

  “It’s hardly abandonment if we weren’t traveling together in the first place.”

  “Whatever you want to call it. You pointed out we’re not prepared to survive in the jungle, but you’re not willing to help us even though you are?”

  She knew how to strike with words, and the twinge of guilt pinched him harder. “I’m not going to drop my responsibilities just to play nursemaid to a bunch of strays.”

  “Yes, you certainly look like a responsible man, you and your donkey in the middle of nowhere.”

  “You’re awfully quick to judge, aren’t you?”

  “As quick as you are to criticize.”

  Ransom rolled onto his side to face her. “It’s hardly criticism to point out the blindingly obvious.”

  “Well, it’s not as if we chose this, so you’re not criticizing so much as taunting us. If you were—”

  “If I were what?”

  “Nothing. There’s no point us arguing. Thank you for giving us protection tonight.”

  Ransom went silent. It wasn’t the kind of gratitude he felt comfortable accepting, as grudgingly as he’d given them the protection of the camp. After a few moments, he said, “If you keep an eye on the monkeys, you can avoid the caimans. They won’t drink where the monsters are.”

  “Thank you. I’d noticed that.” It didn’t sound the least bit sarcastic.

  “What have you been eating?” Stop being drawn into this!

  “Papayas.”

  “I’ll show you a few other trees with edible fruit in the morning.”

  “Thank you.”

  They both fell silent again. Eventually, Ransom said, “You’ll want to avoid the low-hanging vines. Some of them are snakes.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “It’s hard. Sometimes you just have to watch for the movement. Just avoid them altogether.”

  Miss Farrell rolled onto her side to face him. “Too bad we don’t have someone to show us the difference.”

  “If you’d—” Ransom rolled onto his back and flung one arm over his eyes. Then he swore, eloquently, in Karitian. One beautiful, sharp-tongued, powerful woman showed up at his camp and his good judgment flew south for the winter. “I’m doing this against my will,” he said finally. “You’re all nothing but a burden. I have work to do and I don’t have time to be your nanny. You had all better do everything I say, without question, or I really will leave you behind.”

  “Don’t do us any favors.”

  “Oh, I’m not. I’m just softheaded enough not to want your deaths on my conscience. Go to sleep, Miss Farrell, and no more insults or I might change my mind.”

  Miss Farrell made a noise of disdain and turned her back on him. Ransom lay looking up at the blackness for a while before sleep claimed him.

  This Night of All Nights

  (Voyager of the Crown, Wintersmeet 963 Y.B.)

  This short story had to be cut from Voyager of the Crown because it overburdened the ending. Since that book already has two endings, one more was just awkward. I’m sad it had to work out that way, because in Voyager I jumped from Zara and Ransom leaving Dineh-Karit together to Zara and Ransom contemplating marriage, and readers didn’t get to see the middle bit—until now.

  * * *

  The rough canvas cover of the longboat, damp with sea spray, had lost its earlier warmth. Zara ran her fingers idly along the ridge where it stretched over the boat’s edge and shifted her weight to a more comfortable spot. It was almost midnight, and she should probably be in her berth, but on this night of all nights she couldn’t bear to be indoors. There was no moon, and the ship’s lights weren’t bright enough to draw the eye from the million glittering stars that wheeled above. The night was as cool as most nights were at this latitude, which wasn’t very, and she felt relaxed and comfortable despite having soaked up all the residual sunlight from the longboat’s cover. She closed her eyes, breathed in the wonderful salt air, and waited for midnight.

  The boat rocked, and she threw out both hands for balance. “Sorry,” Ransom said. “I didn’t think it was quite so mobile.”

  “You startled me.” Zara scooted over so he could lie beside her. “Didn’t you go to bed two hours ago?”

  “I did. Couldn’t sleep. And I realized I didn’t want to spend Wintersmeet Eve alone.” Ransom settled himself and put one arm behind his head for a pillow. “I guessed you might be here, when you weren’t in your berth.”

  “I was restless too. And…”

  “And what?”

  “It just feels wrong to experience the solstice in the belly of a cargo ship.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it. But you’re right. And this is a beautiful sight.”

  He fell silent then, and Zara tried to go back to contemplating the stars, but she couldn’t stop thinking about how close he was, how easy it would be to move toward him, let him take her in his arms and kiss her so neither of them knew when the solstice happened. They’d been on this ship for nearly two weeks, and they’d spent nearly every minute of that time together.

  And she’d never been bored.

  She’d never been sick of his presence, never found excuses to get away from him. It wasn’t just the kissing—there hadn’t been much of that, really, what with limited privacy and her feeling that they shouldn’t be alone together in her berth. It was the joy of talking to him, of telling him things she’d never told another soul and letting him do the same for her. It was finding out all the things they had in common and arguing over the things they didn’t. And now she couldn’t imagine being without him. It had happened so quickly—and yet she’d always known her own mind, prided herself on being decisive, and this was just another example of that.

  “Is Wintersmeet a happy time for you?” she asked.

  “Because my family is selfish and single-minded, you mean? It’s not so bad. Better, actually, when I’m not in Aurilien. My family has a Wintersmeet Ball every year, and every year since I became an adult my mother has played matchmaker with me and every eligible young woman in Tremontane, most of whom are only interested in my fortune.”

  “I didn’t know you were personally wealthy. I thought that was the De Witt fortune.”

  “I have money settled on me by my parents. Or did. I have no idea what happened to it when I left. I might be penniless. You don’t mind that, do you?”

  “You have good earning potential. I think that’s more important.”

  He laughed and took her hand. “So practical.”

  “Well, you’ll need to make a living in Veribold.”

  “I’m worried about not speaking the language. How successful can I actually be there, given how insular Veriboldans tend to be?”

  “Veriboldans need healers and doctors as much as anyone. And I’d be happy to translate for you. I could be your assistant.”

  “If you’re sure you don’t have anything better to do.”

  “I don’t really have a plan, other than exploring Haizea. I haven’t been there in…forty years. Right after Hank died.”

  “Long time,” Ransom said. His voice sounded strange, distant, and she wasn’t sure whether he was reacting to her allusion to her dead husband or her abnormally long life. She drew breath to ask him about it, then fel
t the unmistakable tingle as the lines of power shifted their alignment—and there they all were, Jeffrey and his wife and children and grandchildren, feeling as close as if they were standing next to her and as distant as if they burned among the stars overhead.

  She let out that breath in a long, warm stream, imagining she could see it trailing away from her, coiling through the breezes that brushed her cheeks. Then the feeling was gone, and she wiped away a few tears with her free hand. It would have been nice to sense Telaine’s family, but Telaine had adopted out of the North family years before, and Zara would have to return to Longbourne to see her again, which she wasn’t going to do. She wiped away a few more tears and scowled. She never cried and she wasn’t about to do so now.

  “It must be hard, not being able to go home,” Ransom said quietly.

  “I might say the same to you.”

  “I can go home. I just don’t want to. It’s different.”

  “I’m used to it.”

  “Still…”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s none of my business.” He fell silent again, the touch of his hand their only connection.

  For the first time since they’d left Goudge’s Folly, Zara felt uncomfortable around him. She’d wanted…what? To tell him her feelings for him had gone from mere attraction to something more profound? He’d sounded so distant. This was the wrong time. Maybe there wouldn’t be a right time. His displays of affection were always casual, teasing, the kind someone who wasn’t serious about her might give, and how awkward for her to admit to love when they were both on this ship, unable to avoid each other. She wished she knew what he was thinking.

  “You aren’t regretting this, are you?” she blurted out, then closed her eyes against how stupid that had sounded.

  “Why would I regret this?” He squeezed her hand gently.

  “I…don’t know. Forget I said anything.”

  “Rowena, this has been the most exhilarating two weeks of my life. I have no regrets. Besides, this is much nicer than the jungle, which is full of insects and things that want to eat your arm whole.”

  “I’m glad. I…”

  “You’re behaving strangely. Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m just feeling my age tonight, I suppose.”

  “Hmm.” Ransom shifted toward her. “Come over here.” He slid one arm under her shoulders and put the other across her stomach to encircle her in his arms. “I guarantee I’m not feeling your age at all.”

  Despite her melancholy, she had to laugh. If only they could go on like this forever, though not with the sailors moving around nearby. “Thank you,” she said. “I…I’m glad you came along. I’d be so bored otherwise.”

  “Is that what I am? Your cure for boredom?” The sardonic tone was back in his voice. He hadn’t sounded like that for weeks. She felt him begin to withdraw his arm, and clutched at it, suddenly afraid of what might happen if he let go.

  “No,” she said. “That’s not what you are. You’re caring, and funny, and clever, and you always know exactly what to say to me. If you hadn’t come with me I’d be miserable right now because I’d have left my heart back in Dineh-Karit with you.”

  Ransom went still. She could feel his breath across her forehead, warm and smelling of mint. She didn’t know where he’d found it, but it smelled nice, and she closed her eyes and wished she hadn’t just said that. It was too soon, she was going to ruin everything—

  He shifted again, drawing her closer. “I know,” he said. “I love you, too.”

  She realized how tightly she was gripping his arm and released him. “But it’s only been—”

  “Three weeks, I know. But I’ve never been happier than I have that whole time. Now I can’t imagine not spending every day with you.”

  “It wasn’t the whole time. You and I fought quite a bit the first few days.”

  “You tell it your way, I’ll tell it mine. I was attracted to you from the moment I saw you, tangled hair and all. I just didn’t know I was going to fall in love with you.”

  “I thought you were stubborn and arrogant. And handsome.”

  “And then you came to appreciate those qualities.”

  “Once you started taking me seriously. And you weren’t as stubborn and arrogant as you wanted me to think.”

  Ransom chuckled. “Now I know you must love me, if you’re willing to admit that.” He kissed her temple. “And I hope you know how much I love you.”

  She rolled over to face him. “Show me,” she said, and he kissed her, his lips soft on hers. She put her arms around him as they kissed, slowly, enjoying the feel of his smooth skin against her face and the smell of him, mint and cedar. He slid his hand up to stroke her hair and she kissed him harder, savoring the light touch of his hand contrasting with the intensity of his kisses. Kissing her love under the stars on the first day of the year—she remembered Hank briefly, how they’d begun their life together on a Wintersmeet Day fifty-five years before, and hoped he was happy, wherever he was in heaven now. As happy as she was.

  A long, appreciative whistle broke out somewhere above their heads, and Zara saw a sailor high above, gripping the rigging and waving at them. She reddened and covered her face with her hands while Ransom roared with laughter and waved back. “We should away to our beds,” he said. “I’m not interested in giving the sailors a show.”

  “Beds,” Zara said. “I think we’re still not ready for anything else.”

  “I agree. Love or no, it has only been three weeks.” Ransom helped her out of the longboat, then kept hold of her hand as they walked together to the companionway. “And these beds are too narrow to be comfortable.”

  “I’m satisfied just spending every day with you.” Zara stopped outside her berth and put her arms around his neck. “And kissing you. And holding you. And feeling your breath on my cheek.”

  “Definitely all that,” he said, putting his arms around her in turn. He glanced up and down the narrow hall, leaned close to her ear, and said, “I love you, Zara, for everything you are and all the things you can’t tell anyone else. I love you.”

  She shivered all over with delight. “I love you, Ransom, and to prove it I won’t use your other name to tell you so.”

  He laughed and kissed her. “Here’s to the morning, then.”

  “Until morning.”

  She undressed in the quiet dark and lay on her bed, unable to stop smiling. She remembered Hank again, and this time let the memory play out, his rugged face and the smile that said he loved her, body and soul. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m finding happiness again,” she whispered into the darkness. “I’ll always love you, but this is a different love, and it makes me happy in a different way. Someday I’ll see you again, in the far future, and I hope you and Ransom will like each other.”

  Falling in love again was something that had never occurred to her, yet here she was, loving and beloved. This time next year, we’ll be married, she thought as she fell asleep, and carried the thought with her into her dreams.

  Appendix: The Tremontane Encyclopedia

  I. Geography and Other Nations

  Tremontane is a kingdom defined by three large peaks, Gandner Peak, Mount Tendennon, and Mount Ehuren, in a range of mountains called the Rockwild Range, the Spine of the World, or just the Spine. The ridge runs roughly east-west with a curve southward on the eastern side. Tremontane’s borders are the Rockwild Range to the north; Mount Tendennon, the Snow River, and Veribold on the west; the ocean and a ridge of foothills to the east (east of which is unclaimed territory and wastelands); and Eskandel to the south.

  Tremontane has several immediate neighbors with which its relations range from cordial to hostile.

  Eskandel: Tremontane’s southern neighbor, Eskandel is known for its devotion to the arts and sciences, as well as for being the place where Devices were invented. It is nominally ruled by a Conclave of princes, but the real power in Eskandel is held by those princes’ har
ems. These groups of four to six women make the real decisions and then tell their husbands how to vote in Conclave. Eskandel prides itself on its cordial relations with all its neighbors and occasionally acts as intermediary in international disputes. Tremontane and Eskandel have been friendly almost since the founding of Tremontane.

  Veribold: Tremontane’s western neighbor. The oldest country in the region, Veribold was once a vibrant, outward-looking culture that in the past century or so has grown decadent and obsessed with former glories.

  Veriboldans put great stock in ritual and ceremony, and although they do not have the literal family bonds Tremontanans do, they consider family connections very important and most can recite their lineage seven or more generations back. Even the lowest-class Veriboldan considers himself superior to anyone of any other country, and upper-class Veriboldans may refuse to be “tainted” by speaking directly to someone not Veriboldan (though this does not stop them learning other languages). This belief notwithstanding, Veriboldans carry on strong trade relations with their neighbors and are known for the high quality of their exports (mainly luxury goods like tea and silk).

  Veribold is ruled by a limited-term King or Queen chosen by an intricate set of challenges incomprehensible to most outsiders; rulers serve for seven years and may not serve subsequent terms. Veribold and Tremontane have a very formal, somewhat chilly relationship in recent years due to the presence of hostile Veriboldan outlaws along the Tremontanan border whom the Veriboldan government has been unable, or unwilling, to rein in.