Chapter 15 - Idynn

The palace grounds were massive, easily twice the size of the territory that the Navhelm castle occupied. As Sir Morghen helped me down, I gaped at the sight.

The walls surrounding the castle were thick, with guards patrolling the top. Two buildings against the wall on either side of the palace must be the servant quarters and the guard barracks. A slightly smaller building on the left must be where the livestock was kept and stables were. Short grass and pristine hedges stretched everywhere.

As for the palace itself, where to begin? Sonera was known for its craftsmanship, particularly gold. The palace was white and gilded with hundreds of windows reflecting the sun. It hurt to look at directly.

I shut my mouth, self conscious. Safine smirked.

The servants were coming to greet us. A [house guy??] came up to the Prince and bowed sharply. 'Your Highness, welcome home.'

The Prince, who had up to now appeared so on edge, relaxed slightly. The tension left his shoulders and his voice lost a bit of its edge.

'Thank you. Take care of this, I will be in my quarters.'

'Ah, Your Highness, I am afraid that isn't possible. Your father would like to see you and your...' At this, he looked at me, turning up his nose, 'new bride.'

The Prince stiffened. He glanced at me. 'Very well. We shall see him immediately.'

'Your Highness.' The man bowed again.

Safine, who had up till now never left my side these past few days, was not allowed to come. She patted my shoulder and gave me a stiff smile, which was the equivalent of a heartfelt hug and a tearful request not to die.

I saw Laine give a hopeful wave at me from the back of the procession. Garo, her companion, ignored me.

The Prince walked through the doors. Numbly, I followed. Sir Morghen brought up the rear.

The inside of the castle was as grand as the outside. Priceless gold, expensive imported wood and fabric, ornaments from every country Sonera had conquered. I saw an empty pedestal and thought of Navhelm. What trophy of my home would fit these gilded halls?

A painting on the wall depicted the Silvar family. The King of Sonera stood behind his seated wife. The Queen had two children on her lap: one a blonde baby, mouth open in a laugh, a rattle gripped in his chubby fist, the other a toddler with black hair and bushy eyebrows. The toddler had a smile on his face.

The Prince as a child. He could not have been more than four years old in that picture—that scrunched up grin on his cute face. I bit back my own smile.

'YOUR MAJESTIES, MAY I PRESENT PRINCE ADENOS OF SONERA AND PRINCESS MIREA OF NAVHELM.'

My country's name felt so flat in that Soneran accent. Homesickness bubbled up in me.

The doors to the throne room opened and I laid eyes on King Pereno and Queen Sadhe. A few nobles gathered at the end of the throne room, surrounding the King and Queen, but for the most part, it was empty.

The Prince knelt before his parents. I followed suit, one step behind him. Sir Morghen did the same, her armour clinking softly.

'Your Majesties. Father, Mother, I have returned.'

'We know.' The King said. I dared a glance at him--blonde hair and beard with streaks of grey in them. The light wrinkles on his face deepened when he looked at his eldest son.

I felt the full force of his displeasure like a hail of arrows. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, my vision blurring slightly.

'Did you expect a grand welcome?' the King's tone was derisive.

'... No, Your Majesty.' The Prince inhaled. 'You asked for me.'

'Yes. I wanted to see your new bride. Princess of Navhelm, look at me.'

That was an order. I lifted my chin and met the King's piercing blue gaze.

The nobles whispered among each other. I heard them comment about my dress and the way I looked. Like a barbarian, I caught.

'Your father has proposed an alliance and I have graciously accepted. It is only by my will that you and your kin are not dead.' He rumbled. 'I do not appreciate having my will deflected. When the treaty ends, we shall revisit its terms.'

A threat, barely disguised. 'Revisiting the treaty's terms' likely meant deciding whether or not to wage war on Navhëlm and, of course, kill me. I heard Sir Morghen shift slightly.

I said, 'Y-yes, Your Majesty. Thank you for--'

'I am not finished.'

I bowed my head. A pressure grew on my shoulders and my chest constricted. What was this? The air itself seemed so heavy. Was it small magic?

' There will be no celebration of the wedding. You will stay out of the way. You will not interfere with my son's life. Is that understood?'

'Yes, Your Majesty.' I gasped the last few words, my throat closing.

'And have you consummated the marriage?' The Queen's voice. Black hair tumbled down slender shoulders. The Queen of Sonera was beautiful, but her face was flat, bored.

Soneran custom; Navhëlm never required such… confirmation. Oh, no. I opened my mouth but the Prince cut in. 'No, Your Majesty.'

'Hmm.'

The nobles' gossip grew louder. I heard a few chuckles.

Finally, the King said, 'Well, my son, you know what must be done.'

'I do, Your Majesty.'

A woman emerged from the shadows at the King's side. Her black hair was shot through with grey streaks, and she had crow's feet wrinkles. The uniform she wore was black and red, cut close to her lean figure, and she leaned heavily on a sturdy cane.

She was looking at someone behind me. Sir Morghen?

Then she bent to murmur something in the King's ear. He said, 'Vitre here will check on you when it is finished.' He waved a hand in our direction, dismissing us.

The nobles' chatter grew louder as we left. The snatches of gossip I caught was scathing, about how poor Navhëlm fashion was, how disheveled the Prince looked—they were mostly scandalised that the Prince and I were wed but not 'in truth'.

'In truth'! The wedding was finished, we were married. Why did we need to take that one step further?

He ignored them all, marched out of the throne room, and led us deeper into the castle. Sir Morghen followed.

Golden rays of the setting sun shone through the palace's windows as we reached the west tower and climbed its stairs. I couldn't stop thinking about the King and Queen's words.

Consummate the marriage. I wrung the skirts of my dress, out of breath from the climb. I could barely hold a conversation with the Prince, so how could I be expected to kiss him, let alone…

We reached the top. The Prince held the door open for me and I entered his room.

Sir Morghen removed her helmet and waited at the door. 'Your Highness,' she said, 'Spymaster Vitre wants to see me. I will return as soon as I can.'

'No need, Morghen. Come back at dawn.'

She nodded curtly. Then her gaze darted to mine. For a moment, I thought she would say something to save me, but all she said was, 'My Lady.'

The door shut. She was gone.

I turned on my heel, taking the Prince's rooms in and hoping for a distraction. The tower was small for royalty, but it was luxuriouslyit luxuriously furnished. A ladder next to the door led up to what must be a tiny attic. Stacks of books and loose papers crowded a sturdy-looking desk, a forgotten tray service on the floor. The balcony doors were shut. The bed was neatly made.

The air was still.

I took a shaky breath. Step by step, I made it to the bed. The sooner we could get this over with, the better. I felt the Prince's gaze on me the whole time.

I sat gingerly on the edge of the bed.

The Prince's expression was unreadable as he crossed the room, his eyes dark. With every step, my heartbeat quickened. Could I beg my way out of it? The spymaster, Vitre, would check and report to the King if the Prince and I did not consummate the marriage.

If he wanted to overpower me, it would not require much effort. If I screamed… no one would come. I wasn't in Navhëlm anymore.

He was born and raised Sonera. This wasn't a distant tradition, these were his ways. His customs. And I was his wife. If I were to be obedient and stay out of his way, I could not subject him to that kind of scrutiny.

I swallowed.

'Undress, please.'