Dark One Rising (6 page)

She giggled now. “If only that really did work. My dreams are always full of handsome men that love me for myself. Men that love me so deeply, they’d die for me. If only they were not dreams.”

“There is one out there, I know it. Good night.”

“Good night, Kevaan.”

***

A couple of weeks later, Melenthia was down in the practice arena again, fighting off another challenger that was dumb enough to try and beat her. Randor was watching again from his audience chamber window. He had called for Kevaan to come down and see him. It was time Kevaan learned about Melenthia’s nuptials to the man of his choosing. Her party was over, and he had already had negotiations with her future husband. Things were arranged and plans were made. Kevaan would not be happy, but he had no say in the matter this time. He was her father, and his word was law.

Kevaan entered the room and approached his father who was still watching her. When he heard footsteps behind him, he turned and looked at his son.

“Ah, Kevaan my boy, come in and sit. It’s time you and I had a talk about your sister’s future.”

“You said that you’ve made a decision regarding Melenthia’s husband.”

“Yes, I have chosen. I have decided to accept the only offer she’s had in years.”

Kevaan hated to ask, for he didn’t want to know who his sister would be bound to against her will, but his curiosity prevailed, and he had waited two weeks to find out the truth.

“Whom have you chosen, father?”

The king glanced at his son, afraid to look him in the eye, and he didn’t answer for a long time. He was suddenly second guessing his decision and was afraid of telling Kevaan what he had done. The silence in the room was almost too much, the pause was too long. Kevaan was becoming nervous.

“Father, what have you done?”

Randor steeled himself and took a breath before answering. “What I should have done years ago.” He sighed. “I have chosen Duke Fallon for her husband.”

He reeled. He never expected a fate as horrible as that. Fallon was a barbaric ogre. It was rumored that he used violence to instill fear in the villages of his realm. That was how he had obtained as much land as he had. He did not earn it, and he certainly didn’t deserve it. It was also rumored that he dabbled in the Dark Arts.

He was only interested in power, and he was a warrior through and through. He loved no one and was seen with a different mistress every week, all of them harlots he picked off the street. When he tired of them, he cast them out, usually in worse condition than when he found them. He was insensitive, crass and very lewd. Melenthia would be in hell.

The only time Fallon took a mistress from the court was to get whatever power or riches from the family he could, or to buy someone to join his cause.

His father had been more then fair, he had to admit, and his father was right, it was more than high time she marry, but he felt that this punishment was too harsh. He had already had to deal with Fallon the night at the party. He was not yet married to her and was already pushing himself forcibly upon her. He would not tell his father that, because he was not sure he would believe him, but he was afraid for her. Kevaan breathed to calm himself and practically broke his teeth from clenching them so tight, trying not to speak. But his anger and disappointment prevailed. He couldn’t remain silent.

“Father, you can’t possibly be serious. Fallon is not a good match for her, for any woman to put it bluntly. Power is all he seeks. He will not treat her well. Everyone knows he is quick to anger with words and with fist. She will be his only in name. She will be a slave under his roof, to bend to his will, and if she doesn’t do what he wants, she’ll suffer greatly. He’ll take her by force to make a son. He won’t love her like a husband should. She’ll be put aside to make room in his bed for his mistresses. Is that really the life you want for her? What would drive you mad enough to accept his proposal?”

“He’s the only one who has asked. Everyone knows she has no suitors breaking down the door to ask me for her hand. To deny her to him could cause my reputation, and in saying so, your future, to crumble. You will be king someday so it was imperative that you choose a wife to be queen, and you have done so. She’s still a princess, and I won’t have her stubbornness embarrass me and my kingdom.”

“He only asked because he seeks whatever hold he can gain over you. He’s looking for something you can give him. There’s a more sinister plan in his mind, father. Can you not feel it? Are you willing to put your only daughter through a life of humiliation and sadness just so you won’t have to hear the words people say about her? Are you willing to lose her, maybe sentence her to death, just to make sure Fallon doesn’t invade, doesn’t try to destroy you? We can fight him if we need to, father; we’ve fought worse.”

“I’m afraid of him, Kevaan, and you should be too. His power is stronger than I could ever hope to vanquish. I’m sorry, Kevaan, I have no choice this time. I know you love her like no other and will do anything to protect her, but the future of this kingdom, your kingdom, lies on whether she marries or not. Sometimes we have to sacrifice in order to survive. We have a kingdom to protect.”

“She was not given to you to make her the sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. She’s your daughter, your blood. Mother would not have approved of this, and you know it.”

“If your mother were still here, I wouldn’t have had to do this at all.” King Randor hung his head sadly and shook it. “I will not have an old maid for a daughter. I’m sorry, Kevaan, but she no longer gives me any option but this. You have done your duty for the crown; it’s her turn now. I would have rather chosen someone else other than Fallon for her, but no one else has asked, and I’ve run out of time. She will marry him. He will return in three days to go through the proper traditions. Do you want to be here when I tell her?”

He thought about that for a moment, pictured the scene in his head and his heart started to ache. He could do nothing to stop her heart from breaking, but maybe he could be there for her after, to put it back together.

“No, I don’t, father.”

“Very well then. Please go down and send her to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

Melenthia sat on a stone bench wiping her face with a towel, her sword lying on the bench beside her. She heard someone approaching and moved the cloth away from her eyes so she could see. Her brother walked toward her, looking not in the least bit pleased. He was tall, almost six-one, and had wide shoulders and large arms. His brown hair was short but thick, and a neatly trimmed mustache matched his hair color. His brown eyes were sharp but held a boyish sparkle at times when he was trying to joke with her. She could never look into those chocolate brown eyes and not smile. The eyes that watched over her all her life, the eyes that held a love for her she’d never seen in another man. At the moment, however, they held no sparkle, no jesting.

She stood up to greet him and smiled. “Did you see that last duel, Kevaan? I was better than ever.”

“Yes, I did. So did father.”

“Oh.” She changed the subject. “What’s wrong? Why so glum?”

He tried to hide his gloom by smiling at her and saying, “
nothing
”, but she was not easily convinced. She knew her brother.

“What is it?”

He gave up and said, “Father would like a word with you in his sitting room.”

“Why do you look so upset? What does he want to see me about? Is he still upset about me leaving the party?”

“No, but I cannot tell you because he wants to tell you.” He tried to make it sound less serious. “Why don’t you take a bath and change first.”

She eyed him for a moment. “Goodness, Kevaan, it sounds very serious.”

“Well, that’s because it is.”

“Please tell me. You can break bad news gentler than he can.”

“I can’t, Mel. It’s for father to tell you, not I.” He wanted to tell her. Wanted to try and break the news gently, tell her it would be okay. But he knew it was not his place. Besides, whatever wrath she would invoke on their father, he deserved.

She sidled up to him smiling largely, her brilliant emerald colored eyes sparkling in the afternoon sun. She tried using her girlish charms to persuade him. “Please.”

He chuckled, for her playfulness always made him forget every pain. She wasn’t an ugly girl at all; on the contrary, she was a beautiful woman. Kevaan was ten years older than his sister, and when their mother died, he made sure she got all the best as she grew and often helped out whenever he could. He saw her bloom from an awkward tomboy, a lanky clumsy girl, to a vibrant feminine woman. All the attributes men find attractive were there. She was thin, but not boney, her features chiseled, but she lacked none of the womanly appeal. She had a small waist, perfectly proportioned hips, and a full bosom. Her long golden red, naturally curly hair was thick and shiny, and her skin was creamy and soft as a rose. Just like himself, she inherited her mother’s small nose, but unlike her father and brother’s eyes of brown, hers were emerald. Her color was different than anyone in the lineage, and it only added to her charm and intrigue. It wasn’t that men didn’t find her attractive when she was social and wore gowns; they practically tripped over themselves to be near her. It’s when she opened her mouth, showed them her personal side that men ran away. Even after growing up and learning how to be a lady, she never completely grew out of her tomboyish antics. She didn’t think a woman should be silent and always agreeable; she rode horses like the devil on the wind, still enjoyed swimming in the water hole down in the glen and fought with a sword better than a lot of men. She often dressed boyish too, like now, with baggy pants and shirt to hide her curves and knee high black riding boots. Her hair was pulled back and tied with a leather strap. Far away you may wonder about her gender dressed as she was, but up close, there was no mistake. He had asked her once why she dressed like that, and she said that whenever she dressed like a lady, mostly to try and make her father happy, men would come on to her, paw at her, and made statements of what they wanted from her. She grew weary of the innuendos and false personas.

She spent a lot of time in the stables with her friend Lucan, which also bothered her father. He didn’t expect her to shun the people that worked for them, but it worried him that they were so close. Since Kevaan had gotten betrothed and moved away from the palace, she and Lucan spent many hours together. He was her friend, and confidant. Nothing could ever become of it, he knew, and so did she, for even she was not bold enough to start something romantic with a commoner. She respected Lucan too much to get him fired, or worse, hung for treason.

She preferred to stay away from court as much as possible. Whenever there was a party in the castle, she would make an appearance at dinner, but then sneak away soon after, before the festivities started and the men would prowl. Just like at her birthday celebration. She did not tell him what Fallon said, but he knew it was probably vulgar and disrespectful.

He looked back to that, how he had rescued her from what could have been a terrible situation. He promised her that everything would be fine, that father would never do anything without discussing it with him. How could he had been so wrong? Why was this so hard? If people would take the time to know her, they would see wonderful things.

Most men generally liked her, especially the less haughty ones, and there had been interest a few times, but none of them ever turned into anything more. She was down-to-earth and easy to talk to, putting people at ease, except those looking for a wife. Those men were intimidated by her; their egos were damaged in her presence. He wished he could help her, wished he could protect her once again from the pain she would soon endure, but he knew he could not. He would only be able to comfort her later, and he knew this time it wouldn’t be enough.

“I’m sorry, my little sweetheart, but this responsibility is father’s alone. What he has to say should only come from him. I don’t want to be the one to make you bare such news.”

Her pretty face scrunched up in a frown, and she slumped back down onto the bench. “You’re so melodramatic. You make it sound as though someone had died.”

Kevaan grimaced inside. That was one way to put it. “Now stop that, child, and go clean up like I told you to do,” he said trying to use his stern tone.

“Alright, brother,” she said. “I’m going.”

She picked up her towel and sword from where they lay on the bench. As she passed by him, she twisted up her linen and snapped him in the rear. He turned toward her with a pretend snarl, and she squealed, running from the courtyard with him quickly in tow.

***

When she went down to see her father, she found him pacing back and forth across the stone floor of his sitting room. When she entered she almost hesitated to bother him since he looked so distressed, but decided she had better see what he called her about. She cleared her throat; he stopped pacing and turned toward her. She made it a point to clean up and put on his favorite dress; it had been her mothers, and she hoped that whatever bad news he had would be less distressing if her appearance pleased him.

He saw her standing in the doorway, and he tried to smile at her, but he knew that doing so would be like lying to her, for the news he had would be painful, and he could not pretend otherwise.