Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(17)
“Oh,” I said in a light voice, trying to brush off his questions. “It’s just a carving. Nothing important.”
Sullivan raised his eyebrows. “People only say that when something is actually very important.”
He wasn’t going to let it go, so I sighed, then tapped my finger on the hearts. “Have you ever heard the story of Queen Johanna Blair and her lover, Killian?”
Sullivan shook his head.
“It’s a famous Bellonan love story. Johanna was the younger sister of Jocelyn, the crown princess, and Killian was a palace blacksmith. They used to play together as children, and they eventually fell in love. Johanna’s mother, Queen Deborah, didn’t approve of her daughter’s relationship with a lowly blacksmith, but it was tolerated because Johanna wasn’t inheriting the throne.”
Sullivan asked the obvious question. “But?”
“But Jocelyn was killed in a boating accident, and Johanna became the crown princess. You know as well as I do that every noble is expected to marry well and secure bigger and better fortunes, lands, titles, and alliances for their family. That’s especially true when it comes to royals.”
This time, Sullivan grimaced. He’d said something similar the night he’d told me that we could never be together. Even though he had been right back then, and was still right now, it hadn’t made his words hurt any less, and it didn’t ease my heartache, frustration, or longing.
And he was right about something else. Things had been far simpler at the Black Swan, when he was just a magier enforcer and I was just a gladiator, than they would ever be here, especially when it came to our feelings and our damned duty to ignore them.
“Let me guess,” Sullivan said in a low, strained voice. “The queen picked out someone else for Johanna to marry, and Killian was heartbroken.”
“Of course. Killian couldn’t stand to see Johanna marry someone else, so he left the palace and got a job in the city. But that’s not the end of their story.” I pointed to a spot in the distance. “See that bridge? It’s called Pureheart. All the bridges have names, but I particularly like that one.”
Sullivan squinted in that direction. The seven bridges that arched over the Summanus River were all more or less the same, but the bridge I was pointing at had one extra, notable feature—the enormous bell sitting at the far end. At one time, the bell had been a bright, polished silver, but the weather had slowly tarnished it to a dull, unremarkable gray.
“Killian wasn’t a mere blacksmith,” I continued. “He was a metalstone master who made all sorts of amazing things, but his specialty was musical instruments—flutes, whistles, harps. Once Johanna’s engagement was announced, Killian was commissioned to make Heartsong—a beautiful bell to ring in the couple’s marriage. But he had other ideas.”
“Heroes always do,” Sullivan drawled.
“Killian made Heartsong as instructed, right down to all the swords, flowers, vines, and hearts that the queen wanted carved into the silver, and then he loaded it onto a wagon. But instead of delivering it to the palace, some friends helped him set up the bell on the far side of the bridge, where it sits to this day.”
“Then what happened?”
I smiled. “Then he started ringing it.”
Sullivan frowned. “What? Why?”
“Killian rang and rang and rang that bell. Heartsong lived up to its name, and the chimes echoed throughout the city. Everyone came to the river to see what was going on. Queen Deborah and Princess Johanna also heard the commotion and walked out to this very spot.” I gestured down at the bridge again. “As soon as the queen and Johanna appeared, Killian stopped ringing the bell. With everyone watching, he strode out to the middle of the bridge, declared his love for Johanna, and begged the queen to let him marry her. Killian said that he would do whatever the queen wanted, if only he could be with Johanna.”
“And what did the queen say?” Sullivan asked.
I grinned. “She did one of your favorite things. She gave him a test.”
He snorted.
“The queen told Killian that if he truly loved Johanna, then he should come and get her.”
“That doesn’t sound like much of a test.”
I pointed down. “She told Killian to come get Johanna that way.”
Sullivan leaned forward, and we both stared down. Balconies, terraces, and columns adorned much of the outside of Seven Spire, but this section of the royal lawn overlooked the steep, jagged cliffs that plummeted down to the river two hundred feet below.
“The queen told Killian that if he was brave enough, strong enough, to climb up the cliffs and reach Johanna, then they could marry.”
“And did he?”
“Of course.” I tapped my finger on the two hearts and the initials. “Johanna and Killian carved this on their wedding day. From all accounts, the two of them were happily married until they died, and Johanna’s reign was long and prosperous.”
Sullivan shook his head. “You Bellonans certainly do love your spectator sports.”
I grinned. Johanna and Killian’s tale was one of my favorites, especially because theirs wasn’t the end of the story—it was just the beginning.
“We do love our spectator sports, and we also love our traditions.” I pointed at another stone a few feet away that also featured two overlapping hearts, along with initials. “Thanks to Johanna and Killian, several people have scaled Seven Spire in order to be with their loves. And not just those in the Blair family. Other royals, nobles, servants, and guards have all done it. We call it the Pureheart trial.”