King Callie: Callie's Saga, Book One (38 page)

Then, she saw
him
out of the corner of her eye, and her mood soured instantly.
No
, she thought.
Not now
. He was approaching them - but why? “What’s wrong?” Darryn asked, oblivious to who was coming. His eyes searched around the room.

“Iaen,” Caliandra muttered. “Let us keep dancing. I don’t wish to talk with him.” She kept the dance going, and tried to shut the thought of being interrupted out of her mind. But then, he was upon them, and she stopped. Darryn, too, stopped moving.

“Your Majesty,” Iaen spoke, eying Darryn with suspicion, “It’s very generous of you to dance with mere soldiers, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s generous she even hears you speak,” Darryn replied. Caliandra held up a hand to Darryn’s chest.

“Darryn,” she said, “If Lord Iaen wishes to make a fool of himself, that’s his prerogative.”

“Then I’ll stay and enjoy it,” Darryn said, as he crossed his arms. “I think I’ll like watching this.” Iaen sneered at him, and shook his head at Caliandra.

“Where is your sense of dignity?” Iaen asked. “You shouldn’t be fraternizing with peasants like him.”

“But I should,” Caliandra replied, her tone sharpened, and eyes narrowed. “He has shown honor and grace, and without his aid, I would not be wearing the crown upon my head. You
discarded
me because you wanted wealth.”

“If I had known -”

“If you had known?” Caliandra said, in disbelief. She had never imagined it would have been so easy to deny him; she never knew she would have had the strength. “I would have found out, sooner or later, how untrustworthy you were. My heart bled and ached for you, but now, I see you for what you are,” she said. “And I pity your wife. I pity any woman who shares your bed, and I hope that your prick is like your heart; small, shriveled, and all but useless.” Iaen was stunned by her words; Darryn, too, and it seemed that the musicians had gone silent.

“You’ll regret saying that. Wait and see,” Iaen said, fuming, as he stormed off. Caliandra looked up at Darryn, who seemed wholly impressed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a dance so much,” he said. “Well
done
, Your Majesty.”

“He deserved it,” Caliandra said, through gritted teeth. She nodded to the musicians, who started up again, and the dancing continued. Caliandra paced through the steps with quickness, and frustration, but Darryn slowed down, forcing her to adjust her pace.

“You go too fast, Your Majesty,” Darryn said. “Dancing is peaceful. It’s not a fight.”

“Sorry,” Caliandra said. “He… he made me so damn mad.”

“Former lovers will do that,” Darryn said. “But remember, you’re King. You could have him stripped of his title and thrown out of his castle naked if you wanted.” She chuckled; she hardly thought it within her power, but the thought was amusing.

“I
could
, couldn’t I?” she said, briefly considering the possibility.

“Then you could give his lands to me,” Darryn said.

“So you want more than a dance, do you?” Caliandra replied, with a raised eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t say no to more,” Darryn said, with a smirk. “Then you wouldn’t need to worry about dancing with a soldier.”

Caliandra’s eyes darted past him, to her mother, who looked at her with stern disapproval. She leaned in, towards him. “Who says I’m worried?” she whispered, with a mischievous smile.

She gave him the dance, and the next one. And as they danced, she found herself enjoying his company, and laughing at his jokes - and relishing the touch of his hand, as well as the surly looks that Iaen shot her from across the room. And she wanted more of that feeling; it was the closest she’d felt to her old self, before her brother’s passing. And yet, stronger. No longer was she in the position to wait, and hope - she had power, now.
Maybe I can’t strip Iaen of his land and his money, and hand it to Darryn, but maybe, there are more subtle ways for me to be able to see him?
She wondered.

Her mother still glared at her from across the room, in disapproval. But nearby, she saw Mae and Janni, who were delighted.

What does Mother know, anyway?
Caliandra asked herself, as she looked back up, into Darryn’s eyes, and felt a flush of excitement in her body.
She’s never been King.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

Patta was far, far away from the King’s inaugural dinner; she shared a dinner table with Talwyck, and his wife Cait, and their three children, in her brother’s home. It was a comforting touch of her Brother’s to eschew the King’s favor for such an event, but there was little else he could do for the pain of loss, and the sudden loneliness.

Normally savory smells of fresh-roast pig, toasted apples, and baked beets held no interest for her. Talwyck’s children were bubbly, and friendly, and though Patta’s pain was lessened for being around family, it was not gone. She felt a clouded haze about her; nothing else seemed as important as the pain. The only thing that still interested her was the bottle of wine on the table. Patta poured herself another glass, in spite of the concerned look that Cait had given her.

“Are you
sure
you wouldn’t like some water, instead?” Cait asked, politely.

“Not-at-allll,” Patta said, as she brought her fifth glass of the night to her lips. She’d given up all pretensions of etiquette, shy of drinking from the bottle. Patta all but gulped the wine down, and could feel herself swaying. But she was happier; she couldn’t feel that sense of loss as keenly. She could look upon her nieces and nephew, and smile. Auntie Patta tried to smile.

“I really think -” Cait began, but Talwyck interrupted her.

“Patta, I’d like to talk with you in the other room,” he said.

“I think… I’d like to stay… here,” Patta said, as her speech slurred, as she gestured to the rest of the room with her glass. She turned to the children, and cooed at them. “I love being arrround family… It’s
so
important. You don-now how much it means, to
have
someone, until they’re
ripped
from your life!”

Talwyck took the bottle away from Patta - who reached for it, and glared at him angrily. “We’re going to talk in my study,” Talwyck said, to Cait. “Children, Aunt Patta will be back after dinner. Then you can show her how your music lessons are progressing.” The children bounced in their seats; by her reckoning, they were too young to understand what was going on. But as Talwyck gripped her by the arm - she flinched. “What’re you doing?” she whispered. “Give me that back.”

“You’re making a fool of yourself in front of my children,” Talwyck whispered, as he pulled her up from the chair. “And I’ve another bottle in my study. If you need to be drunk, I’d rather you do it where they can’t see you.”

“Izzat it? You think I’m a…
bad
influence?” Patta said, laughing and swaying, but soon, her mood turned sour. “I dote on your children, I adorrrre them, I’ve been the
perfect
wife. For
years
! And when
my
husband gets his head cut off in
public
, azza
traitor
, I don’t get
one
Yom-damned night to
grieve
?”

“Patta, I’m not denying you anything,” Talwyck said, calmly. “I don’t want you to embarrass yourself.”

“I want to be around
family
! You, Cael, Cait, Tresa, Trise - you’re all I have, now. And you…want me to keep me away, from them? Like a
leper
?” her words snapped with vicious drunkenness.

“You’re scaring them,” Talwyck whispered. “I want you to feel comforted, but I do not want my children to be any more ill at ease. They still don’t understand why their favorite uncle was executed, or why he would be… a traitor.”

“And you think I do?” Patta shouted with disbelief, swaying all the while. “He did it! Not me. I don’t know
why
. He would’ve been a
great
king… and he was
good
to
me
. He never thought Caliandra would become King!” Patta yanked her arm out of her brother’s grip, and stared him down. “He thought what he was doing was
rrrright.
For allavus… That’s what hurts. Your uncle wasn’t a traitor,” she said, with her nieces and nephew watching. “He was a
martyr
. He died for this country because he wanted to protect it.”

“Patta,” Talwyck said, “Come with me. Now.” She fought him as he tried to drag her away. Her hand lashed out without thinking, and then, too late, she realized which hand it was as glass shattered across her brother’s face.

The children looked on in shock, as did she. Talwyck was stunned; Patta dropped the glass stem to the ground in shock.

“Oh, Yom, Talwyck - I didn’t,” she said, trying to reach for him, and to find something to stop the bleeding. He shoved her away; she was horrified. Cait looked at her with utter disbelief. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Get out,” Talwyck said, his tone colder than mountain ice. “
Now
.”

“Talwyck, I didn’t mean it! Talwyck! I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry -” she said, as she reached for a napkin to pad away the blood, but her brother stopped her.

“
Out!
” he barked. Her lip quivering, Patta turned and fled the house. She didn’t take her horse. She ran, and cried, and felt overwhelmed by everything. His blood was on her sleeve, and her hand - she wiped it off on her other hand, but the stain, on one of her favorite dresses, only got worse. Then, she heard children laughing.

It was late, and the sun was low in the sky, but they were near the executioner’s block - and there were several of them, playing near it. One of the children had his head in the block, playing at Marrol. And standing above him, with a broom-handle for an axe and a crown of branches, was a little girl, pretending to be King. The sight shocked and angered Patta beyond any rage she’d ever felt; Marrol was dead, and these children had turned it into a damned
game
.

“Get away from there!” Patta shouted, as she lurched out of the side-street. The startled children ran; the little girl had dropped the axe. Patta walked over to it, and picked it up.

“It’s her fault,” Patta mumbled, eying the girl from a distance. Patta’s hands trembled with anger as she held the axe in her hand. “It’s. Her. Fault.
It’s! Her! Fault
!” Patta said as she slammed the broom-handle against the block, over and over and over, until a piece flew off, and landed behind her.

Patta seethed with anger, and took a deep breath before letting go of the broken wood in her hands.

It clattered on the cobblestones; she saw people coming out of their homes to see what was the matter. She walked away, towards her house, as quick as she could - she stumbled on a loose cobblestone, but regained her footing soon enough. Patta knew she’d have her revenge, for Marrol’s sake. Caliandra would suffer soon enough.

I’ll make her wish she’d never laid hands on that axe
, Patta thought.

CHAPTER
SIXTY-EIGHT

Few things could match the sheer relief that Eliya felt when Akels’s proud stone gates came into view at last; after a week and a half of traveling in the wilderness that covered the borders of Kersik and Barra, Eliya was ecstatic. They’d reached civilization at last. The hunter had led them through the woods, carefully, and they entered Kersikki territory with ease. They forded the Three Sisters safely - even Drowning Eera, whose current was quick, but not as deadly as her reputation would seem - and wound their way around the Elk’s Head Path.

The hunter left them about twenty miles away from the city itself, near a small town called Fikke. The people there were delighted to see their Prince again, and they shared fresh news from the south: travelers from Barra had said that the pieces of Peacebringer had been recovered, the King Regent was imprisoned for treason, and the true King had been found. It was all a relief to Eliya, until she heard the King’s name: Caliandra.

“You’re certain?” she asked. “The former Princess?”
Yes
, Eliya was told,
no other than she.
The news had stunned her, and when she recovered, she immediately ran to tell Mas, who was equally surprised - but noticed the look of concern on Eliya’s face.

“Are you not happy for your sister?” he asked.

“I am, but… it is a great responsibility for her,” Eliya said. “I worry if she’s equal to it.”

“She has a keen mind, and a good heart - and from what you have told me, she is quite stubborn,” Mas replied, with a slight grin. “I believe she is ready.”

“That all is true,” Eliya said, as other thoughts came to her mind - and then, she had a sudden realization. “We could go back to Barra, now,” she exclaimed to Mas. “With Marrol imprisoned, you have nothing to fear from him.”

“Your people will still hold me responsible for what happened,” Mas noted, as he lightly shook his head. “We would need to wait until after my father has imprisoned our chamberlain, for hiring those wicked maids… and you would leave for Barra so soon, after coming all this way?”