IN THE BEST INTEREST OF THE REALM
Estora did not know how long she sat beside Zachary’s
bed, but the daylight that had poured so readily into his chamber
earlier was now diminished. He did not awaken, did not
speak.
Her desire to stay
with and comfort her mother in the wake of her father’s death had
warred with her own need to be with Zachary, but her mother had
urged her to go to her betrothed. And so here she was, where her
heart told her she must be.
Here in the relative
peace of Zachary’s bedchamber was she able to grieve in solitude
for her father. The mender said the wound had been so severe that
they could not have saved him even if they’d been immediately upon
the scene. She suspected the Rider-mender, Ben, could have saved
him with his magic, but Zachary came first. That was the way of
things.
With some surprise
she realized with her father gone she was now the lady-governor of
Coutre Province. If Zachary recovered and they married, the title
would pass to her sister next in line, and Estora would become
queen as planned. If Zachary did not survive, she would remain the
lady-governor and return to Coutre to lead the province in its
affairs.
She did not wish to
return to Coutre. It was a revelation, but she’d become very fond
of Zachary, his compassion, his courtesy, his strength. She’d also
enjoyed learning about the challenges of running the realm, of
trying to solve land disputes between farmers or ensuring troops
were properly provisioned on the northern boundary. Day in and day
out she witnessed Zachary dealing with cunning political minds. He
was as sharp, or sharper, than they, and she admired his intellect,
loved how the problems stimulated her own mind. She especially
enjoyed when they worked out the problems together, often
discussing and analyzing them over tea after an exhausting day of
meetings and audiences.
She supposed she
could take on the same challenges in Coutre, but he, Zachary, would
not be there. It would not be the same.
She gazed at him now
wondering how anyone would want to harm him. He was a just king, a
good man. He had endangered himself today to ensure she was not
hurt by the assassin. He’d shielded her with his own body. If he
hadn’t, might he be safe now?
The Weapons
intimated their initial investigation led them to believe both
arrows had been intended for Zachary. Whether he shielded her or
not, he likely would have been hit. Her father’s death was an
accident.
In the waning light,
beads of sweat glistened on Zachary’s brow where his silver fillet
usually rested. He mumbled unintelligibly. Estora reached over and
touched his cheek with the back of her hand. He was hot. She rose
from her chair and hastened to the anteroom. There she found Master
Destarion huddled in intense, hushed conversation with Colin,
General Harborough, and her cousin. She wondered briefly where
Captain Mapstone was.
“Master
Destarion?”
The huddle broke
apart and they all turned to her.
“Yes, my
lady?”
“I believe he has a
fever.”
Destarion hurried
into the bedchamber with his assistants on his heels. Estora
intended to follow, but Colin called to her.
“My lady,” he said,
“may we have a word?”
“Yes, I suppose
so.”
Colin extended a
hand to her and guided her to the nearest chair. “This has been a
most difficult day, and as acting castellan, I wish to convey the
realm’s deepest condolences on the passing of your father. He was a
good lord-governor and much loved by the people of Coutre, and I
know all the eastern provinces looked to him for
guidance.”
Estora nodded,
accepting his words for what they were.
“I’ve asked the
royal death surgeons to care for your father’s remains in
accordance with your and your mother’s wishes.”
“Thank you.” Having
the royal death surgeons attend her father was a great honor. Their
services were usually reserved for only the immediate members of
the royal family, but now and then special personages were
designated for their attention. Had Colin not offered their
services, she and her mother would have had to contact a suitable
undertaker in the noble quarter, which would have been very trying
in the midst of their grief.
“We are most
appreciative, Counselor Dovekey,” Richmont told Colin. “Lord Coutre
was a great man. Like a father to me.”
Colin bowed. Then to
Estora he said, “This has been doubly difficult for you, for now
your betrothed lies injured within as well, and we do not know how
it will go for him.”
Estora began to
wonder what Colin was leading up to, for she had never heard so
many words from him at one time. She glanced at Richmont, his
expression was eager, and she grew very suspicious. General
Harborough stood off some paces watching the
proceedings.
“You may as well
come out with it,” Estora said. “The lot of you obviously have
something you wish to say.”
Colin and Richmont
exchanged glances, and then Colin explained. He told her how it was
unclear whether or not Zachary had designated an heir, and they
would only find out when the lord-governors all assembled and
opened the Royal Trust, which contained certain state secrets and
Zachary’s will. Colin described the upheaval that could erupt
between the lord-governors, especially if an heir was not
named.
“It could be the
Clan Wars all over again,” Richmont interjected. “As when King
Agates Sealender failed to name an heir before his
death.”
“It is why your
betrothal to Zachary was so welcome,” Colin said. “With a king
paired with a queen, there is stability in governance knowing that
children will be born to carry on the line unbroken. Unfortunately
that stability is now at great risk, especially if there were to be
infighting among lord-governors contesting the realm’s leadership.
There are enemies that would like to see Sacoridia weakened by it.
The Hillanders brought unity to the provinces after the Clan Wars.
It would be a disaster for it to dissolve.”
Estora had no
difficulty in surmising where all this was leading. “You wish to
move the wedding up before . . . before Zachary dies.”
“Yes, that is so. We
would ensure its legitimacy, that it is indisputable you are our
queen. Then, after the proper period of mourning, you may choose a
husband of noble blood to join you in your rule.”
“If Zachary lives,”
Estora said quietly, “I am not sure he’d be very
pleased.”
“We take the
responsibility entirely upon ourselves though we may forfeit our
freedom or our lives for it,” Colin replied. “He will not blame
you. I think in time he’d recognize we moved in the best interest
of the realm.”
“When do you propose
to do this thing?”
“Immediately,”
Richmont said.
“Immediately?”
“The gravity of his
wound dictates it,” Colin said. “Destarion recommends sooner rather
than later.”
Estora’s brain
reeled. “Where is Captain Mapstone? I should like to hear her
thoughts on this.”
Colin shifted his
stance, looked uneasy. “She took ill rather suddenly while you were
in with Zachary. She’s in the mending wing. I think she was ...
overcome.”
Estora raised an
eyebrow. Overcome? There was not anything that would easily
overcome that Rider captain, nothing that would keep her away from
Zachary in his need. Illness? Perhaps, but Estora was not so naive
that she didn’t know times such as these, with a monarch failing,
were very perilous for all who surrounded him. She would see to the
captain’s welfare later.
“I should like to
speak to my mother then.”
“I will send for
her,” Richmont said. “She is aware of our proposal and seemed to
approve.”
Estora sighed. They
had it all planned out.
As good as their
word, they brought Lady Coutre to her, now a widow garbed in black,
and left the two alone in Zachary’s dressing room to speak in
private. Estora’s mother looked pale and severe in her mourning
clothes, but stately with her shoulders held erect. Estora’s
parents had never met prior to their wedding day. Their coupling
had been prearranged, a matter of alliances within the province.
Despite being strangers to one another in the beginning, a deep
fondness had developed between them. Estora recalled how her
formidable mother never backed down from her father when he was in
one of his blustery moods, and how she complemented his reign with
her grace as the lady of Coutre Province.
“It is what I’ve
prepared you for since you were a child,” Lady Coutre said. “How to
be a good wife to a nobleman of power.”
“But the
circumstances!”
Lady Coutre took
Estora’s hands, and suddenly she looked frail, scared, alone. “My
dear, dear child, when we enter a marriage, we never know what will
happen the next day. This morning when your father awoke from bed,
he was robust, as healthy as I have ever seen him with a shine in
his eyes and ready to challenge the world. By the afternoon, he was
dead. Cold, so very cold.
“Tomorrow, Zachary
may be gone, or he may not be. His fate is up to the gods, but it
is clear to me he needs you more than ever to watch over him, and
to watch over his realm. Who better to advocate on his behalf than
the woman with whom he agreed to spend the rest of his
life?”
They embraced and
cried together, and Estora came to a decision.
The ceremony took
place in Zachary’s dimly lit bedchamber, the groom restless in some
fevered dream beneath his sheets while an assistant mender applied
cold, wet cloths to his forehead. The bride still wore her riding
habit and mourning shawl. Someone had found dried flowers for her
to hold since the ground was still much too cold for plant
growth.
The castle’s moon
priest and a pair of his acolytes performed the ceremony, and it
was witnessed by Lady Coutre, Estora’s sisters, Richmont, Colin,
General Harborough, Master Destarion, and the lord-mayor of Sacor
City, who was accompanied by a law speaker. Four Weapons stood in
the corners, both guardians and witnesses. Zachary’s chamber was
spacious, but it didn’t feel so with such a crowd in it. Estora
felt the absence of her father keenly and fought back tears. He
should have been here.
The priest droned on
about fidelity and companionship, love of the gods, love of family,
and fertility. He tinkled a series of delicate silver bells each
representing one of the seven virtues. They were supposed to
exorcise past sins so the couple could enter marriage unencumbered
and unbesmirched by the past. Estora was instructed to take
Zachary’s hand. It was hot and sweaty. Heavy.
“Do you pledge to
the gods your love and fealty for Zachary our king?” the priest
asked her.
“Yes.”
A like question was
asked of Zachary about her, but since he could not answer, Colin
spoke for him.
“The rings,” the
priest said.
Colin produced the
rings, both gold, both filigreed with an interlocking crescent moon
design. Estora and Zachary had been measured for the rings months
ago. She had not known their crafting was complete.
The priest sang over
the rings, then asked Colin to slip Estora’s on. He did, trembling
as if he were the groom himself. Then Estora worked Zachary’s ring
onto his swollen finger.
“Zachary and Estora,
you are wed. May the blessings of Aeryc and Aeryon be upon you now
and forever.”
Estora bent and
kissed Zachary’s unresponsive lips to seal the spiritual contract.
There was no clapping, no jokes, no well-wishes called out to the
bride and groom. One final rite would remain unfulfilled this
night, the tradition of the bride coming to her husband’s bed for
the first time, the rite of consummation.
Those present
paraded from the chamber like mourners to sign the legal contract
of marriage awaiting them in the anteroom, proclaiming them
witnesses to the event. Only Estora’s mother and sisters paused to
hug and kiss her. They also bent to kiss Zachary who was now son
and brother to them by law.
When they were gone,
Estora slumped into the chair beside Zachary and said, “I should
like to hear what you’d have to say about the wedding being moved
up by three months. I pray that I shall.”
He did not respond.
She took his hand again, the one with the ring, and pressed it to
her face. “Please don’t die,” she whispered. “I’m not ready to do
this on my own. Please don’t die.”
She’d already lost
her first love, F’ryan Coblebay, to arrows. She was not sure she
could endure another such loss again.