If he said it again, she was going to slug him.
"Do you ever miss it? Being royal?"
"No. Never."
And because she'd been trained to use her voice, he believed the he Annice had been fourteen when she left the palace for the Bardic Hall in Elbasan and while she never regretted the decision, she did occasionally wish that some things could've been different.
Given the chance to live it over, would she make the same choice?"
Yes.
"King Mikus is near death."
The whisper had scurried around the palace for days. The king had been dying for months, but this new phrasing had finally gained enough conviction to be repeated as a certainty in the city. Goldsmiths who had the royal charter were making ready to cast the new coins. Bards were working on eulogies while criers memorized the highlights of the old king's rule. Priests prayed for the dying man's peace. The more pragmatic visited Centers to pray for a peaceful transition of power.
Deep in the palace, King Mikus' family gathered about him. Neither Prince Rihard, now joined to the Heir Apparent of Petrokia, nor Princess Irenka, now, by joining, Lady of the Havakeen Empire, could be present, but enough remained to pack the small bedchamber uncomfortably full.
Tucked back against the wall, Annice watched her relatives and waited, more or less patiently, for her chance.
Prince Theron, as Heir, stood close by the pillows on the right of the bed. His wife, heavy with their third child, sat in a padded chair by his side. The king had taken leave of his two older grandchildren earlier, in private but tradition insisted that both Heir and Heir's Consort remain until the end. Theron had attempted to have his wife excused because of her advanced pregnancy but Lilyana had sternly told him not to be an idiot and had her favorite chair carried in from her solar. As a political joining it hadn't been without its difficulties, but over the years they'd developed a relationship that appeared to work although Annice had never understood quite how.
Her sister, the Princess Milena, seemed to lean on the Due of Manenka's bulk. Joined for only a year, a joining deliberately arranged to tie his lands more tightly to the crown, they were disgustingly happy. Each made it obvious they considered the other the center of the Circle. Annice figured they were making the best of a bad situation and left it at that.
Prince Tomelis, the king's youngest and only surviving brother, stood quietly, arms folded, his partner, Lukas i'Johanka a silent strength by his side as he had been for the last thirty years. Now that Rihard was gone and Milena had lost her mind and Theron had gotten so difficult, Annice considered Uncle Tomelis to be her favorite relative. Not only because he'd refused an advantageous political joining with a prince of the Empire and followed his heart, but also because she'd heard him say that he'd rather have his teeth pulled than spend more time than necessary trapped within the walls of the palace It was a sentiment with which she heartily agreed.
Her Aunt Giti, the Princess Gituska, supported by both her son and daughter, sniveled into a lace-edged handkerchief. Annice had no use for those particular cousins, the only ones who remained in the Elbasan area. Two years ago at a First Quarter Festival, she'd got stinking drunk and embarrassed the family by having to be carried home and he'd thought the whole thing was funny. Her aunt's grief, Annice would allow, however, was genuine.
The king's personal healer stood opposite the Heir at the head of the bed, arms folded, hands tucked into her sleeves, her face struggling to come to terms with the knowledge there was nothing more she could do. Two members of the Governing Council watched from the foot of the bed and the current Captain of the Bardic Hall in Elbasan waited about halfway up the left side beside the droning priest—positions all demanded by the ceremony accompanying the passing of a king. A fire of wood soaked in aromatic oils blazed on the hearth. A low table held a basin of water and one of earth.
And as long as we're breathing, we can't keep air out Annice tried not to fidget Why don't they get on with it?
One after another, the king's family approached the bed for the formal farewell, first the cousins—A nonrepresentative sample at best, Annice snorted silently—then the aunt, then the uncle and his partner. As youngest child, Annice should've gone next, but somehow Milena and the due ended up by the bed.
Annice was proud of the subtle manipulation she'd performed in order to move her sister up a place in line—a bit of shy hanging back combined with a silent plea to the sister for rescue—until she caught the Bardic Captain watching her. Flushing slightly, she quickly schooled her features.
Finally, it was her turn.
The growth just under the edge of her father's ribs had been killing him slowly for the last two quarters. Here, at the end, he was a physical caricature of himself, flesh long melted away skin hanging loose on the bone, gray hair dull and brittle. Only his eyes remained unchanged even sunk as they were deep below saffron-tinted cheeks.
Annice dropped gracefully to one knee, took a deep breath, and caught up the limp hand lying against the embroidered coverlet in both of hers. "Most gracious and regal Majesty, I request a boon."
The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, "Go on."
"I do request that rather than be promised to the Heir of Cemandia, to be joined for political expedience when we are of an age, I be permitted to enter the Bardic Hall of Elbasan."
Within her grip his fingers moved. "Who promises you to Cemandia's Heir?"
"Theron."
The old king's eyes blazed. "Theron," he said in a stronger voice than any had heard from him in days, "does not rule yet."
Theron leaned forward. "Lord Juraj, the ambassador, only spoke of it, Majesty."
"Yet neither you nor he saw fit to speak with the king."
"We did not wish to tire you over mere speculation."
"You passed this speculation to your sister."
"Only to see if she would be willing."
The dying man jerked out a dry laugh, "Obviously, she is not."
Go ahead, Annice thought, tell him that I never told you I didn't want to go along with your premature little power play and I'll call you a liar to your face. Go ahead, Your Royal Highness, Heir of Shkoder, I dare you
She could feel the heat of Theron's glare, but all he said was, "I would not force her."
"You cannot force her." The king paused, fighting for breath, but Annice could feel the pressure of his fingers against hers and knew he wasn't finished. After a moment, he turned his head toward the Bardic Captain. "You have been after her for some time."
It had been an open secret in the palace for very nearly a year. Annice had no idea why her father hadn't agreed and realized she was attempting to force his hand as much as her brother's.
"Her Highness has both talent and skill," the captain allowed diplomatically. "If you give your permission and she is willing to take the oath, the Hall will accept her for training."
"Did you know of this… boon?" Captain Liene's eyes never left the king's face. "No, Majesty. I did not."
"Very well." The king lay quietly for another moment. When he spoke again, his voice held the ringing tone of proclamation. "I, Mikus, King of Shkoder, High Captain of the Broken Islands, Lord over the Mountain Principalities of Sibiu, Ohrid, Ajud, Bicaz, and Somes, do on this day grant the boon of my youngest daughter that she should be permitted to enter the Bardic Hall of Elbasan. Witness?"
As the only bard present, the captain nodded. "I so witness."
Annice released a breath she couldn't remember holding. "Thank you, Majesty." Then she stood to take a formal farewell of her king. Her father.