Chapter Five: Home Away from Home

The road to Galic was a long and mostly boring one. They were accompanied by a sizable royal escort, so no one even considered banditry or getting in their way. The days passed by uneventfully. Regina had thought ahead and brought several books to read, but she finished them in the first few days, and you can only reread the same book so many times before it starts to get old.

Galic was overwhelmingly mountainous and the road to the capital was long and winding, with many switchbacks as they climbed the mountains. Regina had a harder time breathing and shivered in the deepening increasing cold. Fortunately, her father had thought about the cold and made sure the servants packed her several warm changes of clothes, though they were all typical female clothes expected of a woman of her station. Some were transparently regal clout-seeking finery. But the servants at home knew what she liked, so it was mostly blue and yellow dresses, along with a handful of matching jackets complete with conspicuous golden buttons to compliment the outfit.

Upon reaching the outskirts of the capital of Galic, J-rai, the entourage was stopped at the gate where they were questioned about their identity and purpose. The caravan master explained their purpose, and once they verified that they did indeed have a seventeen-year-old princess with them, they let them pass.

The advanced guard had ridden ahead of them, so the king was alerted to their arrival, and heralds were sent to welcome the caravan to the city. The large wooden gate was inlaid with a spinning metal pattern and generally left open. Though the doors stood flush with the walls of the gate, Regina observed the very intricate craftsmanship of the metal pattern. Trumpets announced them as they passed through the outer gate. The trumpeters and herald marched in front of the entourage, announcing her passing.

Regina could not see very much outside of the carriage windows. She could have leaned out and looked around more, but people came out in large numbers to watch along the street in hopes of catching a peek at their new queen. She was not regularly shy, but the combination of new climate, culture, and crowds held her firmly out of sight.

The road they were on in the city did have the familiar slight bounce of a paved road, but it was far smoother than the roads of Rashil she was accustomed to. Working up the courage to poke her head outside to look down, she saw that rather than a gravel strip like most of the roads in Rashil, it was made of many rectangular stones that fit together in a herringbone pattern with small amounts of dirt filling in any minor gaps.

She remarked to herself that the masonry was impressive, but almost as soon as she was visible from outside the carriage, the assembled crowd got audibly excited and she suddenly became very self-conscious. She went to lean back in, but the hood of the cloak she was wearing to protect against the cold got caught slightly on the window frame and it pulled back to reveal her long two-toned auburn-blond hair tied in her braid.

The crowd audibly gasped at the reveal of the billowing locks of hair. Fully mortified by the attention, she pulled inside forcefully and felt the top of hood shred. She cursed, but when she felt the part where it had caught on the door, it was a relatively minor blemish.

Regina mostly hid in the carriage the rest of the way as she was unaccustomed to that sort of attention. She did spare a glance or two out of the window and noticed the people of the town wore a very different style of dress. Both genders dressed similarly, which was very different to the highly restrictive, gendered wardrobes of her homeland in Rashil. Their clothes were also far more utilitarian compared to the segregated styles of robes or tunics in the lowlands of Rashil. The natives of Galic almost all wore pants and heavy coats to protect against the cold. She also noted that most of the clothes had some form of off-colored trim that made the edges of each garment stand out.

Instead of sandals, they wore thick leather boots that were waterproof for walking through the snow present in the high mountain peaks, especially when winter came. Though there was no snow now.

The city was much smaller than the capital of Rashil. It was divided by three concentric circular walls. Like a motte and bailey fortress but built on the side of a mountain. The innermost walled section was massive enough to accommodate the entire town in the event of a siege. If they didn’t mind sharing elbow space.

The entourage passed through the gate in the inner wall and the trumpeting stopped. The carriage pulled around the courtyard until it was pulled up in front of the keep. It was quiet for a moment while everyone moved into position. The herald they brought with them came close to the window. “Are you ready, Princess?” he asked.

“No, but I don’t think I’ll ever be, so let’s just get this over with.” Regina took several deep breaths to calm her nerves. It didn’t help.

With sudden fanfare, the trumpeting began again and the herald bellowed, “My lords and ladies, it is with great pleasure that I present to you: Princess Regina of Rashil!” The door to the carriage swung open. Regina froze in the carriage and hid for a moment before gathering her nerves. Looking out the door, she observed the large crowd and leaped from frozen right over petrified and landed in a pile of permafrost that locked her in place.

The glare of the sudden increase in light moving from the inside of the dark carriage and into the sunlight of her new home blinded her. She raised one hand to shield her eyes in a way that she hoped looked like a wave. As her vision adjusted she what felt like an endless crowd.

Gathered around the carriage was nearly every castle servant, garrison soldier, and landed nobility in the kingdom. She had expected a welcoming party perhaps, not a welcoming mob.

She looked around at the sea of unfamiliar faces and seriously considered going back inside the carriage to hide. The crowd parted and a man began to approach her. He was tall, appeared to be in his late twenties, had short blond hair with a short, but curly beard, steel blue eyes, and he was wearing a red coat with gold trim and pants to match. He wasn’t the most handsome man she had ever seen, but he certainly was not ugly, with a firm jawline and seemingly muscular physique.

The man approached slowly, and once he got close, he said, “Hello, Princess, I am King Stewart.” He lowered his head and bent to one knee. “It’s my great pleasure to meet you at last.” The welcoming mob mumbled at the gesture, but almost as one they went to one knee in respect.

Regina looked at the crowd kneeling in front of her and became even more uncomfortable. “Oh, please, don’t kneel on my account. It is I who owe you honor,” she said and pulled back her hood. As she did, she lowered her eyes, crossed one leg in front of the other, and spread her skirt in a curtsey.

When she looked back up, the gaze of the crowd had grown even more intense and she heard several people murmuring about her long, two-toned hair. Its hue moved with its typical luster in delicate patterns that stunned the crowd. The king rose, and a moment later so did the rest of the assembled crowd.

The king smiled at her and said, “When they told me they had to make a last-minute substitution, I was worried. But seeing you . . . You are more beautiful than a full moon in a clear sky of stars.” Regina blushed hard at the compliment. “And if you don’t mind me saying,” the king added, “your hair is simply striking. I have never seen the two-toned hair of the Rashilian royalty; it’s different than I was expecting, but no less lovely.”

Regina unconsciously touched her braid and said, “T-thank you.” She stumbled over her words. “Your hair is very lovely too,” she added, not sure what else to say.

The king ran his hand through his short blond hair and laughed. “Thank you, my father gave it to me. So, I’m sure it is.” He stepped forward and offered his hand to aid her in exiting the carriage. She gratefully accepted and stepped out of the carriage.

She missed the second step down and tripped forward into the arms of the king. “Woah there! Let’s not get carried away too quickly, huh?” the king said with an amused smile. In the small tumble, Regina’s face stopped just a short distance from his and she flushed immediately, feeling like she would die from embarrassment. Though she found herself distracted by the warmth of the king’s hands on her slightly trembling, cold fingers. Her nerves calmed though as he helped her find her footing, and he remarked in a whisper only they could hear, “Your violet eyes are simply breathtaking as well, my lady.”

A sharp shiver ran up Regina’s spine as she tried and failed to not blush at the unexpected touch and simultaneous mortified embarrassment from the trip. Regaining her composure somewhat, she brushed the creases of her cerulean dress and looked around the crowd a bit more calmly. This place doesn’t seem barbaric like the stories say. And the king, he’s not fat or slovenly at all! Regina thought to herself. So far, this experience was very unlike what she was expecting. “What’s next?” she asked, unsure of what to do with herself.

“Well,” King Stewart said. “As much as it pains me to leave you, I have some important royal business to take care of today. So, I cannot personally show you around. But I have arranged for my chamberlain to show you around the castle and give you an orientation.” Beside the king, a man in a buttoned-up blue coat and long brown pants approached. He had short gray hair and was certainly old, but his body showed firm and defined muscles under his coat. Distinctly contrasted by the pudgy, unathletic bureaucrats of Rashil.

“That would be me, Princess,” said the man as he bowed slightly. “I am Chamberlain Danz. If you would please follow me, it would be my honor to show you the castle and all its amenities.”

“Of course,” Regina said. The chamberlain led her inside and she left the carriage and attendants behind. They crossed through the large archway that held the front door of the keep and the tour began. Danz showed her the audience chamber/throne room, the kitchens, the dining room, the small garden the kitchen kept for fresh herbs, and the battlements. Tapestries and sculptures seemed to line every wall. When the chamberlain showed her the sizable library of the castle, she audibly gasped. It held more books than she had ever seen in one place, other than her school/church archives. Eventually, the chamberlain led her down a set of spiral stairs that seemed to go underground.

“I don’t really think I need to see the dungeon . . .” Regina said a bit nervously.

“Oh no, Princess,” Chamberlain Danz said. “We don’t have a dungeon as you might describe it here. But we do have something else down here.”

“Oh really? What’s that?” she asked.

“It’s better if you see for yourself,” Danz replied as they continued to descend. Darkness deepened during their descent, but Danz didn’t carry a torch or lantern. Regina was about to ask why but the dark gave way to a soft green glow.

As Regina’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, she noticed the light was coming from patches of bioluminescent moss clinging to the walls. Regina was fascinated, having never seen anything like it before. “Right this way,” the chamberlain added, pulling her away from her fascination.

Regina heard the spring before she saw it. They turned a corner, and she saw a large pool of water that seemed to flow out through an unassuming opening in the cavern wall. It would go completely unnoticed save for a small spring trickled a small, but constant flow of water and into the collected pool. “Wow,” Regina said. “This is incredible, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s pretty unique,” the chamberlain said. “You can, of course, come down here anytime you’d like. The king likes to bathe in the spring from time to time. The water is warm, so it soothes the muscles and warms the body.”

“Wow,” Regina said again.

“Indeed, the castle was built on top of the spring for a reason. It’s a source of fresh, clean drinking water.” The chamberlain smirked. “So long as the king hasn’t been bathing in it of course,” he added.

“So as long as your food stores hold out, you can withstand a siege basically indefinitely,” Regina said.

“Exactly right,” the chamberlain said, impressed and surprised at her knowledge of military tactics. “Now, there’s one more stop on our tour—your temporary quarters. Together they walked back up the spiral stairs to the main level of the castle, then one floor higher. Regina huffed and puffed as she climbed the stairs, unaccustomed to the thin air. “Don’t worry, Princess, you’ll get used to the air. Everyone does, it just takes time.”

“I hope so,” Regina said in reply. They walked down the hall until they reached a large gilded wooden door. The chamberlain opened the door.

Inside was a large canopy bed with nightstands on each side, several couches, a large and ornate, though not opulent desk, and a full-length mirror. Tapestries hung on the wall and a chest at the foot of the bed. Her bags from the carriage had already been brought up.

“This will be your room for the day. You can rest, refresh yourself, and change here for the ceremony later.” Danz turned to her and plainly said, “After the ceremony, you will, of course, retire to the king’s chambers, where we will move your baggage once you have everything you need.”

Regina swallowed hard, contemplating sharing a bedroom with someone else. She knew other cultures and commoners without adequate space slept with their spouses sometimes, but none of the nobility of Rashil did. She took it for granted that a king and queen would sleep separately. It would be improper. Why should a woman, no matter how noble, linger once her duty was completed?

“And this is where I leave you,” Danz said. “The seamstress should be up shortly to take your measurements and fit your dress.”

“My dress?” Regina asked.

“For the ceremony tonight.”

Regina had almost forgotten she was getting married tonight. Her nerves gripped her heart again. “Oh, right . . .” she said.

A concerned look crossed the chamberlain’s face as he noticed her discomfort. “I don’t want to overstep my bounds, Princess,” the chamberlain said with a bow. “But you shouldn’t be overly nervous. King Stewart is one of the kindest and most gracious men I’ve ever met. Even more so than his father, may he rest in peace. I am extremely lucky to serve such a noble lord.”

“Thank you . . .” she said, trailing off, genuinely grateful for the advice, but no less worried. “I guess I’ll be fine waiting here,” she added. “You can go take care of your other duties.”

The chamberlain bowed and made his exit, closing the large gilded door behind him. Fully alone for the first time since she left Rashil, she sat on one of the couches and tried not to cry. She felt terribly lonely and missed her family dearly. She especially missed Reginald; they hadn’t ever been apart for this long, and it was only going to get longer.

Regina nervously bounced sitting on her hands lost in worrying thoughts. Three knocks ripped Regina away from her day-nightmare, who was grateful for the release. She opened the door and there was a short woman holding a measuring tape and stool, and a taller woman carrying a green-and-blue-colored dress with small, gold-colored embroidery lining the seams of the shoulders, bust, and bottom. “Hello, Princess,” the seamstress said as she bowed slightly. “I’m here to take your measurements and prepare your dress.”

“Of course,” Regina said. “Come in.”

They entered and the seamstress gestured for her to stand in the center of the room. She stood on the stool and measured Regina’s height, bust, waist, and hips. Nodding and thinking, the seamstress said to herself, “With just a few alterations, we should be able to get this to fit perfectly. Let out the bust a little, narrow the waist, but other than that, it should be a good fit. How about you try it on as it is now, and we’ll see if that’s all we need changed.” The assistant handed her the blue and green dress to try on.

Regina walked a few steps away and looked at the dress. The two women looked at her expectantly. “Um, would you mind turning around while I change?”

“Oh!” the seamstress said. “Apologies, Princess. I have heard of the Rashilian preference for modesty, but I wasn’t thinking about it. We’ll of course turn around.” They did as she said, and Regina looked around nervously as though some hidden pair of eyes were spying on her.

She shuffled out of her current dress in layers. It was cold in the room, so she shivered as she stood there in just her underclothes. She quickly put on the provided dress. “Ok, you can turn back around.”

The seamstress and her assistant turned around. The seamstress put her hands to her mouth; the assistant merely smiled. “Oh Princess, you look beautiful!”

Regina did not feel beautiful. She had a hard time breathing, and her breasts were squished in the dress so they welled up and looked like they might fall out at any second. “I think you might have to let the bust out more than a little . . .” she said.

“Of course, Princess, whatever you would like,” The seamstress said. The two seamstresses talked among themselves as they moved around her, measuring every little part of her body while Regina stood there awkwardly. “You can take the dress off now. We’ll go alter it and bring it back before tonight.” Both women respectfully turned around again to let her change. It took longer to get into her old clothes than to get out of them. Once she was done, she told the two women they could turn around, and handed them back the dress.

As the seamstress gathered the dress and rest of her supplies she said, “Would you like us to send up your appointed handmaiden? She should be able to take care of any needs you may have and answer any questions.”

Regina stammered, unsure of the proper response before settling on “Sure? I guess?”

The seamstress nodded, accepting the answer in the form of a question. “Her name is Rebecca. I’m sure her service will prove to be most satisfactory. She has some other duties she is attending to right now, but she should be up in about an hour.” She turned and left with her assistant, bid her a farewell, and left the room, closing the door behind them. Alone again, she sat down on the bed and thought for a while. The sun was far from setting, so she figured she had several hours to kill.

Another interminable hour later there was a knock at the door. Regina stood and went to open the door. On the other side was a woman with long blond hair wearing a simple blue dress that was tied in the back.

The woman bowed low and said, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Princess. I am Rebecca, and will serve as your handmaiden and assistant for as long as you’ll allow me.”

Regina shuffled her feet nervously. She’d had servants at her father’s house. But never one to attend to her specific needs exclusively. And this, in combination with all the other recent changes in life was unsettling. “Hello . . .” she said back, trailing off.

Rebecca rose from her bow and smiled at Regina warmly. She saw the discomfort on Regina’s face and said, “If I may say so, you need not worry. We may do things a little differently than in Rashil. I think you will acclimate to our way of doing things quickly, along with the air. You may feel a bit ill for a few days at least, but it will subside eventually.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” Regina said as she put a hand to her forehead. She had a powerful headache that had not gone away since they first got to the mountains. It occurred to her that the two were perhaps related.

Seeing her holding her head, Rebecca intuited the reason for the gesture. “We have some herbs to help with that headache if you’d like. They aren’t narcotic, so you should be plenty fine for the ceremony later.”

Regina was not overly fond of medicine, as it almost always tasted gross, but the headache was bad enough that she thought she would prefer that to the headache. “Yes, please, that sounds great, thank you.”

“Of course, is there anything else I can do for you in the meantime before I go?” Rebecca asked further.

Regina looked over to her bags and contemplated taking out one of her books to read while she waited. But then she remembered the massive library Danz had shown her earlier. “Yes, actually, I’m a little confused by the layout of the castle. Danz said that you have quite an extensive archive and library. Could you perhaps show me?”

Rebecca smiled wide and said, “Of course! Just follow me and I will show you how to get there.”

Regina smoothed the creases out of her dress and made her way to the library. The castle was very large, and while it was laid out simply, she had only been through it once before and wasn’t sure of the way. Rebecca took the lead as she walked in the hallway. When servants passed her in the hall, they made a point to move out of her way with deference and wished her a good day, although never in the transparently sycophantic way she was accustomed to. After descending the stairs, she found herself in the large library. She walked around the shelves, but did not recognize the pattern in how they were organized.

Rebecca observed her silently as she walked around the room looking at the books.

“Is there anything else I can get for you, other than the pain-reducing herbs? There should be a feast after the ceremony later, but if you are thirsty, I can get you some wine or the fresh spring water to take with it.”

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Regina that she was quite thirsty and said, “Yes, actually, that would be great. I’d love some water. Thank you.” Rebecca bowed slightly and politely as she left.

Regina walked around the room several times, looking at the various books. She would pick one up, then try to read the title and the first couple of pages, then put it back. Very few were written in anything resembling Rashilian words. She did this several times until a voice came from the doorway. “Looking for something?”

Startled, Regina spun. In the doorway stood King Stewart. She bowed in front of the king on trained instinct and shook her head, flustered. “No, nothing in particular. Your majesty. I’m just trying to figure out how this is organized, most of the letters in your language are the same, but the vocabulary feels wholly different. I can’t really read any of it,” she answered in halting half-sentences, trying to find the proper answer.

His hand moved between her face and the floor and he gestured for her to look up at him. This only added to her discomposure as she was greeted with a warm and genuine smile. “Well then, maybe I can help you find something. Let me show you.” He walked up to her and gestured to the bookcase in front of her. “This case is for books relating to language.” He gestured to the top of the shelf. “This is further subdivided by topic. For example, this shelf is for books related to linguistics such as etymology, dictionaries, and grammar.” The king moved to the next bookcase and Regina followed.

“This case is for books pertaining to the arts,” King Stewart said. “And this is again further subdivided by subjects such as painting, sculpture, dance, literature, and so on.” He gestured and continued in his guided tour as he listed categories and subjects. She observed how well his clothes fit his physique. How sharply his short beard framed his face. How much his eyes sparkled in the refracted light. How cute his lips danced as he spoke that she had hardly noticed they had stopped moving. They had stopped moving. He looked at her expectantly and it occurred to her that she hadn’t been listening at all to what he was saying.

A dagger of ice chilled her back and she blushed profusely. She spun on instinct to hide her embarrassment and tried to remember what he had been talking about. She had no idea, so she stammered as she glanced around the library. She turned and he smiled at her, quietly amused at the effect he seemed to be having on her. She blushed hard, again. Regina admonished herself internally. Say something! Anything! “Do you have any books on martial arts?”

King Stewart had asked if there was anything he could have the kitchen make for her, so her answer was certainly unexpected. Though without missing a beat, he raised his fist between them, shook it emphatically, and with a comical and nasally voice said, “Well then, how about I give you a knuckle sandwich myself!”

This answer was equally unexpected. The idiom of a knuckle sandwich didn’t exist in the Rashilian vocabulary and was a rough translation to “punch-food” improvised from Stewart’s native tongue. Regina stepped back a pace, startled. She spread her stance and defensively raised her hands to counterattack. Of course, no blow came and the soon to be married couple stood awkwardly for a moment.

Stewart opened his fist, crossed his arms, and placed his palms against his chest in the Galic equivalent of a plaintive apology. This of course only confused Regina more. Another awkward moment. Stewart coughed twice into his fist and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. But with a stance like that, it makes me think you know more on the subject of martial arts than your station might suggest. If you are interested in the subject, I’m sure I could teach you something.”

Regina relaxed somewhat, lowered her hands, and scoffed, “I bet I could teach YOU something. I beat my brother up and down the practice yards several times a week, and that wasn’t even using my magic.”

Stewart paused at this. “Well, I haven’t seen your magic, but even without it, I suppose you could, given how naturally your physique moves with an Ako grace. I am sure we have much we could teach each other.” She did not know the Ako term, but did not have time to ask further as he stepped in, and in a hushed and suggestive tone said, “After the wedding tonight, we’ll have to be sure and have a vigorous cultural exchange.”

All at once, the reality of the situation came crashing down on Regina again. She was getting married tonight, this was a king, and she had just scoffed at and challenged him to combat. She unconsciously and reflexively flinched from his approach, though he made no move to touch her.

Seeing her discomfort, Stewart stepped back a pace and leaned against the large table that ran the length of the library. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just—” His voice trailed off, uncertain of what to say. He closed his eyes and shook his head to clear it. When he opened them, he saw Regina not cowering, but clearly upset. He was a king and ten years her senior. She was no child, but she was also no queen.

He gave her a penetrating stare, and she felt it. It was not lurid, but thoughtful, and it made her feel more naked than when she was with the seamstress earlier. He broke the silence and said, “Speak plainly. Not as a princess or a bride to be. But as Regina.” She looked up from her staring contest with the floor.

“Do you not want to get married?”

Taken aback by the blunt question, she stammered. “No . . .” Her voice trailed off. “I know my duty.”

“Because we can wait if you want; the next blue moon isn’t for three years or so, but I can wait that long if you can,” the king replied.

“But—I thought you needed to get married right away?”

“That’s just a formality. This is to ensure peace between our realms,” he said, trying to suppress a pained and horny groan. As gallant as he was, he was still a (mostly) young man telling a beautiful girl he would not have his way with her. “With the treaty concessions, I expect your Patriarch will still honor that, even if you aren’t technically married yet.”

“You don’t know the Patriarch very well . . .” she mumbled.

The king nodded silently. He had not met the Patriarch personally. But if his ambassadors and their forced treaties were any indication, she might be correct. “That may be, but I still won’t force you into something you don’t want to do.”

“Thank you,” she said softly and with genuine appreciation. “But it’s not you who’s forcing me into marriage.” Her voice trailed off as she thought back to Chance and hoped he was doing well.

The king frowned and somberly said, “I’m sorry.” They stood together in silence for a few moments. “Here, maybe this will help.” He turned and quickly moved along the bookshelves. He paced up and down the aisle, not saying anything for long enough that Regina was about to ask a question. Stewart finally found his target, pulled it off the shelf, and lifted the small book high above his head like he had just pulled a sword from a stone. “Aha! There we go. I knew I’d find it.” He smiled and moved to hand it to her. She graciously accepted it. “This is a book of folk tales from Galic. It might make you feel a little more at home and it is something we can talk about later between chats with nobles I have to pretend to like. If you would like to learn something more specific, I would be more than happy to read it to you.”

The king spoke low and breathy through the half-remembered, less-than-perfect facsimile of the Rashilian tongue he had learned from his tutors as a child. As Regina listened, the halting and uncertain translation evaporated. His words suddenly reverberated in a warm baritone rumble in Regina’s mind. He went to leave before flashing her a quick wink, triggering another blush. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re very cute when you are flustered?”

For half a moment, the Regina she left behind a week ago appeared as she turned away and blushed for the fifth time in as many moments. The princess returned, replacing her adolescent embarrassment and returning with a rejoinder ready. “Did anyone ever tell you that you are irritating when you think you are clever?”

The king did not frown, or grimace, or sneer, or take offense. He smiled and never broke his gaze from her eyes. “They have not, though I shall take it under advisement and be less clever in the future. Irritating is normal, but I would hate to be predictable. I’ll go to give you some space before the festivities begin, but, if you do change your mind, just say the word.” He hid his grin as he walked out of the library to take a very cold shower before the ceremony.

Regina had not expected such candor or kindness. Much less from a king. She was used to the imperious and disdainful attitude of the Patriarch and his ilk. To see a leader be so different surprised her. After the king left, she took an additional look around the library before sitting down and starting to read the book she had picked out. She opened the book and saw that it was written in one of the several languages used in Galic that she did not know yet. She groaned in annoyance. This was going to take more work than she thought. She flipped through it and she took solace because it was a book for children that came with many full-page illustrations. She felt like an idiot trying to sound out words in a partially different alphabet. But no expert was never an unskilled beginner after all.

Time blurred as she tried to read before being yanked from focus when Rebecca knocked on the frame of the door. She walked in and said, “I just got word from the seamstress, she made the requested changes and is waiting in your room.”

Remembering the wedding, Regina’s face tensed up in an involuntary frown. She followed Rebecca back up the stairs to her room. When she arrived, the seamstress and her assistant were already waiting. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you wait,” Regina said.

“It’s no worry at all; I’m just glad to be able to help. It’s an honor to be your seamstress on such a momentous occasion,” the seamstress replied. Regina was made uncomfortable again by the reminder of the reality of her situation.

“Here you are, Princess,” the seamstress said. “I hope it meets your satisfaction.”

“I’m sure it will be lovely,” Regina said in reply.

“The chamberlain will be by shortly to take you to the ceremony,” the seamstress said. “Do you need any help doing your hair or makeup? Rebecca can assist you with that if you’d like.”

“Oh,” Regina said, self-consciously touching her face. “We, uh, we don’t usually wear any makeup in Rashil. I usually wear my hair in this braid too. I can change it if you need it for some ceremonial thing though.”

“Oh no, don’t worry about it then,” the seamstress said cheerfully. “I’m sure your natural beauty will make you shine like the moon.”

The seamstress, her assistant, and Rebecca all left and Regina closed the door behind them. She held the dress in her hands and sighed. She thought she might as well get changed now. After she had changed it fit much better and with the bust let out she could breathe freely. She took the book she had selected and began to read it on the bed while she waited. It was interesting, if a bit dry. She lost track of time again, and soon the sun was setting.

There was a knock at the door. The chamberlain spoke through the door. “Excuse me, Princess? Are you decent?”

“Yes, you can come in, Danz.”

The chamberlain opened the door and walked into the room. He looked her up and down. Regina shuffled uncomfortably. “You look absolutely resplendent!” He said with sincerity in his tone.

“T-Thank you . . .” she answered, not sure what to say.

“Well, the ceremony is due to start soon. Are you ready?” Danz asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” she replied. She took a deep breath.

“Then let’s be on our way,” he said, gesturing for her to follow him.

To her surprise, rather than leading her toward the throne room, he led her outside to the garden. The sun had set and twilight purple skies faded to black night. Darkness was cast back by the glowing full moon hung high in the sky, lighting the garden. Standing around the garden were various people dressed in formal finery who were obviously local nobles, along with some musicians holding some string instruments she didn’t recognize. It looked like a violin, as if it had eaten every other violin in the orchestra and then came back for a second helping.

The nobles noticed her walk into the garden and each gave her a curt nod or bow. “Why are we in the garden?” she asked under her breath to Danz.

“Well, normally state weddings are held in the throne room. But the king mentioned you were very nervous about it. So, he had the venue moved to a smaller space.” Regina smiled to herself. “The nobles that got cut from the audience are understandably angry, but the king will simply give a toast to their graciousness and it’ll blow over.”

“That was very considerate of him,” Regina said.

“Indeed. They will still be at the feast. Their annoyance will pass,” Danz replied. He led her to one side of the garden and positioned her under a wooden arch inlaid with flowers that hadn’t been there when she saw the garden earlier. “Wait here, the king will arrive in a minute and then we can begin.”

Regina stood awkwardly under the arch and looked around. All around the garden, nobles were talking among themselves and occasionally casting inspecting glances at her. She could tell they were talking about her but couldn’t make out what they were saying and she squirmed uncomfortably. Regina calmed herself by looking around the garden at all the different plants. Many of them were foreign to her, and she thought back to the potted flower her mother had given her before she left.

Musicians played a fanfare as the king exited the keep and walked into the garden. The crowd turned their attention from Regina to him. He was wearing a similar blue-green suit with gold trim. He smiled at her as several of the nobles came up to greet him. After a brief conversation, he dismissed them, and they went back to their assigned places in the crowd.

He walked up the carpeted path they had laid in the garden, which was really just a gap in the planted herbs. The musicians played a tune similar to the wedding march she was familiar with. But in a different key and with different instruments. “You look great,” he said softly so no one else could hear.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she blushed slightly. “So do you.”

“Oh, this old thing?” he looked down at his suit. “It’s nothing special. A hand-me-down from my father. Though one infrequently worn, granted.”

The clergyman walked up. He was quite old and wore a simple blue robe tied by a rope cord around the waist. And suddenly it hit Regina—she was going to be married into a different religion. There was no Patriarchal priest or representative there. She suddenly felt very nervous and very relieved at the same time.

“Are we ready to begin?” the priest asked. The king looked at Regina expectantly. Her mouth went dry, so she just nodded her head. “Very good, then let’s get started. Lords and ladies, if you would please take your places,” the priest spoke up, addressing the crowd. The low murmur of the assembled crowd faded away as they all faced forward and stopped talking.

The priest cleared his throat. “As the Prophet Shah-lan said,” he began. Then he said some stuff about the work of the divine in the realms of man and quoted some scripture she didn’t know. Eventually, he got to a part she recognized. “King Stewart of Galic, do you promise to treat Princess Regina with love, honor, and respect?”

“I do,” the king replied.

“And do you, Princess Regina of Rashil, promise to treat King Stewart with love, honor, and respect?”

Regina’s mouth went dry again. “Yes.” She paused briefly before continuing, “I mean, I do,” she answered nervously. The king reached his hand over to hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She felt a little better.

From inside his robes, the priest pulled a large dagger and a small clay bowl. “If the couple would present their hands, please?” Regina’s eyes went wide at the sight of the dagger.

“It’s ok, it’s just a little prick of the heart finger,” the king whispered to her. “See?” He held his hand out first, palm up. The priest carefully took the dagger and poked the end of the king’s fourth finger. A small well of blood formed on his finger. He took his hand and turned it over the bowl. A few drops of blood dropped into it and the king took his hand back and squeezed the small wound shut. “Now you,” he said.

Nervously, she extended her hand, palm up. The priest didn’t even look at her before he pricked her. It didn’t really hurt much; the anticipation was worse than the pain. She turned her hand over the bowl and let a few drops drip in and mix with the king’s. The priest handed her a small white cloth to stop the bleeding as he took the bowl from her. He swirled the cup, fully incorporating the two sources of blood, and placed the bowl on the ground between them.

The king raised one foot in the air. “Ready? No going back after this,” he asked. Regina swallowed and nodded her head. “Follow my lead.” She raised one foot as well. The king then stomped on the bowl, shattering it into tiny pieces. He pulled his foot away and Regina stomped the remains, turning the leftover shards into a fine powder.

The priest put his hands on both of their shoulders and turned them around to face the crowd. “It is with great pleasure that I present to those gathered here, King Stewart and Queen Regina of Galic.”

And like that, Regina was a married woman.

The assembled crowd erupted softly in cheers and congratulations. The high mountains of Galic are prone to avalanches, and while most of them usually remained stable, disaster can be invoked by as little as a shout or a round of applause. As such, the people of Galic have taken to a much quieter snapping to indicate their approval, as clapping is considered to be bad luck.

Their round of snapping applause continued as the king took Regina’s hand in his and led her back down the “aisle” of the garden. In the back, she saw Rebecca and Danz smiling and snapping along with the nobles. She averted her gaze from the cheering onlookers and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

Once fully processed through the crowd King Stewart said, “Now that that’s out of the way, who’s ready to party?!” The crowd cheered/snapped again and they all walked inside. Inside the throne room, a large array of tables had been set up. The slighted nobles who could not attend were already seated. They looked displeased, but when the wedding party approached, they all stood and snapped their fingers as well. Together, Regina and Stewart sat at a special table for just the two of them near the throne.

Almost before they sat down, servants were upon them, bringing various roasted meats, cooked vegetables, and drinks. Regina noticed that the table was set with the fork on the left side rather than the right. Then she noticed that almost everyone in Galic seemed to be left-handed. She wondered why this was, but didn’t ask. As they ate, a kingdoms worth of noblemen and women came up to their table one by one. Some offered congratulations, others brought gifts. Most of the gifts were some type of tool or preserved food, though she noticed that several of them were books.

Most of the castle staff were clearly local to the region, but a man with a conspicuously large and bushy brown beard that he had pulled back around his neck and tied behind his head. He approached holding a large platter of steaming rice and vegetables. Regina unconsciously touched her long braid hanging on her shoulder at the sight of the ornate facial hair. The man placed the food gently on the table and looked to King Stewart, who rubbed his hands and eyed it hungrily.

“Thank you, Three B, it looks delicious as always,” Stewart said as the food was placed in front of him. He turned his head to speak to Regina. “Regina, this is our chef, Three B. He makes some of the best food I have ever had. If there is anything you want, I am sure he can make it.”

Regina cocked her head sideways slightly in confusion. “Three B? Is that a nickname?”

Three B smiled broadly and spoke with practiced grammar, but a very thick accent, “Yes, Your Majesty. My given name is Bariculus Boni Bonif and I am a Rustang immigrant to Galic. We evacuated after the Great Eviction Rashil ordered. I was able to find humble employment with my liege’s kitchens. But my name is not so easy for them to say.” He twisted a bit of his bushy beard in his fingers and gave a hearty laugh. “I like it, it makes me feel like I did back home.” The mention of Rashil’s military conquests always made Regina uncomfortable, but Three B’s amiable expression showed no hint of malice or resentment.

Stewart added, “Don’t let his humility fool you. This man has the most amazing recipes I have ever tasted and he never ceases to amaze me. I shall have to show you some of my favorites.

“Anything Your Majesty desires, I am happy to attempt,” Three B said as he bowed in respect and turned to Regina. “Is there anything I may bring you? Either now or tomorrow?”

Regina looked down at the large platter of food he had placed in front of them and shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I expect I will be unable to eat that much more anyway.”

Three B dipped his head low and said, “Of course. If you change your mind, let me know and I shall see it done.”

Several hours passed like this as the servants brought more and more food. Spiced meat pies, cakes, fruit tarts, and many more all were brought to the royal table first before being distributed to the other guests.

Regina thought the food was good, really good. “Is this how you always eat, my lord?” she asked King Stewart.

“No, this is a special occasion obviously. But if there’s anything you especially like, I’ll ensure it’s a regular of the kitchen,” he replied. The party started to wind down as guests had their fill or got drunk. Regina only drank enough to calm her overactive nerves and Stewart seemed to match this. Though because of her long journey and the attractive smell of the food, she had more than plenty to eat.

The king stood and gestured for the crowd to quiet down. It took a moment, but the room went silent save for the occasional cry from one of the children up past their bedtime in attendance. The king announced with a raised voice, “I want to take a moment to thank you all for coming to our special day. It means a lot, especially given how far some of you had to travel.” The crowd snapped in appreciation. “But. I think it’s time for us to retire, my lords and ladies.”

This was met with cheers and snaps. Regina even heard a few shouts of “Go get her, Your Majesty!” and other less repeatable phrases. Regina attempted to summarily die of embarrassment but was thwarted by the sudden warmth of her new husband as he took her hand in his. She looked up from their hands into his ice blue eyes. He said something but she couldn’t hear over the roar of the crowd and her heartbeat. He pulled on her hand for her to stand and she did without resistance. The light touch of his other hand sent small nervous tremors from the small of her back as she was pulled away. He took her by the hand and together they walked up the stairs to their chambers.

The door to the room was made of ashen black wood inlaid with an intricate gold pattern that melted from the center in a spiderweb pattern to the edges that fit well into the frame. It was clearly very heavy, but Stewart opened the door for her easily and she stepped in, more anxious than she had ever been. He closed the door behind them with a pulse stopping click as it slotted into the frame and locked.

Regina stood in the middle of the room awkwardly and looked over to the bed. “So, did you have fun at least?” the king asked.

Regina was so nervous she couldn’t speak, so she just nodded her head in agreement. She slipped one shoulder of the dress off her. “Woah, hold on there,” The king said as she began to disrobe. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal, but you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

She took a deep breath. “N-No, Your Majesty,” she stammered doing her best to not throw up the emotional hurricane in her guts. “I know my duty,” she continued as she looked away. “It’s my job to provide an heir. I may be young, but I’m not ignorant of how that works.”

He frowned at her sympathetically. “I know that. But I won’t force myself on you the first night we’re together. I won’t start our relationship that way.” He sighed. “Plus, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t anxious myself.”

Regina would not be the first Stewart had taken to bed. But she was the first one that could be said to feel anything less than enthusiastic consent, and the first to whom he would be irrevocably bound. “We’ll have to sleep here, to keep up appearances, of course. But what happens in our bedroom is no one’s business but ours,” the king said.

Tears welled up in Regina’s eyes as the stress of the last week fell on her all at once. She failed to suppress a whimper and she turned away from Stewart. He walked up behind her and placed one hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“No,” she sniffled. “It’s just, I’m so overwhelmed by this. I’m alone, separated from my family, and this isn’t going at all as I expected. You’re so nice and I’m so . . . disappointing . . .”

“Not at all,” the king answered. “I don’t expect this to help your feelings tonight, but I’m your family now. As long as I live, you’ll never be alone.”

Regina turned to face Stewart and wiped the tears from her eyes. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her tears had dampened her dress. She self-consciously felt like a hot mess. He looked down at her and smiled warmly, “You really are beautiful you know.”

“I don’t feel beautiful . . .” she said back, water still pooling in her eyes.

“Well, you are,” he said in reply. A moment passed in silence. “May I kiss you?” he asked.

She froze. Long enough that Stewart was about to pull away,. She couldn’t bring herself to speak and only nodded. Stewart put one arm around her waist and one on her chin. He pulled her close to him and tilted her head up to look him in the eye. She looked at him, he looked at her. He leaned in close and put his lips to hers. She closed her eyes and felt his lips touch hers. His beard was scratchy, but not unpleasant.

He released her and she stepped back. “See? That wasn’t so bad, right?”

She shook her head and touched her now-moist lips, “No, Your Majesty, not at all.” She even smiled a bit, thinking about the kiss.

“See? Baby steps. We don’t have to do everything all at once. There will be plenty of time for heir-making later,” he said. “While we’re at it, cut out the ‘Your Majesty’ stuff. I’m your husband, not your monarch or master. Call me Stewart. Think you can do that?”

“Yes, Your Maj—” she stopped herself. “Yes, Stewart.”

“Good,” he said. “You packed nightclothes, I assume?” She nodded. “I heard from the seamstress that you prefer to change privately. I can’t leave, but I’ll turn around while you get changed. Just tell me when you’re done. I don’t want to stare at the wall all night!” he laughed and turned around.

She did and said he could turn around. He turned and froze when he saw her. While not immodest, they were gossamer silk robe that was quite a bit more revealing than either her regular clothes or the wedding dress. It clung to her waist and hips pulled tight by one hand in an involuntary fear clenched fist. Her long two- toned color shifting hair rested on one shoulder in a braid that mixed with the candlelight into a field of auburn luster and burnt orange ombré hues. “Wow,” he said, “I know I said you’re beautiful like three times already but, again, wow.”

She flushed and looked down. “Thank you.” Her fist finally unclenched and the released fabric rippled like water from a stream of mountain snow in the first melt of spring as it flowed over her hips and between the legs beneath them.

Stewart’s eyes swam down the current, involuntary and lascivious. With great effort he pulled himself from her rapids and took a deep breath. “I’m going to get changed now too,” he said as he walked over the chest to retrieve his nightclothes. “You can look, or don’t, I’m not bothered by it. Ideally you will see it all anyway.”

Regina felt it more ideal with each moment but turned away while he changed. She snuck a peek at him with his shirt off while he was not looking. She noticed the smooth curve of his shoulder muscles as he raised his arm to fit into his shirt. He was surprisingly well-muscled for a man living a life of leisure as a king, and Regina’s pulse quickened ideally.

“Ok, done,” Stewart said, and Regina turned back around. He gestured to the bed, and she slid between the cool sheets. The king slowly prowled around the room, slaying each mote of flame most masculinely with his mighty breath.

Regina couldn’t see Stewart in the dark, but felt him pull a blanket off the bed. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw him sitting on one of the couches. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch, you know.”

“I know,” he said. “But baby steps, remember?”

“Right,” she answered. “Baby steps.” She lay down in the bed and snuggled in tight as the sheets began to warm against the cold of the night. She thought a lot as she lay there. Eventually, Stewart began to softly snore on the couch, which was surprisingly comforting. She drifted off to sleep. For the first time in a week, she didn’t dream of home.