“Othur, I never wanted to be queen. I don’t have the skills to be queen. My dream was having a school of healing, not to—”
“The events of the last month have frightened the people. They need stability, reassurance that all will be well.” Othur’s eyes drilled into me. “Your presence on the throne will comfort them. You can learn the skills necessary, given time.”
“Anything less is a betrayal of your father and your father’s father.” Othur stood, pushing his stool back. “ I’ll hear no more of this, My Queen.” With that, he walked out of the kitchen.
Anna placed a trembling hand on my arm. “Child, you’re home and safe. Where else would you want to be?”
I sighed, and ate more soup.
I left Anna, and went out into the kitchen gardens, then down the path to the great rose briar. My two guards followed like shadows.
I hated to admit it, even to myself, but Othur was right. Father had always said that the price of privilege was responsibility. Like it or not, I was Heir to the Throne of Xy. I had an obligation, one that I could not avoid or ignore or pass to someone else.
The scent of roses grew as I got closer to the briar. Apparently Anna had not yet picked it clean. I picked one of the flowers, and held it to my nose, enjoying the scent, bringing memories of my father. But not just his sickbed. I saw him on the throne, and in council, making decisions, ruling wisely and well. I walked on, lost in my thoughts.
I knew little of politics, little of diplomacy, and the thousand other things one needed to be queen. Maybe Keir’s people had a better way, one that depended on proven abilities rather than birth. One thing was certain, at least to me. I’d be an inept ruler. And if I did take the throne, it was highly unlikely that I’d be able to tend a sick person ever again. As warprize, I’d be able to, even encouraged to heal, maybe teach.
I jerked to a stop and stopped breathing. For here in the dimness of the garden, where shadows hid me from prying eyes, I faced the truth.
I wanted Keir.
I wanted Keir more than I wanted to make the sick well, or pass on my skills to others. I wanted Keir more than I wanted to sit on the Throne of Xy and ward my people. I wanted his strength, his touch, his sly sense of humor, his honor and his passion.
I stroked the flower against my warm cheek, feeling the velvet of the petals. Days? Had it only been days? Does the heart count days, or even hours?
I moved over to one of the stone benches, and slumped down. I sounded like one of those horrid old ballads, sung by minstrels to lovesick court maidens with empty heads. Part of me was ashamed to face the truth. A true Daughter of Xy would put aside her desires and serve her people.
With Keir beside me, that service was one that would fill my days with joy and purpose.
Without him, it felt like a cold and joyless burden.
If I’d thought my options limited with Xymund alive, they seemed even more confining now that he was dead. Being the warprize might be a risk, but it held out opportunities I’d never dreamed of.
Keir had made his decision, for reasons I didn’t fully understand. Clearly, Anna and Othur would not help me. They seemed to think that they could put everything back the way it was, reassemble the broken teapot and put it back up on the shelf, as if nothing had happened. Except, I didn’t want to go back on the shelf and I couldn’t believe that my father would have wanted me to be miserable.
There had to be a way.
Anna had housed Simus in the quarters usually used by visiting ambassadors. They were large and spacious, with plenty of room for he and his guard. The rest of his men were housed in one of the barracks. As I was admitted to the outer sitting room, I scanned the faces of the guards, but saw no one familiar.
“Little healer!” Simus’s voice boomed out, and I turned to behold him standing there, hands on hips. My smile and laugh burst out spontaneously. He was a vision, dressed in a flowing shirt of white, black trous, a belt of red and a bright blue vest. I’d never seen him in other than armor. His left ear was pierced with five gold hoops of varying sizes, and they glittered every time he moved his head. He grinned at my re-action, and spread his arms wide. “I thought to make your people green with envy at my splendor. Have I succeeded?”
“Beyond your wildest expectations.” I chuckled. “Their eyes will pop out of their heads like marbles.”
Simus drew himself up proudly, then made a sweeping bow. “Welcome to my chambers, Your Majesty.” His Xyian was carefully pronounced. “How may I assist you?”
“Simus, I want to ask your advice about something.”
He looked at me carefully, growing serious, and reverted to the language of his people. “I can’t promise to assist you, Your Majesty. The Warlord has made his wishes known, and I am bound to obey him.”
I rubbed my sweaty palms on my dress, trying to remain calm and controlled. “Simus, I don’t understand. Why is he doing this?”
Simus shrugged. “What’s to understand? Does one understand the wind or predict the flame?” Simus gestured me to a chair. “There are things you do not know, little healer. Being warprize carries its own dangers. The warrior-priests and the elders will fight Keir tooth and nail over this, and you’d be in the center.”
“Do they hate Keir that much?”
Simus’s face grew serious. “Ah, that hate lies on both sides, and who is to say whose is the greater? But it matters not. Keir is the Warlord, and his will binds me. You will remain in your kingdom, and be crowned its queen. Once that is accomplished, I will return to the plains, and all will be well.”
“Simus—”
He shook his head, setting his earrings glittering in the light. “No. I will not discuss this with you.” He gestured toward two chairs by the unlit fireplace. “Come. We will have some of Anna’s good cooking and swill this drink called ‘ale’ and you will tell me of your ceremonies. Tell me what a ‘coronation’ is and what tasks you are required to perform.” He raised a finger in warning. “But I will hear no talk of anything else. Understood?” His eyes were kind but firm.
“Understood.”
Eln opened the backdoor of his clinic, and regarded Heath and me and my four bodyguards with a neutral expression. After a slight pause, he stepped aside. Heath and I slipped past him, into the stillroom, followed by two of the guards. It was a bright, cheery place, with a crackling fire in the hearth, and various potions bubbling in caldrons. I felt myself relax as I breathed in the familiar scents of medicines and tonics. I’d learned my craft here, and it felt like home.
“What’s that stink?” Heath asked, screwing up his face.
“A medicine.” Eln moved over to the table to stir a pot. He glanced at me with a questioning look. “What brings Your Majesty to my humble clinic?”
“My majesty needs to talk to you. To talk to someone I can trust.” I sat on a stool. Heath wandered the room, looking at the various bottles and jars. The two guards remained by the door.
“Trust?” Eln focused on me, at the same time he reached out and slapped Heath’s hands away from a jar.
“Trust that you have no preconceived notions of what is best for the kingdom and for me.”
Eln gave me a sharp look before turning to Heath. “Scamp, make yourself useful. There’s a load of new wood at the back. Go cut it for me. And take those two lummoxes with you.”
Heath looked startled. “We’re protecting Lara.”
Eln snorted. “She’s worked in this clinic for many years with no fears. Your muscles are wasted in here when they could be useful. Go. Or I’ll set you to chopping herbs and stirring cauldrons.”
Heath flashed a grin. “At least we won’t be breathing in the stink.” He laughed as Eln scowled. The guards chuckled too, as they headed out the door.