Phantom of the Heart (7 page)

“What are you saying, Umah?”

Cybralle's silver eyes were intense as she looked at her daughter. “Always put her above everything else, daughter. She is worth it. As a warrior, your horse and men will only fill a small portion of what you need. Your woman fills the rest. She will always fill that position and you have to get used to it; otherwise you will go mad.”

Sterling nodded slowly.

“She takes up all my thoughts already, Umah. I am scared that once I have had her body, I will not be able to be away from her ever again.”

“I have been there and, believe me, I dodged my fair share of arrows and fireballs while my head and heart were in bed with your mother, hundreds of miles away from the battleground. I have scars to show for my lack of concentration.” The handsome face pulled into a frown. “I was seriously injured once and was very close to death. That was when I realized that I had to find a way to stay alive and keep my wife happy. I exchanged positions with General Hilmor and took over the running of the training ground.”

Soft footsteps made them both look up to find Mesmeria walking over toward them. They rose quickly to their feet.

“What serious business would the two of you have to discuss in the royal chamber?” Mesmeria placed a soft kiss on her daughter's red head, before she walked over to where her wife sat. Sterling watched in mild fascination, as her parents shared a tender look before Cybralle pulled Mesmeria onto her lap.

“Our daughter is worried about her wedding night.”

“Umah!”

Cybralle shrugged. “What? It is the truth, is it not?”

Sterling looked down at her parents. “I am expected at the tailor for my fitting. Just to avoid any misunderstandings, I am not scared or worried about my wedding night.”

Pushing her shoulders back, she calmly strode out of her mothers' chambers. On her way to the training ground, she altered her course slightly so that it took her near the blacksmith's shed. She carefully peered into the dark, heated interior and smiled when she spotted the hulking form of her fiancée. The dark head lifted and ice-blue eyes clashed with hers. They regarded each other quietly before sharing a soft smile. Happy that her heart's desire had been appeased, she turned away and made for the training ground. As she walked away, she prayed furiously that the current peace enjoyed at the Wastelands would hold for she would surely die if she was to leave and not see Orla for a long time.

Chapter 7

Orla grinned as she worked on her wedding gift for her fiancée. She stroked the rapidly cooling surface of the breastplate. A traveling salesman had exchanged a large sack filled with clumps of blemished silver for her skill and labor to craft his sword of silver. She turned to pick up the clamp holding the beautiful, heart-shaped piece she had been working on earlier and looked at it with the critical eye of an originator, but more so with the critical eye of a lover. Only the best would suffice when it came to her soon-to-be spouse.

She pushed the clamp into the ever-blazing fire pit and waited patiently until the piece smoldered a deep, dark red. Retrieving the clamp, she pressed the heart-shaped piece of iron on the gleaming, smooth surface of the breastplate…right over the place where Sterling's heart would be. She kept the pressure light, not wanting it to weaken the area and inadvertently create a fragility which could cost her lover dearly in a battle. Standing back, she studied her handwork and smiled. A small heart shape was burnt into the gleaming surface of the silver breastplate. With a satisfied smile, she walked over to the cooling rack and stored the heavy armor piece. She quickly cleaned up her working area and closed her shed for the day. She was getting married in two days and she still had to sit for a final fitting of her wedding outfit.

With slow, sure steps she made her way to the castle entrance and was surprised when the guards stepped back quickly, their eyes lowered as a token of respect. With a soft greeting to the men she had known since childhood, she entered the opulent interior of the castle and was quickly joined by a servant girl.

“If you would follow me, please.”

Feeling ill at ease in the luxurious setting as she was escorted down a long hallway, her eyes scanned over the walls. They were adorned with paintings of former monarchs of Karas. She swallowed when she saw the painting of Sterling. Next to it was a blank canvas. She came to an abrupt stop as she looked at the significance of the blank canvas. Soon her face would fill that empty space. It was strange how her life had changed. From a dirt poor stable groom, she had worked hard and followed in the footsteps of her great-grandfather to become the most sought after blacksmith in the kingdom, a position she was very comfortable with. But life had one more twist for her. She was to become a royal in two days, consort to the future queen of Karas. She looked down at her hands and grimaced. They were the hands of a very simple woman. All at once her insecurities reared. What was she doing here? Why was she here? How was she going to fit in with all this opulence?

Overwhelmed by her thoughts, she quickly turned on her heel and stormed down the hallway.

“STOP!”

The authority in the voice brought her to an abrupt stop and she quickly turned around. Standing there, with her hands behind her back, was Queen Mesmeria herself. Orla quickly fell to her knee, following the example of the servant girl.

“Please get up, Orla, and follow me.” The queen said softly. Even before Orla was back on her feet, the monarch had turned and stepped into a chamber.

Orla entered the room and noted that a number of women were buried in sewing garments in various states of completion. She turned her eyes to the queen who beckoned her over.

“Aneen,” she addressed an older woman, “how far are you with the bridal costume?”

“After this fitting, we will have it ready by the end of the evening, Your Majesty.”

Mesmeria reached out a hand and warily Orla eyed the soft-looking, white hand of her beloved's mother. Swallowing again, she reached out and felt the smaller hand wrap itself over her larger fingers.

“Here she is. Do the fitting. I will wait just here.”

The old seamstress quickly walked over to where they stood and taking Orla’s hand, she led her into an adjoining room. Orla was quickly divested of her clothes. She was stripped until she was clad only in a white loincloth and a white band covering her breasts. Soft, black leather trousers and a short, black tunic were thrown over her naked body.

Once she was fully dressed in her own clothes, she was escorted back to where the queen patiently waited on her. The queen, once again, held out her hand and, this time, Orla accepted. A soft smile formed on the queen's beautiful face. Orla allowed herself to be led down the hallway in silence. They entered a large room.

Orla's eyes widened as she looked at the large throne. As far as she knew, only nobles and senate members were allowed here. She quickly turned to the queen and found her already watching her.

“I brought you here so you could see what you will inherit one day.” She walked over to the throne. “Very soon, my daughter, your soon-to-be wife, will ascend this throne. You, Orla, will be sitting next to her.” The queen's green eyes flashed as she looked at her, and Orla inhaled deeply. “Up until the day she met you, Sterling was extremely reluctant to assume her responsibility. You have made her want to embrace her birthright.” The queen walked over to stand before her. “I know you are overwhelmed by all that is expected of you, but I do not want you to lose focus of what your most important duty will be.”

Orla's eyes softened. “Sterling?”

Mesmeria smiled tenderly.

“Yes. She loves you and it is obvious that you love her too. As Queen, Sterling will have a lot of responsibilities, and as Commander of the Royal Army, her responsibilities will place her in much danger. But she will have you to come back to. You will be her beacon in the dark. The rock she will hide behind and…even underneath…when the pressures of life become too much for her. Your love will serve as an impenetrable armor against all her fears and all her enemies. Orla Peron, I want grandchildren and you will make that possible for me. For that I will forever be indebted to you.” She gently cupped Orla's cheek. “You are making my daughter so happy; please, do not take that away from her because you doubt yourself. I beg you, do not hurt her.”

Orla saw smoldering, silver eyes flash before her, and she shook her head. She was taken back to earlier in the day when Sterling had sat on her lap, quietly eating her lunch. She remembered how wonderful she had smelled. Her heart swelled with each and every memory that rushed through her. No matter what, she knew, deep down inside, that her life would never be the same without Sterling. She doubted if she would survive a day without looking upon her beautiful face, seeing those intense, silver eyes, and tasting her lips.

She reached for the queen's hand and brought it to her lips. Her eyes were clear as they stared at Sterling's mother and, for the first time since meeting Sterling, she was totally convinced that she was on the right path. She sensed her destiny and it rested with Sterling.

“You need not worry about me hurting her, milady. I promise you that I will never hurt her and that I will love her forever.”

“That is a very long time, Orla,” Mesmeria said with a soft chuckle. “But that will suffice.”

Orla blushed and averted her eyes.

“I am afraid it might not be long enough.”

Mesmeria's eyes twinkled as they studied her.

“My daughter has chosen well.”

***

Sterling lifted her hands, holding them palms down. They were shaking. With a deep sigh, she quickly hid them behind her back.

“It happens to the best of us, my child.”

Sterling swung around to find Cybralle leaning calmly against the doorjamb. She quickly turned away and rubbed her hands against the ivory one-piece she wore. She very rarely wore dresses, but for her wedding day there was no other way. Her wife-to-be had made it very clear that she was not going to wear a dress. The queen, on the other hand, was adamant that she would not attend a wedding where both brides wore britches to the ceremony. Sterling had opted for the dress as a token of love for her very relieved bride.

“I thought you would be with Orla.”

Cybralle stepped forward and placed her hands on her Sterling’s hips and pulled her close. She placed a gentle kiss on her temple and stood back to look down into Sterling’s eyes.

“You look exquisite; just as beautiful as your mother on our wedding day.” She gently cupped the beautiful face. “Orla is a very lucky woman to have found a mate such as you.”

Sterling shook her head and smiled. “I consider myself to be the lucky one, Umah. She is everything I want, and I love her so much.”

“Then this is a match made in heaven, daughter. I wish you both all the happiness and love your mother and I have been blessed with.” The silver eyes darkened slightly. “As your parents, we were worried that you were ready to settle for the life of a warrior. That was the life I had lived before I met your mother.” Cybralle walked over to the small table under the large window and poured them both a glass of wine from the decanter. “It was different to what I have now, but I have to admit that all I did back then was to exist. Your mother gave me back my life.”

Sterling took the offered goblet from her mother's hand and nodded her thanks. She emptied it with one gulp and blushed at her mother's raised eyebrow.

“I am nervous.”

“And so you should be, my love. You are embarking on the most fulfilling adventure of your life.” She emptied her goblet and placed it on the table. “It is time for us to leave. Orla and your mother are already waiting for us at the church.”

Taking one last look at herself in the full-length mirror, Sterling turned to her mother. Cybralle nodded.

“You look beautiful.”

Taking her mother's hand, Sterling followed her out the door, down the long hallway, and out to the coach awaiting them. Once she was seated inside, her mother lounging opposite from her, she carefully studied her mother under lowered eyelashes. Her parents were happily married. As a child, she quickly learned not to surprise them in their chambers lest she be the one embarrassed. After twenty-eight years of marriage they were still passionately in love and could not keep their hands off each other. Now that she had found her cause for living, she could easily identify with what her parents were experiencing.

“Umah…”

The dark head lifted and sharp, silver eyes focused on her.

“Yes, my child. What is it you want?”

“You and mother…you have been together for so long and yet…yet you still act like newlyweds. I want that too. How can I keep my wife happy for an eternity?”

The silver eyes softened as they studied her. “Love her above all else. Be honest with her all the time, even if you fear the truth might hurt her. Surrender to her, Sterling. She needs to know that you belong to her; heart, mind, body and soul. Your mother and I…we love each other like that.” Cybralle reached out and took her daughter's hand. “But you already possess the most important ingredient for a happy marriage. You love each other. It will be so much easier to succeed.”

***

Orla nervously tugged at the tight cuff of her wedding tunic as she walked over and threw herself into a large chair taking up the center of the room. She had been waiting in here for over an hour now and still there was no sign of Sterling. The door opened slowly. She did not even lift her head to see who the newcomer was. The priest had been in and out a few times to look in on her and she was tired of looking into his rheumy eyes and pinched face.

“You are well on your way to fulfilling your destiny.” The deep voice made her head snap up and she frowned at the strange man standing a few feet inside the door. He looked a little familiar, but she knew for a fact that she had never met him before. He was dressed richly and his fingers were adorned with large, golden rings. She slowly came to her feet and found herself towering over the man. He was not short by any means, but she was taller. As she studied him, she saw something akin to pride lightening his dark-blue eyes.

“Who…who are you?”

The man bowed low, making her take a step backward.

“Your humble servant, at your service, milady.”

Orla cast a quick look at the door and back at the man whose dark head was still bent low.

“I do not understand.”

The man came upright and looked at her intently. “You will, very soon.” With another bow he walked over to the door and left. Thoroughly confused, Orla sunk into the chair. Before she could delve into the puzzling event, the door opened again. This time, it was her mother.

“We are about to commence with the service, my child.” She drew closer to Orla. “I do not like the pallor of your face. What is wrong, child?”

“I…I will tell you later,” Orla rose to her feet. “Let me first get married to the most beautiful woman in the world and then we can talk.”

Lima smiled widely. “Yes, let's do that first.” She took her daughter in her arms and held her tightly against her bosom. “I am so proud of you, Orla. Deep down I have always known that you were destined for something bigger and better. Your pureness of heart has set you apart from many – a leader in your own right.”

Orla tenderly kissed her mother's cheek. “I am just a simple blacksmith, mother. If I am pure of heart, then it is you who made me so. Besides that, there is nothing special about me.”

Lima laughed. “The princess believes otherwise, my child, and I know she will make you realize your true potential and help you attain your destiny.”