Warprize (40 page)

Finally, Keir turned to me. “Xylara.”

My mind blanked as I stared at him. I took a deep breath, and started where he had, at Arneath’s attack. As I spoke, I scanned the faces in front of me, seeing an odd mixture of sympathy, trust, and suspicion. My voice stayed calm as I kept my facts in order, trying to remove the emotion from my voice and words. That broke down when I reached the part of Xymund’s arrival, and his words to me in the end. I had to look down at that point, focus on my hands, and struggled to complete the tale. Keir’s hand moved into my vision and covered mine, giving me strength. I didn’t look up, managing to stumble though the last of it, including the oath. There was silence at the end.

Keir withdrew his hand and stood. “Are there any who challenge the truth of these words?”

No one spoke.

“Are there any who challenge my authority to deal with Xymund as I saw fit?”

No one raised their voice.

“This matter is finished.”

While the faces in the crowd were still a mixture of doubts, fears, and mistrust, I relaxed slightly, resting against the back of the throne, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease. With no voices raised, I was sure that all would be well.

Keir turned his head, gesturing to Epor and Isdra. “Remove this.” Keir focused on the Archbishop Drizen. “Please see to it that the body is given the rites of his faith, with no further ceremony.”

“Please,” I cleared my throat. “Please have him interred with the royal family, Warlord.”

Keir frowned. “He would have killed you.”

“His mind was not his own at the end. Please let him lay next to his mother.”

Keir gave an abrupt nod. “See to it.”

The Archbishop inclined his head.

The crowd was growing restless. Keir gestured to the Herald, who tapped his staff three times in a call for silence. Still, Keir had to raise his voice to be heard. “Would the King’s Council step forward?”

The council stepped forward, led by Archbishop Drizen and Lord Marshall Warren.

Keir nodded to each. “We must now consider who will rule the Kingdom of Xy.”

My stomach knotted.

“It is right that Xylara, Daughter of the House of Xy take the throne,” Keir raised his voice, insuring that he would be heard. “I hereby release my claim of the Warprize and return her to her people.”

Stunned, the council gaped like fish. I opened my mouth, but Keir cut us all off. He rose to his feet. “My army will depart in four days. I leave Simus of the Hawk to act as my Overlord. Once we reach the borders of your land, I will send word back, recalling Simus, and releasing Queen Xylara of her oaths of fealty to me. Arrange the coronation with all due speed.” With that, he inclined his head to me and extended his hand. I rose and took his hand automatically. Using his advantage, he pulled me forward, then pressed me onto the seat of the high throne.

The cheers exploded from the throats of my people. The entire council began to clap, cheering as well. Keir looked at them, nodded to me, then strode toward the antechamber. I rose to follow, but the council surged forward, to clasp my hand, hug me, and to express their joy.

Overwhelmed, I fell back on the throne, stunned. Warren fought his way to my side, urging people back, and cleared the space in front of me. Amidst the cheers of my people, I rose, and followed Keir into the antechamber.

He was standing by the fireplace when I walked in, facing the door. His face was grim, his eyes on the fire.

I stopped just inside the room. “What are you doing?”

“This Kingdom must be ruled, and you are the blood heir, the logical choice for the throne.” He never looked up, didn’t turn to face me.

“You have claimed me as Warprize.”

“I renounce that claim.”

I moved closer, watching the light of the flames dance on his face. The muscle of his jaw was twitching as his jaw clenched. “Renounce the claim?” There was no response. “Renounce me? After we—”

Keir just stood there, watching the flames. “This is your home. These people will keep you safe, safe from attackers, safe from injury, safe from harm.” He looked up at me, his eyes bright. I couldn’t tell if it was reflected firelight or something else. “Being a Warprize is not safe.” He returned to staring at the flames.

“Especially when I’ve surrendered everything to the Warlord, only to have it flung back in my face!” Goddess, that wasn’t true, but I was so hurt the words were out of my mouth before I could think. He’d given me hope and joy so bright it hurt and now he was dousing the flame. I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly chilled in a way that had nothing to do with the heat of the fire.

Keir didn’t respond to my words.

I drew myself up, and stretched out a trembling hand. “Keir, don’t do this.” I took a step toward him. He jerked back, avoiding my touch. As I stood there, stricken, he seemed to relent. He drew me into his embrace, wrapping his arms around me as if I were a precious treasure. I leaned into his hug, feeling the leather under my cheek and the warmth of his body. He drew a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly.

As carefully as he had enfolded me, he released me slowly, taking a long step back. Tears in my eyes, I looked up at him, smiling. But his face was just as grim, and to my horror he turned away and went through the door into the hall. I followed, only to find Simus, Joden, Warren and Other standing there. Anna was there as well, with a tray of tea and sweets. Marcus stood off to one side, already wrapped in his cloak.

Keir cleared his throat. “Simus, you will remain here, as my representative. Joden, you will return with me to camp.” He spun on his heel to look at me. “Warren, I charge you with Queen Xylara’s security. For her own safety, I forbid her access to my camp. She is to remain safe within the city walls until I depart.”

Everyone gaped at him. He turned, and strode away, with Joden and Marcus scrambling behind him. Seized with an outraged fury, I grabbed the tea pot off Anna’s tray, and hurled it at Keir’s head. It missed, flew into the wall, and shattered into a thousand pieces, spraying tea everywhere.

Keir flinched, but kept moving.

Just as shattered as the pot, I spun on my heels and ran, crying, to my old bedroom.

An hour later, the door opened, and two servants brought in one of the crates from my stilltent. I looked up, still weepy-eyed as they set it down, and bowed themselves out of the room. It didn’t take long for me to pry open the rough lid. It contained my herb book, my notebooks, my under things, the vanilla soap and oils, and the white sheath. No note, no comment, no message. I sat on the floor next to it, and wept.

The next morn, I watched from the window as the army packed up and prepared to march, letting the tears flow down my cheeks. I sat by the window all day as the shadows lengthened, and the torches flared up in the darkness. How could he do this? Didn’t he want me? I’d heard stories of course, overheard kitchen maids sobbing to Anna about men who’d stolen their virtue and left them crying, alone. Was that it?

I hurt so much, my head, my heart. My sorrow seemed unending and bottomless. Over and over, the events of the past week flicked through my mind. I leaned my cheek against the rough stone and gave in to my despair.

Anna brought in food at regular intervals. I am fairly certain that she begged me to eat something.

Warren came in, with reports and documents that needed my attention. I am sure that some of them were important.

Remn came in, to talk books and the replacement of the stillroom. I am fairly certain that he talked for some time before he left.

Othur came in, and discussed duties and obligations. He talked for quite awhile, ‘til finally I turned and stared at him. He looked into my eyes, sighed, and left.

Heath came in, and stood there for a bit. He walked up behind me, and laid a hand on my shoulder. When I looked up, he smiled. “Follow your heart, my sister.” He turned and left the room.

And so I sat, mired in sadness and grief, ‘til just after dawn.

Eln entered. With gentle, understanding hands, he pulled me away from the window, and seated me on the bed. He checked me over quietly, with no comment. I closed my puffy eyes and sat silently, my head aching something fierce. Finally, Eln put one finger under my chin and lifted my head. I opened my eyes to see his concerned face, before a strange look flashed over his features.

Eln slapped me.

The blow rocked my head back, and I saw stars. I jumped up, my hand pressed to my face in astonishment, and felt the heat in my cheek. Eln stood there glaring, his face disdainful. “Is this the girl that demanded to become my apprentice? Who healed the enemy in the face of her brother’s wrath? Who sacrificed her life for her people?” His mouth pursed, like he had tasted bad wine.

“Eln, I—”

“No excuses. You want something, you work for it, not sulk in your room weeping like a spoiled child. In all honor, either balance the needs of your people and your desires, or accept your responsibilities.” He drew himself up. “I am ashamed to claim you as student when you act like this.”

The heat that flooded my face had nothing to do with his blow. I bowed my head. “I’m sorry, Master.”

“Then do something.” Eln swept toward the door. “Bathing would be a good start.”

He left me standing there, looking down at my tear-stained tunic and feeling an utter fool. My old master was right. There was more at risk here than my heart, and I was acting like a spoiled child. Embarrassed, I wiped my face, gathered up clean clothes and opened the door to the hall. Two guards stood outside the door, and a chambermaid was sitting against the far wall. She jumped when I opened the door.

“Your Majesty.” She curtsied, wobbling a bit as she rose.

I grimaced. “Not very majestic at the moment.”

She fixed her eyes on me like a frightened doe.

“I’m going down to the baths. Would you ask Anna to have some food ready for when I’m done? I’ll come down to the kitchen.”

“I’d bring up a bath for you, Majesty, if you want.”

“No, thank you. Just please take my message to Anna.”

“Oh, yes, Your Majesty. She’ll be so happy.” The girl hiked up her skirts and took off.

“Wait!” I called after her. She turned, still moving backwards. “Please ask Othur to join me there?”

“Oh, aye, I’ll tell him you want him.” She called over her shoulder. “Aye!”

“Make sure you say please!”

I heard her faint ‘Aye’ as I turned to my guards and looked them over. The younger one shifted uncomfortably. The older one gave me a patient look. “Your Majesty, Lord Marshall Warren’s orders are that you are to be protected at all times. Him and the Warlord’s orders.” sighed, but knew this was a lost cause. I nodded to the guards, and started down the corridor.

Scrubbed clean, and with fresh clothes, I sat at the huge table near the hearth in the kitchen, with hot soup and bread before me. The soup was thick with chunks of meat and potatoes. The bread was warm, and Anna was spreading the butter thick with a knife. “Here, child, eat.”

My two guards were at the kitchen door, far enough for privacy’s sake. Othur sat opposite me, nursing an ale. “Might as well, Lara. She won’t rest until you do.”

I pulled the bowl close, hoping that the warm food would ease the pounding in my head. I craved a mug of kavage, but knew better than to ask for it. Besides, it wouldn’t taste the same without—

I cut that thought off, and dug into the food.

“I can drizzle the bread with some honey.” Anna moved toward the shelves.

“No, Anna, please sit.” I tucked a strand of damp hair behind my ear, and kept eating.

Anna finally settled her bulk on the stool next to me, her smile so large it increased the number of her chins. “There’s so much to plan, now that you’re returned safe and sound to us. A coronation feast, the ceremonies—”

The bread tasted wonderful, and I dipped a piece in the soup as Anna talked about a half dozen things, including preparing my father’s old rooms for me. Othur said nothing, just studied his ale, then my face, then returned to his ale again. Eventually, Anna ran out of words and she sat silent, darting looks between Othur and me. Neither of us was willing to speak first, and finally Anna lost her patience. “What is it, child?”

“She doesn’t want the crown.” Othur rumbled.

“What?”

“Othur,” I pleaded. “You’ve been the seneschal for years, under my father. Can you honestly say it’s in the best interest of the kingdom for me to rule?”

Othur frowned. “You are a Daughter of Xy. Your duty requires you to rule your kingdom and rule it well, Xylara. That is what your father would expect of you. Regardless of your personal desires.”

“Othur, I never wanted to be queen. I don’t have the skills to be queen. My dream was having a school of healing, not to—”

“The events of the last month have frightened the people. They need stability, reassurance that all will be well.” Othur’s eyes drilled into me. “Your presence on the throne will comfort them. You can learn the skills necessary, given time.”

“Anything less is a betrayal of your father and your father’s father.” Othur stood, pushing his stool back. “I’ll hear no more of this, My Queen.” With that, he walked out of the kitchen.

Anna placed a trembling hand on my arm. “Child, you’re home and safe. Where else would you want to be?”

I sighed, and ate more soup.

I left Anna, and went out into the kitchen gardens, then down the path to the great rose briar. My two guards followed like shadows.

I hated to admit it, even to myself, but Othur was right. Father had always said that the price of privilege was responsibility. Like it or not, I was Heir to the Throne of Xy. I had an obligation, one that I could not avoid or ignore or pass to someone else.

The scent of roses grew as I got closer to the briar. Apparently Anna had not yet picked it clean. I picked one of the flowers, and held it to my nose, enjoying the scent, bringing memories of my father. But not just his sickbed. I saw him on the throne, and in council, making decisions, ruling wisely and well. I walked on, lost in my thoughts.

I knew little of politics, little of diplomacy, and the thousand other things one needed to be queen. Maybe Keir’s people had a better way, one that depended on proven abilities rather than birth. One thing was certain, at least to me. I’d be an inept ruler. And if I did take the throne, it was highly unlikely that I’d be able to tend a sick person ever again. As warprize, I’d be able to, even encouraged to heal, maybe teach.