93
Princess Elena
On the Seil Sea Outside Sky Bay
AIREN
“I think it’s over,” I noted when the deafening blast of cannon fire stopped and did not start again.
“I hope it’s over,” Finnie muttered.
“I do too,” Circe said, shaking her head in such a manner it looked like she was trying to clear water from her ears.
Circe being Dahksahna Circe, the Golden Warrior Queen of the Korwahk nation of the Southlands.
We’d met just hours before we’d all boarded one of Aramus’s ships and headed right back from where she and her husband Lahn had come from.
King Noctorno and Queen Cora remained in Wodell.
Lahn was, right then, where all the men were.
Up on the deck with swords at the ready in case we were boarded.
As far as I could tell, we had not been boarded.
The air was acrid with the scent of cannon powder. I could hear faraway shouts that I suspected were the cries of men who were aboard the ships we had (I hoped) sunk that were blockading Sky Bay by means of its only wharf, Twilight Harbor.
But there were no cries of men closer to (say, on our deck) that would make me believe anything but that we were safe, and we’d been triumphant.
I did not look through a porthole to ascertain if I was correct in this assumption, for we were in a cabin that did not have a view to the action (I’d already checked).
I also did not look because I was fuming due to the fact we were in a cabin at all.
I could use a sword, very well.
Finnie, I’d learned, was also proficient.
And Circe was known as the Golden Warrior Queen, for the goddess’s sake.
That said, from the ferocious scowl her husband sent my way when I was arguing the need for the women to stay belowdecks (which I had to admit, was a scowl of a level of ferocity that caused a trill of trepidation to skim over my skin, and I didn’t not feel such a sensation often), I did not fight Circe’s quarter.
Or Finnie’s.
Just my own.
I also lost.
“From what you’ve told us,” Circe said, and I stopped lounging on the daybed in the cabin, fuming, and instead lounged on the daybed and looked to her (still fuming), “you face many battles. Perhaps it’s best you conserve your energy for ones that are worth it.”
“I’m sorry?” I asked.
Circe cast her gaze to Finnie, who took over.
“They are…I mean, the men in this world are…” She faltered as I adjusted my thinking to take into account these two had long been of this world, but they were not of this world. They were of an entirely different one that, along our journey, they’d shared much about.
Including fantastical stories about things called “cars,” “computers,” “smartphones,” “sushi” and “fluffernutter sandwiches.”
All of which they very much missed.
But love kept them here.
Love for their husbands and then love for the families they had made with said husbands.
And I was thinking, in my present mood, that was the most fantastical part by far of any of their tales.
“Well…men,” Finnie finished weakly.
“They are men,” I agreed.
“That is to say, they’re more men than most men,” she went on. “Yours included.”
I stared at her.
She, also lounging on the daybed (as was Circe—Jasmine and Hera were outside the door, guarding it, and at least they were allowed to perform duties they’d trained since girls to do), leaned my way to reach out a hand to circle my wrist. She left it there, squeezing what I suspected she thought was reassuringly.
“You will, as the years pass, get super freaking pissed at him,” she said.
To this, I blinked at her.
“As in, angry,” she explained her strange vernacular, something she’d needed to do quite often during the few short days of our voyage.
“Right,” I bit off, not surprised about that in the slightest.
“And you will, as the years pass, need to decide what is important and what is not. What he is simply being bull-headed about, and what actually means something to him. And you will come to understand something that is very difficult to come to terms with,” she said.
“What’s that?” I asked, curious even if I did not wish to be.
“That you will on a regular, but hopefully not frequent, occasion do things that will make him super freaking pissed…at you,” she educated. “And he’ll have a right.”
“That’s the worst,” Circe mumbled.
I’d already, in a way, discovered this.
I said nothing.
“I don’t know Cassius very well,” Finnie went on. “But I’ve noticed the closer we get to his homeland, the more tense he becomes.” She shrugged. “This might be that his capital city is under siege. It might be that dissidence is brewing across his land. It might be all that happened in Wodell. The way things are going in this place, it could be a hundred different things. But I get the sense he’s tense…for you.”
Now that surprised me.
“For me?” I asked.
“This country he’s taking you to, his country, from what I understand it’s not only not at all what you’re used to. But much more, especially to him, you’re in danger here,” Finnie stated.
Oh dear.
This was very true.
“And he doesn’t like it,” Circe put in.
I looked to her.
This was true as well.
“I mean, like…he doesn’t like it doesn’t like it, as in, he’d go just about anywhere else happily, including knocking on the fiery gates of hell and asking if they’d let you two in to have lunch, instead of coming home. Coming here. But mostly, bringing you here,” she carried on.
Completely true.
“And since he’s in love with you—” Finnie began.
Wait a second.
“Hold on,” I interrupted. “He’s not in love with me.”
This time, Finnie stared at me.
She then cast a glance to Circe, who was also staring at me.
Circe felt her gaze, looked her way, and they both stretched their mouths in expressions that were not lost on me.
“He’s not in love with me,” I reiterated.
“Um…okay,” Circe muttered.
“Okay” meant “all right,” I’d learned.
And in this instance, she didn’t mean it at all.
“He really isn’t,” I said quietly. “He was married before. He lost her in childbirth. He loved her dearly and he still does.”
“No doubt,” Finnie agreed. “He’s still fallen in love with you.”
I felt my lips part.
“And knowing this, knowing he’s lost someone before you, would explain a good part of why he does not wish to take you somewhere he thinks is dangerous for you,” Finnie concluded.
“But,” I whispered. “He’s not in love with me.”
They looked to each other again and seemed to come to some accord that I did not understand, and not simply because I was reeling due to the fact they thought Cassius had fallen in love with me.
Not to mention feeling equal measures of terrified and experiencing the bubbling of sheer glee at this possibility.
Finnie took my mind from these thoughts when she squeezed my wrist a bit tighter but held on.
“After we explained it to Aramus and Ha-Lah, we discussed this. Frey, Apollo, Lahn, Tor and among us women, all decided that the best thing we should do was to keep it from you.” Another wrist squeeze. “All of you. Too much pressure, and you’re all already under too much. More would not be good. But right now, I wonder if that’s wise.”
“I always wondered if it was wise,” Circe stated. “I mean, I haven’t been around them as long as you, but anyone can see it’s already happening, or has happened, so what’s the big deal?”
“I know, right?” Finnie said to her.
“Right,” Circe agreed.
My voice pitched higher when I asked, “What are you two talking about?”
“The prophecy,” Finnie answered on yet another squeeze, but this time she let my wrist go and sat back.
“The prophecy of us defeating the Beast?” I queried.
“That very one,” she said on a nod.
“What about it?”
“It’s not about alliances,” Finnie said.
“It’s about love,” Circe said.
Love?
“It’s always about love,” Finnie noted.
“Always. People need to get that. It’d make every world I know, and I know more than most, a better place,” Circe added.
At that, they both burst out laughing.
I wasn’t quite sure I knew what they found so amusing.
Because…
Love?
“What do you mean…love?” I asked.
However, I would receive no answer.
The door flew open and we all jumped.
Cassius prowled through, looking in a record-setting foul mood.
Frey then came through, appearing relieved (yes, we had been triumphant).
Lahn came after Frey, and even though all the men were tall, he had to tuck his chin in his neck and even bend a bit at the waist to get in the door, that was how large the man was.
He definitely looked like he could be Firenz (or Airenzian). Dark. Forbidding. Big.
But he was all that multiplied by about fifty.
I was not surprised he was known as the most powerful warrior in the Southlands and the Northlands. Indeed, I would imagine many wet themselves before turning to run just being confronted by the idea of battling with him.
That said, he was ridiculously attractive.
Not as good-looking as Cassius (my prince’s tattoos, shorn hair, those blue eyes, there was no compare).
But Lahn was not hard to look at.
Then again, neither was Frey.
“We dock,” Cassius veritably barked, making me jump again at his tone and tear my eyes from my assessment of Frey to look at him. “The men will deal with distributing the supplies. We’re away to the Citadel. Prepare yourself but do not concern yourself with your belongings. They will be fetched.”
And with that, he stalked out.
I stared at his back and then at the open doorway he’d disappeared through.
Both Jasmine and Hera filled that doorway, Jazz with her head turned, undoubtedly glaring in the direction of the departing Cassius. Hera had eyes to me.
“Quickly, for I’m getting that if there are delays, his mood will deteriorate,” Finnie said, and I looked to her, wondering how Cassius’s mood could possibly deteriorate from where it was now. “Woman to woman, long-time wife to a sister who’s learning the ropes.”
The ropes?
“Have a mind,” she continued. “This is not a question of your skill or abilities and what he feels about them or how you disagree about you using them. This is about where his head is at and that is not a good place. In other words, my friend,” she leaned closer, “in choosing battles, this is one to set aside and instead channel your energies into looking after your man.”
I studied her.
Then I looked to Circe, who nodded.
My eyes moved to Hera, who dipped her chin.
Jazz’s attention was now in the cabin and even she indicated her assent, which was a shock (then again, her ongoing affair with Mac was getting serious, I’d noted, not to mention Cassius was not a man to dislike, when he wasn’t being an ass, and she’d learned that).
I then took in Frey and Lahn.
Lahn just stared at me with his dark, intense eyes.
But I sensed he agreed.
Frey was the only one who spoke.
“My wife is no fool and our marriage remains strong over decades solely because of it.”
“That’s not true, my handsome husband,” Finnie replied. “You’ve nurtured our marriage too.”
“Only as taught by you,” he returned.
Well then…
That was sweet.
“We best vacate the premises before they jump each other,” Circe suggested to me, and it was then I felt the current between The Drakkar and his Ice Princess, not to mention saw the heat of his gaze on his wife, and I moved to exit the daybed, considering it was their bunk.
As I left the room, Jasmine and Hera positioned close to my sides.
“That doesn’t mean going forth into that wasteland not fully armed,” Jazz muttered under breath.
“Absolutely,” Hera agreed.
I drew in a good deal of air.
And we all headed to Cassius and my cabin so I could prepare myself to meet this part of my destiny.
Fully armed.
But with a focus on the needs of “my man.”
Dear goddess, help me.
Sky Bay was not a wasteland.
I noticed this immediately when I came up to the deck.
I noticed it more as I rode at Cassius’s side through the black paved streets with my lieutenants and his men surrounding us so close, our legs and boots brushed.
It was austere, yes.
But the architecture was astonishing.
I thought the height and breadth and grandeur of Birchlire Castle was a spectacle, a visual feast. And when I had been there, I’d thought the golden domes and white-washed buildings and avenues of Go’Doan were a marvel, blinking blindingly clean and beautiful in the sun.
But everywhere you looked in Sky Bay was like that, and even more.
It seemed all of it, from the carvings in the black stone, to the domes and steeples atop the buildings, to the buttressed dormers, looming gargoyles, massive stained-glass rose windows, even to what appeared to be a colossal working clock atop a multi-storied building that looked like a temple (but Cassius had bit out that it was a bank), there was nowhere to look that did not hold some interest.
And in most cases…beauty.
It was true, it was not the beauty I was used to. The bright, sunshine dappling through the green leaves of The Enchantments or the rolling patchwork of Dellish fields and the quaint thatched villages there.
But it was no less beautiful.
Simply its own kind.
Indeed, even the thick, gray smoke drifting from the chimneys contributed to the overall mood.
Which, for some unknown reason, made me want nothing but a warm cup of something at hand where I was curled somewhere comfortable with a throw covering my legs, a good book in my hand and nothing on my mind but just relaxing.
As I would do on my deck in my treehome.
Or I wanted to be under the covers with Cassius, doing something far more active.
And these I did not feel were bad things.
But I would soon note, as we drew closer, the most beautiful of all, the beacon of this magnificence shone (in its way) from the Citadel that seemed carved (exquisitely) in the southwestern ridge of craggy peaks that surrounded the entirety of the city, making it somewhat of a bowl that had a break at the harbor.
Cassius’s home, the Sky Citadel curved along its side of this range that guarded the Bay, and even from afar, I knew the iron crosses over the windows and hostile wrought notions shooting from its towers and fencing its battlements were extraordinary.
Honestly, I could not wait to get there and discover every inch.
I did not speak of any of this.
Cassius was clearly in no mood, and because of this, the rest of us adopted his mood.
But regardless, every turn we made, my mind was taken with something new to discover.
For instance, on some streets, right through the middle, were cut waterways on which narrow boats were shunted up (or down) as a way to transport people, and a goodly number of them, so that the streets of the populous city did not get clogged with horses and carriages (and all the congestion and smells that came from them).
And down another street, I witnessed some sort of conveyance. It took up one side of the street. It was long (it had eight windows down the side), was on rails, and seemed to be propelled by men pedaling large apparatuses at the back.
This, too, was a way to transport large numbers of people distances that would take a great number of horses, carriages, or a good deal of walking up and down (sometimes steep) avenues.
It was, no other way to describe it, extraordinary.
Even through this, it was not lost on me that the streets were not clear of people and the return of their king (Gallienus rode before us with his own guard) and prince after a time away and a return heralded by a sea battle could not have been missed.
But although it couldn’t have been missed, it didn’t seem to matter.
This was the only thing (at first) that made me uneasy.
For there were very few women and what women there were, were not dressed in finery, out for a stroll on an overcast day. They were dressed drearily, and in some cases tattily, busy going about doing what they were doing.
And this busyness seemed fretful, and in some cases, frantic.
They didn’t stop to watch our procession (not the women, or the men). The women scurried on their way, heads bowed, but clearly paying attention, for they were careful to steer clear of any man who might need their share of the path.
And I did not have to watch long to see that any man, dressed finely or not, received right of way.
But the men, they might glance our way, but other than that…
Nothing.
What made that uneasiness start to shift to worry was when my wonder at my surroundings began to wear off and the fact that I sensed there was absolutely no joy or even liveliness started to drift in.
Indeed, the air was void of it.
It was incredibly odd, especially in a place of such beauty, apparent prosperity and obvious ingenuity.
I did not, by far, expect it to be the happiest place on earth.
It was, after all, a city whose women rose up and slayed the men who were their masters, then fled to become the Nadirii Sisterhood.
But this was unexpected, disturbing.
Further, it didn’t appear any of the citizens were suffering under siege. No one looked haggard. And still, although the harbor had been freed very recently, there was no response.
There was no cheer that their monarch and his son were amongst them, had secured the harbor, the four ships docked there bringing supplies.
There were no jeers either.
Not even at the sight of me riding alongside their prince caused a reaction.
A Nadirii in their midst (actually, three of us with twenty more riding at our rear).
I received some glances, many (from men, obviously, the women didn’t even look our way) baleful.
But other than that…
There was nothing.
Yes, this was troubling.
When we finally made it to the tall, austere iron gates that guarded the switchbacked lane that led up to the Citadel, all my admiration at all that was Sky Bay had leaked from me.
So much, I felt actually drained.
I wanted to race up the jagged lane, drag Cassius off his horse, into that castle, be certain Jazz and Hera and Cassius’s men made it in with us, and barricade the doors against that air, that mood, that atmosphere.
And then take Cassius to bed, not for enjoyable activities.
To hold him tightly to me, absorb his strength, the depth of his need to protect (which had to be the depth of his ability to love, which was bottomless) and infuse him with anything light and sunny and cheerful and good.
Anything.
Even just a whisper.
He had often called his home bleak and miserable.
He did not mean the look of it.
He meant this.
The fact that the very air seemed permeated, heavy, even clogged with despair.
I did not race up the lane.
I had to stay alert.
There were soldiers, shoulder to shoulder, lining each side of that lane, wearing their black battle leathers and slate-colored wool mantles, staring at us under their shining black helmets with long, lethal-tipped lances pointed to the sky and held tucked to their shoulders.
We could be felled in a trice.
But not a one of them moved, nary an inch. I didn’t witness one so much as twitch.
What I did was wonder why they weren’t fighting the radicals that were laying siege to the city for that lane was long in its rise up to the fortress. There were easily hundreds of them.
However, they just stood at attention for their king and their prince, their leathers, lances and helmets pristine.
Odd and not a small amount of unsettling.
I noted Cassius didn’t feel that way.
But upon glancing behind me, I saw Frey and Lahn, both visibly alert and openly taking in the lines of warriors, absolutely did.
At the top, dead center in a large, stately courtyard paved in smooth cobbles and dotted at the sides with some shrubs that were not pleasing-to-the-eye hints of nature in this dark stone landscape, but precisely trimmed in squat cone and pyramid shapes, sat an enormous fire pit that raged with orange flames.
Not a tinkling, peaceful fountain.
Perhaps it was an ode to ancient times when Airen and Firenze were one and they were ruled by the Fire King.
Perhaps it was once a fountain, but some ruler along the years preferred something threatening and severe, not welcoming and tranquil.
I did not have the chance to ask after this (not that I would). I also did not have the chance to grab Cassius and drag him somewhere safe so we could hold onto any happiness we might have left lingering in our souls.
Out of the high, wide, arched double doors to the Citadel that were open (both of them), three women drifted down the steps that were lined with servants who also stood motionless, uniformed and at attention.
These were the only women I witnessed wearing what might amount to finery in Airen, though I vowed to my goddess I would never wear such.
Thick, leather, what only could be described as engineered corsets over silk blouses confined their ribs. The blouses were buttoned all the way to their throats, the collars stiff and uncomfortable-looking. Their skirts were wide and appeared heavy, with a variety of deep ruffles, bunches or ruching (or all three) that made them seem like they weighed stones and stones.
And their faces were painted to extremes. Thick kohl around their eyes, stark and unnatural red at their lips, white powder on their skin and clownish rouge at their cheeks.
Indeed, there was so much paint on their faces, I could not tell if they were aged sixteen or sixty.
They wore tangles of strings of pearls and gold chains that fell about their chests, dangled from their ears and bound their wrists.
This demonstration of wealth was not only ostentatious (most specifically because of the absolute lack of such adorning the women in the city), it also seemed more like manacles and yokes than gilding.
It was a shock to the system, for seeing it, I realized there was no color in this place. Not anywhere. Not here, at the Citadel, not down below, in the city.
No flowers. Even if it was late in the season, mums, sage, goldenrod, roses, sunflowers and asters still bloomed.
No colorful awnings.
No bright pottery or brightly glazed tilework.
There was not even color in the fabrics, not in the uniforms of the servants, not in the clothing of the women (the corsets were all in shades of brown or gray, the blouses white or cream, the skirts, black or gray).
My thoughts were turned when the women all rushed directly to Gallienus before he even dismounted and fell into such low curtsies, their skirts looked like pools of dark silk on the cobbles.
His wives.
All three of them.
Nearly prostrate before him with their heads bowed.
I felt bile chase up my throat and heard Jazz choke down hers.
“Welcome to my home,” Cassius drawled, and I looked to him in alarm.
With one look I knew more than I already knew.
He hated it here.
Abhorred it.
And here we were.
Here I was.
And he did not want me here.
But here was also where he was raising his beloved daughter, his Aelia.
He did not want that either.
And I could now understand why.
I stared into his eyes, seeing the sky-blue was gone. They were dark as night and blinking with miniscule stars.
This, how they looked when he felt deeply, in the haze of passion or in a blaze of anger.
And looking into those eyes, I sensed something gathering along my spine.
Not my magic.
Something even more important.
Vital.
Fundamental.
I needed to save him from this.
I needed to save him and Aelia and Dora from this.
I needed to protect them from this nightmare, deliver them from it.
And the only thing I could do in order to achieve that was to transform it.
At first in mind.
And then in reality.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I only partly lied.
His chin jerked into his neck.
“The whole city. Those…I don’t know what they’re called, carriages on rails,” I went on.
“Trains,” he said.
“Trains,” I repeated. “And the canals. And the rose windows. The steepled roofs.” I looked up to what seemed like the interminable towers of the Citadel, doing so gazing past gargoyles in shapes of everything from lizards to bats to trolls to griffin to dragons to, well…gargoyles to see intimidating wrought iron finials spiking into the sky. “And this…” I searched for words. “It’s just extraordinary.”
It appeared my words only served to make Cassius even more aggravated, and he underlined this by stating, “Elena, do not lie.”
“Right,” I gave in a little. “So, I would hope in the spring you’d let me, or, say, some royal gardener plant some ivy, because really,” I flung a hand toward the castle, “there needs to be more green and it’d look lovely climbing up the walls.”
Cassius blinked.
“And a few more shrubbery wouldn’t hurt,” I went on gamely.
He simply stared at me.
“And I might switch the fire pit out to a fountain.”
He spoke then.
“There’s a vein of natural gas that feeds that flame.”
“Oh,” I mumbled, turning my eyes to the fiery display. I drew in breath, and with it fortification, and turned back to him. “Let us discover the inside.”
He raised his brows. “Would you like to meet my stepmothers?”
Actually, I wouldn’t.
I turned my gaze to the women who were all now on their feet, shuffling back, still with heads bowed, as Gallienus dismounted.
I looked to Cassius and chirped, “Of course.”
As I had never, in my entire life, chirped, and Cassius had not known me my entire life, but he’d come to know me well these past months, thus, he knew that, his eyes narrowed.
I dismounted.
Hera and Jasmine, already off their mounts, instantly got close to me.
“Ellie—” Jazz murmured anxiously.
She was not an anxious person.
But even the strongest warrior would be infused by harmful feelings just breathing this Airenzian air.
“We’re going to do this,” I murmured back.
“Do what?” Hera asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But we’re going to figure it out.”
“Mm-hmm,” Hera mumbled dubiously.
I couldn’t be dubious.
I had to do this, whatever it was, and I couldn’t wait until spring to do it by planting ivy.
I glanced at Finnie and Circe, who were approaching us accompanied closely by Frey and Lahn, and I gave the women big eyes.
Finnie’s gaze jumped beyond me, where I sensed Cassius approaching, then to me and she nodded.
Circe just gave me a sour expression, but then again, she’d already experienced an Airenzian city, so she understood it was sour indeed.
Cassius took hold of my elbow.
I drew in another fortifying breath and moved with him toward where Gallienus was standing impatiently, not close to his wives, who all were lined up, their heads still bowed.
Had he embraced them, and I’d missed it?
Had he even said words to them at all after being away from them for months?
“My father’s beloveds,” Cassius said drily when we’d arrived at them. “The Ladies Royal, Horatia, Cornelia and Domitia,” he introduced with arm extended and moving to each one as he said their name. “Ladies, my betrothed, Princess Elena of the Nadirii.”
“My pleasure,” I said.
Heads still bowed, they only nodded, and it was just Domitia who looked over her brows toward me with some curiosity, and I saw, from closer, she seemed the youngest of the three (by far).
“Speak when spoken to by a princess,” Gallienus spat at them, and at his words and tone, I tensed.
Cassius tensed.
All our people who had gathered around us tensed.
“Do not do one thing that you do not wish to do or are not comfortable doing,” I decreed sharply.
That got me all three pairs of eyes examining me (though they did this under brows).
Horatia, the oldest (I guessed), peered at me with some measure, and I assessed her instantly as a problem.
Cornelia was gazing at me with some surprise, but a good deal of reserve, and I decided she needed further assessment.
Domitia stared at me in shock (yes, even over her brows).
“And do not bow your heads to me. We are equals. We are sisters,” I educated.
“You are a princess and they are—” Gallienus started.
“Queens,” I finished for him.
I heard a gasp, presumably from Domitia, but nothing from the others.
“They are known as Ladies Royal. We have no queens in Airen,” Gallienus informed me.
“My bride will be a queen,” Cassius put in.
“Your choice, not mine,” Gallienus said to him.
Cassius, as I’d noted he often dealt with his father, dismissed him and turned to the women who all still had their heads bowed.
“Elena told you to raise your heads,” he said, his tone gentling.
“We obey the command of our king,” Horatia announced, and both the women at her side shuffled a bit.
Yes, a problem,
Gallienus subjugated them.
Horatia ruled them.
“Then it’s important you know that, during our travels, your king did not abdicate his throne, but he abdicated his authority and I am now Prince Regent, ruler of this land and this Citadel. So, when I tell you to raise your heads, I mean for you to obey me,” Cassius returned in a much less gentle voice, and I suspected he spoke as such because he knew precisely what role Horatia played in this sick farce.
Both Cornelia and Domitia raised their heads, each wearing expressions that were masks of shock.
Horatia lifted her gaze much more slowly and her expression was composed.
Too composed.
She said nothing but her eyes were working.
Definitely a problem.
“And it’s important to note, as Prince Regent, my intended will be Princess Regent,” Cassius shared.
Domitia’s mouth dropped open.
Cornelia’s gaze shifted into the distance beyond us, her face frozen.
Horatia’s eyes went slightly squinty.
“This will become official on our wedding,” Cassius continued. “But you should behave as if it is official now.”
Gallienus made a sneering noise.
Horatia looked to her husband.
The others looked toward the ground.
“And the wedding will be going forward,” I proclaimed gaily, gaining all the women’s attention. I forced my voice to remain light as I said words I did not wish to say. “So perhaps while Cassius discusses the state of Sky Bay and this dreadful siege, we can talk about happier things, like how the wedding plans are coming along.”
“These affairs are handled by the steward,” Horatia snapped. “He is seeing to the planning.”
“Well, since I’m here now and it’s my wedding, I shall be taking over supervising the arrangements.” I was pleased with myself I got that out without gagging, and since I was on a roll, I kept going. “So let us all get briefed and after,” I looked up to Cassius, “you can give me tour of your home.”
“This is not going to work,” Cassius said to me.
“What?” I asked mock-innocently.
He studied me.
Then he lifted a hand, his fingers curled in, but his thumb extended, and with it he stroked my cheek.
Another gasp (again, I suspected coming from Domitia), as Cassius murmured, “No, it will not work, my lamb. But it will at least be amusing to watch you try.”
“I’ve decided to be married in pink,” I proclaimed abruptly, sounding slightly strangled as I forced out those words. “Yards and yards and yards of frothy pink.”
I heard Jazz make a noise like she was very much being strangled.
Cass just stared at me.
Then he threw his head back and roared with laughter.
I watched, stunned immobile at how beautiful he looked laughing, and how exquisite was the sound of his laughter.
He had not, not once in all our time together, laughed with that abandonment anywhere near me.
It was gorgeous.
Still doing it, he caught my face in both his hands, dipped his head and kissed me thoroughly.
I vaguely heard another gasp (also likely Domitia), but mostly I just smelled and tasted Cassius and his kiss.
He lifted away minutely and whispered, “Yes, it will be amusing to watch you try.”
I smiled at him.
He shook his head, let me go, looked over my shoulder and queried, “The sergeant-at-arms is waiting to attend us to share his briefing?”
“Yes, sir,” a male voice barked efficiently.
“Let us go,” he sighed, looked down at me, lifted his hand again to glide his thumb along my cheek, and then he stepped away.
I instantly turned to the Ladies Royal and quickly claimed Domitia and Cornelia by linking arms with them, stating my preferences immediately, and casting Horatia into a position she was going to have to get used to.
No one ruled a sister.
Be they king or bully.
“Let us go, have some wine, get to know one another and talk about adventures and weddings,” I bid as I moved them toward the doors.
As we walked, I sensed something even more unpleasant than the air we were breathing and cast my attention in the direction from whence it was coming.
There, I saw a comely maid standing amongst the other servants, staring daggers at me.
I did not have any experience with such.
I still knew why that emotion was aimed at me.
Cassius had had her.
And she was feeling proprietary.
Shite.
My heart pinched, my eyes locked with hers, and I realized Circe had been right, though at the time she didn’t know how right she really was.
I had to conserve my energy.
For I had a number of battles on my hands
And none of them would be won with staffs and arrows.
I was not adept at the tactics that would bring these kinds of victory.
Nor did I have Melisse (who was, thank the goddess, upon news from the last bird we received, still with us) close to guide me.
I was on my own.
I was also (effectively) Princess Regent of Airen.
Thus, I was going to have to learn.
And do that quickly.