Matthew sat on the log watching as Victor paced the edge of the forest. “Where is she?” he grumbled as he grasped his gloves in his hands.
“She is coming,” Matthew answered. He took a deep breath of the morning air. This warm, glorious week in spring marked their seventeenth birthdays. Today, Cassandra's was the last of the three. Victor and Matthew rose early to release Thomas' favorite hunting dog and then instantly agreed to retrieve it. Once finding the cur, they sent it home with a squire to escape the tight confines of the palace.
They both searched the horizon for their female friend. Victor jumped as he felt someone brush against his arm.
“Hello,” Cassandra cooed.
“Where did you come from?” Victor demanded.
“I just appeared.” She looked at both men while holding up the bag on her shoulder. “I made sandwiches.”
Matthew laughed as Victor struggled to contain his anger. “So what should we do?” he asked.
“Let us swim,” Victor stated.
“Cassandra cannot,” Matthew objected as he stood. “It would not be fair.”
“It is alright, Matthew,” Cassandra responded as a wicked glimmer twinkled in her eye. “Let us swim.”
The three of them walked to the pond nestled in the clearing of the forest. It sparkled clear, deep, and cool in the warm spring morning. Cassandra disappeared behind a cover of branches as Matthew and Victor disrobed to their undergarments. They waded into the pond before watching anxiously for her.
She stepped to the water’s edge, smoothing her dressing gown shyly as the morning sunlight revealed the silhouette of her naked figure. Victor stared at her in awe. Even Matthew's look of righteous indignation thinly veiled the desire in his eyes. Then, she dove under the water, completely immersing herself as a circle of prism light bloomed across the surface. Seconds later she reemerged, her body suddenly bare of her dressing gown.
“Your clothes,” Victor gasped in shock.
Cassandra smiled slyly as she lifted her legs above the surface. In the place of her two small feet was a pair of emerald fins.
Matthew slapped the water as he roared in laughter. “You turned yourself into a mermaid!”
Cassandra nodded in confirmation as she floated, revealing the green scales that covered her from chest to toe. She turned on her stomach and swam away from them, giggling.
Matthew and Cassandra made every attempt to include Victor in their play. Still, he scowled at them as they chased, captured, and splashed each other. Matthew glanced over to his friend, seeing that look radiating in Victor’s eyes. He knew what it meant. Winning Cassandra away from me is just another challenge for him. Let him try. Good luck, friend. It’s true he’s been bred for battle. Love is not war.
As the sun slipped into the afternoon, Matthew yawned. “I am hungry. Should we go have lunch?”
Cassandra nodded as she dipped under the water again then waded out, her dressing gown mysteriously dry. Victor followed close behind as he glanced over his shoulder at Matthew. Matthew returned the jealous glare as he trailed after them.
They all dressed quickly and wandered out to the meadow, resting under a tree for the meal Cassandra had prepared. She handed each of them sandwiches, pastries, and fresh vegetables to feast upon. From the bottom of the bag, she retrieved a bottle of cider. They ate and drank until they were full.
Once they were finished, Cassandra laid back in the long, soft, green grass. Matthew shadowed her, gently wrapping an arm around her as she laid her head on his shoulder to watch the clouds.
Matthew turned to Victor, smirking at the jealous discontent in the blond’s eyes. Victor cleared his throat. “Cassandra, you have not given us our birthday gifts yet.”
Cassandra turned towards him then sat up. “What would you like?”
“You know, the boys in the village have all kissed a girl before they were seventeen.”
“All you want is a kiss?” she asked incredulously.
“If you do not mind.” Victor grinned past her to Matthew, and Matthew silently seethed in anger.
Matthew knew the purpose of Victor's request. He wanted to shout “liar” knowing that Victor had not only been kissed but had warmed the beds of several girls in Sebrone. However, his tongue froze in anger and locked shut as Victor drew Cassandra into his arms, parting her lips with his to sample the sweetness he found inside. Cassandra wrapped hers around his neck as he drove his kiss deeper and harder.
As they parted she softly whispered, “Happy Birthday.”
“Thank you.” Victor smiled at her.
Cassandra shook her head to dispel the fog that Victor had placed over her mind. She turned toward Matthew. “Now your turn,” she announced.
Matthew looked past her to Victor's triumphant smirk. “No. Thank you.”
“But your gift…” she protested.
“I do not need it.”
“But the fun will be ruined.”
Matthew smiled at her weakly then turned his attention to the grass beneath his feet. Cassandra reached across him, cupping his chin in her fingers and turning his face towards her. His heart thundered in his chest as she pressed her mouth against his. She gently pried his lips apart with hers to bravely find his tongue and gently stroke it tasting him and moaning at the sensation. He grasped her to him feeling her grow weak in his arms as she wound her fingers in his hair. His heart pounded out of control. He could feel hers race in time with his.
Cassandra pulled away for a moment, gasping for breath and losing herself in Matthew’s smoldering eyes before sinking into his lips again. Matthew took control, searching for her, tasting her, inhaling her in. They lost themselves in the intimacy of the other forgetting Victor, Savon, everything until a squawk above pulled Cassandra away. She searched the sky to find a falcon and a gray eagle soaring above. The eagle crowed furiously. Cassandra sighed angrily.
“Grandfather,” Cassandra spat. She tenderly touched Matthew's cheek as she pressed her lips to his once more. “Happy Birthday.”
“Thank you,” he breathed.
Cassandra slowly rose to her feet with Victor and Matthew following. They turned to find a small delegation of soldiers on horseback emerging from the trees led by King Thomas. He rode across the meadow to them, fury embedded in his face.
“Where have you been?” he demanded.
Matthew and Cassandra lowered their heads in shame as he angrily rambled on. Thomas's fury raged deeper as Victor glared at him defiantly.
“Get back to the palace,” he ordered to Matthew and Victor. “We go to battle tomorrow.”
The two men trudged across the meadow to a pair of unmanned horses and mounted the steeds. Matthew spun his around away from the others in the group. He watched protectively as his father waited for Cassandra to transform. She gazed at Matthew one last time before a flash of light consumed her, turning her into a small white dove. She sailed into the deep blue sky to her grandfather.
* * * *
Cassandra sat on her cushion beneath the window of the north tower, staring outside as she mixed herbs for potions and hummed to herself. The army had been gone for ten days and for those ten days, she mused to herself over the kisses she had received in the meadow.
Victor had recently become unbelievably sweet to her, but his temper still raged, making her doubt his feelings as sincere. Matthew's shy fascination with her had blossomed into something more, becoming electric and growing more powerful with each passing day. She lost herself in him. She had since she had known him. Now, he seemed to lose himself in her as well.
She looked up as an excited giggle escaped her throat. She gazed out the window intently as she saw the first of the troops arriving from battle. She scanned the army suspiciously—something looked foreign.
Dropping the bottle she held, she gasped, suddenly recognizing the difference. It shattered into hundreds of pieces as she raced through the door and down the steps, the image of the black standards waving in the air horrifying her.
Cassandra barely thought as she threw open the entrance door and stopped on the front step. She wildly eyed the soldiers in the afternoon sunlight as they assembled in the palace courtyard, searching for a familiar face. She flew down the staircase when she saw Victor. As she ran near, he caught her in his arms.
“Matthew. Matthew,” she sobbed.
“Matthew is all right,” he coaxed.
“But…” She pointed to the flags.
“Your grandfather was injured saving Matthew. Edgar and Thomas are…” Victor's voice trailed off.
Cassandra looked up as she pulled away from Victor. She raced across the courtyard to Matthew, his cheeks tearstained and his armor splattered in blood. She threw her arms around him, holding him close as he cried—an orphan now, just like her.
The sun set on the silently mourning palace as Cassandra rinsed the cloth out in the bowl of cool water then gently mopped Malicar's forehead.
He lay on her bed in her bedchamber in the palace, a room richly furnished in rose-colored tapestries and the finest rugs available. Each piece of furniture was crafted from the finest wood in the cedar forests, from the hand-carved bed to the chairs and dresser placed carefully throughout the space. The chamber was fit for a princess, the princess that Thomas had hoped she would become.
She smiled gently at her grandfather as he rested weakly on the silk bedspread, his advanced age making the healing from his deep wound difficult. As she lovingly wiped his face, he caught her wrist in his weathered hand and drew her onto the bed. Cassandra looked at him, confused.
“I am sorry, little one. I tried to reach Thomas, but it was too late. I threw myself on Matthew as Gorgon prepared to strike the moment after he slayed Matthew’s father. I tried Cassandra. I feel like I have failed no one but you.”
He touched her cheek as she let go of a sob from deep inside her heart. He pulled her to him and held her close as her grief released a flood of tears in memory of the man who had been a father to her. Malicar smoothed her hair back, gently comforting her.
The following weeks were consumed with the preparations for Thomas’s funeral. Cassandra hardly saw Matthew. He kept himself locked in his father’s chamber. He finally emerged the day of the service, his dark eyes hollow from the tears he had cried. She stood beside him during the ceremony, holding his hand in hers for comfort. She didn’t let go until well after the burial.
The next morning, Malicar stood in the center of the room, facing Matthew, Cassandra and Victor. Matthew sat on the step ascending to the throne with Cassandra by his side. Victor paced on the platform behind them.
“As you know, now that the funeral is past, we need to coronate Matthew immediately. At this point, with Edgar's passing, Victor, you will take your position as Commander of the Army,” Malicar instructed.
Cassandra gazed at Matthew, gently taking his hand. His face was worn and weak as his world fell in upon him. He had not only become a man, he was now a monarch. She glanced back at Victor. His blue eyes were glaring at Malicar like a hungry tiger finally getting his meat. She sighed then turned back to her grandfather.
“And a final point,” Malicar continued, “I am announcing my resignation. I was brought into another generation. You were all raised together, and you should remain together. Therefore, as of the coronation, Matthew, Cassandra will be your advisor. All right?” Matthew and Cassandra looked at each other, then to him, nodding.
“Good,” Malicar concluded. “We will coronate tomorrow evening at sunset.”
The three spent the rest of the night alone, away from each other, as they prepared for the ceremony. Time passed quickly, and the lords and ladies of Savon arrived at the palace the next day as the sun set in the horizon.
Cassandra held her breath as her fingers fidgeted with the gold stole that caressed her bosom. She glanced down at her crème colored royal gown, the robe that clung to the gold clasps on her shoulders and her gold satin slippers, her ceremonial garb.
Victor pressed close behind her, dressed in his formal crimson military uniform, as they both stared out from their position in the front of the palace cathedral. The large church, decorated with long, thin, gold candles and crimson and crème roses, was filled with the lords and ladies from throughout Savon.
“I am not worthy to dust the dirt from these people's feet,” Cassandra whispered to Victor.
“Yes you are,” he answered deep and low in her ear. “You may not have been born to it, but you were bred—bred for one of the highest positions in the land.”
Cassandra took a staggered breath as the cathedral doors opened. Matthew stood at the entrance, his shoulders hunched over in defeat. He is incredibly handsome and regal clothed in his crimson dress coat trimmed in gold. Across his chest, he wore a gold sash tied at his hip, his father's large silver sword dangling from his side. He slowly walked forward down the golden-lit aisle and bowed before the bishop.
The bishop bestowed a blessing on the kingdom, preaching words of greatness before ceremoniously beginning the coronation ritual. Cassandra felt Victor hold his breath along with her as the bishop gently laid the crown on Matthew's head. He looked up, his dark eyes meeting theirs. The act signifying what they all had been training for, what they had been dreading—his reign had begun.