A Magic King

by Jade Lee

  "Who said I was a good king?"

  She knew he was just teasing her, but his eyes darkened and the laugh lines around them dropped away until they looked more like pain etched in a face too young to bear the scars. A part of him, she realized, really doubted he was a good king.

  "You're a good king, Daken. I said you were, remember? When you told me about leaving your carriage behind, after your horse was killed." She playfully tapped the end of his nose.

  He smiled and caught her finger in his mouth. Blushing, she withdrew it and captured his hand as she looked around for her next destination.

  They'd been doing a lot of that today—touching whenever and wherever they could. None of it was sexual, not even the brief kisses they'd given each other. They walked holding hands, or he brushed crumbs off her face, or she tugged on his arm. They were practically inseparable, which was just how she liked it.

  She might enjoy shopping, but wandering alone through a fair this large when she didn't speak the language was too daunting a task for even her. So they ran through the marketplace together, or rather, she ran dragging him, and they laughed like children unexpectedly released from school.

  Then she saw it. They'd been wandering about for over an hour before she spotted it. It hung in the corner of a booth in the chaotic center of the marketplace. It was a dark blue tunic with threads of gold shot through the sleeves and neck. It had a V-type collar and a soft texture like worn denim. And it was perfect for Daken.

  She bought it when he wasn't looking. He was busy haggling over a dagger, so she slipped away, dropped all three of her coins into the vendor's hand, grabbed both the shirt and a couple plain tunics for herself, then ran back before Daken was any the wiser. She knew she should somehow hide the shirt. The surprise would work better if she gave it to him tomorrow morning, but she'd always had trouble waiting to give her gifts. He was right here with her, and she was so happy that she just threw it over his head, laughing as a sleeve flopped wildly over his right ear.

  "Surprise!"

  He fumbled his way out of the tunic. "What?"

  "Hey, careful!" She pulled the shirt off of him before he ripped it, then smoothed out the folds before presenting it to him. "A tunic fit for a king." She held it up to his eyes. It wasn't a perfect match, she noted with chagrin. His eyes were a bit more vibrant, the gold flecks a little richer. But it was close enough.

  He didn't take it.

  "Hey. It's a gift." She leaned forward. "You're supposed to say thank-you."

  He stared at the shirt. "You bought this?"

  "No, I stole it. Of course, I bought it."

  "You paid for it," he repeated, his mouth still struggling to form words.

  "Yes. Probably way too much, but," she smiled up at him, "it was worth it to see your face." His expression was torn between surprise, pleasure, and horror. "Yes," she giggled, spinning away. "It was definitely worth it."

  He grabbed her, turning her back to face him. "Why would you spend your coins on me? On this?"

  "Because it's your money, silly. Who else should it be spent on?"

  "But—"

  "Criminy, Daken. You act like this is some big deal. It's just a shirt."

  He shook his head, clearly searching for the right words. "This is not just a shirt."

  "Well, of course, it is," she teased. "It's got fabric, front and back, two sleeves for your arms, and a collar. That's the big hole in the middle for your head. Boy," she shook her head with mock horror. "And you call me a fool."

  "Little fool..."

  She glanced up, her expression sobering at the sudden intensity in his eyes. "What? What's wrong?"

  "This is a bridegroom's tunic. Are you proposing to me?"

  "Proposing what?" Finally his words sunk in. "Proposing? As in marriage proposing?"

  He reached out and lifted her chin. She felt the rough texture of his fingertips as well as the heat his smallest touch always aroused within her.

  "I would be very pleased if you wished to marry me," he said, his voice low and sincere.

  "Marry you?" Her voice came out as a squeak.

  "You would be my queen." His lips quirked in a half smile. "A wealthy queen of a fertile land. Your heirs would be healers and as their mother, you would be revered. Your every wish fulfilled."

  "Heirs? As in children? Babies?" Her voice cracked on the last word. Her thoughts spun and suddenly, her stomach felt much too small for her chest, especially given that her heart was beating so fast she thought it had climbed into her throat.

  "We would have beautiful children, you and I," he continued. "They would have a laugh like their mother and have their father's physique."

  "Physique?"

  He tilted his head, trying to explain. "Body. Form. Strength."

  She cleared her throat. "I know what it means," she said, slowly backing out of his arms as she struggled for rational thought. But it was hard when his gaze seemed to heat her entire body, mesmerizing her even as she tried to stop the dizzy buzzing in her head.

  "Jane?"

  "Daken." She took one last steadying breath before facing him. "Look, I didn't know that was a... that it was for a... you know. For marriage."

  She watched his face change. She couldn't say exactly what part of him shifted or when the transformation was complete. She only knew that with each word, his face became stiffer and colder, hidden behind his mask of polite civility.

  "Does this mean you do not wish to marry me?" His words were filled with kingly hauteur.

  "I don't wish to marry anyone." She tugged on her hair, pulling a curl to almost below her ear. 'Try to understand. I don't belong here."

  His eyebrows drew together. "Here? In the marketplace or Bosuny?" He looked around at the milling sea of people pushing past them on all sides.

  "Here, as in this world."

  His attention refocused on her. "I don't understand."

  "Join the crowd, buddy," she muttered. "Let me try to explain. I'm from out—" Fortunately, she was jabbed from behind by a pushy customer, and her next impulsive words were swallowed. Once she regained her balance and her senses, she started on a different tack. "Can we go somewhere quiet and talk?" She saw the cold anger in his eyes. "Please, Daken. Let me try to explain before you cast me off."

  That seemed to break through his cold facade. She started to move toward a road, but he stopped her, turning her to read the truth in his face as he spoke. "I would never cast you off, Jane. Never. Do you understand?"

  Jane nodded, afraid she did. Like it or not, this man was proposing to her. His intentions couldn't be clearer if he'd broadcast it from the nearest booth. Suddenly, she wasn't afraid he'd abandon her to find her way alone, but that he wouldn't let her go once she finally found a way back to her own world.

  She shivered at the thought, even as a small voice whispered in her head. "Would it be so bad?" it asked. She'd be a queen. Her children would be healers. She'd be married to her own personal fantasy man, for goodness sake. What more could she want?

  Except she'd be abandoning Earth, her home. It wasn't that she'd miss her parents. She loved them, but they'd long since deteriorated to making polite phone calls at Christmas. As for her brother, she thought she had his address written on an old receipt, lost somewhere in her nightstand.

  No, what she'd be abandoning was much more obscure than her family, much larger and at times more immediate than her friends. She would be leaving Earth. Her skills weren't all that great, but she counted her computer training as a valuable asset. Her job at the university was simple and specific. She kept the flow of information open to the public. Maybe there were others who could do her job as well or better than she. But the point was, it was her job, and she did it well.

  On Earth, she was a single person working to keep the light alive in a world of increasing darkness. And the church had taught her that the loss of one candle, no matter how small, was a loss to all.

  Jane watched the swirling mass of people as she and Dake
n ducked and twisted through the stands. What was she to these people? She didn't even speak their language, didn't understand the most basic things about their customs or bridal gear. Didn't even recognize the food they ate.

  On Earth, she was a competent computer technician. Here, she was just a fool.

  By the time they escaped the marketplace and found the relative peace of an inn, Jane had reaffirmed her decision. Tempting as it might be to be Daken's queen, she was at heart a computer technician. It may not be much, but it was who she was. She couldn't leave it behind just for a life of luxury. She shook her head, knowing now that she was indeed a fool.

  "I'll get us a room. Then we will talk in private," Daken said in her ear.

  Jane turned, suddenly nervous about being alone in a room with him. "Are you sure?" she stammered. "I mean, we could talk right here—" She gestured to an empty booth near a large glass window. But the moment she looked back at Daken, her spirits plummeted. He would have it out with her, and it would be on his terms, on his turf. And that meant in a private room.

  Jane sighed. "Whatever you want is fine with me."

  Daken nodded. "We will talk in our room."

  Five minutes later, they were ushered into a large, luxurious suite with rich furnishings, thick fur skin rugs, and a large bed.

  "This," Daken declared, "is an apartment fit for a king and his mate."

  "You mean queen," she said dryly, her feminist soul noting the subordinate position he would relegate her to.

  Daken's eyebrows drew together. "Of course. My mate will be a queen." He dismissed the innkeeper with a curt nod of his head. "This is the best room in the best inn in Bosuny. But your room in my home is even larger than this."

  Jane sat down heavily on the bed, feeling her shoulders droop almost to her knees. "You can't buy me, Daken. I don't care if you own a palace inlaid in gold, with a thousand servants. I can't marry you. I can't marry anyone."

  "Then why did you give me this?" He held up the shirt in his fist, shaking it at her as if it were a dead animal he'd just killed for her.

  "Because I didn't know what it meant."

  He shifted to stand directly in front of her, his legs spread, his hands on his hips. The shirt drifted to the bed beside her as he casually tossed it aside. "You are not," he paused, struggling with his words, "as innocent as you seem."

  "And you're not this stupid," she shot back, her anger suddenly bursting through. She stood up, facing him eye to eye. Or rather, eye to collarbone until she tilted her head to glare up at him. "You're being deliberately obtuse, and it's making me real uncomfortable."

  Daken drew himself up even taller. "Refusing a king is not supposed to be comfortable."

  Jane balled her fists in frustration. "Damn it, Daken. You haven't even proposed. I did, and you know I didn't mean it."

  Suddenly his face lightened. "Is that what you need?" He swiftly drew out his sword. She squeaked in alarm, springing backward onto the bed as the bright blade flashed before her eyes. Then he flattened the blade across his palm and set it down before her. "Cripes, Daken. Warn a body—"

  "Mistress Jane Deerfield," he said in solemn tones as he dropped to one knee.

  Jane groaned. "Oh, God—"

  "Will you do me the greatest honor—"

  "Daken, wait—"

  "—of becoming—"

  "Daken—"

  "—my queen?"

  He lifted his bowed head, his eyes on level with her knees given her position perched on the bed. She waited, her breath coming in quick, short bursts. "Jane?"

  "Are you finished? Are you willing to listen now?"

  "Do you wish me to say more?"

  "No!"

  Suddenly, she jerked forward and shoved hard on his shoulders. He wasn't prepared for the surprise attack and tumbled backwards onto his rear end. She immediately followed him, jumping down from her perch to stand over him, her position as domineering as his had been just moments before.

  "Now you listen to me, you big galoot, and listen good. I am honored more than I can say. I'll be your friend. I'll even maybe be your—" She cut off her breath before the word could spill out, but it came anyway, slipping through on a breath of a sigh. "—your lover, if you like. But I can't marry you. I don't belong in this world. As soon as I can find a way, I'm going back to my home."

  He looked up at her, his eyes hard, his face blank. "I don't want a lover. I want a wife."

  "That'll make for a fun honeymoon," she said dryly.

  His forehead wrinkled in confusion. "What is a hon-E-moon?"

  Jane sighed, suddenly stepping away to drop down beside him, her legs crossed Indian style, her hands on her knees. "Daken, we can't even communicate on the basics. Don't you see? I don't belong here."

  "You belong anywhere you wish to be."

  "Maybe I don't wish to be here."

  He lifted his chin. "You mean, you don't wish to be with me."

  Jane bit her lip, wondering how he could look so haughty and so hurt at the same time. "I have a life, a home, and a job somewhere else. Somewhere far from here, and that is where I belong. Can't you see that?"

  Daken sat up. In one lithe move, he faced her, crossing his legs until he mirrored her position exactly. "Do you have a... a husband at your home?"

  Her laugh was almost bitter. "I can't even keep a goldfish, to say nothing of a man."

  "Then keep me."

  She smiled at his awkward phrasing, knowing what he said and what he meant were worlds apart. Daken would never be anyone's pet.

  "I don't belong here, Daken. You know that as well as I."

  He shook his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes. "I don't know that. And I don't think you do either."

  She started to argue, but he pressed his fingers to her lips.

  "You do not wish to marry me. I accept that. For now. But I will keep the wedding tunic for when you change your mind."

  "You mean if I change my mind."

  He just grinned, refusing to amend his statement, and she was forced to admire his grace and determination, even in the face of her refusal. Then, before she could think of anything else to say, he pulled a small dagger and sheath out of his belt and offered it to her, hilt first.

  "What's this?"

  "A dagger. For you."

  She took the weapon, drawing it out, extending the bright blade to the sunshine. "It's beautiful."

  It was a fine dagger. Its hilt was iron inlaid with silver. The blade was razor sharp, and its point deadly. But most incredible to her was the way, even in the sunlight, that the edge seemed to dance with its own fire. A bright copper flame seemed to skate along the tip, burning up the edge until it slipped through the silver designs on the hilt and into her fingers.

  "Uh..." She glanced up nervously, wondering if the tingling that spread through her body was supposed to happen. She tried to drop the knife, but she couldn't make her fingers release it. "I feel strange," she said, her voice a thready whisper.

  "It is linking with you. Now it is your blade, and it will help you to use it better."

  "Great." She giggled. It was her sick hyena laugh because she still had trouble accepting the magic he seemed to think was common. The tingling stopped, and she fumbled in her rush to sheathe the strange weapon.

  He steadied her hands, his grip gentle as he guided her nervous movements, helped her stand, then tied the sheath about her waist. Only after it was fixed to her side did Jane say the things uppermost in her mind.

  "Thank you, Daken. It's a beautiful gift, but..."

  He raised an eyebrow.

  She swallowed. "But is there some, uh, special meaning to this?" After all, she'd just given him a wedding tunic. For all she knew, this dagger meant she was part of some tribe that was in a death feud with everyone else. Or worse yet, that wearing it made her his woman somehow. "I, uh, just need to know."

  He smiled, his eyes suddenly darkening to a mesmerizing navy. "It means, little fool, that I don't want you to feel naked."


  That threw her until she remembered her earlier comment about everyone having weapons but her. She'd said she felt naked without a knife. A slow smile spread across her face, but before she could speak, he turned her around, untying the sheath and dropping her dagger on the floor next to his sword.

  "I don't want you to feel naked with anyone but me."

  She felt her eyes widen at the implication. Up until that moment, they had skated around the edges of sexuality. Now, it appeared, Daken was changing the rules of the game. Suddenly she was very aware of him and of the very big bed right behind them. His hands came up to frame her face, and she tingled from the electric intensity of his eyes.

  Sunlight on glacier ice. The image flashed through her mind. His eyes were just like sunlight on blue glacier ice, sometimes as brilliant as the noontime sun, sometimes, like now, as dark as the night shadows, but always beautiful, possessing an elemental power that awed her, excited her, and in general made her knees go very weak.

  "You know," he said casually, his voice like the low throb of a purring cat. "I think I was wrong. I want both a wife and a lover."

  "Daken..." She pushed his name through the tightening in her throat. Her mouth was suddenly very dry as she tried to retreat from his advance. But she bumped straight into the bed. Slowly his hands framed her face, drew it upward to meet his gaze. "I... uh... I'm not sure—"

  "I know," he said, and then he lowered his mouth to hers, capturing her slight gasp of alarm and molding it with his lips into a sigh of delight. His kiss was warm and wet and wonderful. She'd expected him to be harsh, almost brutal in his possession of her. Instead he was gentle and disarming.

  "Wait a minute." She pushed him away, only succeeding in separating them by an inch. "Two days ago, I was less appealing than rat bait. What happened?"

  "You have always been appealing, Jane. I merely waited until I was sure of your good health."

  Jane felt her heart lurch into double time. "You mean you don't think I'm crazy?"

  He glanced away, his expression nervous.

  Her pulse dropped with a disappointed ka-thunk.

  "You do think I'm crazy."

  "I think you are different. And," he looked back at her, his face suddenly open with his surprise. "I like it. I like you."