The Cousin of the Crown
The Lost Hero will be finishing up its serial run here in a month or two, just in time for publishing! (If you are a paid subscriber, you get access to this full-length novel as it finishes up its serial run. After publishing you can get a free copy either in paperback or eBook.)
Next, I was thinking of running a stand-alone book, Cousin of the Crown. A bit of departure from swords/sorcery fantasy, this is a ‘historical’ fiction with political intrigue, adventure, and romance. Here’s a sneak peek. Let me know if you are interested!
The idiom about a man’s eyes were wrong: they did not dull in death. Even as his body lay limp at my feet, his blood swirling in fantastic patterns, his eyes still glittered.
Those same lights winked from my knife. A constellation reflected in the steel, grown hot in my hand. All was noise around me. It grew until it engulfed me and my screams.
The heavy door shuddered as my pursuers bellowed, trying to reach me in time. But it was too late, they came too late!
The tiny lights flickered as I pressed the keen point to my stomach. My arms froze, my body rebelling, fighting back against my broken mind.
The door gave way at last, thrown open with a crash. They loomed in the doorway, accusing, predatory.
Snarling defiance, I spat at them and drove the blade in deep.
The cacophony was nothing to the terrible silence. I waited breathless for the eruption that never ceased to thrill me. Even muffled by the heavy curtains drawn to hide our lifeless forms, the stage vibrated with their approval. There was no feeling like it, nothing that made me feel more alive, more myself.
My murdered lover rolled onto his side, his handsome face propped in his hand. His teeth gleamed in the candlelight.
“My beautiful lady,” he murmured. “When will you marry me?”
I laughed softly. “There is only room for one prima in your life, Ceddrin.”
His shrug was pure conceit, unashamed and unapologetic. He rose nimbly and pulled me along to the wings.
The air was rich with the scent of flowers as they rained down on us. No roses yet, but tulips, apple blossoms, hyacinths; the many colors of spring carpeted the boards and the orchestra.
Ceddrin gathered an armful and presented them to me with a bow. Their perfume grew heady as the petals were crushed between us. Ceddrin swept me into his arms and pressed a fierce kiss to my lips. My audience roared.
The fragrance of the blossoms clung to me as I made my slow progression to my dressing room. The noise and excitement were so refreshing, so alive and happy, I could not stop my tears. Years of weariness and worry evaporated as I embraced my colleagues, dancing hand in hand down the narrow corridors under the stage.
My dressing room overflowed with exuberance. Chorus singers talked and laughed while I washed the makeup from my face and removed my wig. I managed to squeeze behind my dressing screen to remove my blood-stained rags in some semblance of privacy.
Our music director pushed through to me, his path made easier by the fact that he used to be a corpulent man. Now, his elbows stood out from his body, though his eyes twinkled from their wrinkled depths as brightly as they ever had.
I knotted my robe and went to him, more tears burning my eyes when I saw the pride in his face. He held my hands tightly in his now frail ones.
His praise was simple: “Magnificent.”
“Thank you, Cecil.”
“My darling, your voice improves every year. By the time you are thirty, you will hail men’s souls from their bodies.”
“Then the Cantor will have me shut up in a convent.”
Cecil’s laugh was rich and rolling, speaking to his own years as a prima uomo. “Go, my lady. Rest. You have performed miracles.”
It was well into the early hours by the time I stood alone at a narrow door. The opera house had long since emptied of its patrons, though I could still hear the stage crews chatting as they worked.
A single man stood by the door, his profession clear and menacing.
“My lady.” He leaned to open the door for me. “She is waiting for you.”
I thanked him and slipped into the cool darkness. The late moon had already set. It was too early still for the dray- and milkmen, late revelers long since straggled to their beds.
That left no one but the guardsman standing at the foot of the stairs, another by the carriage. I knew if I peered into the gray shadows, I would see them all around, keeping the area around the carriage secure.
I stepped into the closed coach and settled back with a sigh.
“Oh, Leticia! It could not have been more perfect!” I exclaimed. “You should have told Lord Fernidad to stuff his negotiations! If I never sang again, I would die happy. Ceddrin — what a conceited cad he is! — he was in such form tonight! I nearly fell in love with him in truth.”
I could not see my cousin’s face in the darkness, the glow from the street lamps casting narrow bands of gold across where her hands rested on her knees. She did not speak, her hands clenching the rich fabric of her gown.
My amusement faded. “Leticia?”
She sighed, a soft sound under the noise of the coach. “The terms have been accepted. In full.”
Her fingers were cold when I took them gently in mine.
“I’m sorry,” I said, even knowing as she did there never had been another possible outcome. “But, we will have peace. Our people will be safe.”
She squeezed my hands. “I pray so.”
The thick walls of the Ville Coirson did not prevent the excitement of the city from penetrating the sanctified interior. Though the air inside remained cool and still, whispers of music and laughter floated in the corners, rich with the smell of sun and warm earth.
Colored light from windows high above shone in the princess’ golden hair. The Cantor sang his prayers, rich incense rolling across us with every sweep of his arm.
I knelt behind and below Leticia, included in these blessings of good fortune and safety. When the luminous syllables came to a close, she and I would board the waiting carriage and begin our journey to Reuss.
Leticia’s pale neck rose from her shoulders, her hands clasped gently on the altar. I could feel her careful stillness as she suppressed tremors of apprehension. She had lain awake all night as I sat by her bed, looking out onto the lights of Tierhrade, our beautiful, weary city.
The Cantor spoke the last words of his benediction, resting his own hand briefly on the princess’ head. He bent and murmured in her ear. She nodded, eyes closed. Then she rose in a graceful motion and turned to the noble assembly.
The quiet rippled as they, too, rose and stood in respectful silence. She passed through the midst of them, chin up and proud. I followed a few steps behind. My father smiled at me as I passed. My mother had tears in her eyes.
I expected the brilliant sun outside, so was prepared for its glory when we left the dim interior onto the wide steps before the cathedral.
The crowd gathered at their foot cheered, waving banners and ribbons. Garlands were tossed until our carriage was covered in a mass of verdure.
The king made a speech full of patriotic thunder that I didn’t listen to. I held Leticia’s hand discretely between our skirts until her father kissed us both and sent us down to our carriage.
A ‘huzzah’ encouraged us on our way. Guardsmen lined the avenue making an open path through the city to the main gate and the trade road beyond.
Still, our progress was slow. Leticia and I waved acknowledgement of the citizens’ cheers. The crowd increased rather than diminished as we drew closer to the gate. Once in the Plaza Rhade itself, Leticia signaled the coachmen to halt. She took the purse prepared for this moment and tossed silver coins across the crowd in gleaming waves.
Bag empty, she sat and the procession continued. The press finally thinned after we passed through the buildings without the walls and into the residential complexes beyond.
I looked back once more at the city that had been my home for twelve years. The excitement was palpable in the very air. Music echoed from every borough, the scent of roasting meat drifting even this far. Righting myself, I sighed and kicked off my shoes.
“Well, thank the heavens that’s over.”
Leticia was still smiling and waving. There were citizens moving along the road, but they only paused to bow and cheer before resuming their trek to the festivities.
No matter the brightness of her smile, her face was strained. I rummaged beneath the seat and pulled out the wicker basket waiting there.
“You should eat.”
At last, her hand fell to her lap. “I’m not hungry.”
“Just a few bites,” I encouraged. “They’ve stuffed it full. Look, spice cakes!”
Leticia gave me a smile that made her seem all the more wan. But she took the pastry and nibbled at it. “I have a headache.”
“We’ll be at the traveling coach soon,” I assured her, knowing how low her spirits were. “Then you’ll lie down and have a rest.” These last weeks had taken their toll, sleepless nights and anxious days waiting for Reuss’ response.
I put my arm around her and hugged her close. “How exciting it is! Advancing into enemy territory, waging a war of words, battling for our country! Here, eat this bit of cheese.” With some gentle coaxing and a few stern looks, I managed to get a small meal in her.
By now, the crowds were far behind us. The hushed farmland soothed my nerves. The air was warm and lush, the smell of fertile earth as sweet as the flowers around us. The spring had been perfect, just enough sun, just enough rain. The fear and hunger of last winter faded as green tendrils stretched for the sky.
“What will he be like?” Leticia murmured, eyes closed with her head on my shoulder.
“Haven’t you been paying attention? His ambassadors have been extolling his limitless virtues these past four months!”
Her lips curved the slightest. “Yes, unceasingly.”
“If half what they claim is true, you may just fall senseless at his feet, overwhelmed by his sheer magnificence.”
My levity failed to brighten her smile. “But, still. What if…?”
I twisted a sweet-pea stem between my fingers, watching the delicate petals flutter. “You may have to marry him, but there’s nothing in the treaty demanding you talk to him or laugh at his moronic jokes. And I will be on hand to toss him into the cesspit, needs be and treaty be damned.”
“Thank you for staying with me. This is… not as I hoped.”
I despised it, but there was nothing I could do. It was a compromise and, as they usually did, left everyone with a foul taste in their mouth. And we all of us, Reuss and Atier alike, knew the consequences.
“I am in the same pickle, you know.”
Leticia frowned at me. “How so?”
“That horrid woman, the one married to the Secretary of the Treasury? She wears the turbans and the orange lip paint? She was forever slinking up and hinting that I use my ‘arts’ to capture one of the other brothers. That it is my duty to cement the treaty.” I scoffed. “‘Arts.’”
Leticia’s eyes were round and fragile. “Will you?”
I checked my flippant response under her earnest face. “You know I cannot, that I do not want—”
“I know,” she said quickly. “But, will you stay? After?”
“I will stay until you and your paragon are married and settled,” I promised.
“Thank you.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “I know what you have given up for me, Alea.”
“You are more important than any acclaim.” I held her close until she drew away, trying to wipe her eyes without my seeing.
“I won’t be nearly so afraid with you there.”
“I am known to be rather alarming,” I said dryly.
She laughed and hugged me again, tight and fierce. “I love you, Alea.”
I kissed her curls. “And I you. Now, cheer up. I can see the crossroads ahead.”
The traveling coach was waiting with fresh horses and another contingent of guardsmen. The tollman’s house had been hastily made comfortable for our royal patronage, a taller building in the middle of town. Those not lucky enough to make the journey to Tierhrade were held back by barricades and soldiers.
I saw Leticia inside, her waiting women ready to change her court dress for one suited for travel. Used to quick costume changes, my own toilet took only moments. I hurried back to the road, scanning the hills as the last details were arranged by the Guardsmen.
The sound of hoofbeats rose over the noise of the crowd. My father’s banner crested first, but the guards did not relax until he had drawn up and given the passwords. One treaty would not undo generations of conflict and distrust.
My mother had ridden out as well. She dismounted unaided and swept me into her arms, my father a few steps behind.
“That we had more time! We will miss you, little songbird,” my mother said.
Father soothed my hair, his voice gruff. “Be safe, Alea.”
“I will,” I promised. “Write as soon as Kirrin’s baby arrives. And tell Lady Fiir I will send a copy of that treatise, if I can find it. And give baby Josi kisses from me.”
My mother pressed a thick envelope into my hands. “From the children. They will miss your stories.”
My throat was hot and tight, my heart pressing up. Holding the words and drawings of my siblings crumbled my self control. I blinked my eyes clear and turned to the guard standing by.
“Tell the princess we should be moving on.”
“Yes, my lady.”
I carefully packed the farewell messages into the new coach. It was a square, sturdy equipage with small windows, built for speed and strength. Leticia would be carriage sick within the hour.
She came and exchanged her own farewells with my parents before stepping into the dim interior. I embraced them both one last time, promised again to be cautious and well-mannered, and followed my cousin into the carriage. The door shut, a whip cracked, and we were off.
Tierhrade stood at the junction of two rivers, one swift from the northern mountains and our border with Reuss. The other wound lazily from the southeast. Once they intermingled, the waters coursed across the lowlands until the sea swallowed them up.
We followed the trade road, the sinuous river approaching and retreating as we cut straight across the country. Banners waved at each small town, our cavalcade raising dust as we raced to the docks and the waiting ship to Reuss.
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