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The queen sneered as she approached Mandrick, who stood a head taller than she. “Take her to my husband,” saying the word as if it made her sick, “and tell him that she broke into my private room and accosted me without provoke. Tell him that he needs to deal with this brat. She is his responsibility.”
“What about Clavelle? You know…the man hiding behind the bed?” Lyra smirked at Jessibel. “Let me guess. He lost his way to the guest room, and in your famously kind-hearted manner, you gave him access to your bed for the evening?”
The queen stared at Lyra, her eyes smoldering with anger.
Lyra shared a sly grin. “I bet that wasn’t all you gave him access to.”
The queen lunged at Lyra, but Mandrick grabbed her, the big man holding the squirming woman firmly.
“Get her out of here,” Mandrick commanded to the other two guards. “You best take her to Tallinor and let him deal with her.”
Lyra’s gaze met Mandrick’s and the man gave her a small nod. One of the guards took her by the arm and led her toward the door as Lyra glanced back at the queen to find the woman’s face a thundercloud.
“I’ll get you for this, you little brat!”
When Lyra cleared the doorway and turned down the corridor, a satisfied smile spread across her face.
King Tallinor appeared weary, even beyond the fact that it was the middle of the night. Streaks of gray highlighted his brown hair and painted his goatee, a badge earned from carrying the weight of a nation. He stared at Lyra in grim silence as the guards bowed and exited the Throne Room, their departure punctuated by the thud of the door echoing off the vaulted ceiling. Only then, did the man release a sigh.
“Why must you always play the rogue, Lyra?”
“Why?” She gestured toward the door. “That woman is why. I hate her. She’s mean to Tiri and treats me like I’m some street urchin. Even worse, Jessibel disrespects you.” She took a step closer, holding her open palms before her. “I thought to hurt her pride by catching her in the act.”
Tallinor sighed again. “After three years of you two living in the same house, you still can’t get along. Acts such as this won’t help. Instead, you’ll just provoke her.”
“She’s your wife. Don’t you care?” Lyra clenched her fists, her knuckles going white. “If she even tries to keep her trysts a secret, the effort is pathetic. I always believed that marriage meant more than that…two people pledging themselves to one another forever, not merely when it suits their needs.”
Tallinor rubbed his eyes and dragged his hand down his face. “My wife is…complicated. In fact, our situation is not…typical.”
She snorted. “I sure hope not.”
He stepped onto the dais and collapsed into his throne. “I once had the love of my life. Our relationship was different. She was everything I wanted, and she made my heart whole. Losing her felt like losing a limb, a part of myself that would never grow back. After Tirialle’s mother died, I had no interest in pursuing another woman.” He stared into the air, seeing something Lyra could not, as if dreaming while awake. “But even with Lorialle gone, I still had Tiri. In many ways, devoting myself to my daughter was the means to mending my heart.”
His bemused look shifted to sadness, his tone becoming somber. “However, the glories of power come with a price, and I was forced to marry again for the good of Kalimar. By making Jessibel my wife, I strengthened Kalimar’s relationship with Vinacci and expanded our borders in a single stroke. Through Jessibel’s brother, the Duke of Yarth, the region shifted from Vinacci lands to Kalimar as part of our marriage pact.”
“So you married your first wife for love, but you got stuck with this other minx for the good of Kalimar?”
Tallinor frowned. “Be considerate, Lyra. Please.” He closed his eyes for a long moment, seeking solace. When his eyes opened again, Lyra saw sadness within them. “She wasn’t always this way, you know. I believe she loved me at the beginning, or tried to, but I couldn’t find love in my heart for her. Once she became pregnant with Donte, we stopped…sleeping in the same bed. My lack of affection for her grew into a gap between us, one that widened into a chasm after Donte’s…incident.”
“What happened to him, anyway? I have tried asking others, but they refuse to tell me and instead change the subject.”
“During Donte’s tenth summer, I convinced Jess to let me take him on a hunting trip.” Tallinor sighed. “It’s been a tradition between father and son in my family for generations. A tradition that has likely now become extinct.”
“What happened?”
“We were deep in the woods north of Sol Polis – me, Donte, and a dozen of my royal guard. We broke into two groups, me leading one group to flush out our quarry, while Donte and the others waited to make the kill. As planned, we found two spotted deer and drove them toward our trap. Unfortunately, the deer startled another animal during their flight. A wild boar exploded from the brush and rammed into Donte before he could defend himself, goring the lad in the thigh and slamming him against a tree. Unconscious and bleeding profusely when we found him, we bandaged the wound and carried him to Sol Polis. The healer there was able to save him, even save his leg. But Donte’s head injury proved to be more significant and he would not wake. Three weeks passed before he finally opened his eyes. Even then, the damage to his brain had changed him…forever. Jessibel blames me for Donte’s condition.” He looked toward the floor. “How could she not? I blame myself.”
Lyra climbed the dais and hugged Tallinor. “Don’t blame yourself, father. Sometimes things happen. Unless ill will was intended, it was but a twist of fate.” She shrugged. “Perhaps it was destined to happen regardless of what you did.”
“Thank you, Lyra.” He gave her smile as she stood, and gently squeezed her outstretched hand.
“However, I don’t see how Donte’s condition makes it acceptable for her to share her bed with another man.”
Tallinor released his grip, dropping his hand to the arm of his throne. “As I said, Donte’s accident created a chasm between us. Since I have no love for her, I allow that chasm to remain…and I look the other way rather than examine her indiscretions.”
“Well, she makes me sick.”
“I can’t change the way you feel, Lyra, but I can’t have you two causing problems either. You don’t have to like Jessibel. You just need to leave her to her own devices. I’ll inform her that she needs to do the same for you.” His steely gaze locked with Lyra’s, the king within demanding she obey, the man within pleading that she acquiesce.
She signed, “Fine. I’ll stay away from her.”
Tallinor shook his head and chuckled. “Lyra. Do you forget that I can see lies from this throne?”
She bit her lower lip in frustration.
He rubbed his eyes again. “I need this promise from you. I have important business to address over the next few weeks, and I cannot afford your little feud as a distraction.”
“Fine!” Lyra threw her hands up. “You win. I’ll stay away from her for a month. After that, I can’t promise anything.”
“Fair enough. We’ll take it a month at a time.” He smiled. “Now give me a hug so I can get back to bed.”
She leaned in to give the man another hug. “Goodnight, Father.”
He patted her on the back and released her. “Goodnight, Lyra.”
Without pause, Lyra walked the length of the throne room, passed through the double doors, and headed toward her room. It was well past midnight, and she needed sleep before her morning duel.
Blades collided, the clang of metal-on-metal ringing in the courtyard. A sword swept toward Lyra’s head. She ducked and spun, the strike narrowly missing her helmet. When she came around, Lyra thrust her dagger toward the man’s lower back. Her opponent twisted, and his shield deflected the blow past him.
Lyra spun away, kicking up dirt as she created space before he could strike again. She eyed him warily as he adjusted his shield and loosened his shoulder. At over six-feet, the man stood a full head taller than Lyra and vastly outweighed her. Quickness was her main advantage. Strength was his.
Her opponent lunged toward her and Lyra raised her blades, crossing them above her head and bracing herself to catch the overhead strike. The shock from the impact made her teeth rattle and strained her shoulders. She pushed his blade to her left and spun to the right, trying to get around his shield. With a swing of his muscular arm, the man’s
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