“Sir Declan had once talked about marriage to me, my king. I know he would be happy for me on this day if he were here.”
King Lucien blinked hard and shook his head to get Chad’s heartfelt words out of his mind, but the words kept whispering to him repeatedly until he drew taut with tension like a drawn bow.
If only Declan were alive. Chad had made the innocent comment after his wedding while he was greeting and thanking the king for attending his special day. He’d clamped his mouth shut immediately after saying those words and apologized regretfully.
“Declan is not some forbidden topic just because he’s dead. It’s okay, Chad.” Those were the words the king replied with. But the harm had been done. If only Declan were still alive. If any of his family were still alive.
He was all alone in the world. His mother, his father, his sister, and then his cousin. All killed by one monster.
But as the day progressed, those words tormented the king. Declan and his horrible death tormented him until he developed a pounding headache. His shoulders sagged under the weight. Restlessness filled him. He had spent the rest of the day in court, and by evening, he was back in his chambers with an icy heart and a hard face.
He sat behind his desk and unrolled a new scroll. He had to send a petition to the kingdom of Ijipt on the morning of the morrow.
Just then, the door opened, and Baski entered. She took one look at him, and her steps faltered. A huge frown marred his face, and tension came off him in waves. The frown wasn’t unfamiliar, but there was something slightly different about it.
Cold. The raw coldness she hadn’t seen on his face for a while was right there.
He spared her a glance and took in the wooden cup she carried. He said nothing, but his eyes asked the questions.
“I m-made you a tea for headache and relaxation, Your Highness.” Baski forced herself to answer with a braveness she didn’t feel.
He focused back on the scroll in front of him. “You know those herbs do not work so well on me, Baski.”
“I know, my king, but this one will definitely work.” She began walking closer to him. “It’s a new recipe I tried today.” She offered it to him so expectantly.
The king paused and took the wooden cup from her, then downed the contents in one swing of his arm.
Only the king would drink something so awfully bitter with such a cold straight face, Baski thought as she watched him sadly. She took the empty cup from him and stood, racked with indecision. She knew that something troubled him; something very terrible that must have caused such coldness and tension in him.
As Baski watched him uncertainly, she didn’t know how to go about the reason she came. She’d wanted to tell him about Remeta’s gift of foresight. Baski knew that if she could tell him about her daughter and he believed her, that would be the first step of warming him up for the news of Danika’s pregnancy—for the news that a woman is carrying his child. All that would remain for her would be to coax Remeta to come and talk to him about the child. This part she knew would be difficult because Remeta didn’t talk until she was ‘pushed’ to by her gift.
She’d cross that bridge later. First things first.
Baski glanced at him again and tried to find a way to start, but he allowed his inked feather to drop. He looked up at her with cold blue eyes. “You can go, Baski. I want to be alone.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” She would try another day when his mood wasn’t so black and scary. Oh, whatever was going through that head of his? Baski bowed to him and turned towards the door. She took two steps when he called her back.
“Baski.” His voice was cold and hard.
“Yes, my king?” She turned expectantly.
“Tell Danika I summon her.”
Fear and worry slid down her old spine. Summoning Danika in a mood like the one, it could not be a good thing.
Baski thought fast. “Danika isn’t around, my king. She---”
He only glanced up at her. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. His chilling blue eyes said it all.
“I will find her, Your Highness,” Baski whispered.
.
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S
ally and her husband arrived at their new house, and a feeling of excitement and peace was apparent in their expressions and how they looked at each other.
They held hands while they were seated in the carriage, and now, in the confinement of their new home, they were reluctant to let each other go.
They changed out of their wedding clothes and headed outside. Most of the day they spent lying at the beach, cuddled up. They weren’t strangers to being in each other’s arms because that was how they had spent the last few months: always pressed together, always touching each other innocently. And now, they were married.
Sally had been nervous all day because of what the night meant for them. But now, in his arms, she let nothing worry her. They talked about little things they were already used to talking about with each other. They enjoyed the peace and quiet of the beach. The sound of water flowing before them and the warm touch of the evening air. It was beautiful.
Sally noticed that her husband had grown silent with time. “Is anything the matter?” she whispered, her head on his chest, her finger trailing his patch of hair.
Chad looked down at his wife. He still could not believe that she was finally his. He did not deserve this woman, but he would look his blessings in the eye. He could only make sure that this beautiful woman, who was a box of sunshine, wouldn’t regret marrying him for the rest of their lives. Chad would make sure that she was always happy.
“I was excited about our union. I’m afraid I said something to the king I shouldn’t have,” he admitted, stroking her soft auburn mass.
“Really?” She bit her lips in concern. “Is it something so bad? Is he mad at us?”
Chad shook his head, hating the sad concern on her face. “No, dear. He isn’t mad at us, but it put him in a sour mood. I just hope he’ll be alright. The king had no one, and I have always been by his side for many years. I hope he’ll be alright.”