by Andersen,Kai
Anger grew in her, clouding her mind, her one thought to snatch the sword that hung by his side and exact vengeance for Rodin’s death. Thinking about Rodin cooled her mind a little. Exerting her will, she forced herself to tuck away the negative emotions in a small corner of her mind. She could not afford to be careless now. Her safety and that of her child depended upon her. She needed to think. She couldn’t just do what she wanted without regard to anything else; another life depended on her now.
Think of the baby. She couldn’t do anything for Rodin, but she could do something to secure her baby’s future. Could she subject him to the ugly names of illegitimacy, to the jeering calls and laughs of his playmates? What damage would they contribute to the child’s soul?
She couldn’t take the chance.
She knew what she had to do.
She stood, drawing all her regal bearing around her, despite the tears that still fell from her eyes. “You shall have your alliance, but you are not to touch me until our wedding night.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rodin coughed out the last of the water from his lungs, although they still burned. He wheezed and sat up, groaning as the aches in his body and his head made their presence felt. He rubbed the back of his skull, wondering what they had used on him.
“Don’t worry; a sip of my BPR formula has made you good as new.” The fox licked her front paw with a certain air of triumph and accomplishment. “At least, the holes on your head have closed up.”
Somehow, he was not surprised to see her there. “BPR? What’s that?”
“You don’t know?” The tone was indignant. “Blueberry potion of restoration, silly.”
“How long have I been out?”
“A few days.” She cocked her head. “I think.”
“And -- and Giselda?”
“She left days ago with the prince of Ermont.”
Rodin slumped on the ground. “You should have just left me for dead.”
Merry gasped, a look of horror on her face. Rodin still couldn’t get over how an animal could express so much on her face, even for a goddess. “I couldn’t do that! It is totally against the rules of the fai-- our rules!”
Rodin squinted at her suspiciously. Gods, his head ached. “Whose rules?”
“Our rules!” She stood on her hind legs indignantly. “The side I’m on!”
“And that would be ...?”
“The side of life and light, of course.”
Rodin groaned. “Of course. Why am I even asking these questions?” He paused. “How is Lila, by the way?”
“She’s fine.” A pleased smile crossed her lips. “It’s curious how the young can bounce back so soon.”
“Did you erase her memory? Giselda and I --” His head threatened to split from the pain.
“Why don’t you just ask what is in your heart, Rodin?” Merry’s voice was the gentlest that he had ever heard from her.
He hesitated. “Is -- is Giselda happy with -- with him? Is she marrying him?”
He could swear Merry positively danced with glee on hearing his questions. Or maybe that was because he felt like his head was swimming, he felt so dizzy. “I won’t tell you,” she said in a singsong voice.
“Please.” He hated begging, but he wanted to go with a conscience that was at peace, even if his heart was laden with stones.
His head had bowed in dejection, so when he looked up due to the prolonged silence, he was surprised to see Merry glaring at him. “What kind of attitude is that?! I saved you, and now you’re actively seeking death! Well, I never!”
“I never asked you to rescue me.”
Merry made a disgusted noise. “Pathetic!” She walked up to him and pushed her face in front of his. “Be a man, Rodin! Stand up! Where is that indefatigable, unconquerable warrior spirit that you’re so proud of?”
Rodin felt shame at her words, reminding him of the goals and ideals he had lived for. Giselda might be lost to him, but there were still other things to keep him going -- his love and loyalty to his country, for one. As a subject of Mithirien, he had a duty to use his skills for the betterment of the kingdom.
Duty. It was poor comfort for the long, lonely nights ahead, but that was all he had to look forward to.
He stood up on unsteady feet, arms shooting out for balance. “You’re right. At the very least, I owe it to myself to make sure that he treats her right.” His fists clenched as a grim foreboding came over him. “I also need to find out who attacked me, and if those were his men, then that means ...” His eyes narrowed as thoughts flashed like lightning through his brain.
He turned to the fox. “I hate to ask this of you, but I need your help.” His gaze dropped to her front paws. “Specifically that of your seven-league boots.”
She grinned. “I was hoping you’d ask.”
* * * * *
Rodin reached the castle proper the following night, where a celebration was going on. It seemed that it had been going on for the past three days, as he’d learned from the conversation he’d eavesdropped on. He also discovered that tonight was when the royal pair would be reciting their vows. In fact, they should be making their way to the throne room right now.
He had slipped into the castle in a disguise, with a hood covering his fair head. He was sure that he had been announced as dead, and much as he didn’t want to give people a fright, he was more concerned with the news of his “coming back to life.” He didn’t want to die without finding out who it was that wanted him dead and making sure that Giselda was going to be safe with her new husband. For unless it was brigands who had attacked him, he was almost one-hundred-percent sure that it had been the prince who was behind the dirty deed. If that was the case, then Giselda was in a lot of trouble.
Although ... He couldn’t understand the hastiness for the wedding. Unless Giselda was that eager to tie the knot ...
He almost turned around and left.
But no. All he had were assumptions. He had to hear it from her lips. He had to hear her say that she loved Michael, before his heart would understand. Even if it broke into a million pieces, at least it would not contain the lingering hope that would not go away. Only then would he find peace.
Maybe.
Moreover, there was that small matter of his assailants. Murderers. He had to find them before they committed any more dastardly deeds.
He didn’t know why Giselda would choose to have her wedding at night and in the throne room. For a girl who loved the outdoors, he would have thought she would prefer to hold it in the daytime in the castle gardens, where the flowers were presently in full bloom. Just like Frederick’s and Serena’s wedding four or five months back.
Whatever her choice, he was sure the king wouldn’t spare any expenses for the wedding, as he was even now witnessing. The bitter thought shamed him, for he knew how much his monarch loved his only daughter. But would he have done the same if his beloved daughter were marrying him, Rodin, the son of the gardener?
Multi-colored cloths and banners hung in kaleidoscopic display everywhere. The sound of joyful, danceable music and the delicious aroma of freshly cooked food permeated throughout the entire castle. Guests and residents lounged about in their gay apparel, chatting and laughing boisterously.
Rodin noted that most of the guests were royalty from the neighboring kingdoms. Given the short span of time in which the wedding must have been announced, he supposed the guests from farther away could not arrive in time. Most likely, a separate dinner celebration would be held for them when they all arrived. It was not usually done, but gatherings like weddings and births were strategic events to form new alliances and strengthen old ones.
He made his way to the throne room. He needed to find a good spot where he would have an unobstructed view to watch the proceedings.
A man came into view. If he didn’t miss his guess, that was the king of Rikandia over there. Beside him was most probably his wife, whose beautiful and perfect porcelain face was turned toward him attentive
ly. Rodin wondered if the man knew of the blackness of his wife’s heart or how his daughter was endangered by having such a stepmother.
A trumpet sounded, announcing the hour of the wedding. Chattering guests started to file into the room with drinks in hand, standing on both sides of the room while the monarchs of visiting kingdoms were provided with chairs.
A second trumpet sounded, this one with a more complicated tune. Rodin bowed along with the others when the king and queen of Mithirien took their rightful places on the thrones. A few paces down the dais sat the king of Ermont. Rodin wondered how a man with such a kindly face could have sired the prince.
A third trumpet sounded, and Rodin knew what it portended. Everyone who was anyone was already there in the room, except for the most important ones. His heart started to beat in triple time.
Giselda floated down the aisle with her hands buried in the bouquet of flowers she was holding, her long brown hair done up in a coronet about her head, on top of which sat a small, sparkling tiara. She was resplendent in an ivory gown, which glinted and sparkled in the flickering candlelight. She was smiling, but it was barely there, and whatever was there looked ... forced.
What the hell was going on here?
As was the custom, she should have walked in together with her groom-to-be. Instead, said groom was one pace behind her train, stomping in anger though he tried to hide it. He slipped to the side and reappeared beside Giselda so that they stood side by side when they stopped in front of the thrones and bowed.
King Henry of Mithirien stood and cleared his throat. “It is both a sad and joyous occasion for which we are now gathered here.”
The guests buzzed among themselves. Rodin heard someone say beside him, “Sad? I thought we were invited to a wedding?”
The king continued, “My son’s good friend, Rodin, was ...” He sighed. “Killed protecting the princess and her betrothed. It is our loss and a great loss that is, for Rodin was a great warrior and a loyal subject.”
Rodin heard a sob, but he couldn’t determine where it came from.
“For his great and loyal service throughout the years, he shall be conferred the titles of high earl --”
He didn’t hear the rest; he couldn’t get over the first one.
Wow. High earl. An honorary title, to be sure, but on the same level as the earls of the kingdom. Rodin didn’t know whether to be honored or insulted that he should be given the title only after his “death.”
“Now, for the joyous news and for which reason all of you are here. Prince Michael of Ermont has completed the quest that I have required of him. Behold the golden bird, Firelight, the object of his quest.” The king gestured to the bird roosting on a perch beside the throne.
Rodin had not noticed it at first, for his eyes had been busy on Giselda. But now he saw the golden phoenix and was curious about the girl who lived within the form of a bird. Was she thinking in terms of human or bird?
All of a sudden, the phoenix opened its beak and warbled, trilling notes so pure, it brought tears to people’s eyes. When the song stopped, there was thunderous applause from all around.
“Amazing!” The king laughed. “In the few days that it has been here, this is the first time I’ve heard it sing. It must be due to the wedding. We are blessed to have heard it tonight.”
The guests laughed, agreeing with the king in their laughter.
The king held up his hand, and the noise died down. “When I sent Prince Michael on the quest, I did say that to whomever completed the quest, I would give the hand of my daughter in marriage. My word is my honor. Hence, it is with pleasure that on this day, I give my daughter, Princess Giselda, to this valiant young man, Prince Michael of Ermont!”
Amidst the applause, Rodin opened his mouth.
“Objection, Your Majesty!”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Giselda, are you feeling well? Maybe you should go and lie down.”
She shrugged off Michael’s hand and ignored his whispered threats -- “Shut up, or you’ll get it from me later!” -- because now that she had taken the first step, she was fighting to hold on to the courage to see it through. It had taken an enormous amount of guts for her to open her mouth and to say those three words. Even now they were reverberating through her head. Objection, Your Majesty!
She broke out in a cold sweat. Her heart was pounding loud and fast, and a fine trembling started deep within her when she saw the look of concern on her father’s face. She dared not look at the others, especially that of her always sympathetic sister-in-law. She was afraid she might not be able to go on if she did.
“What is it, child?”
Her father’s kind voice increased her heartache. She couldn’t bear to disappoint him, though she was sure that would happen should he hear this. But she couldn’t keep silent. She had thought and thought about nothing else for the past ten days, and the more she thought about it, the worse she felt. She had to make things right.
Her voice trembled as the tears threatened to fall from her eyes. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” she began. “But I find that I cannot marry the murderer of my son’s father!”
Shock reflected on the king’s blurry face. Shock that Michael was a murderer, or that she was pregnant? All around her, a flurry of whispers broke out.
Michael’s hand snaked out, and his fingers bit into her wrist. “Giselda, what are you talking about?”
She turned on him in fury. “Unhand me, you murderer!”
“Guards!”
Nearby sentry responded with alacrity to Frederick’s command and seized Michael, pulling him away from her. “She’s lying!” He struggled against the guards. “Get away from me, you oaf!”
Commotion broke out among the guests as they whispered among themselves.
“Silence!” Frederick glared at the prince. “Prince Michael, the guards are just to restrain you from going near my sister and hurting her. You are by no means found guilty.” He paused. “Yet.”
In the absolute quiet that followed, the king’s voice came out tentative and in pain. “You are ... with child?”
Giselda dashed away the tears with her hand. “Father, I’m sorry for a lot of things, but I’m not sorry for this.” Her hand moved to cover her abdomen. “And I’m not sorry for knowing Rodin, the best man I have ever known ... the only man I will ever love.”
The tears fell then, and Giselda shook with the weight of her loss. Serena ran to her and put her arms around her waist, their tears mingling together. Giselda held on tightly.
“Michael ... ordered his guards to ... to do away with Rodin --”
“Your Majesty, she’s lying!” Michael struggled wildly from where the guards were holding him in their tight grip. “I don’t understand why she’s doing this, but obviously --”
“Father, I believe you may question the guards who went with him. Given the right incentives, I’m sure they will tell us the truth.”
“I don’t know why you’re lying, you slut! That child could very well be mine. Have you thought of that --”
Giselda whirled on him. “No! I refuse to believe that.”
Frederick strode over and punched Michael in the stomach. “Speak with respect when you address my sister!”
“Respect!” Michael laughed wildly. “Ask her if she thought of respect when she spread her legs for a man other than --”
“Who the princess has a relationship with is none of your concern anymore, Michael.” Nobody was surprised when the king of Ermont spoke up, but all were shocked at what he said. “I know my son better than most,” he continued in a tired voice from where he sat. “I can believe the atrocious deeds the princess says he has done. I thought he would change for the better when he said he had fallen in love and wanted to marry Princess Giselda.” He sighed. “But it turns out I was wrong. Don’t worry, Princess. Though he is my son and the crown prince, he will get the punishment he deserves.”
“Father, how could you side with others?! I’m your son,
your heir! I --”
“Silence!” the king of Ermont thundered. “You shall be given a proper and fair trial in Ermont, but for now, you have forfeited your right to speak.”
“And what shall you do?” Michael sneered. “Give the kingdom to that pig of a prince? Anyone can see that I’m a far better ruler than he could ever be.”
Knowing his “pig” comment could only be in reference to his brother, Giselda was amazed that she could have been so blind as to not see his true colors from the outset.
The king of Ermont sighed and turned to his host, saying, “If I may borrow the use of your dungeon, Henry --”
“No problem, George.” He signaled the guards, and they took the prince away, ignoring his loud protests. Looks of compassion and gratitude were exchanged between the two monarchs. “Go on, daughter. I believe you have more to say.”
“I --” The thought overwhelmed her, and Giselda found it hard to speak for the tears lodged in her throat. “I didn’t find out until it was too late. I ran to the river, but I couldn’t find any trace of Rodin. He -- he said Rodin is resting at the bottom of the river.”
She broke down, sobbing noisily. Strangely, the whole court was quiet, respecting her grief.
“We’ll send someone in the morning, child, to see if we can find him.”
“Thank you, Father.” Giselda wiped away her tears, hiccupping slightly. “I don’t know what you’re going to do with Michael, Your Majesty --” She bowed slightly to the king of Ermont. “-- and I don’t want to know. I just ask that justice be given to Rodin ... and to our son, who will never know his father.” She controlled her tears because there were still some things she wanted to say.
“Rodin was the one who finished the quest, Father, and by rights, as you decreed beforehand, the hand of the princess --” Her voice cracked. “-- would be given to him in marriage.”
“Agreed.”
For the first time in many days, Giselda smiled. “And if I know Rodin, he would not want any of the titles you conferred upon him, not because he is --” She swallowed with difficulty. “-- was -- too proud for them, but because he never placed much store in them.”