by D. R. Grady
Raene brushed aside a few errant auburn curls. “This is all new to me.”
“It’s going to be a vast adjustment for you. Your mother had a lot to contend with that first year.”
“How soon after she became queen did she need to name a husband?” Plenty of worry lined Raene’s voice.
His heart thumped, not only at the turbulent emotions wafting off her, but also because of the thought of her marrying. This shouldn’t bother him.
Aern cleared his throat.
Vidar hastily said, “I don’t recall.”
“A year afterward. She didn’t need to do so immediately because her father still lived and could protect her. Also there wasn’t unrest. No one had heard that Margina’s mother took ill and died.” Aern indicated Vidar’s crystal console. “That was before we had these things.”
Yes, the crystal technology had made information and commerce available worldwide. Knowledge such as the declining health of the current Queen of Montequirst would run rampant. The kingdoms surrounding them now knew the princess was of marriageable age but not married. They didn’t know everything about her, but enough to realize she provided a ripe treasure all on her own.
Montequirst had been ruled by a business-savvy queen since the days of Bronwyn. If one considered the clean streets, picturesque homes, steady commerce, and hefty harvests as testaments of a prosperous nation.
Their neighbors had to be licking their lips in anticipation of such wealth.
Then there was the attractive princess herself. She might not be to every man’s liking, but Vidar personally thought her the epitome of womanhood. Dainty, but properly curved with equally nimble mind and feet, and her smile lit up whomever she bestowed it upon. These, combined with the wealth her ancestors had amassed, would prove extremely desirable.
Vidar saw nothing wrong with her bright hair and eyes. They were far superior to the gems, jewelry, coins, and assorted monies he guarded. Once made queen, the princess would also offer her husband a sizable increase in rank. A mere warrior now, he would be made king.
His duties would entail protecting his queen as well as overseeing the armies of the nation. Not small tasks.
She needed to choose wisely.
Although Vidar didn’t venture outside much these days, there didn’t appear to be many who were capable of protecting their nation. Would he and Aern take orders from the new king?
His heart contracted. A painful squeeze that caused sweat to pebble his skin. Raene’s father had been a friend, and had appreciated Vidar’s skills. Indeed he had discussed security issues with Vidar and Aern on a regular basis. Since his death, Vidar hadn’t been introduced to the warrior who headed the nation’s security.
“I don’t want to be forced to choose a husband.” Raene’s face turned pale. So much so that Vidar and Aern both took a step toward her. She waved them away.
“Of course you don’t.” Aern’s tone was sympathetic. “Therefore, you should be prepared.”
Raene’s bright blue gaze darted to the black dragon. “Can you explain what you mean by prepared?”
“If you don’t wish to take a husband as soon as you’re made queen, you’ll need to offer a viable alternative.”
Lips pursed, Raene studied him. “In order to avoid naming the new king immediately, I have to somehow ensure the nation’s security remains intact?”
“Correct. So long as you maintain national security, you shouldn’t need to name a husband until the time of your choosing. You must take from among the nation’s warrior pool?”
Paling again, Raene’s face pinched. “Yes. There are an abundance of those. However, my cousin, the Duke of Lockwillow, is a warrior, and he could oversee the nation’s defenses until such a time as I am comfortable with my decision.”
Vidar stirred. “He is definitely capable.”
“I might speak to him.”
“What is making you hesitate?” Besides the obvious—there was no need for her to take a husband as soon as her mother died. A barbaric practice.
At least give her some time to mourn her mother.
“He and my mother are close. They were raised as siblings and he’s already lost his wife and my father, his best friend.”
Aern’s nod was brisk. “So he, like you, will be grieving.”
“Who is overseeing the military now?”
“A General who was good friends with my father. He has already informed me of his intention to retire immediately. His health is such that he must do so.”
“Surely there is another man, one who is also advanced in rank, who might be able to take over the military until you make your decision?”
“I’ll have to review the candidates.” Raene sucked her lower lip between her teeth.
Vidar resisted the urge to tug it free. Instead, he repositioned his sword. “It would be ideal if there were more Aasguard warriors making their way here. Not that they can take over your military.”
Her teeth freed her lip. “Do Aasguard warriors move about?”
“Of course. Aern and I have chosen to remain here which is why we aren’t on the move.”
“Is there any way to contact a few? You and Aern would probably enjoy a visit with some peers.” The gems glowing in her hair didn’t outshine the brilliance of her tresses.
“We would indeed. Please be aware that many have not yet adopted the crystal technology, so it is difficult to communicate with them.”
The eagerness in her eyes dimmed. Then she noticed the time. With a gasp she lifted her skirts. “Thank you. I must go. My maid will soon sound the alarm if I am not in my bedchamber.”
She offered a too quick wave then dashed out of the cavern. Aern immediately shrank and charged after her.
Vidar could well imagine the ensuing ruckus if the princess wasn’t found in her bedchamber where she was supposed to be at this time of night. He glanced up at the glass ceiling, where the stars sparkled overhead.
A clear night, and the little flickering dots dazzled against the smooth darkness. All he could see was a princess in a magnificent pale green gown, whose splendor might as well have been etched across his retinas.
Chapter 11
“Are you certain this is a good idea, Raene?” Stefana bit her lip, and her eyes more than revealed her hesitancy with this project.
Raene flipped a page in the ponderous ledger. “Yes, I’m sure.” Then she huffed out a breath. “Would you want to have to name a husband out of the rank we have?” She flung a hand toward the training yard where their current warriors kept busy.
A small, but visible, shudder shimmied down Stefana’s spine. “No. Not at all.”
“So what do you propose I do then?”
Stefana’s full lips thinned. “Keep searching through the ledgers for an older, happily married man who is capable of overseeing the military and our security.”
Raene hoped to accomplish exactly that, thanks to Aern’s brilliance.
“It is the only way I can think to not have to marry as soon as . . .” Her throat burned. “I will marry whom I choose.”
“Do you know who you want?”
“No one. I want time to grieve for my mother.” Her heart rolled. “I don’t want to have to sleep beside a man I barely know. Or have to share the bedcovers with him. Or have him roll on top of me . . .” She couldn’t continue because her insides clenched to nausea-inducing proportions.
Another shudder from Stefana. “I heartily apologize. I should have never doubted you.”
“Thank you.” Stefana’s new grasp of the situation didn’t counter the internal revolt.
Rising in the graceful way that had always been her best friend, Stefana trailed to the bookshelf where the ledger in front of Raene lived. Browsing the various tomes packed there, Stefana plucked one off the shelf.
She resumed her seat and flipped through the weighty book. “I wish my father could take this on.”
“He was my second choice after Cousin Haines.” They both knew Henry, whil
e a stellar man, loathed carrying a sword, and although adept with it, his genius lay in financial matters, not security. His talents kept their national treasury overflowing.
“Your Cousin Haines might take this on.” Stefana’s dark eyes met hers. “He understands how you’re feeling. Since he might also be forced to marry.”
“Yes. I haven’t given up hope on him. However, it would strain him when he already has all his ducal duties, and he also is firmly entrenched in the ways of my mother’s court. That way demands a husband of the new queen, especially when the nation’s defenses are in need.”
“It is the way of common sense, Raene.” Stefana’s hand hovered over a page in her ledger. She didn’t sound convinced.
Raene’s spine stiffened. “Yes. But I don’t know a warrior who I am permitted to marry who I want to share the sheets with.”
Stefana paled as she pored over the tome in front of her, her air slightly frantic. Raene’s heart pounded in her ears as she bent over the ledger in front of her, every bit as studious. There had to be someone . . .
An hour later, the call of nature reared up. “I must visit the water closet.” Raene rose while Stefana frowned at her.
“Is that safe?”
“Why wouldn’t it be safe? I’ve been using it for years.”
Stefana’s lips twisted. “Never mind. I’m fretting.”
With the rustling of her heavy skirts, Raene exited the library and turned left. The corridor was busy this morning. She took the next left, where the water closet was located.
Only steps from her goal, a widower older than her father fetched up beside her. “Hello, Princess Raene.” His lecherous sweep of her person made her gawk at his lack of manners.
Raene edged away from him. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember your name.” Since you have children who are older than me.
“I am Curtis.” His breath was redolent of garlic and onions.
She barely tamped a bout of nausea.
“Right. Excuse me.” Then she ducked into the water closet. Her hand shook, so it took her a moment to send a plea via her handheld crystal for aid.
The man’s footsteps hadn’t retreated.
Wasn’t it considered bad manners to lurk outside a bathroom? Unless you were waiting for said room, yes.
“Curtis, just the man I was seeking.” Haines’ voice echoed down the hallway and Raene offered up a thank you via her crystal and in general. Both men’s footsteps faded down the corridor.
After finishing and drying her hands, Raene took a deep breath. Curtis of the onions and garlic had departed with Haines, who thankfully had rushed in to help her. She still took another breath before easing open the door.
“Princess.” This hovering man was closer to her own age. She still had to fight the urge to clap the door shut again.
White teeth gleamed in an incredibly attractive face. She carried a vague memory of him, but it remained nebulous. She still eased around the door. He courteously stepped back and bowed, gesturing for her to leave the water closet.
Doing so left a bad taste in her mouth. Safety lay behind her, behind the locked door of the water closet. Still, as the ruler of the land, in deed, if not in name, she had to react as an adult.
Straightening her shoulders, she gazed at the man in the most professional manner possible. “Do you have business with the queen?”
“No.” The amount of showing white teeth lessened. “I wished to speak with you.” The ingratiating attitude resurfaced.
Raene didn’t quell her grimace in time. “Thank you. I’m not taking appointments today. If you wish to speak to me, you must schedule a time.”
Whisking down the hallway, she thought she’d gotten rid of him, but he matched her step for step. Raene stopped, and this time she snarled, “What did I just say?” The warning echoed from deep within and it raised the hairs on her own arms.
The man leapt back as though she’d set him on fire. She wished Aern was there right then because she would have asked him to do so for her.
“Do excuse me, your majesty . . .”
She growled this time, as adrenaline raced through her bloodstream, fueling the need to rip, tear, and shred. Raene rather enjoyed the sensation and her hand flexed, as though she had Driies at her side.
Turning abruptly, she made for her bedchamber, ignoring the warrior she left mumbling in the hallway behind her. Back straight, she stalked through the halls, and as warriors approached, ignored them.
A passing castle staff member raised a brow at her. She grabbed his arm and hauled him with her, grumbling about treacherous suitors. He obliged her by fobbing off the persistent ones.
Stuart didn’t demur and even appeared to enjoy the exercise. It didn’t hurt that he was the closest man she knew to Vidar’s size, with the muscle to back up his words.
“You have my permission to toss the next man who approaches me out the window, Stu.”
“It would be my pleasure, Raene.” Since he acted like a twin brother, he didn’t turn all royally proper on her.
For which she appreciated. Stopping in the middle of the hallway she peered at him, but then realized she couldn’t imagine sharing sheets with this man, beloved though he was. It would be unnatural. The same reason she couldn’t see herself with Stefana’s brother, despite the trust and respect she carried for both men.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned.
“Naming you would take care of this problem.”
“I’m not a warrior.”
“No. Why didn’t you train?”
He wagged his left arm. “Remember that riding accident?”
Stuart had accompanied her in their youth. A fierce storm had risen. His mount panicked during a spectacularly electric part of the storm’s performance and the equine rolled onto Stuart’s forearm, smashing it. The healers managed to save his arm, but deemed it too weak for sword work, a necessity for any warrior.
While Stuart had trained to wield a sword with his right arm, it was obvious he didn’t have the skill there, and his weak arm would be exploited by any smart enemy. He had never shown much interest anyway in the art of sword play, much preferring to run the castle.
Stuart would one day take over as head Castle Keeper, inheriting the position from his father.
He disdained the court and their politics. While amusing, Stuart would make a terrible king. Montequirst would constantly be at war.
They traversed the floors and hallways until reaching her rooms.
“Why are we going to your bedchamber?”
He hovered in the doorway while she stalked across the floor to snag her sword from the hook where she’d been wont to hang it.
“This.” She strapped Driies’ sheath around her waist, comforted by the weight of the sword against her thigh.
“Why do you need a . . .” Stuart nodded. “Of course. They’re congregating around your person to plead their case for why they should be king.”
She shared a disgusted look with him before he escorted her back to the library.
“Where have you been?” Stefana’s hand rested against her chest, as though she’d been worried.
“I had to retrieve this.” Raene patted Driies.
“Why did you need a sword?”
Stuart explained.
“Oh no.” Stefana’s eyes clouded. “This isn’t going to stop until you’re safely wed.”
Raene’s stomach upended. “Hence the reason for my sword.”
“What do you intend to do? Run it through some idiot’s throat?” More than a hint of amusement embedded Stuart’s tone.
“If I have to.” Not even an ounce infused her own.
Chapter 12
When they exited the library for lunch, Stefana and Raene were deep in conversation. So they didn’t immediately notice the small queue waiting around the corner.
A line of warriors halted them.
“Princess.”
That tone grated on her ears.
“What are you
all doing here?” Belligerence clouded her question.
One of the warriors sidled up to her. “We merely wished to speak—” He didn’t finish by way of Driies at his throat.
Speaking through clenched teeth, she said, “Upon coronation of being queen I may put every single man who has bothered me to death. Until then, I will simply run his useless throat through.”
The queue broke as the smarter ones reevaluated. “We are simply—” This time she drew blood.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t slice off your useless head.”
Her victim’s swallow was noticeable. She eyed his Adam’s apple. He turned tail and exited down the nearest corridor.
“I am not interested in marrying at this time. If you persist in bothering me, I will see to it there are no warriors left in Montequirst.”
More stepped back and several faded through the many exits lining this corridor.
“You should all be ashamed of yourselves. Queen Margina is still alive, but you’re all circling her daughter like a flock of turkey vultures.” Stefana made this pronouncement in the disdained tones of royalty.
The last warrior followed his colleagues down the hallway away from them.
“It’s creepy the way they’re so intent on you.”
Raene sheathed Driies.
“Turkey vultures is fitting.” Her stomach protested the thought of lunch. Especially in the company of the turkeys still circling her. They had backed off for now, but not one of them had given up his quest to advance his rank.
Stefana tugged one of the footmen aside. “Frederick, the princess and I wish to dine in the smaller family dining chamber. Please see that it is set up for us immediately.”
The man bowed at Stefana’s imperious request and did as she instructed. Within minutes, the private dining chamber was prepared for the two of them, and Raene hugged her friend.
“You are brilliant.”
“I’m sorry, Raene. I had no idea how bad this warrior issue has become.” Stefana blew out a frustrated breath. “People don’t think.”