Allegiance (3 page)

“Relax and sleep. I will bring food later to help you regain your strength.” He touched my cheek, then turned and departed, and my eyelids fell like heavy drapes.

Memories of Narian, as always, haunted my dreams. We were standing in the clearing in the woods on his father's estate, the sun hot upon my back, birds chirping in the trees.

“Here, see? I have them,” I said, holding up a pair of breeches for Narian's inspection. “Now you have no basis upon which to object to teaching me self-defense.”

“I can object as long as you're not wearing them.” His voice was steady, with a faint but pleasing accent, and his golden hair ruffled in the breeze.

Then the image shifted, and I was wearing the breeches and a white shirt, standing at the side of a dark bay gelding.

“Surely women in Cokyri don't ride horses,” I said.

“The woman who raised me is one of the best riders in the empire,” Narian responded from where he stood by the horse's head, and any will to resist left me as I gazed into his compelling blue eyes.

He came to my side and bent his knee toward me, offering his leg as a step so that I could mount the animal by myself. I gracelessly complied, and he smiled up at me, his cheeks flushed with happiness, his expression unguarded. Then he swung up behind me on the horse's back.

Now we were riding through the darkened city, the horse's hooves sometimes clacking against cobblestone, other times muffled on a dirt street, the moon and stars reflecting off the dusting of snow upon the ground. I leaned back against him, warmed by his body, at one with him and at peace with the world. We gradually circled around to return to the Royal Stables, where he dismounted, then looked up at me. I slid off the horse into his arms, and I could see the love in his eyes; then his lips met mine and I melted against him, a thrill sweeping through me.

The scene changed once more…

We were in my parlor, sitting in front of the glowing embers of the fireplace. I nestled against him, secure in his arms, listening to the steady cadence of his voice as he described to me the raw beauty of Cokyri, the land in which he had been raised.

Then London appeared, pulling Narian from me.

“You will keep away from Alera or you will deal with me,” he growled before locking his eyes upon mine. “We cannot control our hearts, Alera, but we must control our minds and bodies. You cannot marry him. It is best that you keep away from him, so that these feelings will disappear.” I stared at London, an ache in every fiber of my being, tears falling freely.

 

It was dark outside when I awoke, my slumber disturbed by sounds from the parlor, my pillow and cheeks damp. I contemplated the light filtering through my open door, then decided to investigate, slipping on my robe.

The parlor had not changed much since my parents had lived here, and yet Steldor had made his mark. The cream brocade armchairs that my mother had favored were still grouped near the window that offered a view of the garden and, beyond that, of the Kilwin Forest that spread toward the Niñeyre Mountain Range to the north. The sofa, however, had been replaced by one of brown leather, reflective of Steldor's tastes. The fireplace on the eastern wall that had always been bounded by bookshelves and fronted by a bench now also served as a backdrop for leather armchairs and a gaming table. The desk that my father had rarely used had been stocked with quills, ink, parchment and account books, a pair of armchairs and an elaborately carved sideboard added nearby. Tapestries continued to adorn the walls and cushion the floors, with oil lamps providing soft lighting. My touch seemed to be the only one missing from the room, and it felt odd to be absent thus from my own home.

Steldor was placing a tray upon the low table that sat in front of the sofa when his eyes caught my movement.

“Feeling better?” he asked, pouring himself a glass of wine.

I nodded, debating whether or not I should join him.

“Then come—I have brought something for you to eat.”

Despite his invitation, I stayed in place while he filled a second goblet for me. He glanced up and, noting my reluctance to approach, stepped toward the fireplace, where his coat, doublet and weapons lay on the hearth bench.

“I promise to let you eat in peace,” he said with a chuckle, making a sweeping motion with his arm toward the meal he had brought.

My cheeks bloomed, but I walked forward nonetheless, the smell of food irresistible. Steldor relaxed in an armchair with his goblet and jug of wine, and I sank onto the sofa to devour the meat, bread and fruit. When the hollow feeling in my stomach had at last receded, I glanced at my husband, whose bemused expression brought another blush to my cheeks.

“Don't let me stop you,” he said, as if realizing he was upsetting me. “I ate just as hungrily about an hour ago.”

I took a few additional bites, albeit a bit more daintily, then put down my tableware.

“How long did I sleep?” I asked.

“At last I hear your sweet voice,” Steldor teased, his spirits obviously running high. He poured himself another glass of wine before returning to my question. “You've managed to dream away almost three hours.”

I stared at him, surprised and appalled by the possibility that I had slept through my first duties as Queen of Hytanica.

“Are the celebrations over then?”

“Yes, unless we wish to have a private celebration of our own.” He stood with a roguish grin and carried the wine toward me. “But don't feel guilty. I suspect I enjoyed the revelry to a much greater extent than you would have.”

Returning his own glass and the wine jug to the tray
laden table, he picked up my goblet and handed it to me. I took a sip, aware that his eyes were upon me and unsure of his intentions. After an awkward moment, he stepped around the table and sat beside me. I immediately stood, as if his weight had propelled me upward.

“I believe I will retire for the night. Pray excuse me, my lord.”

He gave a short, cynical laugh. “Sleep…food…drink… You surely have recovered enough to keep me company for a short time.”

“If you wish it.”

I sat down stiffly on the edge of the sofa, my hands wrapped around my glass of wine. Without a word, Steldor took the goblet and set it on the tray, then pulled the pins from my hair, letting my tresses cascade about my shoulders.

“A week ago, you asked me to take things slowly, and I agreed and kept my distance,” he said, examining my face. “I even slept on the floor in my soldier's bedroll the last few nights of our stay in the guest room.”

He paused, twirling a strand of my silky hair around his forefinger.

“I fail to understand how you will become physically comfortable with me when you will not even let me kiss you, let alone touch you.”

Though his voice was light, I could see the longing in his eyes. I bowed my head in misery, knowing that he had the right to expect more, that I had no excuse. Shifting closer, he cupped my chin, then leaned forward to tenderly and sensually press his lips against mine. Despite my desire to escape, I was enticed by his gentle advance and captured, as always, by his provocative scent. He pulled back to assess my reaction and then opened my robe. Glancing again in my eyes, he rested the fingers of his right hand upon the
hollow of my throat, then traced the line of my collarbone, gradually dropping lower to sweep across the swell of my breasts.

“Please, don't,” I breathlessly asserted, unable to stem my deepening blush or calm the rapid beating of my heart.

“You must accept my touch,” he murmured, repeating the path of his fingers with his lips.

“Stop,” I tried again, but his mouth found mine, muffling my words, while his hands followed the curves of my body, sending heat coursing through me. Hating that he could affect me in this way against my will, I pushed against his chest. For one horrible moment, I thought he might not yield, but he straightened, his hands settling on my waist, an exasperated frown upon his handsome features.

“Your lips respond favorably to mine, so perhaps it is your heart that is unwilling,” he said, deliberately drawing me toward him. “As your husband, I have the right to your body, with or without your heart.”

“If you love me at all, if you have any hope that I will one day love you, you will not do this,” I beseeched, knowing how helpless I would be against him.

He held me a moment longer, his deep brown eyes boring into my own, then released me to stalk toward the fireplace. Although my heart still pounded, I felt a wave of dizzying relief as he grabbed his doublet from the hearth bench, shrugging it on. After seizing his weapons and strapping them about his hips, he strode to the door without a word or even a passing glance.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Out,” he snapped. With one last withering look at me, he disappeared into the hallway, leaving me to contemplate the vagaries of his personality as well as the contradictory impulses of my body and my heart.

 

The following day, I became aware even before I saw him that Steldor's displeasure with me had not diminished. While he usually left our quarters quietly before I was awake, this morning he had taken special care to disturb me, even slamming the parlor door on his way out. Sighing, I dressed and breakfasted, then left the room to begin my first official day as Queen.

I made my way to the Grand Staircase, feeling incomplete without a personal bodyguard. During my father's reign, he had ordered that my mother, my younger sister and I be constantly guarded, probably due to the wariness instilled in him by the war with Cokyri. Steldor had decided that there was little need for such measures while we were within the heavily protected palace, and Cannan had reassigned the men who served in such a capacity. To placate my father, however, Steldor had left Halias, the Elite Guard who had been safeguarding my sister since the day of her birth, in place as Miranna's guard.

My first order of business was to meet with the heads of the household staff in the Queen's Drawing Room, located on the first floor in the palace's East Wing. After discussing the menu for the upcoming days with the cook and determining which rooms were to be cleaned by the maids that week, the head housekeeper informed me that two servants needed to be replaced and that she had several candidates for me to consider. I stared at her from where I sat behind the desk that had always served my mother, alarmed at the request. This was the first time I had been expected to hire someone.

“What purposes would these maids serve?” I inquired.

“One would do general cleaning, Your Highness,” the
housekeeper replied. “The other would serve Princess Miranna, as Ailith has left to marry.”

“And the women are with you?”

“Yes, my lady, they're in the corridor.”

“Well, I suppose I should talk with them.”

“Yes, my lady.”

I shifted uneasily while I waited for the housekeeper to bring forth the applicants, trying to determine the basis upon which such a decision was to be made. Four women of varying ages, shapes and sizes came into the room to line up before me, and I asked the only question that came to mind.

“Have any of you previously held a position as a maid?”

Unfortunately, they all replied in the negative. There was a tense moment as I struggled for something more to ask, then I spoke to the youngest and best groomed of the four.

“What is your name?”

“Ryla, Your Majesty,” she replied with a bright smile, and my intuition told me that her personality would blend well with my sister's.

“Do you believe you could carry out the duties of a personal maid?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I'm a quick learner and would be honored to fill such a position.”

“Very well, you will serve Princess Miranna.”

At a loss as to how to distinguish among the remaining three candidates, I turned to the housekeeper.

“I shall leave the final decisions to you,” I said, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. “You are no doubt better able to judge the abilities of these women than am I.”

The housekeeper nodded and ushered all four from the room. As a maid entered with lunch, I dismissed the rest of the staff to attend to their duties, and moved to one of the
rose velvet armchairs beside the bay window. While I ate, my thoughts turned to the first official gathering I would plan as Queen: a small celebration on the nineteenth of June in honor of Miranna's seventeenth birthday.

The head cook returned in the afternoon, along with a palace scribe, and I began to discuss the ideas I had formed for a dinner party. Over the next few hours, I decided on a menu and a guest list, charging the scribe with preparing the invitations. The guests would include my parents; Lord Temerson, the young man my sister favored, and his parents; Miranna's best friend, Lady Semari, and her parents; Cannan and his wife, Baroness Faramay; Steldor's best friend, Lord Galen, and whomever Galen asked to accompany him; and Lord Baelic, Cannan's younger brother, with his wife and two eldest daughters, for his girls were among my sister's circle of friends.

After joining my family for dinner, I was so worn-out from the day's stresses that I would have liked to return to my quarters, but I hesitated in light of the mood Steldor had presented that morning. Since he had not shared the evening meal with us, I assumed his disposition had not improved and feared an encounter with him in our parlor. I thus went to the library instead. An hour later, I left with my book, hoping to avoid my husband and his antagonistic attitude by going straight to bed.

To my dismay, I entered the parlor to discover Galen and Steldor sitting in armchairs across from each other with the gaming table in between, deeply enmeshed in a chess match. Galen had recently been appointed Sergeant at Arms, the former sergeant Kade having willingly passed to the younger man the responsibility of commanding the Palace Guard. As Galen was quickly discovering, this also cast him in the role
of Cannan's official lackey, and he was finding it necessary to spend long days, and sometimes nights, in the palace.