by Lisa Daniels
“Mm,” Kiara said, without any real inflection in her voice. Fjorn's glory were the gardens and the Forest of Light, really. The gardens contained many different flowers and plants, but not to the same degree as the ecosystem biomes in Kanthus, which grew more or less unchecked beyond the barrier. Fjorn's gardens were neatly manicured, as was a great part of the forest, roped off for display, and other areas for huntsmen to go and children to play.
Both places were beautiful in their own right, for sure. One surrounded by forests and mountains, the other by lakes and swamps. Each lights in the darkness, out of the few kingdoms that did exist. And to think no one had made an alliance with these Kanthians before. Or perhaps they tried, but the Kanthians had refused. So what made this deal so different?
An assurance of bloodlines, for one thing. But she wasn't marrying a king or a prince, but what they called a “god.” A shapeshifting monster.
“Tell me, Mordred,” Kiara said, turning to face him, fixing upon those yellow eyes, bathed a little in the wavy blue of the living room. “Is there really any benefit for me being here, for both of our nations? Because I can't help but think that if it doesn't matter who I marry, then it doesn't matter to you people if I'm here.”
Sure, Vasha might have countered and insisted upon the importance of marrying a god, but Kiara simply didn't get it.
Mordred found this question puzzling. “Of course it matters. All Highborn that are able to shapeshift come from the royal lineage of our society. I'm a grandson of the king. The king himself—Mathias—he's about two hundred years old. And out of all the Highborn, there are only about four hundred in total who are able to shapeshift. That's four hundred out of a seven-million-strong population. The rest will have powers of a sort, but to actually transform—that's rare.”
“Wait. So you're like a grand-prince?”
He nodded and grimaced at the same time, hands now fidgeting with his black and white suit. “More or less. There's a few of us around. Your marriage is also important to us because of the increased infertility in our female population. Something about the werewolf blood causes women to generally become infertile. Not men, though. We haven't figured out why. But it does mean we need to look to outsiders. And out of all the barbaric nations we've addressed, Fjorn seems to be one of the more civilized of the few we've seen.”
Kiara listened, though she wanted nothing more in that moment than to curl up and just go to sleep, and block out all the information and the world around her.
He saw her conflicted expression and gestured to the bedroom. “I'll sleep on the floor. You can sleep on the bed. In the morning, no one will be the wiser. And,” he added, “your servants will be able to talk to you. So you can cross one annoyance off your list.”
Kiara gave him a thin smile and bleated her thanks, though really, she didn't want to spend any more time near him. Not after taking advantage of her ignorance. Even if he was the kind of target her father and mother expected her to marry. The kind of person Bethany should have married.
I don't belong here. She ignored taking a bath, opting to sink into her own in the morning, and without bothering to change, slumped into the bed after kicking off her boots.
Though he might act amiable on the outside, he had clearly squeezed her into a position to take her for himself, culling the competition elsewhere.
At least he wasn't taking any more advantage of her, she supposed.
Not that it comforted her at all.
Not that it helped her to sleep any easier. She tried, though. She tossed and turned, but her mind was just too active, flitting from thought to thought like a fish, unable to stick to one thing for long.
When she finally managed to sleep, she did so fitfully, trying to hold back the nightmares. Feeling small in a big place that threatened to swallow her up, losing everything she was.
Chapter Four
As promised, Mordred didn't touch her. He maintained the stance as well, though the covert reminder that she had married him because of a social blunder irritated the lost day out of her. Why couldn't things just be straightforward and normal, like in Fjorn? Why did these Kanthians have to go by such silly rules?
Still, it was a relief to go to her quarters the next day to find Winifred there, now willing to talk to her directly. Since she'd... gulp... married.
“I'm sorry for the way you were treated. It's just worth more than all our lives combined to dare break the rules.” Winifred helped select a new dress for Kiara, one that covered her up modestly. A kind of fashion statement to show she wasn't looking for anyone, because little of her flesh would be exposed.
“I just want people to talk to me,” Kiara said. “And because everyone thinks it’s common knowledge, I accidentally got myself married!”
“Uh... 'accidentally?' Mistress, you took off a god's mask in public and then went to his chambers. That's not an accident.” Winifred pursed her lips in quaint amusement.
“It was just a mask. It's not like I threw my panties into the crowd and then leapt on him like some kind of crazed animal.”
“To the court, you may as well have,” Winifred said. “I think you'll find a few of them greatly disturbed by your bold actions. And there's talk about some of the insults you said. Tell me, did you really say that Lady Iswain was offended by everyone because she had a big nose?”
Didn't sound so funny, coming from Winifred's lips, but Kiara smiled anyway. “It's a joke. We do that in Fjorn. Make jokes. The best ones come from insulting people.”
“My advice, mistress. Please don't do that again. I was lucky to get delegated this position to a foreigner. If you get yourself exiled in disgrace, I'll be back to scrubbing the floors again in the kitchens. I'd like to keep my new position.”
“Oh,” Kiara said. “So you weren't always a maid?”
“No. It's considered a great honor to be one. And very few wanted to be maid to a foreigner, so I saw my opportunity in. I must say, mistress, you don't seem as barbaric as everyone expected you to be. But do tone down what you consider to be jokes.”
Kiara sighed, now shrugging out of her dress, walking over the puddle and sucking in the light from her necklace again. “Fine. No being funny. I'll be perfectly miserable and boring. Just how you people like it.”
Winifred let out a chuckle while helping to tug Kiara out of her shift, so she was naked.
Another thing Mordred recommended that she do was to leave her panties at his place. Seemed like he was right to say so, even though it made her blush furiously, because Winifred acted as if this was a perfectly acceptable sight to behold. Soon she presented Kiara in front of a mirror, letting her admire the simple black dress—a close reminder of home, with all the drab colors they preferred there.
Maybe Winifred had chosen the outfit especially for that reason. “Will you teach me some of the lightweaving, Winifred? I find myself in sore need of doing more than blowing light through my fingers.”
“To be fair,” Winifred said, “it does look impressive. And sure. We can start tonight if you want. In time, I'll get you to do some cool things. Such as...” Winifred concentrated for a moment, holding her hands close together as if clutching a box. Kiara watched in interest as light threaded together between Winifred's fingers, an amorphous cloud until it coalesced into what appeared to be a shimmering yellow fish. She then bound it with a few more threads, weaved some instructions for its animation, and the tiny fish flitted out, now beginning to explore the confines of Kiara's softly lit room.
That's at least a sixth level enchantment! Kiara smiled as she saw it hesitate in front of a painting, before swimming to the side of the wall. Weaving light together so that it imitated life—an above average skill. She likely knew heat transference as well. For a servant, this Winifred appeared remarkably skilled. Maybe it wouldn't take long for Kiara to exhibit level two abilities.
“That's amazing, Winifred! If you showed this kind of ability back in Fjorn, you can bet you wouldn't be a servant. Though I hope
you'll be a better teacher than the ones we had. Watching paint dry was more fascinating than listening to them croon about their precious lightweaving.”
The redhead blushed at this, almost matching the color of her short hair. “That's kind of you to say, mistress. But for now, I think I'll stick to this.” She offered no more thoughts upon the subject, and Kiara rather regretfully buttoned up her black, elbow-length gloves, which seemed to take forever to do. She was always far too impatient, preferring clothes that could be slammed on fast. Winifred insisted on the gloves, however, saying they matched in a wonderful way that let people feast upon her beauty.
Ha. Beauty. Maybe she should walk around the palace pulling hideous faces until Winifred lifted that definition from her.
“Where would you like to go, mistress? Now that you have free roam of the palace and the city.”
The thought of being able to explore caught Kiara's brain on fire, and excitement threaded through her. “Right! I can explore. Well... everywhere, then. May as well get to see why all the Kanthians think their city is so great.”
Winifred grinned. “Do you wish for me to come with you, mistress?”
“Oh, please.” Kiara allowed her light to puff out in little orbs around her hands. “I have no idea where I'm supposed to go, or even where I can go. I'll need a local guide or I'll be hopelessly lost.” One of her fingers began twitching impatiently. Finally. She could get out of that accursed palace. Roam the city, maybe collect some books, though it took a rare book to make her sit down and concentrate long enough. Had those guards stuck around, too? She still had a half-finished letter lying around somewhere, and they never messaged her to say what inn they planned to stay in if so.
She wouldn't blame them if they did go.
Kiara passed Mordred during the walk to the gardens, and had to shove down her impulse to run as he approached her. “Hello, beautiful!” He leaned and kissed her on the cheek before she had time to react. “Remember, we're going to be meeting my father later tonight. He's excited to see you!”
“He... is?” Kiara gaped at him, before recovering slightly. “Ah, yes, of course. He'll want to get to know his new daughter at some point.”
Inside, though, her insides clenched, angry at the sudden marriage. Of knowing that whether she liked it or not, she now needed to roll along with it.
At least Mordred didn't try it on with her. He had approached her to confirm to the public—which meant the other servants scuttling around—that they had indeed consummated their “marriage.” Winifred smiled as Mordred sauntered away. She hadn't seen him without his mask before, and she now spun on Kiara in excitement. “That's one good-looking god you've taken, there. You're a lucky one, mistress. Most have to be content with those missing half a foot or with black teeth.”
“I'm sure,” Kiara replied wryly. She decided to change the subject before her inside emotions ended up displaying far too obviously on the outside. “So where would you recommend me to go?”
“Oh. Let's see... well. You'll probably want the scenic route—the one where they take all the tourists. We don't get a whole lot of tourists, but enough so that there's a few people making a living from showing them the sights.” She walked Kiara over to a waiting carriage beyond the gates where the sentries stood, and they clambered up into it. “The central bridge, please,” she called up to the driver, and he coaxed his two horses into a trot. They trundled over the main bridge, giving Kiara plenty of time to look down into the lake below, where she saw live fish covered in magic—level four talent.
Level one, manifesting the light. Level two, manipulating it. I'm probably just about level two. Level three, attaching it to a still object. Four, living.
What was five again? Something about attaching it to an object from a distance or something, and getting it to move of its own accord. Just like the ripple effects in Mordred's room, giving the whole place the eerie texture of something underwater.
Winifred here was a level six—manipulating the light so that it imitated living and still forms. Level seven was having the imitation without needing a source to attach to. Heat transference could happen from level three onwards, a kind of additional skill that was supposed to be learned at some point, though it became easier the higher up the skill chart someone was. Very few level threes could heat transfer, whilst many level fives could.
Drat. I'm wrong about what she might be. She's a level seven at least. That fish just went swimming off. It wasn't attached to a stone or the wall or anything.
Was Winifred even aware of how powerful she was? It irritated Kiara to think that someone so valuable was little more than a servant. Servant work should be confined to those who didn't have lightweaving. It should be given to those people so that they still had something valuable to do. Not to waste a lightweaver on something so mundane. Wasteful and pointless. Just like the lightweaving used in this city.
She couldn't help but stare at Winifred, just wondering how they let someone of her talents be stuck here.
Winifred already hinted at not being challenged on it, though. So she left it alone. Maybe she could ask Winifred to lightweave a few things as the kind of whimsical demands of a mistress. Test the girl's ability for herself.
Girl? I'm not much older than she is. She must be eighteen, nineteen at least. And I'm barely past twenty-one.
Winifred dutifully showed Kiara around the city, though it required a lot of lake visits, some bobbing on the water in flimsy little boats, and a trip to some of the better shops in the area. People stared at Kiara's dark hair in a distrustful manner, however. They really didn't seem to like a foreigner walking in their shops, even if said foreigner was married to one of their gods.
Or perhaps that was the issue. Someone that they considered lower than others happened to be hitched to someone they worshipped above everything else. Creating a conflict in their minds.
“It's like I said,” Winifred whispered, as she gently steered Kiara out of another hostile shop, “they don't like that you've robbed the chance for one of their own to marry a god. Every little girl dreams of making it big in Kanthus. Marrying a Highborn or marrying a god. Take this.” She picked up a book from a small market stall, propped up against a glowing bakery. “‘Love and Lust: The Prince of Wolves’. A book that many people love here. About a commoner from the streets who ends up accidentally marrying a god, but they fall in love with each other along the way and she ends up having lots of healthy gods as children. A classic.”
Kiara snorted, before stopping herself. Thankfully, Winifred shared the mood, for she grinned as well. “It's a terrible book, honestly, but this is the kind of fiction you'll see our single, lonely girls reading. You want to get it, mistress?”
Well, seeing as it sounded disconcertingly true to what happened to her, except it was an entirely different kind of accident, Kiara agreed. She probably wouldn't be able to manage past a few pages, anyway. They bought the book for about two silver coins, and Winifred tucked it away in a little knapsack that she wore specifically to help her mistress with whatever she intended to buy. Some women preferred entire carriages full of goods, according to Winifred, since they couldn't help but snap up anything that drew the slightest bit of interest, such as cleverly made ornaments with intricate lightweavings.
Most lightweavers of around third rank ended up being merchants, selling glow-necklaces and other useful objects. When a group of men down one main road openly stopped to glare, Winifred now became uncomfortable.
“Mistress... I think perhaps I misjudged the mood of my fellow Kanthians. I think it best if we don't leave the palace unless we have a full armed escort. I had hoped that as two women, a Highborn and her servant, we would more or less be dismissed. But it seems everyone knows who you are. News travels very fast.”
“What's the issue?” Kiara didn't exactly expect the people to love her. Nights, she didn't have much love from her own people in Fjorn. People just saw her as the brat.
But that hostility... t
hat couldn't be just because she'd married a god, could it?
“We don't have any protection. I'm a fool, mistress. Let's hail a carriage.” Winifred instantly dragged Kiara over, though there were no carriages currently in sight.
“This can't be because I married Mordred, can it?”
“That's one small thing of many, mistress.” Winifred scowled, before pulling Kiara into a book merchant's shop. “Many people believe that a formal alliance with another kingdom will invite their weaknesses into us. They fear losing jobs, having too many foreigners in the city, and they fear the sacred bloodlines being weakened by lowly blood such as yours, compromising their ability to fight the night hordes. All of it nonsense, but things that people do believe.”
“Then why didn't you ask for protection when we went out earlier? Why didn't you caution me against this?” Slight worry entered Kiara. People tended to leave things out for the purpose of deceiving others.
“I didn't expect us to wander off this far, mistress. Following the main routes, we will have little chance of being accosted. But wandering over to these stalls, which you dearly wanted to look at...”
Kiara flushed slightly. True. She'd spotted the stalls, went darting off to them, and consequently found herself getting more and more distracted by all the different things. Such as that strange little sign outside that tavern, with lightwoven bees flitting around it. Or the small fountain which depicted water coming out of a wolf's mouth. Or that stall with the deliciously thin potato chips.
Everything should be okay. People wouldn't dare assault her for whatever reason. Why bother risking the wrath of the god she married? Pretty stupid thing to do, right?
Loud music blared out all of a sudden. Two men playing on trumpets, another one drumming. So loud that they drowned out the sound of any voices nearby.
Including the sound of a scream.
Three men closed in on her from the left, swerving out of a thin alley. Another two walked in fast from behind, and a carriage drew up. One drawn by four horses, big and black and completely sealed, so that anyone inside it couldn't look out.