Queen of Jastain (40 page)

The soldiers began to mill around in a haze, and the din of soft voices echoed across the stone steps of the castle. Petra dismounted and called out orders to the troops on the ground. Abby watched as he climbed the steps, strode to Avant, and pulled the sword from Sentieve’s lifeless body. He laid a comforting hand on Avant's back. Then he marched to Abby as she applied pressure to Chad’s wound.

He knelt beside her. “Will he be all right?”

“I think so, as long as I can stop the bleeding.”

He nodded and squeezed her shoulder. Standing tall, he called to other soldiers, his voice ringing with command, and instructed them to help the wounded.

Avant stayed with Sentieve.

* * * *

Abby woke just after dawn the next morning. Sitting up from the chaise lounge, she stretched and tried to focus her clouded vision. All of the previous day’s events flooded back to her.

Relief that her family was safe poured over her. “Lord, thank you for the lives of all the men who survived. Help us heal this land and restore the kingdom.”

Avant’s men suffered fewer casualties than expected, taking into account the ferocity of the battle. Only thirty-three of them died but two hundred were seriously wounded. Unfortunately, the king’s army sustained causalities in the hundreds.

Miraculously, none of the men she ran over died, although most of them had at least one broken limb. Chad had regained consciousness in the triage, but suffered deep bruises and abrasions from the beating he had endured. His spirits were solemn but high, and he'd met the adversity with the logic of his scientific mind. He told the caretakers how to make painkillers and antibiotics for the wounded, before prescribing a sedative for himself. Only then did he agree to rest.

She giggled at the memory, yawned, and rubbed her eyes. Petra had organized a makeshift hospital in the ballroom of the palace. He had taken command of the king’s army and tasked a garrison of soldiers to bury the dead. Then he worked with the local merchants and tradesmen to organize meals and accommodations for all Avant’s men. At Abby’s request, he'd had men dig two graves in the royal cemetery. Aesdil and Sentieve were buried there.

She'd slept for a few hours in a small solarium. Standing up from her makeshift bed, she glanced around the bright room. One entire wall was made of leaded glass and overlooked an enormous garden. A large fireplace stood angled in the corner and soft, overstuffed furniture took up most of the intimate space. Everything there screamed luxury and elegance. This was where she would live?

Her stomach growled. She headed to look for food.

The cooks rattled in the kitchen, already preparing breakfast for the wounded and other palace occupants. When she entered, all movement ceased. The cooks stopped their work then turned to bow and curtsy to her. Her jaw fell open. She stood still, her eyes drying out because they wouldn't blink.
What the Hell?
“Please continue your work,” she finally said.

They rose and continued their tasks. Her eyes wandered around the room. Did these people know something she didn’t? She grabbed a sweet roll and ran, like a scampering rabbit, to find Petra. One of Avant’s men patrolled the hall, and she nearly knocked him down. “Do you know where Master Petra is?”

“He was organizing men to repair the damage to the castle walls and clean up from the battle. You will most likely find him there.”

“Thank you.” She headed out the door and found him helping the men guide the horses to the king’s stables.

“Petra.” She ran to him.

When the men heard her, they stopped their work and bowed where they stood. She stared at them, and then looked to Petra. She grimaced and bit her lip, silently pleading for help.

“You may continue.” Petra gestured to the men to rise. “Abby, let’s take a walk.”

He took her arm and strolled toward a maze of hedgerows filled with sweet-smelling flowers. “Since yesterday, a change has come over this land. Word of the king’s death and the restoration of the Crown of Light has traveled to the farthest reaches of the kingdom. In the minds of these people, you're now their ruler.”

“
What?
But Petra—”

He took her hands. “The kingdom hangs in the balance, and you must take the role. The people need a leader. I understand you weren’t expecting this right away, but now you have no choice.”

“I don’t even know these people, much less how to rule them.” She pulled her hands from his and pressed her palms against her cheeks. “What am I going to do? I'm not ready.”

“Avant and I will help you. You can do this, Your Majesty.” He bowed. “Tell me I may rise,” he said, looking up to her.

“You may rise.” She rolled her eyes and paced to a shrub with little pink flowers. She snatched a flower from the bush. “Seriously, Petra, how can I do this?”

“I am serious. What you're going to do is be a queen. Have you seen Avant this morning?”

She dropped her gazed and shook her head. Tears welled in her eyes. “I have an idea where he might be.”

Her stomach knotted with a tangle of emotions. Her heart and mind were not yet ready to sit at the negotiation table over the issue of Avant. After the smoke of battle cleared, she'd paced the floor back and forth, wondering if she should try to find him or if she should leave him to grieve. She had started up the stairs at least five times only to turn around. By default, she'd chosen the latter. Her heart throbbed. She wanted to comfort him, but her own pain and fear kept her at bay.

Petra lightly touched her arm and, with his soothing, confidence-building way, he infused her with strength. “You should find him. He’s had enough time to wallow in guilt for something that wasn’t his fault.”

Treating Petra’s words as permission, she sped to the castle. She grabbed the first chambermaid she found. “You may rise.”
Oh, for the love of God.
“Please show me to the queen’s chambers.”

The young girl led her up the stairs and down a long hallway to a large door.

“Thank you. Please have three baths prepared.”

The girl nodded and curtsied then hurried to her task, apparently thrilled
the queen
had given her something to do. Abby watched the girl and shook her head.
What a crazy rush.

She entered a sitting area with rich gold and emerald jacquard fabrics, a large room as elegant as the woman to whom it belonged. A massive portrait of Sentieve dressed in scarlet and holding a baby hung over the black marble fireplace. She was still young and happy to have the baby in her arms, but the artist had captured the sadness in her doe eyes.

Abby quietly moved through the sitting area and into the bedchamber. Her heart thumped against her chest. The oversized bed was elevated on a two-step carpeted platform. The rich cream fabrics of the linens were softly visible through the yards of sheer fabric draped over the canopy that surrounded the perimeter of the dais. Her breath caught in her throat. Avant sat in a cushioned armchair facing the window. He held the queen’s dressing gown loosely against his face and looked out over the mountains with empty eyes. Abby swallowed the knot of her own hurt and sat on an ottoman in front of him.

His gaze flickered to her then away. She climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms around him. His arms enveloped her, and he buried his head in her chest.

She whispered in his ear, “Honey, you’re not alone. I know you feel like the Darkness won, but it didn't. The Light has returned. We paid a high price—you paid a high price.” She kissed his head and straightened his disheveled hair with her fingers.

“I killed her. I broke her heart and withheld my love. I only ever hurt her.”

“That isn’t true. Seppitent’s words caused her doubts, and the king’s dishonor took advantage.” She held his face in her hands. “You loved her, and if she had forgotten, seeing you again made her remember. Let it go.”

At her words, a peace filled his eyes and color returned to his ashen face. “You were right, Abigail. It was your destiny to be here. Had you not, all would've been lost.”

This was so not how the
I-Told-You-So
conversation had played out in her mind. She leaned over and kissed him lightly.

“Your words have healing power, Abigail. You're the Chosen One, and you will be queen.” He searched her face in wonder but then concerned lined his face. “Was Chad harmed?”

“Chad'll be fine. Petra has taken over the reconstruction. I swear. He would make a better ruler than either of us. We buried the dead, and the wounded are downstairs being cared for.” She looked at Avant’s clothes and hands. “I'm having a bath drawn for you, and afterward we can decide what else needs to be done.”

She stood, but something compelled her to turn back to him. “You know I love you?”

“I know.” He gave her a weary smile.

Her heart sank. She hadn’t really expected that he would say that he loved her back, but she had hoped. Shaking it off, she left and found the chambermaid and a bath of her own.

Abby sent Petra to take a bath and rest, too. He'd worked through the night and most of the day. Other than the fresh graves, there was scarcely any evidence that a battle had taken place little more than twenty-four hours before.

She and Avant ate dinner in a small dining room off the kitchen. Abby told the kitchen and serving staff to keep it simple, with no fanfare. She made them put the silver serving trays away and told them to bring in prepared plates only. Avant sat quietly and showed no emotion during the meal, except for a half-smile he gave at her crinkled forehead whenever a server bowed and backed out of the room.

He pushed away from the table and sat back in his seat. “Abigail, we must make arrangements for your coronation. A dress must be made, a celebration planned. A portrait will need to be commissioned. There is much work to do. We will use the flag of the previous Kingdom of Light to fly over the castle until a new one can be designed.”

“Those things seem kind of trivial and excessive to me, Avant.”

“Those things are not for you, Abigail. They are for the people. A funeral is not for the person who dies; it is for those left behind, to give resolution. A coronation is a declaration to the world of a new ruler. To some extent, the extravagance of the affair denotes the power of the ruler and as backward as it seems, instills confidence in the people of the land.”

She could see the wisdom of his words, but felt like the royal title was two sizes too big for her. There had been a day when she would've been ecstatic to plan a party of this scope, but the last year had given her a love of simple things, the quality of companionship over the quantity of it. In the other world, she had three thousand and sixty-eight Facebook friends; in this world, she had family.

“In addition, we need to decide who will preside over the coronation ceremony. Do you have any ideas?”

Avant's inquiry snapped her out of her thoughts. She leaned toward him. “Can you do it?”

“I do not think that would be appropriate, but may I make a suggestion?”

She frowned, not exactly sure why he couldn’t. “Okay, who should do it?”

“I believe Annova is the appropriate selection.”

Her eyes widened, and she nodded. She had only met Annova a few times, but knew her to be a woman of character and a prophet of the Light. “That's a good idea. Do you think she would do it?”

He smiled. “I believe she most likely already knows she is going to do it.” He took his last bite of roast pork.

“Good point.”

“I need to lead my soldiers back to the Freelands tomorrow. I'll stop on my way and speak with her.”

“We’re going home tomorrow?”

“I am going. You must stay. This is your home now.”

Home? No, it was not! “You can’t leave me here.” She scowled.

“Abigail, I am not leaving you. I need to take the men back to their families and speak to Annova about the coronation. I will only be gone a few days. You should Implant to get Lyndsea after dinner.”

Abby hadn’t thought about Lyndsea. The king’s men abducted Chad from the manor. She must've been scared to death. They needed to check on her, but she couldn’t stand the thought of Avant leaving. “I'll get her as soon as we're done. Can’t you send Petra with the men?”

“No, I cannot. It is not Petra’s responsibility to lead the men, and you have already indicated his value to you here.”

Feeling hurt and alone, her mouth spewed words her brain never qualified. “I could order you to stay if I wanted.”

His face took on a frightening formality. “And you would be wasting your breath. You are not queen yet, even if the people think you are, and we will discuss this no further.”

For the remainder of the meal, he planned and she pouted with her head propped on fist.

As promised, she Implanted to the manor. She found Lyndsea, who pulled her into a bear hug. “Abby, I was so worried.”

Abby took her sweet little namesake. “Hello, sweet girl.” Then she grabbed Lyndsea's hand. “Everything is fine, but you need to care for your man, because he's too busy caring for the wounded. I think he should've gone into medicine.”

Relief flooded her friend's face and they Implanted back to the castle.

Avant slept in the barracks with his men and left for the fief the next morning, but not before he commissioned her coronation dress, left instructions with Petra regarding the plans for the celebration, and ordered both royal chambers be completely refurbished. He completely neglected to even say good-bye to her.

Abby roamed the castle in a funk. They hadn’t been together since the night they had found the prophecy. That had been over a month ago and seemed further away than ever.

She wandered upstairs where designers, tradesmen, and carpenters worked on Sentieve’s chambers. She was expected to occupy the much more grandiose master suite.

A tall, finely dressed man sauntered into the sitting room. “Your Majesty, may I introduce myself?” She recognized him from Avant’s memories. He'd been Aesdil and Avant’s tutor and a member of the Council of Elders who acted as advisors to the king, or, in this case, queen.

“You are Master Galwyn, I believe. You may rise.” Though Aesdil had taken very little advice from the Council, he maintained their positions in court as a show of solidarity.