by Vicky Savage
Shortly after Lord Balfour’s departure, Father sets out for the hospital, saying he has arrangements to make so he can be absent for a few days. He informs us that Captain Hornsby is coordinating a large escort for us, as well as an advance party to make certain the road is secure. Ryder and I decide to take a walk while we wait for Lord Balfour to return with the documents. Ralston discreetly declines to join us saying he could use a nap before our journey. Although I now know he doesn’t really sleep, I wonder if maybe his circuits snooze or he recharges his battery or something. I’ll have to ask him sometime.
Ryder suggests we confine our walk to the grounds, so we don’t need to drag along a retinue of guards. I heartily agree. We hold hands and head out across the horse pasture toward the upper meadow.
It’s strange to be truly alone with Ryder. We’ve hardly had any time together when we weren’t accompanied by others, or had a guard or ten along. Glancing up at his beautiful face, hair falling carelessly across his forehead, white shirt tucked in at his slim waist, black pants, and riding boots, he brings to mind a dashing swashbuckler on the cover of a romance novel. It’s hard to fathom not only that he’s here with me, but that he’s soon to be my husband. I feel oddly shy, or maybe unworthy.
“How is your hand today?” he asks as we amble along in the grass.
“Much better. I’ve barely noticed it.” Which is true. It feels almost healed. The Transcenders’ advanced medical techniques are remarkable.
“You wear this bracelet all the time now.” He raises my hand and runs a fingertip along the TPD medallion.
“Yeah, it’s currently one of my favorites,” I say, realizing I should probably quit wearing it soon, if I’m serious about renouncing my Transcender status. I’m reluctant, though, since it recently saved my life.
“What do the shooting stars mean?”
“I’m really not sure. I just like the design.” Will I ever be in a position to stop lying to him?
We reach the meadow and a stand of hundred-year-old live oak trees near a small, burbling stream. “Would you care to sit for a few minutes, love, and talk?” Ryder asks. “We’ve scarcely had the opportunity.”
“That would be nice.” A low boulder near the stream makes a perfect bench for two.
Still wearing the dress and slippers I wore for my meeting with Lord Balfour, I reach down to remove my shoes.
“I’d like to do that,” Ryder says.
Gently removing them, one at a time, he runs his long fingers across my foot and down my insole. The feeling is so deliciously sensuous my whole body trembles. He does the same with the other foot.
“You have lovely feet,” he says.
“They’re all right for size tens,” I say. “Now allow me to return the favor, and we’ll go wading.”
He sits while I remove his boots and socks. I run my fingers along his insole as he did mine, and his foot jerks out of my hand.
“Ticklish,” he says. So of course I grasp his other foot and tickle harder.
He struggles to break away, while trying to avoid kicking me. “No. Jade, really.” He falls off the boulder and I lose my grasp. Springing to his feet, he makes a lunge for me. I lift my hem and plow into the stream. Yeow! It’s so cold it hurts.
He doesn’t bother rolling up his pant legs and comes in after me, capturing me after a few steps. The hem of my dress falls into the stream, and we both laugh shivering from the glacial water.
“You are cruel, Princess, exploiting a man’s weaknesses.”
“I didn’t know you had any.”
“Only two,” he says.
“Oh yeah. What’s the other?”
“Your mouth.”
He lightly traces a fingertip along my lower lip. Cupping a hand under my chin, he touches his lips to mine, gently pulling me close. The heat from his body is a sharp contrast to the numbing water lapping at our calves. We remain in the middle of the stream thirstily drinking in the pleasure of being in each other’s arms.
After a moment he pulls away, sighing deeply. “I’ve lost all feeling in my feet,” he says. “May we continue this on dry land?”
Taking my hand, he helps me from the water. We’re soaked to the knees, but neither of us cares.
“I guess we have a lot to talk about before the wedding,” I say. “Like where we’re going to live, for starters.” I reseat myself on the boulder and squeeze the water from the bottom of my dress.
“I didn’t think there was much to say about that. I’ll live at Warrington Palace with you. I will eventually need to pass along my duties as chief to another, Catherine, perhaps, since I can hardly govern without being present.” He wrings out his pant legs and replaces his socks and boots.
“Oh Ryder, I hate that. Don’t make that decision yet. Let’s see how things go first. Maybe we can split our time between the two places.”
He smiles an indulgent smile. “We will both be required to make sacrifices, love. Shall we walk while we dry out?”
We stroll along the meadow hand in hand, the warm current of love flowing between us. The world looks extravagantly beautiful to me today—the swirling silver dome high above our heads, the gnarled elegance of the ancient oaks, the lush green carpet of meadow, with its patches of merry yellow jonquils and purple coneflowers.
So much remains unspoken between Ryder and me. We really know very little of each other, but I relish the thought of the months and years ahead and the delicious unfolding of it all.
“Mother wants us to be married by a COC minister,” I say. “Is that all right with you?”
“Yes, if that’s what you want.”
“I want it only because it will make Mother happy. So, thank you. I know the Unicoi practice many different faiths. Is there someone from your church or the tribe you’d like to preside over the ceremony also?”
He contemplates this a moment, then shakes his head. “Abraham Phoenix, the spiritual leader of the tribe means a great deal to me. But he is very old. I’m afraid conducting a royal wedding would be too taxing for him. He actually performed the marriage ceremony for my parents nearly thirty years ago.”
“I hope he’ll be able to attend as a guest, at least,” I say.
“Yes. I will make arrangements for that.” He stops and turns to me. “Tell me, do you embrace the teachings of the COC? Do you believe that those who survived the Great Disaster in the domes were handpicked by God as being the most worthy?”
I smile internally because Ralston already told me that the people who flocked into the domes did it because they thought the IUGA agents who built the domes were angels sent down to save them. “No. I don’t believe that,” I say, plopping down on the soft blanket of grass. Ryder sits cross-legged facing me.
“My beliefs have changed a lot over the past year or so,” I say. “You once told me that the Unicoi believe all things are connected, and that the actions of one person affect all of creation. After everything I’ve been through this past several months, I’ve come to accept that as true. Actually, I used to believe it only applied to living things, but my views about that have recently been expanded also.”
“Ah, bird and beast, clay and stone, all are blessed as part of the One?” he says.
“Pretty much. That’s the way I look at things now. After all, at the most basic level, we’re all made of the same stuff, aren’t we?”
He cracks an odd little smile.
“What?” I ask.
“You are a constant marvel to me,” he says. “Just when I think I know what you will say, you say something profound, and utterly unexpected.”
I pluck a few tender blades of grass, letting them sift through my fingers. “I don’t know how profound it is, but I’d hate to be predictable.”
“You are never that.” He laughs. “But what does the future queen do about required attendance at the Church of the Chosen if she does not believe in its doctrines?”
I sigh heavily. “Well … I’m going to take it slow, like everything else. C
hange is hard to accept. Eventually, I hope people will embrace the idea of religious freedom, but no big changes all at once.”
Ryder lies back scanning the skies. I rest my head in the crook of his arm. “Look,” he says pointing heavenward. A hawk soars high above us. “It is a good omen.”
FORTY-FOUR
On our return to the manner house, we find dozens of soldiers assembling to escort us to Warrington. In some ways, the Enclave army is more impressive and better armed than the Royal Guard stationed at Warrington Palace. Father was serious when he said he wouldn’t allow a repeat of the surprise attack of yesterday. These guys look ready for anything.
Lord Balfour waits for me in Father’s office. I discover him busily lining up small stacks of paper on the round conference table. His glasses perch on the end of his nose, and tufts of gray hair poke out on either side of his head. He’s the perfect picture of the harried lawyer.
We step inside, and he pauses from his work, bowing. “Princess, I believe I have everything you require. Thanks to Lady Balfour, there are five copies of each document. I felt one copy should remain on file in my office, and one in the safekeeping of your father. The others should return with you to Warrington Palace to be filed upon your ascension to the throne. I recommend that you sign them today, and date them at the appropriate time.”
He offers a fat black pen for me to use. I lean over the nearest pile of documents. The first page is entitled “Act of Succession.”
“Sign just here,” he says pointing to a line at the bottom. Neatly typed beneath the line is: The Queen, Jaden Victoria Hanover Beckett.
It’s sobering to see it spelled out like that. “Do I need to sign my full name?” I ask.
“It would be best if you did, Your Highness.”
“All right.” I don’t think I’ve ever signed my whole name before. Holding the pen tightly and biting my lower lip, I carefully sign the first page, making certain to spell everything right. Ryder politely excuses himself to assist with the preparations for our journey, while Lord Balfour patiently points out every space which requires my signature. We work through each stack, one-by-one. When all the i’s are dotted and t’s are crossed, Balfour places my copies of the signed documents in a brown file folder, and wishes me a safe journey.
After changing into riding clothes, I strap on my katana, and head for the courtyard. The size of the assembled escort is impressive. More astonishing, though, is the fact that, in the midst of the hundred or so soldiers, Father sits waiting for me inside a covered, motorized carriage. A sporty little two-seater.
Ryder is mounted on Tenasi, with Gabriel’s reins tied to his saddle. He smiles and waves.
“What is this?” I ask climbing inside the small car.
Father grins. “I bought it from the Unicoi. They’re building these small conveyances now in their factory. It’s faster than any horse, and provides more protection.” He hands me a pair of goggles. “For bugs,” he says. “What do you think?”
“It’s great. I love it.” I nestle into the comfy padded bench. “This should be fun.”
“I’m not a tremendously skilled driver yet, but I believe I’m able to get us there just fine.”
“Let’s go.”
The journey to Warrington Palace is wearisome even in this cute little sports wagon. I miss having Ryder to break up the monotony, and I find myself wishing I’d packed a book to read while Father concentrates on his driving. We do manage some conversation when the road is straight and smooth. Father asks about my visit to Unicoi Village and how I plan to incorporate the Unicoi population into Domerica. He’s intrigued when I tell him I’m leaning toward allowing them to govern themselves locally, but with some assistance and oversight by Domerica. I also float the idea that maybe one day Domerica, Unicoi, and the Enclave could join together in some form of cooperative alliance.
He squints at me through his goggles, momentarily taking his eyes off the road. “That’s pretty lofty thinking,” he says.
“Would you be open to discussing it at some point?” I ask.
He pulls at his beard. “I admit I have considered that there may be advantages in an alliance with Domerica, and the Unicoi undoubtedly have much to offer, but I’m not certain how much self-governance I’d be willing to give up in exchange. The idea has merit if it can be structured in a way that is acceptable to all parties.”
“I’ll take that as a maybe,” I say.
He smiles, keeping his eyes straight ahead.
The day begins to wane as the hours wear on. I doze off, allowing the motion of the car to lull me to sleep. Father shakes my shoulder, and I wake to find that night has fallen.
“We’re almost there, sweetheart,” he says. “Will you turn on the lantern there on your side, please?”
As we approach the main gates of Warrington Palace, I’m surprised to see it completely lit up as if a ball or a state dinner were being held. Many carriages are parked in the courtyard, and scores of people mill around in front of the staircase and on the veranda.
“What’s going on?” I ask Father.
“I’m not entirely certain,” he says uneasily. “Perhaps you’d better hurry inside, though. I’ll take care of things out here.”
The cadre of soldiers ahead of us takes a right turn toward the stables, but Father drives straight ahead, steering the conveyance slowly toward the front stairway. The onlookers gathered outside move aside and make room for us to park. I quickly hop out of the car and bound up the stairs. The large front door stands open, and Drew is at the threshold to meet me, his face ashen.
“Drew, what is it? What’s going on?” I ask in a shaky voice.
He takes my elbow, leading me inside. The room is crammed with people chattering in low tones. Some sip wine from crystal goblets, others nibble on delicacies from silver trays laid out on the table tops. A sort of party, it seems. All activity stops as I enter, and someone from the second floor landing cries, “Long live the queen.”
Instantly every man, woman, and child falls on bended knee. Icy tendrils of terror coil around my insides as I look out over the sea of bowed heads. Mother is dead. I am queen. The world comes to a grinding halt.
Reaching for Drew’s arm for support, I find him kneeling also. My first impulse is to bolt for the door and get as far away from here as possible. My second impulse is to crumple to the floor in tears and confess I am an impostor. There’s no freakin’ way I can do this. I need to get out of here, now.
Sensing Father’s presence behind me, I turn my head. “All rise,” he whispers to me.
“All rise,” I repeat automatically, surprised at the strength of my own voice.
Everyone rises, and several choruses of “Long live the queen” ring out as the people raise their glasses in tribute.
Ryder appears at my side and takes my hand in his. “I’m so sorry,” he says quietly.
“I need to see her,” I tell Drew. “Where is she?”
“In her room. I’ll go with you.”
General LeGare slowly raises himself out of his chair as Drew and I enter. He looks worn and haggard. Carefully making his way around the bed, he kneels before me. “Long live the queen,” he whispers.
“Rise,” I say awkwardly.
Mother’s lying on top of her bedcovers, hands crossed at her waist. They’ve dressed her in a beautiful white gown and satin slippers. A delicate, jeweled crown is positioned perfectly atop her immaculately washed and combed tresses. She looks small and fragile in death, though she never seemed so in life. Her beautiful face is peaceful, but somehow not really her.
“What happened?” I ask LeGare. “She was fine when I left yesterday.”
“She was not feeling well this morning,” he says. “We breakfasted in her room, but she had little appetite. She received word about the attack on your party around midmorning, and asked me to summon Prince Andrew at once. I believe she knew there was not much time left.”
“The doctor says it was cardiac failure. A
common cause of death in leukemia patients,” Drew says. “Charles and I were both with her. Her last words were of you, Jade.”
“Of me? What were they?”
“She said she had complete confidence in you and your ability to rule the nation. She requested you take adequate security precautions until it is determined who was behind yesterday’s attack. She also expressed her desire that you not postpone your wedding to Chief Blackthorn, and that you use the opportunity of Prince Gilbert’s visit to attempt to make peace with Dome Noir. I believe she regretted leaving you with that situation unresolved.”
I rub my face roughly with my hands. “May I have a few minutes with her, alone?”