I can get in a lot of shit for this. I know that much. But being in this castle is against Shar’s law, no matter which way I spin it. Stealing some food is the least I can do for them and I mean that from the very depths of my soul. No matter how many nights I manage to fill their bellies, it will never be enough. Not until they are able to reap the fruit from trees that thrive in this land.
I get back to the castle at around eleven, just in time to hear the announcement that the party is over for the night, that the queen has decided to retire early.
I wonder if it’s her guilty conscience. Must be difficult to sit up at a party when you know that people are starving and freezing all over the kingdom, and it’s all your fault.
I know that I have to save my Warriors, save my kingdom, as soon as possible.
I hurry up to that single cell where the Warriors are sleeping, and busy myself with making up the bed with clean sheets. This has to be done every night, and I’ve managed to persuade Lara to take an early night and leave the rest of the work to me.
I was supposed to do it hours ago, long before the feast was over. But instead I decided to wait, to time it just so that I can ‘accidentally’ run into one of the warriors as I’m doing my work.
“Good evening.”
I look around from the bed linen to see Haki standing in the doorway. Clearly he’s the lucky one who gets a proper night’s rest tonight. Despite knowing the urgency of keeping up my disguise, my face breaks out into the hugest smile at the sight of him. I’ve been missing him so badly, for what feels like so long. Forever, in fact. Though the memories of my life haven’t fully caught up with me yet, the emotions are well on their way to taking over my whole heart. The longer I’m here, the more I need them. The more I crave them.
“It’s not often I catch a handmaiden in here,” Haki says teasingly, leaning against the doorpost. I blush. Despite knowing that his true destiny is to serve me, I somehow feel embarrassed in his presence now, as if he’s the one with power over me.
“Apologies, my lord,” I stammer. “I’m new, and I’ve been having a little trouble with all the…”
He interrupts me with a laugh. “Don’t worry yourself. It’s a pleasure to see such a lovely face directed towards me.”
I blush again. Not very queenly.
“What is your name?” His inquiry is completely friendly. He is more like the Haki I met that day in the courtyard, when I was pretending to measure him for clothes and I can’t help but wonder what brings on the difference. Why sometimes they’re more open to me, more friendly, and other times, they’d seemingly pass me over with nothing more than a second glance.
“Rhea.”
“Pretty name,” he says offhandedly, then pauses as if he’s thinking about it more. “A very pretty name.”
I realize I’m staring, and busy myself in making the bed again. “Did you have a good day, my lord?” I ask. Making conversation, I guess. It’s amazing how the urge to do small-talk never goes away.
“Any day spent serving the queen is a good day,” Haki responds. Despite the woodenness in his voice, I feel a pang in my chest. Sure, it’s clear that he doesn’t mean what he’s saying at all, but that doesn’t dull the sting because as long as he refers to Shar as his queen I have lost.
It also doesn’t help that I still don’t have a plan. I have a feeling that all I’d really need to do is reach out and touch him, or even press my lips against his, and in his heart he would understand that we’re meant to be together. But, despite the urgency of the situation, there’s some strange part of me that wants to play the game. I’ve spent the last three days thinking about how desperately I want to be close to them. I want to savor this now, to revel in the opportunity of having him close to me. Most of all, I want him to want me.
“Would you help me with this?” I ask casually, gesturing at the pile of used bed sheets on the floor. “I know it’s not your duty, but if I don’t fold them then it’s so much harder to get them down to the laundry.” I look up at him, catching his eyes with mine. “And it’s much easier with two people.”
Haki smiles gamely. “Anything to help a lady,” he replies gallantly. I smile back, taking up two corners of the bed sheet. He grasps the other two, and we step together. I take his corners from him, taking care to not so much as graze his fingers. I desperately want to touch him, but part of me knows that right now I need to build the suspense, to keep my own desires in check so that I can awaken his.
His eyes seem stuck to the place where our fingers nearly touched, but I’ve already stepped away. I start to fold the rest of the sheet myself, but then he stoops down to help me.
On the very last fold I let our fingers touch. We’re standing less than a foot from one another. Gradually, slowly, I lift my eyes to let them meet his.
“Hello,” he says quietly, as if he’s seeing me for the first time.
“Hello,” I say back. I’ve missed you, I don’t say.
We stay there for what feels like a long time, just looking at each other, his eyes diving deep into my soul, awakening parts of me that I don’t remember. Parts of me that need him more than I need the blood in my veins, the air in my lungs.
Haki’s lips part as though wanting, needing to say something, but all words sit on his tongue, unspoken.
It takes everything in me to step back, the sheet gathered in my arms, and out the door. Haki is still staring at me. I don’t need to look back to know this. I don’t need to listen hard to hear the beats of his heart quickening, not unlike the way mine pounds against my ribcage.
“Rhea,” I hear him whisper and my heart glows as I walk away, the sheet in my arms still carrying the scent of my Warriors. Maybe it doesn’t seem like much, but I feel like I’m floating in the knowledge that one of my Warriors has seen my face, has known the touch of my hand, has formed my name with his lips.
My next opportunity comes just one day later. Lara tells me that one of the Warriors has a new colt that he’s training up, and it needs exercising. It seems like part of the process of getting the job as a handmaiden is proving that you’re a great horsewoman, so I can’t even blink when she says to me, “You’ll do it, won’t you, Rhea?”
I’ve never been on a horse in my life before - or at least, not in my old life. But Rhea - the person who really belongs here, the person who will rule over this kingdom - she’s been on a horse since almost before she could walk. So it’s not problem - or it shouldn’t be.
It doesn’t change the fact that I’m terrified as I approach the huge animal.
The horses here remind me a little bit of my Warriors. They’re enormous, tall, with great powerful muscles and fine bones, and they share that same deep, animal smell that I always associate with my Warriors.
I say a little prayer to whatever gods rule over this land - say a little prayer, that is, to myself and to my father - and spring onto the animal’s back.
It’s like coming home. The horse moves fluidly underneath me, and I urge him faster as we go around the little ring that’s been constructed on one side of the stables. It’s snowing outside the castle - far too cold and dangerous to leave. I can feel the horse tense beneath me, energized by the icy air.
I’m so focused on him that I barely notice Karsi and Johan walking up to the edge of the pen, leaning on it to watch me.
At first, I’m pretty sure they’re just there to look at the horse, that they have no interest in my riding at all. I’m so focused on guiding the animal through the paces that my muscles know, even if my brain doesn’t, that I barely stop to think about it.
But then a sudden crack rings out in the air. A distant cannon. I guess it’s for the queen. Shar sabotaging me again.
The horse goes wild. His head plunges down between his front knees and he bucks - once, twice, three times, before careering around the ring in a haphazard dash, whinnying and snorting in terror the whole time. In the cold air, steam is rising from his hide, glossy with sweat and panic.
“Get off!” I can hear Karsi calling, his voice panicked. I ignore him. Instead I focus on my intuition, the way that I learned to do as a medium, and lean forward onto the horse’s neck, murmuring softly to him, caressing the bunched muscles of his neck with my hand.
Very gradually, he starts to calm down. Before too long, I manage to persuade him to slow down to a walk.
My heart is pounding, but I’ve only just noticed. I lean forward and slide off the horse’s back, taking him by the bridle and speaking to him very softly the whole time. He seems to have tuned into my energy and calmed down, and actually leans his head into my body as if taking comfort from me.
I hear an admiring whistle from behind me. It’s Johan.
“I thought you were done for!” he says, climbing over the side of the pen to get into the enclosure with us. “He’s a good boy, but spirited. I can barely hold him myself. You must have cast some magic over him.”
He comes to a halt standing just a few paces in front of me, and reaches to take the bridle from me. I don’t relinquish it, not yet. It’s partly because I want to talk to Johan a little longer, of course. But there’s another feeling in there too. As wonderful as it is to see my warriors at all, the encounter with Haki last night has made me realize that I don’t want them to just see me as a servant. It isn’t enough for me just to be around them, making their beds up and obediently relinquishing the horse’s reins on their say-so. I want them to see me for who I am, their queen, their friend, their lover. I want them to treat me accordingly. To want me and need me and crave me the way they should. The way I want and crave and need them. I want them to remember the way we were as teenagers and to remind me of all things we did back then. And it’s not just simply a want, it’s a need. Because without the part of them that remembers who we are to each other, this kingdom will go down in ash and bones. Everyone will die. Everyone except Shar. Are you still a queen, if you’re the only one left?
I run the back of my hand over the horse’s nose, still buying time. It’s only when Johan steps a little closer that I speak. “Could you have sat that bolt?” I ask, tilting up my chin to challenge him. Johan looks caught off-guard - I’ve always sensed that he’s used to being treated as the leader - but he smiles back at me despite himself.
“No, I can’t say that I would have.” He turns, and calls over to Karsi, who is still standing by the side of the pen, “We have a new best horseman among us, brother - and he’s a woman!”
I smile. The triumph feels good.
“So what now?” I ask. “Do you want to ride him yourself, or is he done for the day?”
Johan looks over the horse’s sweating flanks and heaving belly, and smiles at my question. “I think we can safely say that he’s exerted himself enough for one day. Come.” He lays one hand over the bridle. “I’ll help you with him. In deference to your superior horsewomanship.”
I smile at him. “Thank you.”
His eyes linger on mine for a moment nowhere long enough. “You’re most welcome.”
We talk, Johan and I, all the way back to the stable.
It starts off being about the horse - a safe topic for the both of us. Part of the tradition and duty for Warriors is to train their own horses, selecting them for the same qualities that they need to exhibit themselves - strength, power and above all - loyalty.
“I have a good feeling about this one,” he says, smiling at the horse that’s now walking calmly between us. “I expect he’ll be fine with a little more training. But for now…” he trails off, laughing.
For as long as I have been watching him with Shar, I haven’t seen Johan like this. When he’s with her he’s always quiet, watchful, clearly conscious of the burden of leadership that obviously falls to him, even if nobody ever formally placed it there. But without Shar and with just the horses to talk about, he’s boyish, cheerful - even though I still get the sense that any moment he could switch and prove himself as the warrior that he truly is.
We actually laugh together as we stand, untacking the horse from opposite sides. We haven’t had much chance for either touch or eye contact, which means that instead the conversation flows freely. Something new occurs to me - that of course the Warriors’ role is love and protection, but a big part of that, a part that no one else has even mentioned so far, is just companionship, taking pleasure in each other’s company. I assume that he hasn’t found much of that with my sister.
“Does the queen ride much?” I ask innocently. I know that I’m risking our casual, cheerful conversation by bringing Shar into it, but my curiosity has gotten the better of me. I’m still haunted by what Lara told me - that one of the Warriors shares my sister’s bed each night. Do they really love her after all, despite appearances? Do I have reason to be jealous? It hardly matters - I’m jealous anyway.
Johan’s face hardens into an expression of determined loyalty, but there is no joy or pleasure in his eyes at the mention of the queen - of my sister.
“The queen is a mighty talent at whatever she turns her hand to,” he says woodenly. “But in this long winter there has been little opportunity for her to ride out for pleasure.”
I don’t want to push it any further. It isn’t fair to test his loyalty like this - not when he thinks he’s just talking to some handmaiden, anyway. So instead I change the subject.
“And what of your brother Warriors? Do you all often ride out together?”
“We’re never all together apart from when we’re in the presence of the queen,” Johan explains. “There always has to be one of us with her, to guard and protect her.” He pauses, and there’s no noise apart from the horse swishing his tail peacefully. “But when we have the opportunity - yes, we will ride out in groups of two or three.”
I want to ask him more about their relationship. I’ve been wondering about it a long time - after all, they all share the love of the same woman, or at least, they’re supposed to.
“Don’t you get jealous?” I ask casually. It’s a dangerous question, I suppose, but I need to know the answer. Johan shrugs.
“Jealousy is an ugly emotion. It assumes the right of ownership. None of us are entitled to so much as a look from the queen. Everything we do receive from her is therefore a blessing, and therefore we cannot begrudge blessings being bestowed on our brothers also. That is what is written, and how it has always been, and that is how it will continue to be.”
I nod. He sounds like he’s saying all these things for the hundredth time, as if he’s learned them by rote. And he probably has - after all, he isn’t destined to serve my sister, so it probably all seems more like a duty to him, rather than a situation that he accepts joyfully. But all the same - the idea of it makes sense. If that’s what the tradition dictates, if that’s what the role of the warriors is, then I have nothing to worry about in terms of jealousy.
I relax, focusing on the horse’s flank, which I am rubbing down with a clean cloth.
“That sounds like a good way to be,” I say truthfully. From the other side of the horse’s head, I catch the motion of Johan nodding.
“It is,” he says, but his voice sounds more than just a little doubtful. I don’t say anything but keep listening, willing him to say a little more without asking him to. “It is an honor and a blessing to be charged with the task of loving and protecting the queen, and the four of us share that responsibility with great seriousness. But sometimes…”
He trails off.
“Sometimes what, my lord?” I say innocently. I want him to tell me that he doesn’t really love Shar, of course. I want him to say ‘sometimes I wonder whether there isn’t someone else out there who is my true queen.’
Of course he won’t say that. He’s far too loyal to say that. I love him for it.
“Brother?”
Karsi is standing at the half-door, leaning over it. Johan seems jolted out of our conversation and becomes all alertness.
“What is it?”
“You’re called for by the queen,” Karsi says,
expressionless.
Did Shar know? Did she somehow sense my presence, or just get the feeling that her stolen Warriors were speaking to someone else?
Or am I just being paranoid?
Johan nods to me. The connection between us feels broken, and I’m grieving it. He barely gives me a second look as he lets himself out of the stable and leaves.
But Karsi is still standing there.
I continue to groom the horse, not daring to look at him. Karsi is still the warrior I feel I understand the least. There’s always something slightly upsetting about Karsi - he’s got something of the caged animal in his movements. I know that if the world was as it should be, all that caged energy, all that fire, would be put to use in protecting me. But as it is, that’s not the case.
I expect him to leave, expect him to have no interest in talking to me. But instead he lets himself into the stable. I don’t turn around, nor do I acknowledge his presence. To do so would be to shatter the tension in the air, and I don’t know how I would pick my way through its shards.
To my utter shock, apropos of nothing, he lays a hand on my back.
He leaves it there for a second, and then gently strokes me, letting his hand linger in the small of my back for a second. The gesture is completely soothing but at the same time sets me on fire. I feel like water that’s been dammed - still, but full of an impulsion that longs to be set free.
Still he hasn’t said a word. Instead, he steps up behind me and lets his lips graze the back of my neck, his breath flaring off the bumps of my vertebrae, warming me in the frosty air.
Viking Queen_A Reverse Harem Romance Page 10