I was to collect the sheets.

  I was to bring them to the priest.

  Florian had no business being involved with any of this.

  “I do not believe it is your place to tell me how things are done in this kingdom,” he growled.

  “What is all of this?” a completely different voice asked, making all of us stiffen.

  Not Cyprian, though he was in the hall now as well.

  But the king himself.

  “Sir, Florian seems to be here to collect the bedsheets,” Warwick explained, something dark in his voice.

  “Florian?” the king asked, brows raising as he came to the same conclusions we all did. That it was not his place. That this was not how things were done.

  Caught, Florian’s face reddened.

  “It is late morning,” Florian insisted. “The priest has been waiting.”

  “The queen was up late,” the king insisted. “As was I,” he added, though he looked more rested than I had seen him in a long while. “It is to be expected she would need her rest. Gwen will bring the sheets to the priest now,” he said. “Cyprian, you will assist,” the king added.

  Demands given, I had no choice but to move into the room, followed closely behind by Cyprian.

  “The king looks too rested to have… consummated the marriage,” I whispered to him.

  “The sheets should have proof,” Cy said, moving toward the bed to draw back the covers.

  Sure enough, there was the blood.

  Whatever small amount of ale that may have been left in my stomach sloshed around, threatened to make an appearance.

  “Deep breaths,” Cy instructed, yanking the sides of the sheet away from his side of the bed.

  “This is a barbaric practice,” I insisted as I pulled my sides toward the middle, then allowed Cyprian to fold them into a square that kept the blood hidden.

  It was nobody’s business, in my humble opinion. Not even the priest’s. Certainly not Florian’s.

  But we had no say in the matter.

  “There. Are you content, Florian?” the king asked. “Gwen and Cyprian will deliver it to the priest themselves. And I believe you and I have business to see to,” he said, giving everyone a hint of his imposing nature that he had been so well known for when he was young.

  “Yes, of course,” Florian said, still red-faced. But, this time, I was rather certain it was fury that had him looking that way.

  “Am I alone in thinking this whole ordeal was… worrisome?” Cyprian asked as we moved out of the castle and onto the street.

  “No. I was thinking the same thing.”

  “I have long worried about Florian’s intentions,” Cyprian admitted. “Now I am even more concerned. With a new queen involved.”

  “Perhaps we should have a… private meeting with the queen about Florian?” I suggested as we made it to the church steps.

  “Yes,” Cy agreed. “As soon as possible.”

  “As soon as this loathsome task is done then,” I said, waving up the steps toward the church.

  By the time we made it back to the castle, the king was in his study with Florian with three of his highest-ranking guards standing in the doorway.

  “We should get it done now. While everyone is occupied,” I said, nodding toward the steps.

  “Is she dressed?” Cyprian asked.

  “Does it matter to you now?” Warwick shot back, and the two men exchanged a look that I did not understand as Warwick knocked twice, then pushed the door open.

  “Is everything alright?” Marielle asked as the three of us moved inside her chambers.

  “Possibly,” Cyprian said, trying to ease the queen’s anxieties.

  “And possibly not,” Warwick piped in, not as inclined as Cy was to be careful and gentle.

  “We are here about Florian,” I told her, inwardly fretting about the fact that she had yet to eat or have some warming tea.

  She looked cold, even wrapped in two of the covers from the bed.

  Seeing it at the same time, Warwick went to the fireplace, tossing some more logs onto it, poking them around until the flames danced higher.

  “That did seem… rather unusual,” Marielle said, gaze lowering to the ground, her cheeks going pink again.

  “It was not handled with the care it should have been,” Cy said, standing just a little too close to her.

  Perhaps I would have let that go.

  But then his hand rose, touching her hip in an intimate way that I could not ignore.

  “Oh,” I said, lips falling open as I looked at the two of them.

  “Well, looks like Gwenny here has finally caught on,” Warwick said, making me look in his direction as well.

  “What is going on here?” I asked, voice tight.

  “An arrangement,” Cyprian said after sharing a look with Warwick, the two of them having an entire silent conversation with just one glance. “Made by the king,” he added.

  “That is Cy’s delicate way of putting it. For my indelicate way, the king can not get it hard anymore. But the kingdom needs an heir. So…” he said, waving a hand toward the bed.

  Of course.

  Yes.

  That made perfect sense.

  I had to admit that I wondered a time or two whether the king could perform when he could hardly take care of himself these days.

  Then, of course, there was the fact that both of his wives had not produced an heir, despite coming from very fertile families, both of their sisters and mothers having produced six or more children each.

  The king could not perform.

  And even if he could, I imagined he could not produce an heir.

  A clever man, he had likely come to the same conclusion. With his declining health, he knew an heir was paramount. So he started to work on a plan.

  A young bride.

  And a healthy, likely fertile man that he trusted.

  The kingdom would have an heir. And no one would ever know it was not blood kin to the king.

  At the end of the day, that did not matter. What mattered was that the throne was secure. That the people felt safe.

  The king had made that happen.

  With Marielle.

  And Cyprian.

  While the disgust I had felt the night before washed away, there was no denying a slight twinge of jealousy as it moved through me as Marielle gave him a soft, sweet smile.

  “This does not leave this room,” Warwick clarified.

  “Clearly,” I said, rolling my eyes. “But it also creates another problem.”

  “Florian,” Cy said, nodding.

  “Florian,” I agreed. “He is not new to the ways of the consummation ritual. I doubt he has personally shown up at the queen’s door to demand the proof before.”

  “He doubts the king,” Warwick said.

  “And that doubt, paired with his political aspirations, is dangerous.”

  “You all think the king’s advisor wants to… overthrow the crown?” Marielle asked, looking between the three of us.

  “Yes,” Warwick told her, never the one to coat things in sugar to make them more palatable.

  “Do you think the king knows?” she asked.

  “It may be why he was in such a rush to get the wedding done,” Warwick suggested. “Is his health in that steep of a decline?”

  “He is in decline, but I would not call it steep,” Cy said. “He still has all his mental faculties. It is just his body that is giving up on him.”

  “For now,” Warwick said. “Sorry,” he said when Cy sent him a hard look. “I know you see him like a father at this point, but we all know the mind follows the body eventually. It is only a matter of time.”

  “Which is why an heir is so important,” Cy said.

  “Do you really think Florian will abide by the law that would allow Marielle to reign until her child is old enough?” I asked.

  The two men shared a look.

  “The people loved her,” Cy said.

  “As a bride,” I agreed. “But they have not seen her as a queen yet, not really.”

  “That should be the plan then,” Warwick said.

  “What should?” Marielle asked.

  “I believe what they are thinking is that we must turn you into a true queen,” I told her.

  “What does that mean? I am the queen.”

  “In name,” Warwick agreed. “But we need them to see that you have the mind to run the kingdom.”

  “Which means a period of intense study,” I told her. “Since you are not from here, and you do not know the ways and laws of this land. Or the unique difficulties to be found in the cold lands,” I told her.

  “I know I am young and new here, but I can attest that I am a good student. An eager one, even. I like to learn. I read very quickly.”

  “We will put that library of yours to good use when it is finished,” Warwick said, getting a soft smile from the queen at the mention of it.

  “Then, when we are sure you know as much as anyone could possibly expect,” Cyprian said. “We will have the king allow you to sit in on meetings with the advisors. And the people. Let them all see what a good head you have on your shoulders.”

  “And, hopefully, during this period of study, you become with child,” Cyprian said.

  “That sets the whole plan in motion,” Warwick agreed.

  “I will clear things with the king,” Cyprian said, once again touching the queen’s hip before making his way to the door.

  “I will find some books for you to study the history of the cold lands,” Warwick said before stopping to stoop down and grab the queen’s puppy. “After I take him for a walk.”

  “Thank you,” Marielle said, giving him a big smile.

  “Are you alright?” I asked when we were alone, moving toward the bed, and reaching for her hand as we both sat.

  “I feel as though my head is spinning,” she admitted. “So much has happened. Is happening.”

  “You did not marry into an easy life, that is for sure,” I agreed, sliding my fingers between hers. “But I believe you are strong enough to handle all of this. Cyprian is convinced that the king’s health is stable for the time being. There is time for you to settle in, to learn, to become the darling of the kingdom and the people.”

  “And a mother,” she said, exhaling hard.

  “Was Cyprian good to you?” I asked, knowing it was an intimate question, but unable to stop myself.

  “I could not have asked for a kinder man,” she told me.

  “He is a good man,” I agreed.

  “He is so large. I am worried about carrying his baby,” she admitted.

  “I hear they come out smaller, then grow,” I told her, getting a girlish laugh out of her.

  “Yes, that is true. Of course. Is it wrong not to want to be with child so soon?” she asked.

  “You have just barely become a queen and a bride, it is understandable you are not quite ready for the role of mother just yet.”

  “But that is in the hands of God now,” she said, exhaling. “Are you angry with me?” she asked after a long moment.

  “Angry with you for what?” I asked.

  “For… being with Cyprian,” she admitted. “For… enjoying it,” she added, voice a small whisper.

  “Oh, Marielle, no,” I said, giving her hand a squeeze. “You have your duties. And you have desires that I could never begrudge you for.”

  “It does not mean that I do not… enjoy what we have done,” she said.

  “Of course it does not mean that. Everyone has different desires. Mine is only for women. But it is possible for a woman to want both men and women. It does not mean either desire is stronger than the other.”

  “It is just… different,” she agreed.

  “Precisely.”

  “So, you would… we could…” she said, glancing sideways at me.

  “Yes, of course. I would love nothing more,” I admitted. “And I believe you will need the… relief over the coming weeks and months.”

  “You will help me?” she asked, her cheeks going immediately pink. “I do not mean that. Well, not just that,” she added. “I meant with the ways and customs of the people here? Some things… they can not be learned from books.”

  “I will help you every step of the way,” I assured her. “First, we should get you dressed.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Warwick

  “Are you confused?” I asked as the queen’s brow furrowed as she looked up from the book perched open on the surface of the desk in her newly-completed library.

  It turned out that the men of the kingdom had been eager to pitch in to help build the bookcases for the new queen. The desk as well had been custom-made by a woodworker who could not stop talking about how beautiful the queen had been on her wedding day.

  The task that would have typically taken weeks or months, men dragging out the work for more pay, was completed in under ten days.

  The way the queen had teared up had made it more than worth it for all involved.

  I still had to locate more books for the shelves, but they were partially filled, mostly with history and political tomes to help in her study of the kingdom. But I had brought in some fiction to help her escape from this world when she was full to the brim of it.

  “Yes, but not for the reasons you might think,” she said, exhaling hard as she sat back in her chair.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I understand all of this,” she said, waving at the page about our most recent war. One both Cyprian and I had fought in. The one where he had nearly given his life. “Meaning, I see how things happened.”

  “What is the confusion then?”

  “Why it had to happen,” she said. “I have read the accounts of the king and the clans to the south, but neither of these accounts, in my opinion, should have led to war. What?” she asked when I let out a dry laugh.

  “As someone who fought in that war, I can tell you that many men echoed that same sentiment about it.”

  “How many men did we lose?”

  “Two-hundred and sixty-four,” I told her.

  “Two-hundred and sixty-four. Would you say it is fair that at least half of those men had wives and families?”

  “That seems a reasonable number,” I agreed.

  “So two-hundred and sixty-four men died, and hundreds of women and children were left without their loved one and their provider… and for what? A war that ended in a tense truce that everyone is still on edge about to this day?”

  “That about sums it up,” I agreed.

  “This was a bad decision,” she declared, pressing her hand onto the page of the book. “Forgive me, but,” she said, waving me closer, aware that the castle had ears everywhere, and we were not in the privacy of her chambers where only four or five of us could ever be found. “Was the king in his right state of mind and health at this time?”

  “This was before Cyprian came to work closely for him,” I told her, squatting down beside her chair to keep my voice from carrying. “We have no way of knowing what his health was like at the time. Judging by his usually well-planned prior war and peace tactics, though, I do believe it stands to reason that he was not… as clear-headed at the time as he could have been.”

  “As a ruler should be,” she clarified.

  She had really come into her own over the past two weeks. Especially as she gained more insight into the kingdom, and felt less like an outsider who did not know the customs and the rich history.

  While she could still be shy and uncertain in private moments, when she was studying or speaking of the kingdom, she had gained a confidence I do not believe Cy, Gwen, the king, or myself could have truly anticipated.

  I also believed that because she was an outsider, she could view our history and laws with an objectivity that none of us possessed, making even the king sit and think on some issues she thought needed to be addressed someday.

  I did not tell her this, but Cyprian and I had both discussed the potential danger in her becoming so knowledgeable and confident in that knowledge.

  Not from the king.

  Not even from the people.

  But Florian.

  We both believed Florian could be a danger to the new queen.

  The more we discussed his political moves over the past few years, in particular since the king’s health was clearly turning south, the more we were convinced his goal was to take a chance at stealing the throne.

  He had always been a small, proud, stubborn man with grand plans for himself.

  It was likely why he had never married or created a family for himself.

  “That and no one would want to fuck him,” Cyprian said as we both sat on his bed, bodies still sweaty from blowing off some steam together.

  A part of me had thought—and, admittedly, worried—that with his arrangement with the king and involvement with the queen, he would no longer want an intimate relationship with me. Time had proved that wrong, however. As the night after the wedding night, he had climbed into my bed with me, his cock hard, his hands exploring.

  “What is it?” Marielle asked as she looked down at me. “Your face has gone dark,” she clarified.

  “I was thinking of Florian,” I admitted, watching as her own features went tight.

  Clearly, Cy and I were not the only ones concerned with him, though we had been careful not to tell the queen just how uncomfortable we were with him, not wanting to scare her on top of everything else she was dealing with.

  “Is it disloyal to the king to admit that I do not trust him?” she asked.

  “None of us closest to you trust him,” I told her. “But has he given you any direct reason to distrust him?” I asked.

  We kept as close to the queen as possible. But there were times when we could not be at her side.

  “There was our first encounter,” she admitted. “I noted that he did not bow to me, as, I believe, he should have.”

  “Yes, he should have,” I agreed.

  “And he said he was ‘to wish me well’ instead of saying he wished me well.”

  “I do remember that part,” I agreed, annoyed once again for his disrespect to his queen.

  “Then the whole… incident. With my sheets…” she said, going a bit pink at the mention. “Gwen told me it was very unusual.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17