The King's Spinster Bride, (Royal Wedding #1)(5)

Daily. Hourly.

And who is here to tell me no? I am now First Warrior. My word is law. I can do as I like to rule my kingdoms.

“Your…er, First Warrior, I must beg you to heed me. Yshrem is a problem,” the man continues. “We must do something, and we must do it soon. A show of authority is needed, and quickly—”

“It is handled.” I remove my bracers, tugging at the leather ties.

“How?”

And I tell him.

When I am done explaining my beautifully simple plan, he stares at me in surprise. “You would do such a thing for your kingdom? For Yshrem and the Cyclops tribes both?”

I cannot help but smile. He thinks I do this for Yshrem? Amusing. I care nothing for Yshrem.

I do this for me, because I am now First Warrior. I am king.

And I get everything I want.





3





HALLA



The early morning light is the best time to read by. I sit in the courtyard of the temple, a volume of Riekki’s Prayers in my hands. At least, the binding is of Riekki’s Prayers, but the interior is love poems. Reading for pleasure—especially such daring reading—is forbidden in the temple of the goddess of Peace. But when peddlers come to the temple, I am able to sneak a purchase of a book or two upon occasion.

It’s the only treat I allow myself. My cell is the same gray, windowless cell of Riekki’s peacekeepers. My braids are done in the manner of the temple guardians. My gown is the shapeless gray of her priesthood. I follow the rigid guidelines of the clergy. I eat no meat and live on bread and vegetables from the gardens. I do my allotted chores. I sing with the other priestesses every night in the Hour of Prayers to honor the goddess.

Truly, no one would remember I was a queen for an afternoon so many years ago, or that I once wore sumptuous robes and spent my days planning how I would rule my kingdom.

No one would imagine that I was to marry a king. Now I am an old spinster, forgotten by all. I will die loveless and alone, surrounded by gray walls and gray clothes and gray lives.

Surely a forbidden book is not such a terrible thing, then.

I turn the page in my poetry and notice there is a drawing in this book. A scandalous one. Quickly, I lift my head and glance around, but the courtyard is silent of all but a few birds. The greens of the herb gardens perfume the air, but it is too early for Peacebringer Asita to be awake to weed them.

I’m alone. Biting my lip, I furtively open the book once more and study the drawing.

It’s a man with a long braid, kneeling under a woman’s skirts and his face is pressed between her thighs. His tongue is obscenely poked out and it looks as if he’s licking her most secret parts. What madness is this? I turn the book sideways, wondering if perhaps I am looking at it wrong. When I was princess of Yshrem, I had many ladies who prepared me with stories of what would be expected when I became a bride. Of how I would submit to my husband’s carnal requests. Of the duties that would be required as a royal bride.

I’d never been told about licking.

Surely that would be something someone would mention.

“Your majesty?”

I slam the book shut, my cheeks crimson. “I’m just praying.”

“Of course. I am sorry to interrupt.” The priestess bows at me, her iron-gray braids dangling over her shoulders as she leans forward. “You have visitors.”

I feel a little flustered at being caught and get to my feet, clutching the book to my breast. “You know the terms of my existence here. I cannot receive anyone.” If I do, if I so much as turn an eye to the throne, I’ll be dead. I know this, and I’m not ready to die yet, so I live a quiet life as best I can and read love poetry in private. I can live the life of a forgotten spinster, no more. The priestesses here know this, but sometimes someone forgets. I, however, must never forget. “I cannot see whoever it is. Princess Halla must not exist. Please send them on their way.“

The priestess hesitates. “I…I cannot, your majesty.” She wrings her hands, and a look of distress crosses her placid face.

A cold prickle moves over the back of my neck.

I know what this is. I know why she cannot send my visitors away.

This is the day I have been dreading for sixteen years. I knew it was bound to come. A person of royal blood is never truly forgotten. I knew that once I entered this temple, that I would never leave. That someday, someone would remember that the princess of Yshrem was alive and would make plans to kill her. I have heard of the riots in the capital and prayed that my name would not come up. I knew that people were starving and angry over the rules that the Cyclopae overlords have placed upon them, but I have forced such things from my mind. To get involved is to ask to get knifed in a shadowy corner.

When I first came to Riekki’s temple, despite the reassurances that I was safe, I worried over such things. I never ate unless another tasted it first. I went nowhere alone. I anticipated assassins around every corner. But as one year turned into five and five into more, I felt safe. Worry faded, just like my youth and beauty. I’ve felt safe.

Now those fears come rushing back to me, and I want to vomit.

I force myself to remain still, to be outwardly calm. I knew this day would come. I could not be left here forever. And yet now that my death has arrived…I am not ready for it. I must meet it with dignity and grace as any royal of the throne of Yshrem…but I am not ready.