by N M Zoltack
“Did she ask for any male to be there?” Rosalynne asked causally, although the question was most critical.
Rosalynne and Queen Aldith had talked on a few occasions. The queen was thirty years of age, and yet, she acted as if she were older. Perhaps the weight of the crown hung heavy, not that Rosalynne thought that either the queen or the king did much ruling. It already fell too heavily on Rosalynne’s shoulders. The adviser Aldus Perez did more than his fair share as well.
Not once during any of their talks had the queen mentioned who the father was, and Rosalynne hadn’t asked. She hadn’t been certain the queen would tell her the truth, so she hadn’t bothered. Being told a lie would have been yet another betrayal, and Rosalynne didn’t wish to give Aldith that opportunity.
How sad that she could not believe that the queen would tell her the truth and only the truth.
“No. Only you,” the maid whispered. “Come. We cannot be late.”
The maid bolted out the door, and Rosalynne managed to maintain her swift pace all the way to the queen’s quarters on the other side of the castle. The maid grimaced as she opened the heavy, ornate, thick wooden doors.
Several apothecaries were already in the room, tending to the queen. Her entire face was covered in sweat. Mountains of blankets surrounded her. All Rosalynne could see was the queen’s head and the top of her bent knees.
While the others rushed about to fetch blankets or towels or water, Rosalynne approached the queen’s head at the top of the bed.
“You came.” Aldith glanced over at Rosalynne. The queen’s face twisted with pain, and she grimaced.
“Breathe,” one of the apothecaries decreed.
“I am trying to,” the queen hissed.
Rosalynne had never seen a woman give birth before. She had also never seen the queen in such a sorry state before. The queen’s stringy blond hair was matted to her forehead, and her green eyes were fogged over.
A strange impulse came over Rosalynne, and she reached out and held the queen’s hand. The queen’s grip was poor. She had always been a weak and fragile woman, and now, huddled around the towers of blankets, she seemed even smaller.
“Push!” the same apothecary cried.
Aldith let out a whimper.
“No. Push! Push hard!”
Aldith shook her head from side to side. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I can’t,” she muttered.
In the end, the apothecaries had to push down on the queen’s stomach to help her get the baby out. Aldith was crying. The people were shouting. Rosalynne didn’t know why she was here. All she did was hold the queen’s hand.
And then, Aldith stopped crying. The baby started to cry. And the people were still shouting.
Someone pushed Rosalynne out of the way. She didn’t even have time to process what was happening when the baby was shoved into her arms.
Rosalynne stood there as the room descended into chaos. Aldith was not breathing, and try as they might, the apothecaries could not bring her back to life.
Aldith had died. Yet another child had killed her mother. No. His mother. Rosalynne held the baby who had no name in her arms. She rocked him, taking in his feathery blond hair. He peeked his eyes open only for a second, but she was shocked to see their dark coloring.
Once the frantic activity ceased in the room as the others finally accepted that the queen was dead, Rosalynne slipped out of the room. A single tear trickled down her cheek. She had fought for months for the queen to live only for the queen to die anyhow. Life could be oh so very cruel.
Head held high, Rosalynne marched over to the king’s quarters. She nodded to the guards posted there, and they opened the door for her. She strolled on in.
Her father glanced up at her from the settee he lounged on, but when he spied the baby in her arms, he turned away.
“Won’t you hold him?” she asked softly. “I brought him over for you to see.”
“I don’t want to see him,” he spat out angrily. “You shouldn’t have come here with that thing.”
“That thing is a baby,” Rosalynne said just as angrily. “He is innocent. His mother’s actions do not reflect on him, and you will not scorn him!”
“He will not stay in this castle,” he fumed.
“You would punish him when he’s already been punished enough?” she cried.
“Punished?” The king refused to look at her so as to refuse to see the baby, but he somewhat straightened his posture. “How so?”
“His mother is dead,” Rosalynne said softly.
The king slammed his fist into his open palm. “How dare she!” he fumed, furious beyond measure. “How could she have died before I could kill her!”
“Is that all you are worried about?” Rosalynne spat out. “Father, I understand that she hurt you, but you have no right to wish to take your queen’s life.”
“She is not my queen.” He shook his head frantically. “She never was my queen.”
Never had Rosalynne felt so much anger. She was trembling. The baby in her arms was sleeping despite their shouting. He seemed so peaceful, and that was precisely what her father needed. Peace.
If she paused to reflect, she might have changed her mind. Swiftly, Rosalynne crossed over to her father and shoved the baby into his arms.
“Aldith died before she could name him, and I assume you won’t bother,” Rosalynne said, stepping away so the king had no chance but to hold the baby. Or drop the baby for that matter. “I will name him then. His name is Bates. You, Father, need to stop. Now. I understand that you’re upset that Aldith cheated on you, but—”
“You need to stop,” he grumbled. “You are the one who needs to stop. How can you not see? Are you that stupid?”
She gaped at him, shocked at his berating her.
“How can you not realize that my issue lies with Rohesia?” he asked sadly, most traces of his anger now gone.
Rosalynne had no answer for that. Her father held Bates, but he still refused to look at the baby, and she refused to stay in her father’s presence. When he was like this, he was unreasonable.
The princess left the room in a rush, beyond upset and depressed herself.
11
Princess Vivian Rivera
Vivian waited until her sister rushed out of her father’s quarters to step forward from behind the tapestry. She hadn’t meant to linger close enough to eavesdrop. The clasp on her necklace had broken, and she had to find the necklace.
She had overheard the entire conversation as the guards by the door must have as well. Whether or not Rosalynne understood her father, Vivian did. Their father had never cared for Aldith. He had only ever loved Rohesia. Without her, his life felt empty.
Vivian knew that feeling all too well. Whenever she reflected on how she had killed her mother, her own life felt empty as well. Especially after learning how wonderful of a person her mother had been, how could Vivian ever measure up? It would have been better for the world had she died and her mother lived instead.
Depressed but refusing to acknowledge it, Vivian strolled into her father’s room. When he saw her, he actually looked at her for once. He silently held out the baby Rosalynne had named Bates, and Vivian accepted the baby. The little one was so very light. Vivian was afraid to breathe for fear that she would harm him.
Bates stirred and then settled. Only after watching him breathe for several minutes could Vivian bring herself to look away from him.
“Father,” she said softly.
He grunted acknowledgement. The king seemed to be in a contemplative mood, which might bode well for her. Or it could bode very, very poorly.
“Is being king worth it?” she asked in that same tone.
“No,” he said flatly.
She almost would have smiled because she knew that would be his answer. Instead, she grimaced because she had also feared this would be his answer.
A fierce anger washed over her. She knew she should still her tongue, but Vivian could not. Maybe it was becaus
e she wished that she could be queen one day even though she had thought she had accepted her role as princess forevermore. Maybe it was because she hated hearing how wonderful her father had been and how terrible he was now. He clearly was not the same man that her wonderful mother had fallen for. He was a shell of himself, and that was all because of Vivian. Yet, instead of feeling guilt as she normally did, she only felt that terribly fierce anger.
“Regardless, you are king,” she said.
Her words were biting and harsh. She had never spoken to anyone with such a tone before, and here she was, addressing the king this way. Addressing her father this way. It was wrong of her, but she could not bring herself to stop.
“You need to start acting like you are king,” she finished.
Her father shook his head. “I might not leave this room much, but I know more than you think, daughter.”
He spat out the last word as if it were poison. She did her best not to flinch.
“I know that you wish to rule, that you wish you had been born before Rosalynne. Keep this in mind. Ruling is not as important as you think it is.”
“That is where you are wrong,” she dared to counter. “It is important, and if you do not marry again soon, others will want to swoop in like you yourself did against the Li family. You married the first time for love. You married the second for the sake of the kingdom. You must marry again for the kingdom or to cement an alliance. Aldith cheating on you weakened us. She cheated on you because of you, because of what you have become. Now, you must do all you can to strengthen us once more. Can you do that? Can you be the king that Tenoch Proper needs? Or are you too much of a broken man that you do not deserve the crown? If so, step down now. Allow Rosalynne to lead. Maybe she can fix the mess you’ve made.”
Vivian was thrilled that she had spoken her mind, but she was too frightened to look at her father. She rushed to the door, still carrying the baby. There, she hesitated and glanced over her shoulder. Her father was staring at the floor. He didn’t seem to be angry or worried or frustrated or sad. He just seemed to be contemplative. Hopefully, that was a good sign.
She rushed out of there. Why did it feel like she was spiriting the baby away to freedom?
12
Sir Edmund Hill
The young man of only ten-and-nine summers did his best not to beam with great pleasure as the flat of the sword touched his one shoulder and then the other.
“Arise, Sir Edmund Hill,” the fair dark-haired Princess Rosalynne declared. “Serve all of Tenoch Proper well and remember always your oaths spoken this day that you will state now.”
Edmund straightened and gripped his kite shield to his breast. His heart hammered in his chest, the pulsating rhythm of his beating heart thunderously loud in his ears, frantic and worrisome. Did he continue to face the princess as he spoke the words? Or did he turn to face those assembled to watch him and the other four men rise to knighthood on this most blessed day? He could not recall what he was to do, his frantic unease growing all the more because he had been the first of the commoners to be knighted.
“You may begin,” Rosalynne murmured so only he would hear, her full lips hardly moving.
“Aye, ah, yes,” Edmund muttered.
For a moment, he closed his eyes, remembering his training, and settled himself well into the commanding arms of both the Fates of Life and of Peace. Now, his nerves all but ceased, and he smiled at the princess.
“On this day and all the days left that I have to wander this Earth, I, Sir Edmund Hill, solemnly vow to always serve the crown, the throne of Atlan, of Tenoch, and all of Tenoch Proper. The poor, the less fortunate, and all those who need my shield will have it without question. To defend our lands, I will take up my sword and fight for those who cannot fight alongside me. Peace will only ever be my accord, and I will do all that is asked of me, so long as it does not require me to take the life of one I am duty-bound to protect.”
Polite applause rang out, and face flushed, Edmund fell back to reassume his place in line with the soon-to-be knights. Without delay, the princess knighted the next and so on until all five had been risen to that esteemed position.
That the king did not make an appearance did not surprise Edmund in the least. Rumors abounded of the king’s refusal to leave his bedchambers. While the guards and the royal family insisted that the king’s health was fair and not failing, not all believed them. Perhaps one day, Edmund might meet the king personally. Until then, he would speak with Princess Rosalynne.
Her sister and brother were both here in the throne room. Not one of them were sitting. They stood on either side and just a step behind their sister. Edmund did not watch any of the three royals. Instead, his gaze fell on the vacant throne. Fashioned from dragon claws, fangs, and an assortment of weapons and armor, the throne was a sight to behold. It seemed to Edmund at least that the throne was more a weapon of chaos than of peace, but peace the world knew now that King Jankin sat upon the seat. The entirety of the world, every island, knew a peace now that had not even been brokered when the dragons had still ruled over the people.
With pride ready to burst out of his chest and through his surcoat, he waited for the proper moment. His surcoat had been sown by one of the princesses, or so others claimed, decorated with the emblem of Tenoch, that of crossed olive branches above the Atlan throne. Edmund’s fingers itched to straighten his tunic, but he would not fidget. Not now.
The moment the last newly appointed knight stepped back into line, as one, the latest knights turned to face the assembly to thunderous applause. Edmund’s cheeks ached from smiling so wide.
When the cheers finally wound down, Princess Rosalynne sent away the family and friends to start the celebration ahead of the knights. She still needed to hand out their assignments.
Edmund was so thrilled and ready to learn his duty that he held his breath with anticipation. He did not even hear what the others were to do.
Finally, at long last, the princess stood before Edmund once more.
“You, Sir Edmund, will stay near the castle and watch over the people of Atlan. Sir Richard wishes to spend the rest of his days with his family. Those days may well be numbered as his health has taken a turn for the worst.”
“I am sorry to hear such news,” Edmund murmured, attempting vainly to hide his frustration. The new knight lowered his head, bending over to show her as much respect as he would a queen.
He had lived on the outskirts of Atlan his entire life and had hoped to be sent off to one of the islands or to perhaps venture to Cilla or another one of the major cities. But, no, he would not complain. He would serve the crown and do all that was asked of him and do so gladly and with a smile.
“And the king? His health?” he dared to ask without lifting his head.
“The king fares well. I did mention that he sends his regards for not being here on this most import occasion, did I not?” she asked.
Was that a hint of worry in her tone?
Edmund glanced up without straightening his back. “You did, My Queen. I merely wish to send my regards back.”
She smiled at him and regally lifted her hand for him to stand. Once she clasped her hands behind her back, she nodded to each knight in turn.
“Go and serve Tenoch Proper faithfully. It is by the back of our knights that our might and resolve can stand firm. You are the brokers of peace, and I thank you for your service.”
The knights bowed, swore loyalty once more, and departed from her presence. Edmund could hardly stand his excitement. All of his life, he had hoped and wished that this day might come. Who would have thought that a shoemaker’s son who had a distant aunt who had married a baron might have been able to save enough and work hard enough to incur a favor from a duke who then agreed to send him off to be trained to be a knight? And to be inducted into that esteemed honor before reaching twenty when most were twenty-one or twenty-two years was most irregular indeed.
When Edmund wished for something, he made it ha
ppen. For now, yes, he would be a guard to Atlan, but one day, his life would serve a much grander role. Of that he was certain.
13
Prince Noll Rivera
Noll yanked on the collar of his surcoat. His clothes were scratchy. His shoes were pinching his toes. It was far too hot in the ballroom. There were far too many people here.
Basically, Noll was so bored that he was thinking about counting the stones on the walls.
So many families had brought their daughters to come talk to the king. The daughters all wanted to be the next Queen of Tenoch Proper. Noll didn’t understand it. Some of the daughters looked like they were only a little older than his sisters. The king was thirty-four. Shouldn’t the king marry someone close to his age?
Noll hadn’t given marriage much thought. He figured his sisters would tell him who to marry when the time came. They told him what to do most of the time. They seemed to think they were good at it.
But Rosalynne had chosen his clothes, and she had chosen wrong. He should have asked Vivian what to wear. Vivian looked beautiful in a dark-blue gown that matched her eyes. Her dark hair was piled on itself on her head.
Rosalynne’s hair was also twisted on top of her head. Her gown was a purple color. Her eyes weren’t purple though. They were dark. She looked just as beautiful as their sister.
Neither one of them looked like they were itching to get out of their clothes. It wasn’t fair. Not at all. Noll felt as if his skin were on fire. What was this clothing made out of?
To distract himself, Noll tried to pay attention to the people. Each time a family approached the king, they expressed their condolences over the queen’s passing. Each time, the king waved their words away. He wasn’t in mourning. The king hadn’t shed a single tear when the queen had been laid to rest. Noll didn’t like the idea of being buried. He thought that was terrifying, although, if he were dead, he wouldn’t care. It would be fine. He could handle it if he were dead. Not that he wanted to die. Maybe once he turned one hundred. Could a person live that long?