Broken Road (6 page)

“Thirteen and
seventy-six?
”

“Bear in mind how long gods live,” he reminded her. “To us, a thirteen year old is but a baby and seventy-six hardly makes a young man! I daresay a god is not cons
idered middle-aged until at least two hundred!”

“It wasn’t a marriage of love, then.”

“If my parents loved each other, I never knew it,” Amihan admitted. “My father put my mother aside for Princess Andhērā the year after I was born. Andhērā was already pre
gnant with Beniru.”

“Your mother must have been devastated.”

“‘Devastated’ is not the word I would use.” He stopped beside a line of trees. “My mother had the last word when she declared herself Dowager Queen and the other Elders sided with her. No one wanted to see their beloved High Queen Sundara demoted to a mere Duchess.”

Amihan glanced over his fiancée’s shoulder. “Close your eyes.”

She was surprised at the abrupt end of the story, but did as she was told. The Thunder God gently guided her through the treeline to what might have been a clearing on the other side.

“You can open them, now. And you might want to take off your cloak, as well. It is pretty warm in here.”

Krystállina opened her eyes in astonishment as she began to strip off her gloves. It was a clearing, all right, but one that appeared to be celebrating the height of midsummer, not preparing for winter.

Bright sunshine filtered through trees in full leaf as birds sang and a small waterfall plashed nearby. It
was
warm—seventy-five degrees or so. Enough to make her wonder if the gown she had chosen for the journey would be unseasonable.

“You do not have to close your eyes again, but at least look me in the eye so I can be assured you will not look down until I finish.”

Krystállina gamely put her hand over her eyes once again. At first, there only seemed to be a warm breeze caressing her body, but it soon turned into a stronger wind that played with the edges of her hair.

“Just a moment longer…”

Amihan took her hand again and led her over to the stream. When she opened her eyes, Krystállina realized that he had placed her in a silver gown cut in a Grecian style she had once seen long ago. A garland of fragrant flowers wreathed her hair, which was in an elaborate twist.

“What do you think? Do I do a good job?”

She turned and discovered that the Thunder God had resumed his natural form, donning robes of storm cloud gray. His shoulder length black hair was pulled back, calling attention to the lightning flashing behind his black eyes.

“Amihan?” she asked tentatively.

“This is why I do not take my natural form very often,” he said in his usual gentle voice. “I look too much like my father and it scares mortals.”

“What…what do we do next?”

“If we were mortals handfasting in secret, this would be between us and the gods.”

“But since
You’re
the God…”

“Then it is our secret indeed.” Amihan smiled.

“How do we know Someone
isn’t
watching? How do we know Someone isn’t spying on Your every move?”

“If someone is watching, then may the Elders punish them for illicit spying. If it is my father…well, we will worry about that when the time comes.”

Krystállina contemplated this for a moment, but was soon interrupted by Amihan, who wondered if she was content with where they were beside the stream. She said she was and he took her hands in his.

“Ordinarily, mortals who marry—especially Christians—tend to go on and on with their ceremonies, but I would like to get straight to the point, if you do not mind.

“Krystállina Óneira, do you take me to be your husband? Your partne
r in goods times and in bad, for as long as your fidelity may last?”

“I do.”

“I, Amihan, God of Thunder, son of Lord Léi Shēng and Dowager Queen Sundara; take you, Krystállina Óneira, to be my wife. I will be your partner in good times and in bad, for as l
ong as your life may last.”

He produced a slim, chased silver band and slid it onto her finger.

“I claim you as my wife.”

Krystállina looked up at him and he nodded to her right hand. When she opened it, she discovered a plain silver band, thicker than her own. She smiled as she placed it on his finger.

“I claim You as my husband.”

“Then, in my authority as the God of Thunder and a son of Léi Shēng, I declare us married.”

He kissed her then, more deeply than he had ever kissed her before. When they parted, he said,

“One more thing. Place your right hand in mine.”

When she did so, he
placed his hand on top of the clasp.

“Now yours on the bottom.”

Krystállina looked at him curiously, but did as she was told. Amihan closed his eyes and murmured something in a language she did not recognize. As he spoke, slender ropes of silver fire wove their way around the newlyweds’ clasped hands. Only when Amihan stopped speaking did the ropes sink into the clasp. He opened his eyes.

“Krystállina, I declare you my eternally beloved, my
Aŋpaŋa
. Even if I should never find the secret to your immortality, I have bound us from life to life. When you die, I will wait for you to return, and we shall be together again, forever and always.”

“Oh, Amihan!”

They embraced then, and his lips eventual
ly found hers. At length, a purple blanket appeared on the ground and they lowered themselves onto it. Krystállina made as if to undress, but her husband stayed her hand.

“I have one more surprise.”

Amihan finished stripping her bodice away and brought out an aromatic oil. He anointed her with an unfamiliar symbol on each breast, then produced a silver circlet that caused her to gasp.

“I declare you Princess Krystállina.” He crowned her. “Heiress to the Words of Power and Conveyor of the Thunder God’s Blessings.”

He drew the same symbol on her forehead and sealed his work with a kiss.

“To bed, my love.”

April 1226

“Are you responsible for this?” Amihan sat an elegant invitation on top of his wife’s account books, but she immediately pushed it back.

“It’s in German,” Krystállina replied. “How am I supposed to know if I’m responsible for it if I can’t read it?”

“You are learning German,” he snapped. “Nevertheless, it is an invitation to the Empress’s May Day celebration.”

“Lovely.” Krystállina returned to her books. “I’ll be sure to order a new gown. Or maybe two,” she mused. “One will certainly be ruined by the dew when we…go aside from the revels.”

Her husband tore the pen from her hand and grabbed her by the chin, so she had no choice but to face him.

“Did you or did you not notify Empress Isabella of our existence, so she would be certain to invite us to court?”

“I certainly didn’t
write
to her!” Krystállina snapped. “I may have mentioned in the hearing of my body servant that I thought it boring to be tasked only with the keeping of the books and the running of the household all day…”

“That is
it!
” Amihan released her chin and stalked toward the window. “What a foolish woman you are, running your mouth near the servants. You have no idea what this could cost us!”

“There’s no cost!” Krystállina replied, misunderstanding. “I buy a few new gowns, we allow the overseer to run the estate for a few days…our clients and vassals won’t mind! It will be just like a little vacation!”

“There
is
a cost!” he hissed. “There is a cost in everything we do! But you would not know that, would you? You are just the daughter of a lowly farmer!”

His bride saw the lightning flashing in his eyes and slowly backed away.

“Your ‘exotic bride’ routine will only get you so far,” Amihan continued. “You are supposed to be a well bred, highborn Duchess and they will expect you to act like it!

“You will have to learn to keep your posture and walk with the grace befitting a Duchess. Your table manners and comportment must improve. Since the name ‘Hartford’ speaks of England, you will have to spend more time on your English and French…and it would not hurt you to put a little more effort into your German, as well. I am not sure if it is yet the courtly style, but I have Seen a time where every child of royal and noble birth will be expected to learn French, so yours should be flawless. Be thankful that the Holy Roman Emperor is not loyal to the faith that crowned him, or you would have to attend mass regularly and learn Latin for the responses.”

“All this before May Day?”

“You will have to learn to read and write in all of them, should anyone decide to take up a correspondence with you after our presentation. Plus a smattering of the histories of England, Greece and the Holy Roman Empire.
Besides
the comportment lessons, of course.”

Krystállina was floored by all she was expected to learn, but Amihan did not appear to notice this as he left her rooms. He merely added,

“We shall not be found wanting, for someone would discover who we really are.”

Court of the Holy Roman Emperor

Vienna

May 1, 1226

“May I present the Most High, Noble and Potent Prince; His Grace Andrew, Duke of Hartford.”

Amihan stepped forward, bowed to the Emperor, then kissed the Empress’s hand and murmured something in German. He stepped aside and Krystállina took a deep breath.

“It is also my privilege to present the Most High, Noble and Potent Princess; Her Grace Catherine,
Duchess of Hartford.”

“Catherine” shivered a little at the word “Princess”, but the Emperor didn’t seem to see it as he reached for her hand and placed a gentle kiss upon it.

“My dear Catherine. It is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“It is an honor to meet you, Your Imperial Majesty,” she replied in French.

“Ah! You speak the language of love! My advisors told me you were of Hellenic descent.”

Catherine bowed her head. “I was born in Thessalonica, but I had the finest of tutors.”

“And do you speak our wonderful language?” Frederick asked, switching to German.

“I am your most loyal subject,” she answered, curtseying deeply.

“Lovely! Lovely!” The Emperor switched back to French. “Have you met my wife, the Queen of Jerusalem?”

“Good evening, Your Majesty,” said Catherine, slipping into a slightly shallower curtsey.

“I see you have impressed my husband,” Isabella replied, raising the Duchess with a smile. “Tell me, Catherine…how long have you lived in the British Isles?”

“I am afraid I’ve never lived in the Isles, Your Majesty. I met Andrew while he was traveling in Greece on a diplomatic mission and we married shortly before leaving Thessalonica.”

The Empress looked as if she wished to inquire more about this, but a slightly older woman nudged her just then.

“Yolanda, may I introduce you to the Duchess of Hartford?” Isabella favored Catherine with a smile. “Catherine, this is Yolanda de Courtenay, the Queen of Hungary and my best friend.”

Queen Yolanda nodded at Catherine, but her eyes were back on Isabella almost instantly.

“There are others to receive, Your Imperial Majesty.”

The Empress apologized to her friend and sent the Duke and Duchess on with a nod of her own. As soon as they had stepped away, however, Catherine tugged on Andrew’s arm.

“I wasn’t expecting that cool of a reception from the Queen of Hungary,” she said in Greek. “Do you suppose she’s on to us?”

“Doubtful. But even if she is, she has no idea of my true nature.”

Amihan steered her toward a table in a corner. “If Yolanda is pushing Isabella so hard, perhaps Hungary wants something from the Empire.”

Krystállina didn’t answer right away, but sat down and took off her shoes. After going maying that morning (and making love in the woods), she and Amihan had staggered back to the palace in time for the luncheon. After the meal, girls came in from the countryside to dance around the maypole and show off some other choreographed feats. But this was the first time she and Amihan had been able to sit down since the grand feast three hours before.