Of Sovereigns and Savages Page 2

  I blacked out.

  Chapter Three

  Azaria

  Boots crunched nearby, and a deep gravelly tone cleared its throat. In the fog of sleep, I almost thought it was Ryett. My body lurched, and I slid between a wall of muscle and a mass of arms.

  “Drayce…” Though I addressed the man before me, my attention was still sprinting cautiously about the vicinity. A cozy, content feeling settled over me as the events of the night before rushed back. Had we really fled Meadow Manor against the King’s order?

  “Your Highness, Princess Imperial. The Queen’s envoy and a group of riders are approaching from the north,” he reported.

  It was like a call to arms. Kais scrambled to find his clothes. Shoving his feet into his boots, he hurried after Drayce without a parting word. I started to gather my things, but Ryver captured my wrist. It was a sudden gruff movement that caught me off guard. His icy gaze made my spine stiffen, and I instinctively leaned away from him.

  “You will not cower to her,” he stated firmly.

  I blinked in response, still reeling from the abrupt change in demeanor.

  “Do you understand me? You are my intended… not the Queen’s toy.”

  I forgot the grip around my wrist and reached up with my other hand. I ran my palm against the square edge of his jaw and molded the softness of his cheek with my hand. There was a struggle in the depths of those blue pools. Every time he leaned into my touch, a spark of hope and longing fought to brighten the wounded creature beneath the surface.

  He hovered there before swallowing and pulling away.

  I advanced against his retreat, never one to be put off. Rather than waste time on romantics, I grabbed him where it counted. His eyes widened, and he instantly froze. I took my time exploring the mass beneath his leather breeches.

  “Be assured, I do not play with anything as dull as your mother.”

  His mouth broke into a smile that matched my own. He schooled his features like the best of gamblers, but I was getting good at keeping him on his toes. The dagger slid silently from my belt, and I carefully brought it up between us. I slowly ran it down the front of his shirt, captivating him in the process and ruining the laces.

  “I only find pleasure in things that prick.” I playfully poked the tip of the dagger against his belly, before dropping my tone to a conspiring whisper. “Or stick.”

  I released him with an affectionate hand-hug of my own and sauntered towards the reception room. I found my composure not a moment too soon. The echoed sound of trotting grew close and then abruptly halted.

  With a groan of defeat, Ryver pushed past the servants and jerked the door open. “Queen Narelle,” he greeted dryly.

  The sharp sound of a palm connecting with flesh was the only return greeting he received. His jaw hung in shock, and his blue eyes flashed with rage.

  King Ryver intervened just as his son began to lean towards her. Securing the Queen’s arm, King Ryver jostled her to the side. “Take this woman to her chambers,” he barked.

  “No. Ryver, I must be here… for her,” she whimpered.

  My eyebrows rose so fast and high, I thought they might leap from my face. She was concerned with someone besides herself?

  What in the name of all the Marked Men was this?

  My hand itched to feel the sting of her pasty face beneath it. My pulse raced with the need to avenge Prince Ryver. To throttle the ignorance from his mother in the most patient ways known to man. Oh, how she made me seethe! I could see right through her facade now.

  The King’s gaze swung towards me, his head hung. With a huff, he waved the guards away from his wife and jerked his head in my direction.

  Ryver stared expectantly, and I sensed Drayce and Kais when they protectively drew closer.

  The Queen extended her hand like she was about to signal a race. Rather than drop any kerchief, she snapped her fingers and sniffed regally.

  The skittish young herald gracefully approached with a rolled piece of parchment in hand. I instinctively stepped away from him. Eryx’s fingers supported my back, preventing me from embarrassing myself with further distance.

  “A scroll from the Barizon. If it pleases the Princess?” the Herald offered.

  “It does not,” I snapped.

  Eryx reached around me, and the boy placed the scroll in his hand instead.

  My jaw set. I couldn’t look away from the parchment, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to touch it.

  Kais stretched over and impatiently claimed it from Eryx. His fingers strangulated it as he began to coax the string up the length of it.

  I swatted it away from his hand and leveled a look that dared him to retrieve it.

  “I do not want any more of your decrees,” I said, my tone climbing with every word. “I am done with attempts to disillusion yourselves into believing I am some pawn of Taur—”

  “It is a death certificate, Azaria.” The King’s wavering, aged voice stretched over the chaos. It seemed to be something he had become quite skilled at over the years.

  They were the last words I heard before the chatter around me melted into a solid wave of noise. It was like the buzz of a distant fly. A peskiness that grew closer and closer, until I slapped at my own ear and jerked about in confusion. Everything blurred, and hands weighed against my shoulders.

  Queen Narelle stood before me, canting her head and blinking in a focused, purposeful manner. As if on cue, crocodile tears formed, rolling down her cheeks.

  “I shall be your mother absentee. Have no fear. I will prepare you for the journey to your future. It will be as if you were my own daughter. I will see to it that Tauran has civilized offspring on the throne. Those who will bring their ancestors pride. May the Sacred Seer plead for Queen Asena’s entrance into eternity. Long may her predecessor live, long live Queen Azaria of the Savageland!” she tearfully hailed.

  The people around us stood stunned. Unsure if they should hail me or offer their condolences. Even the King looked mortified. His ruddy face was all I saw before the world went dark around me.

  Chapter Four

  Eryx

  Once one had been at court a while, one could feel the turning of things. It was like the change of seasons; things become cold and tempers brittle. Everyone slows to the point of hibernation until the playing grounds become clearer.

  That was exactly what was happening. The King looked devastated. He didn’t know where to turn, and he was trying desperately to do damage control. Just as everyone in Heritage Hills was surely consumed with the idea of what would come next, so, too, was their sovereign.

  Queen Narelle was absolutely heartless, nothing demonstrated it better than the way she pounced on the princess. She all but sank her claws in and shredded the poor thing while delivering Azaria’s mother’s death decree.

  At least I thought that was what we just witnessed before the Princess had collapsed. The staff scrambled to see to her, but Queen Narelle refused to be dismissed, even if Azaria was unconscious.

  “Wait…she must… Azaria!” she bellowed.

  The Queen would have her pound of flesh; she was too far gone to lay off now.

  “Minister Thayer!” she screeched.

  I forced a smile and raised a brow with feigned interest. “Majesty?” I managed, trying my best to demonstrate the respectable volume normal people used in conversation in hopes of reciprocation.

  “Minister Thayer,” she screeched, completely undaunted. “You will see that your princess wears this. All eyes will be on her during the announcement of her mother’s passing. I will expect her to look every bit the part of a delicate young daughter. None of that squatting squire nonsense she arrived in!”

  “Majesty,” I repeated with a dryness that rivaled her son’s.

  Before I could get a good grip on the gown, it was yanked from my hands.

  “She is my Princess now. If you have anything you would like to request, you will do it through me,” Prince Ryver growled.

  It
was intense. I think we all stood with baited breath, half hoping he would strangle her with the gown. No one noted Azaria coming to consciousness until she began to give a speech of her own.

  “I am Azaria Andelei. Queen of the Barizon and the Territorial Coast. Princess Imperial to the Faustlin Empire and betrothed to the Prince of Tauran. I am a Sovereign, and I am not afraid to be a savage one. In this country, I may only be a Queen, but best you all remember, I will never be anyone’s pawn.”

  Her chin lifted, and I knew without question why her mother had ruled the Savagelands. She was as fierce and enchanting as the jungle itself.

  “And you will do well to remember that the Faustlin Empire has left you in my charge,” Queen Narelle hissed.

  The King escorted his wife back to the carriage, and Ryver set to consoling Azaria. I couldn’t help but steal a peek towards Kais to see his reaction. Much to my surprise, tears spilled openly down his cheeks.

  “Prince Ryver, Princess, would you like for me to consult with the Barizon ambassador? Perhaps they will stay for a proper moon rite for Queen Asena’s final farewell?” I offered.

  “That would be amazing.” Kais sighed.

  The prince nodded in agreement before tucking Azaria’s tear stained face into the sanctuary of his shirt.

  People assumed that royalty meant privilege. Those were the moments they didn’t see, when the weight of duty crawled onto the shoulders of a battered human being. One that was too numb to function yet led like a lamb to the slaughter.

  I started for the door, eager to take in the fresh air and clear my thoughts. The butler met me half way.

  “If it pleases his Royal Highness, I would present Lady Kazra of the Barizon. Ambassador for the Savagelands and favored guest of Tauran.”

  The room suddenly filled with an envoy of ebony women. Their high cut jungle skirts and openly bared weapons caused the Heritage Hills’ staff to squirm.

  “Queen Azaria,” Lady Kazra began, completely ignoring the men in the room. “The tribes and territories pray that our leader is surrounded by strength and loyalty during this time of loss. Apparently, your mother was of a same mind. She left orders that her wives be brought to you. They are your inheritance, along with this, of course.”

  She held the spiked crown of the Savagelands up in the air above Azaria’s head. It was presented clockwise in each direction. Only then did she place the crown on Azaria’s head. Three onyx stones were inlaid across the front, dazzling in the natural light. Azaria looked like a statue of perfection, perhaps because she was wide eyed and scarcely breathing.

  “It suits you, Your Grace,” Prince Ryver complimented. His eyes were different, the young man was smitten, until he remembered the bit about the wives. “What the fuck does she need wives for?”

  Phaedra, Azaria’s indentured woman snorted and shook her head. “Wives are not always wives in the way that you know them to be. In our culture, it is a person who oaths themselves to another. Often times they are the Queen’s royal guard. Only four of Queen Asena’s wives served her for pleasure…” Her voice trailed off as she scanned the room.

  “None of them are present. She gave them the option of private lodgings and a comfortable retirement,” Kazra assured.

  “Does Her Majesty wish the women?” Ryver asked after a few moments.

  Azaria stood bewildered before nudging him. “Of course, I wish them. Their service is accepted,” she announced. “When the time comes for them to retire comfortably, Ryver and I will speak on their behalf and make arrangements for suitable husbands.”

  A dull roar of excited whispering broke out amongst the tall trained beauties. Their bodies dropped almost in unison. Each of them took a knee and bowed their heads. They hailed her like a commander. I suppose, in her own rite, she was now.

  Chapter Five

  Azaria

  I’d been a lot of things along this journey. Defiant, bold, alone, angry, sad… this was the first time, however, that I had ever felt completely and utterly numb. I hadn’t been able to lay eyes on the missive, but the moment I knew of its existence, my very soul was ripped away.

  I didn’t care about public opinion. I didn’t even care that my father sent an ambassador rather than telling me himself. In this moment, it was all I could do to focus on the rhythmic stroking of my back as Ryver and I laid in bed. I closed my eyes and discovered the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek. The sanctuary of my bedchamber had never been as sweet, nor had it ever been as needed.

  “Minister Thayer has found a locale he thinks might be suitable for your mother’s final farewell,” he murmured. “A little valle—”

  “It will do,” I agreed without waiting for him to finish.

  She deserved a glorious farewell. A moon rite fit for the Goddess she had been in life. Rites were magical and necessary, but how could I do one without her vessel? The final farewell was always done with the body, or the essence of it if they fall in battle.

  “Azaria,” Ryver gently urged. “I won’t insult your grief by claiming to know how deeply it cuts. What I can say is that I relate to your loss, and you will not suffer alone in it.” His fingers laced with mine, and my chest ached with strangled laughter.

  “Ryver Delucre, I don’t think I have ever heard such a stately speech from you,” I quipped.

  His dimples flashed, and he brushed a protective kiss across my hairline. I nuzzled closer to him, burying my face in his chest. It was safe there and smelled so good.

  Someone pounded on the door, and I instinctively held on tight, reluctant to release him. We stared into each other’s eyes until the knock came again. This time, he crushed his lips to mine and slid from the bed.

  “Seers Below, I am coming,” he growled.

  “Apologies Your Highness,” the voice said on the other side of the door. “Her Majesty requests that your Highness and Queen Azaria be chauffeured to the courtroom at once.”

  Ryver ripped the door open and stood squinting at Drayce. The big guy’s arms came out and lifted them in a what-can-you-do gesture.

  “For what?” Ryver spat.

  Chills ran down my spine. Curling into the blanket, I inhaled the scent of Ryver, burying myself in the momentary hideaway. My instincts were warning me, but what blow could possibly be worse than the one I just received?

  “A few announcements. She insists the P…young Queen wear the gown she left here,” Drayce relayed and held out the gown.

  Ryver snatched it from him before tossing it towards the bed. “Put it on so we can get back here, already.”

  Everything in me wanted to take the pale pink dress to his mother’s palace and force it down her throat. He was right, though—it would be quicker to go and get back without wasting time or feeding into her dramatics.

  “Our people wear white until after the time of the final farewell,” Phaedra objected from the doorway. She stepped around Drayce the way one would a small child, paying no mind to the fact that he dwarfed her in size.

  She took the pink gown from my hands and held it out for inspection. It was high necked, with a row of tiny pink pearls fashioned down the length of its top. The bodice was pious and delicate. The bottom half of the gown, however, looked more fit for the theater. The back of it shelved out dramatically with a fountain of ruffled material.

  “Is this for Azaria or your steed?” Phaedra’s glare was murderous.

  “Do you think I should wear the Faustlin heels with it to mimic the trotting sound?” It was my best attempt at humor, even if it exhausted me to meekly smile with the jest.

  Narelle was a lot of things, but above all, she was petty. This was her payback for the gown I wore to the cording ceremony. A dull attempt to smother and break me in my weakest moment. I couldn’t help but shake my head at her passive-aggressive efforts.

  “You can’t forget this,” Ryver lulled, holding the ascension crown out between us.

  My hand twitched with the longing to caress what had once been my mother’s. In my m
ind’s eye, I could still see her chin parallel to the floor, the crown high on her head, and that thousand-yard stare that had shaken even an Emperor to his knees.

  “A crown does not make a Queen. If one cannot lead with their own natural merit, they are not fit to rule.”

  “That’s nonsense. The people need to see you…” Ryver chuckled.

  “My people are loyal to their Sovereign, not the sight of a silly piece of metal.”

  Our eyes locked, and I could see his jaw tighten. It took several long moments of waiting to see who would forfeit the battle of wills first, before he snorted and shook his head.

  The same scent I had found escape in, blew past me before he slammed the door on his way out. It left me seething and Phaedra struggling to dress me. Once the pink petticoats were in place and all the buttons fastened, Phaedra’s hands found my own as she led me to the carriage. But once inside, the numbness consumed me again. Through the window I could see Ryver riding full speed towards Meadow Manor.

  My hands began to tremble, and the foreboding feeling blanketed me once again. Drayce slid in beside me, rocking the carriage with his weight. I sat crooked, with one hand still clutching the window for balance, regarding him.

  “My Queen.,” he offered gently.

  “Drayce… what’s going on?” My voice cracked, but I had finally asked. I couldn’t help it. I was beginning to feel like leaves sailing this way and that in a breeze. Unsure of where or when I would land.

  “Your Maj…”

  “Don’t!” I cried. Quickly finding my voice, I almost pleaded with him. “Please don’t call me that. I am nothing like her, I couldn’t be if I tried.”

  His smile warmed away the awkwardness, and I relaxed against my corner.

  “What… should I call you then?” he asked sheepishly.

  His head was tipped to the side as he studied my face from behind his veil of long dark hair. Something in his eyes said the man knew damn good and well, that when he did that, he could probably call a lady whatever he wanted.