The Woman Inside (30 page)

Uric stroked the slight swell of her belly. “I was so afraid for you and our
baby,” he said softly. Never had he felt more vulnerable than when he’d heard
that she had been taken.

She smiled a little. “You didn’t look it. Had I been Eville I would have
surrendered the instant I saw you. He wasn’t very bright.”

“His death warrant had been signed a long time ago.” He took a bar of soap
and eased down in the water to scrub her feet.

“My toes are already clean.”

He just smiled.

“Oh.” She relaxed with a sigh, let her mind wander. As it roamed over recent
events, she was reminded of something. “Say, what do you know of Roland’s
attachment for Allyson? They seemed very interested in each other the last time
I saw them together.”

The hands on her calves stilled. She opened her eyes, saw him looking at her
oddly. “What?”

“You don’t know.” It wasn’t a question. He frowned as if puzzling something
out. “I know you don’t socialize much, or hadn’t, considering, but....”

“What are you talking about?”

He shook his head and set the soap aside as he joined her on the bench. “I’m
not sure I should tell you,” he said with a teasing smile.

“Uric!” Curiosity made her voice rise. “Tell me!”

Instead he reclined against he rim and shut his eyes, his arms resting on the
edge of the enormous tub. In a tone of mock reproach, he said, “I’m shocked that
Allyson would keep it from you.”

She growled and poked him in the ribs.

One blue stare was all it took to quell her poking. After she subsided, he
continued his game. “And you two have exchanged how many letters? Tsk.”

Compelled to defend her friend, she muttered, “She’s a very private person,
and I try not to pry. That’s why we’re still friends. I get the feeling she
doesn’t have many.”

“Maybe you should pry more.”

“I’m trying to!”

He squeezed her in a one-armed hug. “By your logic it’s your refusal to pry
that has kept your friendship strong. I know you. If I tell you what is what
you’ll be compelled to interfere--with the most loving of intentions, of course.
I just can’t do that to you. I’d feel just terrible if I jinxed your
relationship.” He went high and squeaky like a woman at the end.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I know what I’d like to do to you.”

Uric flashed a grin. “And I know what I want to do to you.” He tickled her
and zeroed in on her neck. It only took seconds of his tender nibbling to make
her melt.

They didn’t do much talking for a while.

* * * *

“What do you know about this?” Ceylon waved a paper under Uric’s nose. She
just knew he was better informed than she. The annoying man always was.

He took it from her, pointedly held it farther from his nose, and glanced at
it. “Huh.” He gave it back to her.

“’Huh’? Is that all you’re going to say? The most important piece of news to
happen in this country in a decade, and all you have to say about it is
huh?”

A smile played at his mouth. “It’s stale news, my love. I already knew the
king was alive. You should have, too. After all, you were the one to cure
him.”

Her mouth opened in a little “O”. An image of ‘his majesty’ in the palace
sickroom flashed through her mind. She gulped. Would he hold a grudge for the
nickname? After all, she’d hardly used it as an honorific. “But....” How could
she phrase this?

“The late duke wasn’t interested in restoring the king to the throne,” Uric
assured her before she asked. “It was a veiled attempt to seize land and
ultimately to gain the crown. The rumors were just convenient.”

Stunned by the chain of events, Ceylon sank into a dinning room chair. “So
what happens now? What will happen to the queen?”

“Nothing, as I understand it. Callion expressed relief to me that her father
was well. Since it is complicated to uncrown a monarch, the queen and her
father, King Ional, are meeting with his advisors to solve the situation.
Callion would be happy to abdicate, but Ional will not hear of it. He says she’s
more than earned the title of queen. I think it would be simplest for him to
just take his place a High King and leave her under-queen.”

She frowned. “Do you think Queen Callion will marry now? I know political
pressure has made it hard for her to make a choice among the eligible. Surely
this will make it easier to choose.”

“It may. We’ll have to wait and see. She’s in the unique position of being
the only queen to ever rule our country, and she is still the heir to the
throne. Unless her father takes another queen, sires a son--presuming he is
able, considering the severity of his illness--she’ll still have to bear a child
to secure the line. I suspect we’ll be seeing a marriage there soon.”

“But what of next of kin? What if she doesn’t marry and have a child?”

He shook his head. “Don’t even think it. These things are far more complex
than you realize. Trust me, the best thing would be some speedy breeding on
their parts.”

“Breeding.” She frowned at him. “You’re so romantic.”

That got her whisked up in his arms and quick trip to the stairs. “I’ll show
you who’s romantic,” he quipped as he carried her up.

Ceylon smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Do tell.”

* * * *

Loud whispers and murmured conversations turned the palace counsel room into
a tension-filled hive. As a peer of the realm it was Uric’s duty to be there,
and as the leader of the queen’s army, it was his duty.

“Their majesties are fortunate to have you as their war leader, Your Grace.
Not all would be so loyal.” The balding Lord Firth who said it glanced at him
sideways, as if judging the validity of that statement.

Uric met his stare. “Yes, they are.” There were some in the room who would
love to use the whole issue of the change in command as an excuse to make
trouble. Woe to them, for he had no desire to go to war again so soon.

Firth’s eyes slid away. Whatever his feelings on the matter, he didn’t look
the sort to challenge Uric, whose beheading of the last rebel duke had become a
matter of legend.

“Her Royal Majesty, Queen Callion and His Majesty King Ional.” The herald
stood aside as all rose to greet the two royals.

“You look very well,” Lord Firth ventured once all had settled.

Uric noted how quick he was to ingrate himself to the king even as he agreed
with his observation. King Ional’s skin was smooth and glowing, and though he
moved a bit slowly and with the use of a cane, the difference in him was
remarkable. Truly Ceylon had done wonders.

As if reading his mind, King Ional nodded at Uric. “I have Shardsvale to
thank for many things.”

Uncomfortable with the attention, Uric simply nodded in acknowledgment.

Lord Greeley, never one to applaud while another man shared the limelight,
cleared his throat. “If I may, Your Majesty? There are essentially two issues on
the table at this time. First; how will you share power with your daughter? And
secondly, who are the people to follow in the event of a royal disagreement?
Surely you understand the concern.”

One of the lords grunted. “I don’t like it. This father-daughter sharing the
throne business. The other countries are bound to think we’re queer.”

The King sent him an ironic look. “I’ll be sure to make that my first
concern.” The dry tone brought several guffaws and an irritated bronze to the
lord’s cheeks.

“Yes, but what becomes of either of your spouses if you should wed? What are
their claims to the throne? What will their titles be? Which children will be
the heirs?”

“Yes! We need to get this down in writing,” someone called. The noise rose to
a buzz.

King Ional raised his hand, quieting the room. “Peace. We have already
drafted a proposal.” An aide brought forth copies and placed it before each man.
At the King’s signal he read the proposal aloud:

I, Queen Callion, hereby accept the title of Queen in Tenancy. We shall issue
a law stating that we, the Queen in Tenancy, shall abdicate to anyone the King
might marry, with the provision that said spouse must produce male offspring
before assuming the title, thus eliminating claims by those of her family to the
throne.

“I like it,” Uric said. He was already bored with the meeting.

Lord Greeley frowned. “I’m not certain about this. There’s no telling what
liberties someone might take with this odd law.”

Uric smiled pleasantly. “That’s why I’m here.”

A hush fell over the room.

“I’ll sign!” Lord Firth took his pen and quickly scratched his name on his
copy of the parchment. Finished, he passed it to the next man, who eyed Uric,
then did the same. With little fuss, the law was passed.

Later, when Uric had joined the King in his private chambers, King Ional
offered him a brandy. “Your wife would have my head were I to join you,” he said
wryly. He eyed the decanters anyway, sighed, and took a seat by the fire. He
still tired easily.

For a while they simply watched the flames. Then Ional murmured, “What shall
I do for your lady to show my appreciation? She’s quite altered my fate, and
that of our kingdom.”

Uric grinned. “She wouldn’t see it that way. I think you’re better off not
asking her what she would like. She’d only protest that she has too much
already.”

Ional grunted. “You’ll have to teach her greed. Can’t have a duchess running
about with no sense of her own worth.” He considered Uric. “What would you ask
on her behalf?” They both understood just how deeply he was willing to reward.
Uric could ask for the moon and get it.

Uric considered. “Tax exemption for ourselves, our children and their
firstborn to the fourth generation?”

Ional winced. “Done.” He shook his head. “I’m fortunate I snagged you as my
war leader before some other king stepped in and made you a better offer. You
could haggle a nun out of her drawers if you had a mind to.”

Glass raised in salute, Uric flashed him a smile. “Hardly. By all rights I
should have remained a farmer’s brat, grubbing in the fields. Some days it would
be simpler.”

Cane raised, Ional pointed it at him. “You’re no farmer, boy. Destiny never
meant for you to be a raiser of chickens and pigs.”

“To destiny then. May it bring us all that we desire.” He drained his glass.
If he was fortunate providence would bring him peace.

* * * *

Fireworks and parades were scheduled. Special treats and trinkets were hawked
on every corner as the enterprising took the opportunity to make money. Newly
minted coins stamped with his image were to be issued to every citizen, and the
merchants were eager to collect.

Much to her chagrin, Ceylon was to be honored at the celebration.

“I did very little,” she protested to Uric. “Anyone would have done the
same.”

“Our king honors whom he honors,” Uric said as he brushed her hair. They
would leave for the feast soon. He dropped a kiss on her hair. “He owes you his
life. That’s no small thing.”

She sighed. “I just don’t feel worthy.”

“You’ll get over it. Just think of the glory and riches soon to be yours.” He
laughed at her look in the mirror. “Don’t worry! I married you as a peasant girl
and I rather like you barefoot and pregnant. Completely naked is even better.”
He leered.

She laughed and swatted at him. “You.”

He caught her hand and kissed it. “Only for you,” he said softly.

* * * *

The award ceremony went better than Ceylon expected. She was a mass of
nerves-- appearing in front of crowds had never been her strong point--but she
survived. Since he couldn’t make her a higher rank without marrying her, King
Ional showered her with gifts instead. More land, a jeweled ivory coffer full of
costly gifts.

Lord Tennyson beamed like the proud parent he was as she was honored. He’d
officially made her his heir. Later he would worry about the enemies it would
make of his wife and daughter. Fortunately for them all his daughter could do
little, as the laws did not favor her sex in these matters. Though it saddened
him that the boys were dead, no one could deny that they had more than earned
their fate.

“My day couldn’t get brighter,” he assured her once she’d retreated, dazzled,
from the king’s throne. He gave her a hug, unmindful of the social correctness
of it.

Ceylon smiled back. “Thank you.” Her life had come full circle.

Wine flowed that night, and Ceylon had more than her share. So when a young
woman asked her about Roland, she replied without considering Allyson’s nebulous
claim, “He’s wonderful. Thoughtful, caring....”

“And very married,” a new voice said. Allyson stood to their left. From her
dry tone she wasn’t horribly concerned. “But don’t let that stop you; after all,
I am here to petition for an annulment.”

The young lady gaped for a moment, then slunk away. Ceylon just stood,
stupefied. “What?” she finally managed.

Allyson crossed on arm over her middle and circled her wine glass with the
other. “I thought you knew and were too delicate to mention it. My apologies. I
seldom like to dwell on the unpleasantness in my life.” She sipped her wine.

Ceylon blinked. The night had just gotten hotter, and the press of bodies
wasn’t helping.

Seeing her difficulty, Allyson linked arms with her. “Come. It’s a good time
to get a breath of air.” She led Ceylon outside and guided her to a bench. She
remained standing.

The cold stone on reflected the full moon and the spill of light from the
open ballroom doors as Allyson tipped her face to the sky. “Ah, to be a star.
High above it all. What freedom.” She sent a rueful glance at Ceylon. “It wasn’t
our idea to marry, you know.”

No, she didn’t know. Ceylon shook her head.

“The king thought it a wonderful idea to unite our houses by commanding us to
marry. My father was willing, Roland’s reluctant but practical. He threatened
the life of Roland’s long time mistress to force Roland’s compliance. Roland
never forgave him.” She took a deep breath. “Just before we were married I met
with Roland and his mistress, told him I would be happy to have a marriage of
convenience, even offered to stand in as proxy for his pregnant lover.” Her
mouth twisted in a humorless smile. “I was desperate not to be the ‘other
woman’.”