“Princess, the column is ready,” Marvo advised her after she’d just mounted Roan and was straightening her gloves and adjusting her seat in the saddle. She nodded to him and he moved off again to find his own position. He would lead the large company out of camp today, she and Jara just behind. Behind her was the wagon carrying her father’s casket draped in his horse's blanket. The large crest embroidered in gold glinted in the weak sunlight. They would be head of a company of fifty more men and horses, their numbers swollen by soldiers volunteering from the region to be honour guard for the king’s returning body. The baggage trains followed a half mile behind even that.
Nyssa waited for Marvo to finish his inspections and start them moving, but her eyes sought out one more thing to say goodbye. Beyond the large colony, a few hundred feet off the road, was the hill with a tree and the river was down the slope beyond it. Two small headstones had been erected, and the names of ‘Kila’ and ‘Sun,’ the baby she’d named when she’d buried him, were carved into the rock surface.
Nyssa had spent some time ensuring these were completed before she left. Kila’s brother had been grateful, but she was more interested in getting him to promise to ensure the people of his village did not forget Kila’s sacrifice. If they felt oppressed or in danger in the future, they were to send for help from the barrack’s at once and, if necessary, evacuate themselves if they had no warriors to protect them. That in and of itself she disapproved of vocally and encouraged him to send youths to the academy in the very near future to correct it.
She knew it was a harsh reality for them to face, that their peaceful and innocent lives were perhaps no more and she had been frustrated that there had been no plan, that no one seemed to know they were there, so no one seemed to miss them when they were gone.
Likewise, Colonel Rabb and Suni had their work cut out for them. Nyssa had worked out some of the corrections and improvements she expected them to make. Patrols of the area were to be increased, for one, but Brack still had to sign the seal to make them commands, so he suggested she write them all down and after her coronation, she could sign them and enforce them herself.
Nyssa wasn’t thinking about all that right now though. The crown was an offering at the moment; it still needed to be tabled and voted on and that was all too far away for her to even consider. Her eyes were fixed on the graves, her mind frozen on their faces. She’d remembered Jara bringing her to the gravesite so they could put Sun in the new hole with her standing there. Brack had rewrapped him in her cloak so no one could see his face, but Nyssa had had a moment and she took him back before he was lowered down.
Jara had felt completely helpless with her. He had watched Nyssa with the baby since they’d left the village and even though she was cool and had given it over to Brack when they’d first arrived at camp, he’d noticed the shift in her from when she’d first took hold of him at his birth. She was dangerously on the edge about the infant. He’d had to let her rock and cry with the baby in her arms even though it nearly destroyed him to watch. He knew she was carrying something personal into it, but he couldn’t say anything or reach out because they were now almost never alone.
Nyssa was remembering that moment now. Imagining if the baby had lived, that she could have kept him, that she and Jara could have been his parents and who would have stopped them? They’d rescued him from his dead mother in a raid! But Jara had put his hand on her shoulder then and the fantasy had vanished when she’d opened her eyes and seen the hole in the ground. Their baby was dead. Dead like her dream that they would one day have one of their own.
“Nyssa!” Jara called to her again. This time he’d moved his horse over to bump Roan. She blinked. She looked at him. He fixed her a look and held it until she nodded.
“Do you think he’ll forgive us?” she asked him quietly. Jara looked at her a bit confused and then looked back at the grave.
“Who, Nyssa?” he asked her somewhat impatiently. He didn’t want to be abrupt with her, but she had been a rollercoaster of despair and ferocity for the past three days. He’d hardly slept and the fact he could not just go somewhere, pull her into his arms and sleep securely with his body locked around hers, was deeply irritating.
“Sun,” she added. Jara watched her for a minute. Then he sighed.
“He has, Nyssa,” he replied evenly to her. “He will always be with you.”
She nodded, and Marvo started the column ahead.
They moved rather quickly for a returning force. Nyssa was grateful it was over, but she couldn’t have told anyone how long it had taken them. Jara watched her until she fell asleep and woke her every morning so she’d lost count of the days and the nights.
The column stopped just at the top of a hill on the road that would lead them down to the academy and beyond to the capital. The cavalry was to push off and go back to the barracks at the academy grounds and a smaller contingent would stay as escorts to the king and his entourage. Word had been sent to Uli of his impending arrival, so Nyssa expected a grand and solemn day. They were stopped now to redress and adjust themselves to be publicly viewed and received.
Nyssa got down to stretch her legs and readjust her clothing. She walked back to the wagon with her father and nodded to the driver, who was re-securing the blanket. He jumped down to check the tack and the team and to put the black blankets over their backs: call-ups from the cavalry stores. Her father’s own would have his crest emblazoned on them and the horses would be decorated for his funeral. They’d do that the next day when the internment ceremony took place.
“I’m here, Da,” she said quietly when she saw no one was paying attention. She put her hand on top of the box and wanted so badly to draw strength from it, but it was just a box. She patted it and withdrew it.
“I always blamed you for not loving me anymore,” she said and looked down to pick at her nail. “I didn’t think you had any more love for me when Mother died.” She took a deep breath and looked away from the box and beyond at the large mass of men and horse milling around. “But I guess you did love me, in your way,” she added. “I did, for my part, Da. I loved you. I will always love you. I tried my best, Da. I really did. I hope you are not too disappointed.”
“Nyssa…”
She turned her head around sharply at the sound of his voice. She knew it was Madras’s voice, without a shred of doubt.
“Da?” she called to him. She waited. It did not come again.
“Nyssa!” Brack called and she turned around to see him walking toward her. He was annoyed again. She found lately he was always annoyed.
“We’re moving. Get back on your horse!” he bellowed. She watched him walk past her and just blinked at him. Nyssa looked one final time at the casket of her father, then left him to lead his funeral procession to the centre of the palace and deliver him unto her brother and uncle one last time.
The rest of the day went much as she expected it. Patrick enveloped her in his arms and didn’t seem to let go the moment she’d left Roan’s back. They’d been greeted by Uli and the three of them were given sanctuary in Patrick’s apartment for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Uli confirmed he had received the detailed account of the battle and the circumstances that still lay ahead of them with regards to Rogun, but then they pushed all that aside and sat the rest of the day either silent or in contemplation of their father and brother.
Many exhausting hours later, Nyssa reached over and took Patrick’s hand across the table.
“The wedding. When can we make it happen?” she asked and squeezed his hand, smiling lightly at him.
He blinked at her a moment, still chewing, but he smiled warmly back, perking up at the change in subject.
“It’s no big deal, Nyssa. We can wait,” he said and squeezed back. She shook her head.
“I don’t want to. There is absolutely no reason for it. None. If anything, it should have happened already,” she said and looked over to her uncle.
“Is there, Uncle?” she asked him. Uli had been following along but now just focused on her as if he were surprised. He shook his head finally.
“No, Princess,” he said and looked at Patrick. “Depending on the arrangements the couple wish to have, they can marry as quickly or as late as they prefer,” he added. Nyssa smiled and looked back to her brother.
“Big or small?” she asked him. He was beginning to look worried. She laughed at him and patted him on the hand. “I can discuss all this with Triana if it would make you feel any easier,” she added. He swallowed hard.
“No,” he said then and swished his tongue in his mouth to clear it. “I can do it.”
“Then let me know. Soon,” she said and picked her fork back up to take another bite.
“Going somewhere?” he asked her, a little surprised. She shrugged but waited to finish her food.
“I have to get this Rogun thing buried, don’t I?” she said but didn’t look up from her plate. She ate another bite. Patrick set his utensils down and gave a hard look at Uli. Then he stared at her until she noticed and looked back at him.
“Planning on surviving that encounter, or no?” he asked her harshly. Nyssa stopped in mid-chew, her eyes darting back and forth between them. She slowly swallowed, wiped her mouth with her napkin in exaggerated politeness and folded it back on to her lap.
“When Uli tells me who my commanding officer will be, we’ll discuss it. I would like to think ‘survive’ will be part of the plan,” she said. “But I am not sure if you noticed; Izik and Dascus are really not messing around, Patrick, and they most certainly are not finished.”
Uli looked at Patrick. Patrick watched his uncle but then just threw his napkin into the centre of the table in frustration.
“You want to marry me off so you can satisfy yourself that I’m here, safe and happy before you go and get yourself killed on a foreign land, is that it? Did I cover all the bases, Nyssa?” he yelled at her just loud enough. She was still not warring with him. She simply waited and watched him storm.
“No,” she replied again with patience, “I simply don’t think that anyone in this family should wait for anything else when it comes to their happiness. We’ve seen how short life can be. Both our parents lived hard, loved completely and died young. I’m just saying, don’t wait to be with the one you love because of some…protocol,” she said, waving her hand to find the last word. “Sorry, Uncle,” she added when she realized maybe she’d insulted his office a bit. He smiled at her instead.
Patrick blinked. He tapped the table a few times and looked at both her and then Uli. Without a word, he rose and left the room, Nyssa looking after him.
“I hope you’re free tomorrow night, Uncle,” she said and picked her fork back up to resume eating her food. Uli stared at her.
“We bury my brother, your father, in the morning,” he reminded her. She nodded solemnly to him and swallowed again.
“And at dusk, we’ll welcome a new sister and niece,” she said and smiled at him.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
He blinked. She thought Uli was a little slow on the uptake regarding all this. After all the funeral of a king was an overwhelming experience and she knew Uli was grieving. She wasn’t trying to make fun light of that.
“I think you should do that yourself, Nyssa,” he said and looked down at his glass. Nyssa hadn’t thought about it. Frankly, she wasn’t aware her office as princess had any officiating capacities, but if Uli said so….
“You will be crowned the day after at the latest,” he said in follow-up. Nyssa froze in mid-chew. She stared at him, incapable of movement or speech. He smirked.
“Patrick was going to tell you after dinner,” he said and she saw he felt more comfortable again, being ahead of the conversation. “The council met after Brack sent word. They had Madras’s correspondence from before he left, so when we were advised of his demise, Patrick took it immediately to the council and his recommending vote for your name as his successor was read out. I added my name to the list for you and placed my vote for you in addition to electing your brother.”
Nyssa continued to stare. She felt suddenly very unwell.
“It was a unanimous decision, my dear. Even Brom and Titus himself voted in your favour. You shall be our next monarch of Orak’Thune. The new overlord and general of the grand armies and Patrick shall be your regent. Congratulations!” He lifted his glass to her and drank deeply.
Nyssa finally felt feeling return to her face and her hands. She put her fork down gently and removed the napkin from her lap.
“If you will excuse me, Uncle,” she said rising and he had to catch her elbow at first. “I feel a little unwell. I think I will go and get some air,” she said and forced a smile to him and patted his shoulder when he stood at the table, his expression concerned and helpless watching her go.
Nyssa made it to the door, but all she could think of was escape. The palace had been her playground but not for many years. In her blind panic, she opened the door, bolted to the left and was immediately caught by Jara, who’d been on sentry duty outside the door.
“Nyssa!” he whispered to her, but she was violently trying to get away, though hopelessly uncoordinated. “Nyssa!” he called to her again, his arms revolving around her once more when she broke loose, but he re-caught her. He looked up and down the hallway to see who had noticed her or for a clue as to what could be the reason for her distress. Nyssa, though, had stopped fighting or fleeing. She now simply sat on the floor and crammed herself into the corner of the dead end she’d run into. Her knees were pulled up to her chest and Jara saw only her eyes peeking out from the top. She looked terrified.
“What the hell is going on?” he said to her firmly and very slowly. Her eyes darted up to see him. She was about to speak. Then she shut them hard and shook her head. He put a hand on her shoulder and tried to get her to look at him again.
“Queen,” she said to him finally.
One word. Jara waited for more, but when there wasn’t any, he realized what she meant. He stood up quickly and stepped back from her. Shock descended on his own shoulders and he didn’t know what to do either. She pointed at him then; it looked accusing.
“You too!” she hissed at him. He understood perfectly well what that meant. Brack would be retired. Jara would be her guardsman and he would be the first.
---
Madras’s funeral began at sunrise; the long light of the sun slowly filled the Crown Hall as it crested the horizon and brightened to fill the stained-glass windows. The throne chairs had been removed and the formal casket, an insanely beautifully carved sarcophagus, held centre focus. Braziers burned high on both sides of it and the heavy crown of the king sat perfectly centre on the top.
Nyssa had been awoken long before by her maids and led to the bath and the dark dressing corner of her room so they could help her with her hair. It had taken the better part of two hours to get it perfectly right and she was nearly asleep again when they’d finally left it and moved on.
She was tied into a bodice and Nyssa thought of Sasha at the river. She’d had to admit it gave her feminine qualities she had so long ignored but now realized had potential. Her breast puffed up and out the top a little with the laces and the “basket” was more comfortable than her bindings.
She slipped into a long and slightly heavy gown, which tied from her bust to her waist and had a back drape. Her sleeves were large bells lined with silver silk on the inside. When they turned her to see her full reflection, they bolted her ceremonial silver and gold inlaid sword to her waist and backed away. She turned to the mirror. Nyssa didn’t have any idea what to expect, but she froze.
Her mother stood in the reflection or at least how she nearly remembered her. The sleeves had been her affectation and the long gown as well. The bust line was just feminine and her hair, well, rolls of braids, entwined with silver ribbon had a certain effect in pre-dawn and firelight. The gown was black velvet with a silver lining like the sleeves and two running pleats down the front. The drape was also lined, to reveal the slightest two-tone of the dress.
As she stood there, her head maid, Sass, laid the ruby on her collarbone to finish fastening it at the back of her neck and the effect was complete. Nyssa thought of her father and how she knew he would have loved to see her dressed like this, just one last time.
Sass made her sit so she could affix her crown into her hair and that was the end. When Jara was finally allowed in, he was in full black armour already, a demi-cloak of burgundy hung on his one shoulder. She rose to meet him and he stopped dead at the door. She smiled weakly at him, pulling the skirt of her gown to flare it a bit. She’d been in a dress all of one time in his presence and it hadn’t been anything like this.
“I still wish they had allowed me to wear my own armour,” she said and fiddled with her hands, trying to avoid his eye. He moved up to her and then knelt on the floor.
“There is no star in the sky more beautiful than you, Princess,” he said low to her. “All of Orak’Thune will know your beauty, it is equal to your strength and both are unforgettable.”
Nyssa looked down from the casket just as that memory played through her mind, knowing that Jara stood directly behind her. She wanted to give him some sign that she knew it and that she was grateful that he was there. She turned her head slightly but couldn’t see anything but the people in the rows fanned out behind her. She turned back to watch the front but then heard two taps on metal and she felt reassured.
Uli rose after a quarter of an hour of silent contemplation and approached the podium. He too was dressed in black velvet and looked tired. His eulogy to the king, her father and his brother, was touching and surprisingly to the point. He was followed by the council representative and then by Patrick himself. Nyssa was asked to say something, but she had declined, not trusting her emotions to a crowd.
At the conclusion, she and Patrick walked at the head of the procession where her father was being carried behind them to the wagons that waited outside. The public would get their view of him now and pay their respects. The cemetery would be visited for months, even years afterward.
Nyssa rode in the black carriage with Patrick and Uli and she watched the crystal-clear day outside the window, her mind tumbling around, uncertain of how to classify what had happened with her father.
Was he murdered? A victim of treachery? Was he assassinated? She decided to go with the latter because Izik knew what he was after and killing her father was probably a bonus to his plan.
She sighed.
Rogun was a long way from here. Aside from Jara, she didn’t know who else to discuss the makings of her plan. Every day they waited, Izik made headway on his next assault. She knew Orak’Thune required its ceremonies, but she was still unconvinced she was the right person that they needed.
They exited the carriages and Nyssa thought the entire court had followed them. There had to have been fifty carriages lined up and depositing passengers after them. The king was moved while the family reassembled and began the long walk up the path to the crypt. Nyssa’s mind fell to her mother and the exact same scenario of her funeral that they were replaying for her now. Nyssa had been so sad that day and her father had carried her most of the way. She remembered being draped over his one shoulder while Patrick held his other hand and watching Uli walk behind them, trying not to make eye contact with her so he wouldn’t cry.
Uli was there again, of course, but this time he walked ahead of them as regent and the highest-ranking member of the court after Madras. He led his brother’s children through the rows of headstones and down the gentle slope to the glen that housed the large stone building that contained several thousand years of monarch and regents and their families. Over the years, it had been added to and Madras and Kara were now to be housed at the nearest to the front, the most recent new inhabitants.
Patrick held her hand and he squeezed it. She knew why. They were getting close to their mother again and Patrick had never really settled her death, she knew. He never wanted to come here after she was buried and never spoke of her unless someone else brought it up. Nyssa understood his pain because it was how she felt about it too. Her father had shut it out and shut them out after it all and they never went near it again, but the door was getting closer. She saw that it was already open and that her father was already in his position in the middle, where he would stay for one year for visitations before being encased in the wall with her mother.
Nyssa felt a huge lump rise in her throat and her step hesitated. Patrick gripped her in surprise, thinking she had tripped, but Nyssa had actually wanted to stop. She knew people were expecting dignity, poise. She knew there were hundreds behind them. She looked at his face where his worry was obvious and nodded that she was enduring.
There weren’t any words to be spoken here, so Uli turned after entering and raised both his hands to the guardsmen and Brack and Jara turned their bodies and effectively blocked the door so the family could have a few private moments. Nyssa stood still holding onto Patricks’ arms, but after only a second of looking at her Da, her eyes went to her mother.
“Mama,” she whimpered and shuffled over to her stone slab in the wall. Nyssa couldn’t hold it back any longer. She kissed the stone and sank to her knees and she cried, holding her hands on the carved effigies of her mother’s fingers. Patrick came up behind her and held her by the shoulders and she heard him crying too.
“Da died, Patrick,” she said to him through a few snuffling and difficult sobs.
“I know, Sister,” he replied and sniffed loudly.
“They left us,” she went on. “Who does that make us now?”
Patrick stopped crying and wiped his nose on his handkerchief. He took another one out of his pocket and put it to her cheeks to wipe her tears.
“Da knew this day would come, Nyssa,” he said seriously. “He prepared us for it. I don’t think it’s a question of what we should do but what we can do.” Nyssa looked at him. “What we can do is what defines us, not who our parents were, loved as they were,” he added and tried a smile. “This is our time, Sis, and I say we make the most of it, whatever we choose that to be.”
Nyssa eyes fell on Jara, standing sternly at the door. She understood what Patrick said and knew it wasn’t what he was thinking, but it hurt all the same.
“Do you think I should be queen?” she asked him then. He had been kneeling in front of her, but now he slid to her side and sat down. Now both were leaning against their mother’s coffin, looking at their fathers.
“Without question, Nyssa, I know you are strong enough and smart enough,” he began.
Nyssa pulled her knees up and turned her head to lay it down to rest and watch him. He seemed sad, as sad as the last time they were there, but there was more, a weight to his shoulders.
“But I know I am laying the weight of the world at your feet also,” he said and frowned a bit. “I know that as much as I know our father is dead.” Nyssa didn’t say anything. Patrick sighed.
“There’s this thing with Rogun. I know you are keen. There is the country itself and I will help you with that. You know I will be your regent, but Nyssa, being queen means following more than your heart. It’s about sacrifice. Real, hard choices. It’s not that I don’t think you can. I just don’t know if we should be asking it of you. It could mean a lot of terrible things for you, Nyssa. I’m scared for you. At the same time, I know in my heart my baby sister was born to rule but, more importantly, to protect us. It just has to be you.”
Patrick turned and took her hand.
“Look, in whatever you do, soldier in our army, sister to a regent, wife or mother…” he let it hang for a minute and Nyssa lifted her head in surprise, “you will be great. But you are young and how the hell can anyone be so sure of what they want at seventeen?”
“If I choose not to serve, can I marry whom I want?” she asked him pointedly.
“Sure, anyone but Jara,” he said and he was irritated about it. Nyssa narrowed her eyes at him.
“Was that your question?” he asked her pointedly, but she didn’t answer. “He is forbidden, Nyssa. So long as he serves as your guardsman, he cannot be your spouse. Are you going to move to a farm somewhere and not go after Rogun?” She eyed him flatly.
“I didn’t think so. And so long as you plan on doing that, even if you don’t take the crown, neither I, nor Brack, nor Jara himself will agree to his resigning his commission — not with Izik and this Rogun mess still out there. You need him, as he is, Nyssa. We all do. Da was not playing coy when he picked him. It’s probably the smartest thing he ever did for you.” Patrick rubbed his face vigorously with both hands and then just looked at them in his lap.
“As queen, there is much to be responsible for, but one reason of many why I think it suits you is it’s the one opportunity to be the woman you are. Da said that I was to encourage you to be that woman; he knew you were special and I see it too. I wish I could keep you just for myself, but I don’t think you’ve been that since Mother died. You are a leader and a fighter and right now, that’s what Orak’Thune really needs. In fact, you and her both.”
Nyssa looked over at her father now. She felt she knew the words he would speak already and they were probably word for word what Patrick had just said. Honour, service and sacrifice. Although he had married the love of his life and produced two exceptional children, he had been an incredible leader and an inspiration to her country too. Two out of three might not be so bad. Besides, she had already abandoned the third option.
“I will,” she said finally and buried her face in her knees. She felt Patrick take her hand and squeeze it in support.
“You know I will never leave you,” he said to her. She felt a little tired of that line right about now, but she understood what he meant.
He was to be her true partner; she would lean on him probably more than anyone else not to screw up. He surprised her when he stood up and walked briskly over to Uli, who had been sitting in quiet contemplation on a stone bench on the other side of the room. Patrick leaned down and whispered in his ear and Uli nodded, sighed and stood up.
Patrick came back to her and helped her stand up off the floor. They walked slowly to the doors, but Nyssa turned and looked back.
“I hope they are together,” she said.
“I am absolutely sure that they are,” he said and kissed her temple.