given her a smile and a pat. His words
made her eyes mist and a lump form
in her throat. “As it stands, you are
heiress to my legacy.” His eyes closed
briefly, as if a painful thought crossed
his mind and he sighed. When they
opened
again,
Jaisyn
read
determination, “When I am gone,
things you do not yet understand will
begin to happen. You must not fight it.
It is for the good of our people.”
Jaisyn’s eyes narrowed. What were
these things she wouldn’t understand?
And where was this defeatist attitude
coming from? He was healthy and had
been so for over two months now.
The illness had been beaten once
more.
“Why are you speaking like this?”
Jaisyn demanded. She felt herself
blink wildly as she stared at the man
who’d been her world from the
moment of her birth.
“Beloved daughter, I am weak.
Though I do not look it, for which I
am grateful, this illness has taken its
toll on my body. If I succumb once
more, my body may not have the
strength to fight it.” He paused, his
gaze looking across the stream. On
the other side was a thick cluster of
trees. The hand around hers tightened,
and Jaisyn hastily looked to him,
searching his features for strain.
Wilhelm looked well. There were
some wrinkles on his face, but that
was due to age, not illness. “I want
you to promise me—
promise me
—
that whatever happens after I am
gone, you will accept. You must
promise me, Jaisyn. Let that be the
wish of an old man.”
She didn’t answer soon enough
because he released her hand to grip
her shoulders. His eyes were almost
wild as he repeated his entreaty.
Feeling her eyes fill with tears,
Jaisyn nodded. “I promise, Father.”
She didn’t know when he pulled her
into his arms, but she was glad for it.
Inhaling deeply of the cinnamon scent
that clung to him, she felt tears wet
her cheeks.
“That is good, Jaisyn. You will
eventually come to understand that
everything that I’ve done, I’ve done
for you, your sisters, and our people.”
“What have you done, Father?”
Jaisyn asked hoarsely. Why was he
certain she wouldn’t accept it unless
he dragged a promise from her?
As he gently pulled away and wiped
at eyes so similar to hers, Wilhelm
smiled sadly. “I have secured our
future.”
He said no more than that. Instead,
he took her hand and led her back to
the horses and the guard. They didn’t
speak on the ride back to the castle,
but Jaisyn couldn’t keep her eyes off
of him. Not only did Wilhelm appear
healthy, he’d ridden for two hours
today
without
complaint.
There
wasn’t even a hint of strain across his
face.
Her father would be fine. No doubt
he only wanted her prepared in the
event of his death, but he would be
fine. They had years left with their
only surviving parent. Years.
Unable to shake the chill in her
body, Jaisyn made her way to the
Temple as soon as she returned to the
castle. On her knees before the stone
statue of Lyria, Jaisyn clasped her
hands together and began to pray. She
prayed that her father beat his illness,
that whatever he’d done to secure
their future would be put off by his
new health.
Somewhat
appeased
afterward,
Jaisyn stood and took to her
chambers. Tomorrow, she would
return to the Temple, and ask the
High Priestess to pray with her.
Something was coming their way, and
she was positive she wouldn’t like it.
Chapter 2
Lytheria,
Two weeks later…
The Lytherians were in mourning.
They had just buried their king, as
they had buried his ancestors, in a ring
of fire. His soul would travel to the
heavens where he would be greeted in
the Hall of Lyria by his royal
ancestors. As was tradition, the
Lytherians would remain in dark
clothing for five more days.
No more than a week after she’d
given her promise, Wilhelm passed on.
It had been so sudden.
She’d sat next to him at supper the
night before, debating the merits of
the sword versus the battle-ax—he’d
given the scholarly interpretation while
she’d
promoted
the
warrior’s
approach—and he’d been healthy and
happy. Wilhelm had even danced with
the noblewomen and villagers who
took to the floor.
Early that morning, she’d been
awakened to the news that her father
was ill. Jaisyn had rushed to his
chambers, and once there, it had
taken the stone wall to keep her
standing. Instead of the healthy man
she’d eaten with, the person on the
bed was but a shell. His eyes were
sunken, his entire body pale and
wracked with shivers. Though he was
awake, he barely seemed conscious.
The
apothecaries
and
surgeons
gathered had all said the same thing. It
would be a miracle if he survived. He
had not.
Before the first shaft of sunlight
announced dawn, Wilhelm St. Ives,
King of Lytheria, was dead.
His daughters and a few of his loyal
advisers had been with him. When
he’d breathed his last, everyone had
shed tears. Wilhelm had been a good
king. Fair and brilliant, he was a man
of
the
modern
world.
He’d
implemented fairer laws for widows,
cut taxes for those barely earning a
living, punished those who deserved it
regardless of social class or income.
Jaisyn had cried uncontrollably on
the day of her father’s passing. From
the next morning forth, Jaisyn dried
her tears and took charge. She
couldn’t inherit the kingdom like a
son, but with no St. Ives heir to claim
the throne for the first time in the
history of the succession, she could
act the part of
heiress
. She was in
charge of the funeral arrangements,
and her father’s political advisors and
generals consulted her in the uncertain
interim. Like a true queen, Jaisyn took
on the burden of rule, and earned
respect and allegiance from those
who’d served her father.
Though there were whispers of
potential uprisings, Wilhelm’s sudden
death made it difficult. The army
surrounding the Lytherian City housed
sixty thousand men loyal to the St.
Ives family. There weren’t many who
could match that sum in the quick
time frame necessary to pursue a
coup. Wilhelm might have been a
scholar, but he’d understood war well.
That and the fact that Jaisyn had the
backing of her father’s most loyal
advisers and generals, gave her time to
focus on her family.
She comforted her sisters and
welcomed the condolences of other
family
members,
especially
her
cousins, the Dukes of Halifax and
Neren, who came to the city to be
with the family as they grieved. The
peerages of Halifax and Neren had
been created when two of Jaisyn’s
female ancestors married noblemen of
Lytheria. To secure the position of
any heir from those unions, King
Anathil had bestowed the title of duke
unto their fathers and made it such
that any male heir would inherit the
peerage, and the wealth, alongside it.
Xander Richardson, the Duke of
Halifax, seemed sincere in his
condolences, but the words of Kegan
Reinhardt, the Duke of Neren, didn’t
sit well with her. He was the oldest
male of her cousins, and the way in
which he spoke of Lytheria affirmed
Jaisyn’s belief that he intended to
challenge her for it. Jaisyn sighed and
decided to cross that bridge if, and
more than likely, when it came. She
turned her attention to Kegan. The
family of the deceased king was
seated around the long table for an
after-funeral repast. As Jaisyn was the
acting head of the St. Ives family, she
sat at the head of the long table.
Mathilda sat to her right, Isolde to her
left and next to them, Kegan and
Xander, respectively. Kegan was in
deep conversation with Mathilda and
from the blush upon her sister’s
cheek, she knew he was being
flirtatious. Kegan was not married, but
from what she’d heard from her
father
as
he
engaged
in
idle
conversation,
and
seen
on
the
occasions Kegan paid homage, he was
a rake. Jaisyn didn’t see any particular
handsomeness in the man, but his
eyes
held
something
startling,
something that would captivate some
and repel others. It repelled her; she
hoped it did the same for Mathilda.
Jaisyn moved her thoughts from
Kegan
and
looked
around
the
rectangular table. Dukes, duchesses,
earls and countesses, some she’d
never before met, all sat there. The
descendants of her ancestors; the
wives of those descendants; the
illegitimate children of kings and
princes.
Family.
Lunch was almost over and Jaisyn
was glad for that fact. She wished to
be alone with her sisters. Most of the
family gathered were people she’d
never seen before and she preferred to
mourn with those who’d known her
father intimately. Instead of these
nobles, she wanted to be with her
sisters, General Urian, Malcolm.
She looked to the wooden clock
upon the wall. Broming, another port
city of Lytheria, had sent these time-
telling machines to the palace when
her parents married. It was close to
three in the afternoon. She was about
to stand and thank everyone for
mourning her father when Kegan’s
voice cut through the low lull of
others. “You’ve been a gracious
hostess, Princess.”
Silence descended as every eye
turned to the duke before shifting
across to her.
“Thank you, cousin. It is my duty.”
A small smile curved Kegan’s lips
upward. “Yes, but does the duty not
seem much for one who wasn’t raised
to bear it?”
Feeling anger surge, Jaisyn struggled
to tamp it. She should have expected
Kegan to stake his claim to the throne
as soon as possible. Still, to begin at
the funeral lunch of the deceased king
was unmannerly, even for him.
“If you are referring to me, cousin, I
can assure you that I was raised to
bear this duty and more.”
A few gasps were the only sounds
heard around the table. Jaisyn did not
know whom she’d shocked, because
her eyes never left Kegan’s face.
Before her eyes, it darkened, showing
anger.
“You intend to rule?” He spat the
question as if the very taste of it
offended him.
Jaisyn
looked
at
every
face
gathered, every kinsman who waited
with bated breath for her response. “I
do not believe this is the time or place
for discussion of my intentions,
cousin. Only hours ago, my sisters
and I watched our father’s body turn
to black ash on a burning pyre.”
There were a few grunts of
agreement and Kegan’s face darkened
further. “When will be the time for
such discussion—?”
The doors screeched as they sprang
open and General Urian, accompanied
by a warrior whose name she could
not immediately place, but whose face
was familiar, burst into the room.
Everyone started but the general made