King Callie: Callie's Saga, Book One (3 page)

And yet, the Queen did not allow it to diminish her spirit. She closed the door behind her, and stepped into Caliandra’s room with a dignified stride. “I assume Eliya’s told you of the very poor decision Lord Iaen’s made?” their mother asked.

“She thinks she’ll die alone,” Eliya replied, frowning at Caliandra. “Please tell her otherwise. She won’t listen to me.”

“As if you’d understand,” Caliandra snapped.

“I’m trying to, Callie,” Eliya replied, hurt. “I want what you do. I want you to be happy, and married. Mother wants it, Father wants it, Valric wants it - ”

“Valric only wants the glory of war,” Caliandra scowled. “He wants to be a Yom-damned hero. He couldn’t care less about me being married or not, only which of his friends he’ll visit.” She was jealous of that, too; he came and went as he pleased, even more since Father became sick. It was as if Valric was avoiding them… but he’d returned the night before, stressed, but hopeful.

“Caliandra,” Sophine said, firm, as she approached the bed. It was a tone Caliandra knew well, and it filled her with apprehension. She watched her mother bend her knees, and lower herself to be gracefully level with her daughter’s eyes – relieving herself of her royal station. Caliandra met her eyes, which had unexpected warmth in them; she had thought herself ready to be scolded. “Iaen’s made a terrible mistake,” Sophine said. “Let him have it, and say nothing else on it. Such a fool doesn’t deserve your tears. You have a new chance - for a new life, and a new love. And it will be far better to you than you can imagine. I promise.”

“I wish I had Valric’s freedoms,” Caliandra said. “At least then, my life wouldn’t be at the mercy of a man’s whims.”

“And yet it would,” Sophine said; a dread seriousness crossed her face, and her shoulders stiffened.

“How?” Caliandra replied, puzzled. Her mother’s words confused her.

“Your brother has the dignity of dying in battle, as the new King wishes it,” Sophine said. “There’ll not be a crown to keep him from danger.”

Eliya scoffed. “That’s never stopped him from seeking it out,” she said, wryly. Her remark drew the Queen’s ire, and Caliandra saw her mother give a glare that froze her sister’s heart.

“Sorry, Mother,” Eliya replied, eyes immediately downcast.

“You’re lucky, Eliya,” Sophine said. “I hope you never need to see how lucky you are. And Caliandra,” she added, “There’s no dishonor in running a great house. And whoever should choose you, they’ll be the better for it.”

Her mother’s words brought fresh tears to Caliandra’s eyes – not because the words had made their mark, but because they had reminded her of what she had lost. Iaen had promised her an equal hand in managing his affairs. She’d planted the idea in his mind as they watched the land from the southwest turret, tangled in each other’s hands, feet dangling over the side; distant figures smaller than ants tilled in fields, and went about their business, ignorant of the rolling hills, the far-off green giants of the Kilcullies, and swatches of purple wildflowers that dotted the hills. Tangled lips led to talk of tangled lives, where Iaen promised she’d run more than his house - he wanted her help with his estate, too. They swore love to each other, forever. Always. Until the glittering stars fell from the sky, and the night was blacker than pitch.

All of that, he gave up; cast aside, for a prettier woman with a bigger dowry.

“Of course. I know,” Caliandra muttered, as she looked away. It was hard to imagine a better life, compared to the one she’d lost - and the one she lived in. She glanced back at her mother, and asked, “How’s Father doing today?”

The Queen’s face softened, and she sighed; Sophine’s stern lips drew downward, into a slight frown. “No better than yesterday, I’m afraid,” she said. “The healers have done all they could.”

“Is he… still well enough to play chess?” Caliandra asked, hopeful for some small normal touch in her life, a minute comfort. Some days were better for chess than others; the worse days were full of blood-wet coughs and agony.

“He is,” Sophine replied. “You will put proper clothing on first, though. I can’t have the both of you wearing sleeping gowns.”

Caliandra nodded, and started to get off the bed.

“And Caliandra?” Sophine said, stopping her.

“Yes, Mother?”

“Let him win, for once.”

CHAPTER TWO

Caliandra stared at the chessboard, on the border of distraction. The noonday sun blinded with beams through a nearby window, and the verdant green of the forest outside called her attention - but those were not what troubled her most. Her slender fingers settled on a knight of carved ivory, and she calculated moves in her head; a gentle zephyr flowed through the open window, tussling her hair about in the breeze. Seconds later, Caliandra’s white knight captured a black pawn, which disappeared into her hand. As she saw the field of play, her father would be in check within a few moves - if he didn’t move his queen, or his legs again. The board uneasily rested on top of a plain white quilt, laid over his thighs. Only minutes before, the bedridden king jostled the board - on purpose - to bring panic and a frustrated smile to his daughter’s face.

“Come now, Callie,” King Rionn said, weakly, as he moved another pawn forward with a trembling hand. “You’re slipping.” His proud, regal face had grown thin and gaunt; his sunken blue eyes, same as her sister’s, held flashes of friendliness of warmth, but more often showed a weary defeat. Only when they played chess, as they used to, did she see that old glimmer in his eyes.

“Am I, now?” Caliandra replied, as she pushed her own pawn into position, and circumventing his queen. Her knight would still be in position. “I thought you’d prefer to win.” She normally enjoyed playing against her father, but the news of Iaen and Tara’s betrothal had tossed her about, and the discussion with Eliya and Mother had put her on still more uneven ground; seeing Father’s sickly form made her feel as if she’d fall.

“I prefer to win honestly,” the King replied, and added, with a wink, “Or at the least, to think I am.” She allowed herself a smile; he couldn’t have known how it might affect her.

“So how do you know you’re not beating me by skill alone?” Caliandra said with droll inflection and a raised eyebrow. She turned her head towards the King, slightly, to get the sun out of her eye.

The king reached over the board, and delicately tapped one of Caliandra’s rooks, which blocked her King from her father’s knights. “Because you haven’t moved that yet,” he said. “You’re holding back.”

“Eliya tells me I should be kinder,” Caliandra said, simply, as she moved it, to take a bishop he’d placed further down the board, to threaten her own King.

“I’d sooner ask a cat to give up its claws,” her father replied. “A loss to you is a joy, and a privilege. But perhaps today is different,” he said, as he slid his ebony queen across the board, and seized his daughter’s rook. “Check.”

Caliandra was startled. “What?” she asked. “No, that -” she stopped herself as she realized her mistake. She thought she had blocked the queen; but he’d baited her into moving, and when she did, it created a different path. “Damn it.”

“I’m not dead yet, Little Bear,” the King snickered, as his eyes danced with mischievous glee – bringing light to the rest of his pale, gaunt face. “It’s your move.”

Again, Caliandra stared at the board; her right hand found strands of her chestnut hair, and twirled it as she focused. Finally, she let go of her hair, and moved her pawn within striking distance of her father’s knight, to bait him in kind. He furled his eyebrows. “A rash move,” he said. “I thought you’d gotten better at thinking ahead.”

Caliandra said nothing, and waited for him to move; the King moved his rook for a cautious defense. Then, she pounced with her queen, and removed it from play. He countered by taking her remaining knight with his own; she attacked with her bishop. “Checkmate,” she said, surprising her father.

He seemed stunned, but then, his surprise turned to delight. “Well played,” he said, as he chuckled, and the board jostled in his lap; pieces clattered and danced on the wood. “Well played, Caliandra.” He offered her a smile. “You should teach your brother chess, once I’m gone,” he said. “I know he’d resist, but if he could be taught to think before acting...”

“He’s not the chess-playing kind, Father,” Caliandra said, as she re-organized the pieces, and set up for another game. “You know it’s not dangerous enough for him.”

She heard her father sigh. “That’s very true,” he said. Caliandra looked up from the board, to see the despondent expression on his face. There were far graver matters in his mind than her own, she judged.

“What troubles you?” she asked, concerned.

“He hasn’t come to see me in weeks,” the King said. “I hear his footsteps in the hall… but they always quicken near my door, and carry him past. And I’ve heard he’s been… irritable.”

Caliandra held her tongue. She’d not known that Valric had avoided their father as well, but his behavior was hard to ignore.
Irritable’s not the word I’d use
, she thought. She’d seen him lash out and hit a servant the week before – bloodying his face for a minor infraction. Irritable barely described Valric; frightening was far closer to the truth. She said nothing to her father, out of fear it’d worsen his condition. Their mother had privately given the Prince an earful.

“I’d like to see him, before I pass,” the King said, with regret in his voice. “You two have always been close. Could you…?”

“Yes,” Caliandra said, without hesitation. “Of course. I’ll see that he visits you.” It brought relief to the King’s face.

“Thank you, Callie,” he said, adding, “Whatever his reasons, that boy made a mistake giving you up.”

“Thank you, Father,” she said, her tears returning with a smile.

“He’ll not be half the lord he could have been with you at his side,” the King said.

I could be twice the lord Iaen’d be, by myself,
she thought. She briefly considered visiting Royth, before finding Valric.
But maybe our Seer knows what my future holds, without him.

CHAPTER THREE

Valric found Caliandra first, as she left her father’s room and stepped into the sunlit stone hall. Caliandra was surprised by his presence, and more so by his expression: he was absolutely giddy. His steps were quick and animated, and he strode towards her, beaming with confidence. He was happier than a child with a belly full of sweet-cakes, and his face told her everything; whatever he’d been doing, he’d gotten exactly what he wanted.

For Caliandra, the context was less important than seeing her brother happy to the point of jubilance; he’d been dour for months. “There you are!” Caliandra said. “What excellent timing - you’re both in high spirits, and I’ve had to go no further than his door to find you. Come,” she said, with a smile, “Share your good mood with him. It’ll brighten his day.” She thought it would be clever, and easy, and kind - all of the things that Eliya would have been.

Valric’s smile faltered. “I - I can’t,” he said, unsettled, “I need to be going. I can save him, Callie. This can’t wait.” The words twisted her about. S
ave him? How?
She wondered. The prospect of their father standing again, of his own free will, tall and strong - it was exciting.
But…how
?

“No, stay. Tell me. What do you mean you can save him? How?” she said, demanding more from Valric. He glanced to the sides of the corridor, leaned towards her, and began to whisper.

“Royth’s seen part of a cure, in the east - in the Freelands,” he said, holding a folded piece of parchment in his hand. “He has the rest here. But when I return, everything will stay as it is; nothing will have to change for us.”

Caliandra was relieved to hear good news; there were few things more stressful than the worries Iaen had caused her. With father well, she would have time. A dowry would still be intact, and her status ensured she’d still be regarded well by suitors. But there was cause for alarm; their father’s condition was diminishing, and she hardly knew how long he had. “Good,” she said. “Have you sent men to find it?” His face scrunched up in confusion; that alarmed her.

“Why would I send someone else?” Valric asked, puzzled. “It’ll be two days’ ride, and I’ll be quicker than a hungry wolf.” His words only heated her disapproval.
Why would he be so foolish?
She wondered.

“He’s getting worse, Valric,” Caliandra said, concerned; her brows furrowed, her smile disappeared, and her right hand covered her left. “Why do you wish to leave, when we don’t know if he’ll live out the week?”

“He will still be here when I return,” Valric said, as his face twisted, and his body stiffened. She saw a flash of anger - and fear - cross his face. “He has to.”

“Then see him, before you leave,” Caliandra said. “Share the good news with him… and say goodbye. As a precaution.”

“No,” Valric said; the anger and fear she saw only grew stronger, and his green eyes were consumed with it. “I can’t.”

“You can’t be bothered to say
goodbye
?” she said, raising her voice. “What’s wrong with you? He’s our father.”

“Why should I? Why do I need to?” Valric said, his nervous eyes darting past her, looking to the stairs - not the door. Away from their father. “He already knows I love him. And when I come back with the cure -”