The Cold King (13 page)

Calia followed him back up the stairs, still trying to play the role of a perfect servant. But once through the doorway of his rooms she could do it no more and kicked her shoes off with a sigh of relief and slumped into her chair.

The king eyed her curiously but did not berate her.

“My feet hurt,” she said defensively. “You try standing in a corner for hours in shoes like that.”

“I do not have to. I am the king,” he said drily. “Now tell me what your impressions are after that lovely meeting.”

Calia settled back in her chair and gathered her thoughts. “The father is a boisterous drunk. His older daughter is afraid of him, not you, and the younger one is still a floozy.”

The Cold King laughed and took the chair next to her.

“What else?”

Calia frowned. “Well, he spent most of his time bragging about his family.”

“About what in particular?”

Calia shuddered. “His virulent son, his big hipped wife…He really is trying to marry off the floozy. To you?”

The king nodded, not taking his eyes from the low fire.

“But why? Surely he wouldn’t want his daughter tied to you for the rest of her life,” Calia sputtered. “I mean, you never take off that mask, you will never die.” She winced, suddenly realizing what she had just said.

“I am going to pretend not to be incredibly insulted. But yes, he is trying to marry her off to me.”

“But why?” Calia pressed.

“Because I am wealthy, I am seemingly immortal, I keep the peace, I get whatever I want.”

Calia shrugged. “But surely he wants more for his daughter than that.”

The king sighed. “Think, Calia, and not with your kind little heart. Think with that sharp little mind I know you have hiding somewhere in there. It’s not about what he wants for his daughter; it’s what he wants for himself.”

“A powerful ally?” she guessed.

“Exactly. He wishes to align himself with me. In a way that I could not undo should I grow tired of the backward and sometimes evil way he runs his country.”

“So he would just offer his daughter up like some kind of tempting bait?” She shuddered again.

“I wouldn’t call her tempting. And I also wouldn’t count her out of the scheming. She should be frightened of me and yet she acted like a strumpet.”

“But what would she get? Other than you,” Calia added hastily.

“Wealth. Her own castle and staff to boss around. Freedom from her father.”

“That’s disgusting,” Calia finally commented.

He just shrugged. “That’s life. I’ve been avoiding scummy men throwing their viscous daughters at me for years.”

His words reminded her of his earlier promise. “How many years?”

“Three hundred.”

Calia gasped and twisted in her chair to face him. “You are three hundred years old?”

“No, I was cursed three hundred years ago. I was twenty three when it occurred.”

“Who did it? Why?” Calia demanded.

The king got up and poured two glasses of wine. Calia looked up with surprise when he handed her one but he just sat back down in his chair and kicked his feet up.

“My father did.” He fell silent for a moment and Calia bit back all her questions. She could not see his face but clearly it was a hard story for him to tell.

“My father was the king then. He was a wonderful ruler. Everyone loved him. He was fair and kind to all his people. No one went hungry, we never went to war. He was harsh but just. Those are easy qualities to appreciate in a king but much harder to appreciate in a husband or father. He had no time for us, no time for my mother and sister. When I was seven and my sister eleven our mother fell ill and did not have the spirit to rally against it. She died without the comfort of her husband, as he was too busy being king.” He leaned his head back against the chair and his eyes slid closed under his mask. “That was when I first began to hate him, but it wasn’t until years later that I truly reviled him.” Calia leaned closer, taking in every word.

“When my sister was just fourteen he pledged her to be married to a king from a neighboring land. He was a vile fifty year old man that had already been through three wives. He was stupid and brutish and clung to his post with the aplomb of a rabid dog. My sister was terrified and begged my father not to make her marry him but he did anyway.” The king fell silent again.

“Why?” Calia asked. “How could he do that to his own daughter?”

The king huffed. “He said he was doing it for the good of everyone, that if he tied the two kingdoms together he could use his influence to improve the lives of the people living under the king.”

Calia bit her lip. “How very…noble?”

The king shook his head. “No, it was selfish. The neighboring kingdom was a drain on all of us surrounding it. So my father offered up my sister as a sacrifice to gain some control and improve the crumbling situation.”

“What happened then?”

Calia saw the muscles in his jaw bunch and his hands tightened on the arms of his chair. “She became pregnant. She was little more than a child, a tiny thing and he was a brutish beast, much larger than even my father. She died in labor.” He turned his face towards Calia and she could almost make his eyes out from under the hooded lids of the mask. “I loved my sister very much. She cared for me in much the same way that my mother did.”

He turned back towards the fire and took a long drink of wine. “I had just turned twelve and already my heart was a stone in my chest. My father began trying to teach me everything there was to know about being a successful king and I ignored him or rebelled at every turn. I hated him and everything he stood for. Thankfully he was usually too busy to notice my disdain or lack of character. But as I grew older it grew worse. I threw parties, drank too much, got into fights and had more lady friends than I could count.”

Calia shifted uncomfortably at that but he did not seem to notice.

“I knew he was growing tired of my childish antics but I did not care. Why should I have? So I could grow up to abandon my spouse and send my children to a purgatory? No. So instead I partied and reveled and everyone liked me because I was just so much fun,” he said in a tired, bitter voice.

“What happened?” Calia whispered.

“He left to meet with a neighboring kingdom and I threw a party to top all the other parties. Everyone was invited. The castle, the old castle, was filled to the brim. Wine literally flowed and we celebrated whatever it was we celebrating until well into the night.” He leaned forward in his chair and rubbed at his temples. Calia wondered how many times he had had to tell his painful story. After a moment he continued. “I never figured out how the fire started but when it sparked it spread in an instant. The old castle had been built mostly of wood. It was much smaller than this one but was filled to the brim with people. Most everyone was so drunk they could not have found their way out of a barrel.”

“Did they all die?” Calia whispered.

“Not all but a lot. There were members of our elitist families, our staff and villagers. It seemed every family was touched by death, except for mine of course. My father was away when I threw the party and obviously I did not die.’

‘When he returned and saw how I had laid to waste everything he had worked so hard to build he was devastated. His kingdom was not just riches and a castle. He truly was a leader to our people and I knew he was heartbroken to have lost so many of them. But he was also very, very angry. As his only heir, he could not have me killed or imprisoned and he could not leave his kingdom to anyone but me.”

Calia bit her lip. “So he cursed you?”

The king nodded. “Back then there was much more magic in the land. He paid a wise old woman a small fortune for her services. So yes, he had me cursed with immortality. But first he had me bound to this land and to my role as king. I can never die and I can never leave. He knew I would never strive to be the leader he was because it wasn’t in my best interest. But if I was bound, and had to live here forever…”

Calia shook her head. “So if you had let everything go to ruins you would have been stuck in ruins?”

“Yes. His way of making sure I would be the best king I could be was to make sure I had to live with all the consequences of my actions. Forever.”

“But all curses have cures, do they not? I mean, you run things pretty well around here. Maybe if you become a good enough king the curse will break?”

He rolled his head back over to face her. “And how could I possibly improve on the land and lives of my subjects?”

“Perhaps you could not enslave some of them,” Calia hinted.

“Is that how it feels to you?” he asked.

She hesitated. “Sometimes. Not always. But that’s what this is, isn’t it?”

The king sighed. “I take in the people who are the least wanted in the town, or who want to be there the least, and give them a home, a purpose. I put a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. In order to run this country I need to have absolutely loyal servants. I think that’s very little to ask of my people in exchange for freedom from war and famine.”

“I have no freedom, I can never leave,” Calia said bluntly.

“You will come to feel differently,” he promised her.

She did not think so.

“So that is my story,” he said and gulped down the last of his wine.

“Wait, that cannot be all. How is the curse broken? If not by realizing your mistakes and correcting them, then how? True love?”

The king waved a hand and gave a rueful grin. “I’ve tried that—several times. It definitely doesn’t work.”

Calia rolled her eyes. “Somehow I think if you tried ‘true’ love several times none of them could have been very true.”

The king laughed but it died quickly. “There is no breaking this curse. And truly, I’ve gotten used to it. I have a meaningful job, a purpose, a roof over my own head.”

She looked at him doubtfully. “You do not have your freedom either,” she finally said.

“Correct. And it took me a while, but I finally realized it wasn’t such as an important thing as I thought.” He stood from his chair just as the tenth bell sounded. “And now, if you will excuse me.”

“Of course,” Calia murmured. She wished she had something comforting to say but could think of nothing. All she had were more questions.

She walked over to her room as if in a fog and shut the door before leaning back against it. She felt so sad for her king. She thought about his sister and mother and wondered if he had loved them as much as she had loved her father.

She thought about all the people that had died in the fire and wondered about the king. Perhaps what she had thought to be merely coldness was something more; perhaps it was grief and consuming guilt. If she had been able to see his face while he told his story maybe she would have been able to tell. Her thoughts drifted and Calia wondered if one day she would be allowed to see his face and what it looked like. She wondered if it was as handsome as the rest of him.

A noise in the hallway caught her attention and she pressed an ear against the door. She heard the king’s door snick shut and she eased her own open to peek her head out. The king was walking down the hall with a thick towel roped over his shoulders. Curiosity burned but she ducked back into her room before she was caught spying.

Calia crawled into her bed but could not get comfortable. She tried to imagine living forever, cursed, immortal, a king, but could not. Surely there was a way to break the curse. As she finally drifted off she promised herself she would help him find a way.

Chapter Ten

I
n the morning she knocked
hesitantly on his door. There was no answer as usual so she slowly pushed it open.

She inched towards the king and carefully set his tray down. The silence was uncomfortable and she struggled to find something to say that would convey her sympathy. She bit her lip and shifted from foot to foot. His mask sparked in the morning light and caught her eye.

The king looked up to find her staring at him. “Is there a problem?”

She shook her head, mouth dry. “No. I just wanted to say…I don’t think you are so bad.”

One corner of his mouth twitched up for a second. “I don’t care how you feel about me one way or the other but I will thank you for your kind sentiments all the same.”

Calia nodded stupidly and stood at his desk until he took a small amount of pity on her.

“Fine. Then we will meet the king in the throne room and hear out his request.” He looked up again, taking her in. She had fixed her hair and selected her second favorite gown. The Cold King nodded his approval and stood.

Like the previous day she followed him like a severe ghost. In the throne room he picked up one silver tray with a perfect rose on it and instructed her to carry it. “But I thought—” she gasped.

He shook his head as the doors opened.

King William swept in merrily but Calia could see the dark rings under his eyes and the slight way his fingers shook. He grinned at her king before bowing and Calia wondered that his nose could appear even redder than it had the night before.

He rose, a little unsteadily, and his eyes caught on the silver tray Calia held. They grew bright and he flashed a smile over his shoulder to his younger daughter. She answered with her own vicious twist of the lips and stood straighter to force her barely concealed chest out further.

Calia tamped down a sudden burst of fury. How dare they think her king would be won over to some ridiculous marriage scheme because of a tasteless dress worn by a crass girl! She glanced down at the rose she held and grimaced. Well, she did not think he would be.

“King Valanka, I trust you slept well?” King William asked.

“I did,” the Cold King rumbled. “Please forgive me, but I wish to see you off before poor weather sets in. What is it you wished to see me about?”

The man’s grin widened and he beckoned his harlot of a daughter to come stand at his side. “My king, you must know of the immense respect I have for you as a man and as a ruler. I too strive to provide the best for my country and also my family. I feel a strong connection to you and your land and believe you feel it as well. That is why I wish to join our two kingdoms and offer to seal them with the offer of my daughter’s hand.” He swooped down into another ridiculous bow and his daughter curtsied, making sure the Cold King got a perfect view of her overflowing cleavage.