Chapter 8
There were many things that weren’t going to plan, from the rebellion that had nearly seen him overthrown to the princess who was supposed to cement his rule withering away in his bed. The physician said it was a sickness of the mind, that she was so frightened and unhappy that her body had given up. He’d heard nothing from her brother, nothing from his own soldiers sent to her kingdom, nothing of the old lords hiding on islands, nothing from the goddess her presence was supposed to invoke, and worst of all he was nowhere close to exposing the rebels that had stormed the palace. It was humiliating, he was a warrior that had been almost overthrown by commoners. Commoners who adored a princess they’d never seen, well until they’d seen him slam his shield into the side of her head. That had been rather poor form.
“Are there any leads, any hint of who the letter had come from?” Abraxas sighed, cutting over the jibes Narin had been making at his wife.
That was another foolish mistake, he’d set the women of the court against her when he needed the with her. But he couldn’t admit it, he couldn’t admit that after his years of gathering support, radical plans, leading battles, he was a poor leader, a poor king. He could force political treaties, plan invasions, defend borders, but the people didn’t like him. Kari had promised that people liked her, thus they would like him, but things had gotten a little muddled along the way and as luck would have it the day she stopped looking at him like a usurper was the day she’d fallen gravely ill.
“Probably the spy herself.” Helena tutted, elbowing Ambrose so he would agree.
“Funny, I don’t think her grasp on this language is good enough for her to write a note.” And she wasn’t smart enough to outwit him, not when she lived every moment under his watch. “Send more rounds into the city, keep watching the ports, and find who wrote that note. Report back to me in the morning.”
He had done his best to charm her, paid a few compliments, given a few trinkets, but she wasn’t stupid, she wasn’t necessarily smart, but she wasn’t stupid. Even in her fatigue she watched him with shielded eyes, she was pleasant enough, but she shied away from him whenever he ventured to close. She still spoke to her slave girl in her own language and what was repeated back to him was clearly not in its entirety, it wasn’t that she was doing anything wrong but simply that she wasn’t doing anything useful.
“Is she okay?” If you could call leaning out the window like a dog okay.
“Fresh air.” She answered with a smile, they could talk a little better at this point but he still spoke to the slave girl instead of her. A part of him wished she’d stop trying to speak, or at least waited until she sounded less like the village fool.
“You can leave if you want, to the balcony.” He quickly corrected himself, she could leave this room but not beyond his sight.
“You lock door, the door.” She rolled her dark eyes as she corrected herself. “I cannot leave here.”
“Would you like to go outside?” She looked well enough for a short walk, but he would need to be careful not to overtax her. She wasn’t of the hardiest stock.
“Down there?” She pointed through the crack in the shutters, the pale moonlight glinting off her golden cuff. If Kari saw her now he’d think her little more than a prisoner, holed up in a room and peering through the crack in the shutters. It wasn’t a good look for him. “Please, General.”
“I have a name.” Still, he was simply a soldier in her eyes. “Put your cloak on and I’ll change.”
One thing he’d noticed but allowed to pass was that she often mimicked what he said in her own language with an exaggeratedly low voice, it seemed to make the pair giggle and it was relatively harmless. So, as long as she wasn’t moving against him then he wouldn’t punish her. The giggling went on for longer than usual as he swapped his uniform for a much softer tunic and cloak, he had noticed that dressing less like a soldier put her at ease. It made her chatty, which in turn gave him little hints of her brother and his loyalties. Not much, but enough to go on.
There was still a dusting of bruises along the side of her face, where the shield had struck her, the wound on her arm was still healing and he was sure if he pushed the bodice of her dress to the side he’d see the painful purple bruise along her ribs, but she looked better. She’d filled out a little and it really brought out her features, perhaps he was simply growing accustomed to seeing her but she was objectively rather pretty. His friends thought so, but she wasn’t really what he’d wanted. She was flawless, a clean beauty, she was a symbol of the world he didn’t quite fit in and everyone could see it.
“Translate.” He sighed as she tried to say something, if you could call it trying.
“The princess said that she once wove a fabric like that, but with gold threads running through it that looked like stars.” The slave girl told him the most boring piece of information anyone had ever offered. “She misses weaving.”
“Then get her a loom.” Was it really his responsibility to entertain her?
“How?” The slave girl jutted her chin, she was more his type. Taller than the princess, great curves, aquiline nose, blonde hair that fell to her hips, she was quite pretty. “You have made it known that I am not allowed to have things sent to her, she has no access to funds of her own and you give her no allowance-“
“Then go find a scribe, tell him what she needs and have him send it to me to check. He will bring the loom.” By the look on the girls face it wasn’t enough. “Get all the things she needs for a loom, go now.”
“She likes to embroider too.” The girl waited, for his seal probably.
“Then get that too.” He needed to save his patience, it wouldn’t do to frighten his princess when just last night she’d told him an invaluable slither of information about her brothers tactics.
She’d thought she’d been telling him of the games they’d played as a child, but she’d actually let him know that Kari was patient and most likely lurking somewhere to see if he would keep his promise. That was another reason for his sudden interest in her, if Kari was lurking then what he’d seen so far was abysmal. Easily explained but still abysmal, he just needed to make her smile and then the ambassador would arrive and his rule all but solidified.
“Outside now, to walk.” Alina’s voice was soft, but she still had a faint smile. “Come, Tom.”
“Is that cloak warm enough?” He offered his arm, despite the fact she’d summoned him like a dog. It was the language barrier, nothing more.
“Yes, it’s very warm and beautiful.” She gave him a small twirl, wincing slightly as even that movement caused pain. “It’s from you, yes?”
“Yes.” He steered them from the room, calling for a passing slave to unlock the balcony doors and set out dinner.
“Me, at home, I don’t go to markets. You, here, you go to markets.” She leant heavily against him as they descended the stairs, a single loop of the inner courtyard would do. Maybe they’d pause by the fountains. “Me and you, we go.”
“Are you asking me to go to a market?” He’d bought her a trunk and the spoilt bitch wanted more, it was exactly as he’d expected. “What do you want to buy, and I’ll decide-“
“No, me and you, market.” She spoke slowly, as if he was the imbecile. “You bring me, we have fun.”
“What do you want?” He’d included a set of everything in that trunk, from undergarments to hair beads. Everything destroyed he’d replaced, right down to the last ribbon, he’d even added a few new bits.
“It’s okay.” But her disappointment was clear. “You are busy.”
The night air was cool against his skin but he worried she’d catch a chill, she seemed suspectable to illness and the one that might be in her mind had take a lot from her. But he could probably thank that illness, or the blow to the head, for the sudden lightness in their situation. He was more than happy to put their awkward start behind them, and it would be better for her if she did too.
“You must miss your brother a lot.” He’d noticed her slight stumble, it was time to head back. Twenty minutes was long enough for her, it was enough to tinge her cheeks pink with cold.
“I miss when he would take his letters and ask me…” She switched languages as she struggled up the stairs, pulling on his arm to pause after two steps. “Sorry, my body it hurts-“
“Let me, just-“ He dodged the swipe of her hand, she seemed to hit him more than he thought a wife should hit her husband. “Stop it.” The tone of his voice had her freeze, as it should. “I’ll carry you.”
Worried brown eyes stared up at his as he carried her back to their rooms, truthfully it was a little uncalled for as he didn’t think he’d been that terrible. Sure he’d had no choice but to be a little forceful on their wedding night but he’d had no choice, a marriage was only valid once it’d been consummated. But her brother had looked at her with a mixture of disgust and regret, but he’d done the job. The times after, well, he’d needed an heir.
Their rooms had been cleaned in preparation for his return, everything was as he liked it besides the fire which was blazing an uncomfortably high heat. The brazier had been stocked on the balcony to take the chill from the air, but he would still place a thick blanket over her lap after he’d settled her on their couch. He could be nice, especially when she was useful.
“What do you do with the letters?” He focused on arranging the blanket over her body, ignoring the way even her stomach tensed at his proximity.
“Kari reads them to me.” Her eyes were still boring into him, terrified that he might hurt her. “He ask me questions, I give him ideas.”
“You give advice?” What advice could she possibly give?
“Yes, I –“ She sighed in frustration, calling for the slave girl to return.
“She says she gives advice on diplomatic matters, Kari is a great warrior, her father is a tactician, but she knows how to make a good impression.” The slave girl had been waiting at the threshold, they had an oddly close relationship. “Kari would read her the news, and she would think of good responses.”
“What kind of response?” And what kind of letters? “Tell me, how should I make a good impression.”
“She says a marriage should be celebrated by all, especially a royal one. You should give a feast day to the people to celebrate and give them grain and wine, because now she should be their queen.” Already they were toeing a dangerous line. “She asks if you are the king?”
“Of course I’m the king.” The anger in his words killed the conversation, he forced his words to soften. He could be charming, there was a time when charm was his greatest weapon. “We’ve simply not had time for a coronation, my sweet little wife,” it was harder to be charming when he barely knew her. “It will come soon enough.”
“She says when you shout, she feels afraid.” The girl moved to Alina’s side, touching her shoulder before moving away. “People might like a celebration, then you can send gifts of commemoration to other kingdoms and see who sends one in return. No gift, then you must be careful.”
“Maybe.” It was an irritatingly good idea.
It wasn’t clear if she never served her own food because she expected someone else to do it, or if she still thought she could only eat if he allowed it. Either way he ladles her soup into a bowl before serving his own dinner, she was such a small thing that he really didn’t know what he should feed her. The physician had only given her clear broths, porridge, and soup, so he did the same but he did wonder if that was correct. He couldn’t tell if it was the customs of her kingdom to eat like that, the smallness of her stature, or if that’s simply all she liked.
“Why did you marry me?” She was peering at him in a way that made his skin scrawl. “For gold?”
“For lots of reasons.” But yes, gold was one of them. “Why did you agree?”
“I didn’t, I was told.” She shifted away from him, playing with her spoon.
“But you did agree, I was told by your brother that you had agreed to the match.” He called for the slave girl to translate. “I have your name written in the agreement.”
“She didn’t see any agreement, Kari told her that she was here to help him discuss the truce. He told her only after the wedding had taken place.” The girl spoke as Alina stared into her soup. “She didn’t know anything, she didn’t know of you. Then she was left here.”
For a moment he felt a sliver of pity for her predicament, then he realised the genius of her brothers plan. To keep her terrified from the start, unable to adjust, so unhappy that anyone who looked at her would see the last drop of royal blood living in fear under the rule of a tyrant. It was a smart plan, but he was smarter.
“Then I’m very sorry for what happened.” He dipped his head in sincerity, not quite a bow but enough for her to take it as one.
It seemed to pacify her, she ate her soup as he ate his own dinner and when he shifted closer she didn’t shift away immediately. He added another ladle of soup to her bowl, she had filled out slightly but nowhere near enough. All this nonsense over food would work against him, even if he needed to let her lord her status over him.
“What’s that?” She pointed over his shoulder with a sharp breath.
The air stilled as he turned his head, hand gripping his sword, even this palace wasn’t safe, they would hunt him until the day he died. They would see him dead before he ever saw his empire, they would destroy him for no other reason than being born in the wrong bed. If blood mattered the way they thought it dd then he wouldn’t have slain the princes so easily, if his blood was so inferior then he wouldn’t have one. The giggle as he stood broke the spell, there was nothing there, he turned his attention back to Alina who was giggling with her hand over her mouth. There was a playful gleam about her face that suited her, he’d seen her scared, angry, exhausted, but this playfulness was far more appealing.
“What?” He could see her trying to covertly chew. “What’s funny?” He followed her gaze to his plate to see she’d stolen a small dumpling, maybe she was supposed to eat more than soup. She was a person after all. “Do you like it?”
“Yes.” She glanced at his plate once more, gently hinting for another. But when he filled her plate she giggled again, a gentle sound. “Too much.”
“You are hard work.” Annoyingly the slave girl translated it.
“She says you eat as a soldier, but she doesn’t do anything, so she doesn’t eat that much.” The slave girl translated. “But she would like, sometimes, if you would like, that she could have something that isn’t soup.”
It seemed his efforts weren’t in vain, at least she understood he wouldn’t bend to her.
***
Things were a little better, the General seemed to see her as more of an irritation than an enemy, he tried to be nice but she could see the way he snapped at others when she’d annoyed him. So she tried not to annoy him, she tried to simply just exist beside him, smile when needed, talk when asked, play the harp and dance to please him. On the outside she was a perfectly content princess, she was kind to the servants and she could see them edging closer when the General raised his voice – it was why baba said you must be kind to servants, she dutifully obeyed her husband, and she never raised her voice. But she was lonely, with no friends beyond Thalia, and he made her uncomfortable.
“Stop that.” She stood, moving to sit on an opposite cushion when his hand moved to her leg once more. Sometimes when they sat together he would touch her, on her legs or arms, it was very annoying. “I’m concentrating.”
“No, you’re stitching and it’s boring.” He rolled onto his side, he spent a lot of time with her under the pretence of getting to know each other. But every so often, when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, he watched her with a look of pure calculation. “Don’t you ever do anything?”
“Like what?”
“Leave these rooms, if I must spend time with you then we could at least leave these rooms.” He pulled the thread of her embroidery, scrunching the fabric.
The past few days he just seemed to enjoy annoying her, sitting in this room and complaining about everything and everyone. It had been a strange turn of events, he would spend time with her but he wasn’t really nice to her. He didn’t force her in bed anymore, she still plead sickness, but sometimes he would try and touch her in other ways. It was clear he was attracted to her, he called her pretty sometimes, but that was a line she wouldn’t dare cross.
“We can walk in the gardens?” She straightened the fabric, trying to salvage the pattern.
Something was afoot, it was obvious when he’d told Thalia to get her jewels and a thicker cloak. It was a cloak trimmed in white fur and perfectly warm, it even had small pearls scattered around the sleeves, but he was looking at her in that way again as if he was waiting for her to step a foot wrong. She waited for Thalia to finish draping her cloak before turning to the General for approval, everything she did needed to be for his approval to stave off his temper.
“This cloak is very pretty and warm, thank you.” To give a smile was too false, to try and hide a smile would give the impression he was slowly winning her over.
“Hold my hand.” He offered his first challenge.
She slipped her hand into his as he led her from the room, there was no clear reason for why she should hold his hand other than for him to remind her of how little agency she had. Men and women didn’t hold hands, a man should offer his arm and the woman accept. It was very strange. One day she’d ask for a tour around the palace, each winding corridor and series of courtyards just added another layer of complexity, it wasn’t that she didn’t want to leave their rooms but simply she didn’t know where to go. He led her all the way to the stables, standing before two huge horsed attached to a gilt chariot.
“Well, get in.” He dropped her hand.
“In that?” It was rather big.
“Or do you need to be carried everywhere in a litter?” His eyes hardened, there was an unspoken question that she couldn’t place. “Is this so different from home?”
“I’ve never been in one, I don’t know what to do.” She studied his face, silently praying for some indication of what she’d done wrong.
“So you were carried every time you left the palace?” His brow raised.
“I never left the palace, I-“
“You must have left the palace.” He turned to Thalia who replied sharply, even at the peril of her own back Thalia would defend her from the General.
“General- Tom, sorry, Tom,” things were getting heated, which put Thalia in danger. “I’m sorry, I will go in that if you want.”
“You might enjoy it.” His tone softened, not his usual force softening but a rare sincerity that put her fears at ease. “Take my hand, I’ll go slowly.”
It took some time to settle in the chariot, she needed to stand before him and his arms created a stable box around her as he held the reigns. Small straps were then looped around the front bar so she could stick her wrists through to help her hold on, but at no point did he do anything that would make her afraid, she expected him to shoot off in a display of power but he nudged the horses into a gentle trot as the soldiers rode around them. Every bump made her jolt, every loud noise the horses made had her holding on tighter, but the General murmured words of encouragement. It was strange to see him acting this way, perfectly gentle, it was something she could use.
When the dust made her cough he pulled them to a stop and arranged the collar of her cloak to cover her nose and mouth, he even pointed out interesting things on their way from the palace to the town. It was a pretty place, with temples to gods she didn’t know and statues of people she must be related to, if he permitted it she may ask to leave the palace again. It was everything she’d dreamed of at home, leaving the palace walls and looking at the below, it was almost laughable that he would be the one to give it to her.
Crowds grew thicker as they drew closer to the market and she couldn’t help but shift closer to the General so she could feel him against her back, eh was a lot of horrible things but he was strong. The sights, the sounds, the smells, it was so overwhelming, even the amount of people was terrifying.
“Come, wife, let me show you our city.” He spoke loudly, too loudly. “Did you enjoy the ride?”
“It was frightening, but I think I liked it.” People were looking, every single pair of eyes was on her. “What are they looking at?”
“You.” His shoulders stiffened, a hint of sourness about his tone. “They like you it seems.”
“Don’t lose me, it’s quite busy.” She took his hand to disembark, clinging to it as he tried to let go.
The corner of his lip quirked up but he quickly pulled his expression into its usual blank slate, as a usurper his link to the people would be tenuous, as the last of a bloodline hers would be strong, she could use it in her favour. If she could harness that love and channel it towards him, it would keep her both safe and powerful. From them and him.
Perhaps the only useful thing she’d ever learnt was how to charm people, as they moved through the crowd she stopped to coo at babies, exclaim at the beauty of the view, excitedly point out pretty trinkets to the General, use Thalia to compliment the women weaving and sigh that she wished her own weaving was as good. Hers was far better. Finally she took a bangle from her own arm and gifted it to a young girl who had timidly called her beautiful and she could feel the approval from the crowds, but she couldn’t be too obvious so she took the General’s arm once more and allowed him to lead her through the stalls.
People moved closer as they ventured further into the stalls, crowding her until her heart seamed permanently lodged in her throat. Zesiro was protecting Thalia but they seemed to have fallen behind, the General pulled his hand from hers as he spoke to a guard, a woman tapped her on the shoulder to present her wares. The painted statues were pretty, but she didn’t know these gods. He was gone.
Time stood still as the realisation set in, he had gone and his soldiers had gone with him, the crowd was crushing, all calling her name and demanding attention, they sucked out every bit of air until her head spun with terror. He couldn’t be far, he couldn’t have left her, she just needed to think, if they would stop talking then she would think. Pushing her way through the crowed she searched desperately for a familiar face, but the further she walked the more disorienting things felt. She would never leave the palace again, she would never even look from its walls, a hand closed around her upper arm and she screamed for the General.
An entirely new kind of chaos unfurled around her, hands dragged her forward and swarmed around her in a protective circle, the sickly sounds of fists hitting flesh came from beyond the wall of bodies as women screamed for the guards. The market was in chaos. Three women stood between her and the wall of vigilante men as she prayed to the moon goddess to see her safe, then she saw him, the General shoving his way towards her with his still-bloodied sword in his hand, and despite all her vows of keeping him at a distance she ran towards him and threw her arms around his waist. Only to steady herself, definitely not because she was frightened.
“Are you hurt?” His free hand awkwardly touched the back of her neck.
But she couldn’t reply, she could only stand there like a coward with her face buried in his tunic. People were supposed to love her, but it seemed one had attacked her yet again, sure many had stepped in to protect her but it only took one blade to kill her. Better the devil she knew.
“He asks if you are hurt.” Thalia was now by her side. “I’ll tell you what happened later, but for now keep him sweet.”
“Tell him I’m not hurt, but I was pushed a little and I feel frightened.” When she was frightened, he was kinder. Outside of their bedroom of course. “Tell him I wish him not to leave me alone here, I’m afraid.”
“Don’t be afraid, I’m here.” If he was smart he’d have said it loud enough for the crowd to hear, but he only murmured it as he stroked her hair.
“He says you will continue to look around, then pick an offering to lay at the shrine of their gods to bless your marriage.” Thalia touched her arm, urging her to be brave. “Come Alina, show the people who you truly are.”
“I don’t know who I am.” That was the uncomfortable truth.
“Then be what he wants.” Thalia offered little more comfort than that.
“It’s safe, don’t cry.” He murmured more terms of endearment that Thalia translated, all the kinds of things that a man would say to his wife but without the sentiment. To him it was simply going through the motions.
“I’m fine.” She pulled away, a circle of soldiers surrounded her once more.
She stepped on his foot a few times from how close beside she was walking but he didn’t chide her, slowly her fear began to subside and she found herself looking longingly at the stalls once more. As he studied the jars of perfume she studied him, he was rather handsome and very tall, his face could have been carved from marble in homage to the gods – the god of war most likely. To learn he was a devout man was not something she’d ever imagined, to fight so brutally against the natural order of the world could only mean one of two things; he shunned the gods or believed himself to have the strength of the gods. Either was a terrifying thought, either could see them punished.
“This one is lovely.” She picked a bottle of myrrh.
“But look at this, it’s half filled.” He held the bottle to the light, pointing each flaw in turn. “The lapis is real, it’s garnets and not rubies, and its brass not gold. Come look at this one, it’s the same scent but in a finer bottle.”
She moved before him to insect the bottle he had chosen, it was lovely and probably very expensive, she had thought him unlikely to spend much on something like this. It seemed he didn’t like to spend much at all, if she asked for things it was met with disdain, but for the gods it made sense not to scrimp.
“Will you take it?” She placed her chosen bottle back.
“I shall.” He handed over a handful of gold coins, not even greeting the shopkeeper.
She called thanks as he pulled her away, from their short visit here she could tell he was distrustful of his own people. That was the kind of thing that would topple a leader, he regarded them with suspicion, and they saw him the same. It wouldn’t do. The path to the temple was flanked by perfectly pruned trees, before them the white columned temple glistened against the cool afternoon air. Statues of their gods watched them as they passed as she said a secret prayer to her own, this was a sacred place and any misstep would prove fatal. When he washed his hands at the threshold she did the same, when he removed his sandals so did she, when he bowed to the image of the heavens she copied until he gave a small chuckle.
“You don’t need to bow.” Thalia whispered. “Only men do.”
“Tell him I’m sorry.” Already she’d made a mistake.
“He says you’re sweet.” Thalia sounded a little shocked.
“Don’t fall for it, you know what he’s like.” He was a man who’d killed her kin, brutally attacked her multiple times. He wasn’t a good man.
“I know you are wed to him, whether you like it or not your star is hitched to his.” No. Her star was her own, she just needed to chart it. “Better you warm to him quickly, for both our sakes.”
“Is something wrong?” He’d been watching their conversation.
“I don’t know what to do.” She pulled her brows together, in the way that Kari could never scold. “I don’t know your customs.”
“I’ll show you.” He offered his arm, leading her towards the alter.
Smoke spilled from hanging balls of incense, perfumed water trickled softly in the background, scenes from great battles were painted on each wall and column, but it wasn’t like a temple in the palace it was a temple for the people. Offerings placed here ranged from gold rings to a pretty posy of flowers, each person gifting the best they could afford, perhaps he had come here as a young boy and made promises of all the things he would give if he could win his war. He knelt before the alter then stood and settled her before taking his original position, at least he was acting somewhat proper, then he unstoppered the bottle and poured a measure onto the marble before them as he whispered his prayers.
“Face me.” He poured another measure onto his fingers.
She did as asked and he touched the her forehead, then her wrists, the hollow of her throat, and her temples, leaving a trail of sweet smelling oil in his wake. He placed the bottle between them and waited, perhaps it was to be her choice, it seemed to be some kind of marriage ritual and he wouldn’t force her in the temple. Not in the most holiest of places.
“Do you know what I’m doing?” He held her eyes.
“Blessing our marriage?” It was the most logical conclusion.
“Yes.” His eyes clouded, shutting her out.
“But women, they don’t get a say?” At home they didn’t.
“Everyone is equal before the gods.”
Her hand stretched out to grasp the bottle and pour a small measure on her fingertips, he stayed perfectly still, she touched the oil to his forehead and something fell behind his eyes. It was as though for the first time since they met he was seeing her, not her gold, her crown, her bloodline, but just her.
“Where next?” She needed to be perfect.
He silently offered his wrists and she anointed them, then his throat, and finally his temples, when she was done she placed the oil between them and he offered it to the alter once more. Even the light clink of the bottle against the marble sounded like thunder in the silence, there was no going back now.
“You understand what you’ve done, that you’ve accepted me?” He held her eyes.
“Tell him I’ve accepted the man I know he can be, patient and kind, understanding that some things are new and unknown to me.” She whispered to Thalia, who translated in a voice as gentle as her own. “A man who understands that I am frightened, that I don’t mean to upset him but it’s all I seem to do.”
“He says you can start again, that things will be different.” Thalia nodded in encouragement.
“Of course.” Not a chance.