The Duty of a Queen Read online

  She remembered little of the celebration that followed, only that food and drink flowed. Her people slowly mingled with the prince's, their animosity gradually being overcome by their loyalty to their lieges. It was gratifying to see that the prince's people served out of love and admiration, and not from fear. She had hope for this alliance.

  Prince Oliver stayed at her side, engaging her in conversation about her family, her life. His interest seemed genuine and she reciprocated with questions of her own. He readily answered them with an openness that she found refreshing. She searched each word for some measure of deceit and found none. Either he was quite skilled at fooling those around him, or he was a man whose company she felt that she could enjoy. There was none of the fire and passion she felt for Jonas, but it did not seem that she would be as miserable as she had feared. Still, she felt Jonas's gaze on her at all times and it took all she had not to turn to him.

  “Prince Oliver.” The man who had performed the ceremony laid his hand on the prince's shoulder. “If we are to sail with the tide, we must prepare to depart.”

  The prince nodded once and then turned to Astrid. “It is time.”

  She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Yes, my prince. I shall say my farewells and gather those who will accompany us.”

  He gave her a soft smile. For a moment, she thought he would say something more, but he only inclined his head and walked away. She watched him go for a moment. There was, it seemed, more to her husband than it appeared.

  ***

  Astrid was unsure of what she was supposed to do now. She and her court had boarded the ship that the prince had called The Lady's Ransom, and once she had seen them all settled below decks, Prince Oliver had shown her to their quarters, then said that he would return after consulting with the captain. She had never been aboard a ship before, only the small boats her people used around the island. The prince's quarters were the size of the main room of her home on the island, the bed against the wall twice the size of hers. The furnishings were richer than anything she had ever seen, and for the first time, she wondered what her life as queen of a foreign land would be like.

  The door opened and she turned, swaying as the motion of the ship beneath her threw off her balance. She had not become ill as she had heard some did, but she did not like the disorientation. Her annoyance must have shown on her face, because as the prince stepped inside the room, he frowned.

  “Is something amiss?”

  Astrid breathed deeply through her nose, then out through her mouth. She did not want the prince to think her ungrateful for the alliance. “Just becoming accustomed to the ship, my prince.”

  Prince Oliver closed the door and crossed the room until he was within arm's reach. “I am not your prince, Astrid. I am your husband. I would that you called me Oliver, if it pleases you.”

  She could not disguise her surprise.

  The prince—Oliver—reached out and brushed a curl back from her face. “I do not wish for a subjugate, but an equal. You will bow a knee to no one.”

  Astrid bowed her head to hide the emotion passing over her face. She had not expected this. The best she had hoped for was the prince to be kind. “My prince.”

  “Oliver, please.” He hooked his finger under her chin and raised her head so that their eyes could meet. “Now, my princess,” he smiled as he continued. “We have a decision to make.”

  Astrid frowned. What decision could that be? Had they not made all of their arrangements prior to the ceremony?

  “While I would never ask a lady to do anything with which she was not comfortable, I know that my people will not truly be at rest with our alliance until there is proof of the marriage's consummation.”

  A child. Astrid nodded. She, too, knew that her people would not accept the truth of the marriage until a child was born. She could, she believed, ask him to wait, but she knew that if she did, the temptation would always exist to continue to delay the inevitable. She reached for the tie on her right shoulder and pulled the string, letting the soft fabric of her dress fall to the top of her breasts. Without saying a word, she pulled the second tie and her dress pooled around her feet.

  She expected his hands on her breasts, rough between her legs. He would put her on the bed, perhaps not even remove his strange clothing, and mount her. What she did not expect was the look of wonderment on his face, the heat in his eyes that spoke of a desire different than wanting ownership. He did not touch her, not yet, only looked. She saw his eyes widen as they saw her ma'sgi.

  “I did not realize...” He gestured at her arms.

  “They are ma'sgi,” she said softly. “When I began training to lead the People of the Grey Stones, I received my first marks.” She turned. “And I received my ka'sgi when I completed my training.”

  She caught her breath as she felt his fingers trace, not her marks, but her scar.

  “Does it hurt?” His voice was closer than he had been before.

  She shook her head. His hands moved to her shoulders and slid down her arms to rest at her elbows.

  “Is it...” His voice faltered. “Did this happen...?”

  She knew what he was asking and answered honestly. “Yes. It is a result of the war.”

  His lips touched her shoulder and a spark went through her, making her gasp. She had not thought to react to his touch. It was physical only, none of the emotion that came with Jonas's touch. Still, she thought it may be enough.

  When he removed his hands, she turned to find him taking off his shirt. She watched in silence as he revealed a firm, muscular torso. His skin was not as scarred as Jonas's, but as he bent to remove his trousers, she saw a criss-cross of scars on his back. She knew what made those marks, though she did not know who would dare to whip a prince.

  She did not ask, but as he straightened, he offered an explanation. “My father did not take kindly to my reservations about coming to the island.”

  Astrid's eyes widened.

  “I do not say this for your pity, only so that you will know that I did not come lightly.” He took her hand. “Another time, I will tell you of all that lead to our meeting. Tonight, however, I wish to make you my queen.” He paused, then continued. “If you do not object.”

  Astrid sat on the edge of the bed and pushed herself back to the center. The fabric beneath her hands was softer than any she had felt before. The children of her village would love it. Perhaps this union would do more for her people than only top the war. She leaned back on her elbows and parted her legs. She was not ready and, from what she saw, neither was he, but they would make this happen. She had seen his desire, had felt her body's physical response to him.

  His touch was hesitant at first, but she could see that he was only worried about her reaction, not that he did not know what he wanted. There was none of the confidence she and Jonas had experienced their first time, the surety of knowing that their touch was welcome.

  Slowly, though, she and Oliver gauged reactions, watched their partners' faces and bodies. How Oliver sucked in a breath when Astrid scraped her teeth over one flat nipple. The way her breathing stuttered when he pressed his lips against that spot below her ear. When he finally entered her, she was wet and trembling. He was gentle, though she could feel the strength he was holding back. A strength that promised something with an edge, something like the primal couplings she and Jonas had experienced after a fierce battle or a rousing training session.

  The wave of pleasure caught her by surprise as the prince rolled his hips and he brushed something inside her that she had never felt before. She cried out, biting down on her lip so as to not say a name. She could not call for Jonas and did not want to call for Oliver. The prince's hips jerked against her, and his body went rigid in her arms. Astrid's breathing stuttered as she felt her husband empty himself inside her.

  Tears burned at her eyelids and she blinked them back. She would not cry. She was Princess Astrid of the Grey Stones, a warrior. She forced down the emotions threatening to
overwhelm her. When the prince raised his head from her chest, her eyes were clear and she was once again in control.

  The motion of the ship lulled her to sleep, but a jolt tore her out not too long after. Moonlight streamed bright through the cabin window and Oliver slept at her side. The need to feel the wind on her face was strong, and she slipped from the bed. Her clothing had been packed away by her hand-maidens who slumbered in their own quarters. She did not wish to disturb the prince and so she picked up her dress from the floor, and put it on. She did not bother with her sandals, preferring the feel of the rough wood beneath her feet as she left the cabin.

  The smell of salt was strong, and the scent made her sad. Wistfully, she thought of the thick pines that surrounded her village. That, she thought, would be behind her forever. The future would contain many things, but the fresh pines would not be among them. The wind whipped her dress around her legs as she walked to the railing. The sea had calmed and she found that the movement was more soothing now.

  Astrid closed her eyes, letting the mist from the waters cool her. How long she stood, she did not know, only that she felt a presence behind her a moment before a familiar cloak was draped over her shoulders, bringing with it the smell of home.

  “Your dress is soaked.” Jonas's voice was low. “Unless my princess wishes for the crew to see her body, a covering would be wise.”

  She looked down and saw how the wet fabric clung to her curves. Heat rose to her cheeks and she pulled the cloak more tightly around her. That was foolish of her. She turned towards Jonas and found him standing just beyond her reach. A mixture of pain and guilt went through her though she knew she had lied to no one, committed no true betrayal. She had pledged herself to the prince, but they knew this for the arrangement it was. She did not allow her thoughts to turn to how her body had reacted to the prince's touch.

  “Has he hurt you?” Jonas asked, his hands clenching at his sides, as if that were the only way to keep from touching her.

  She shook her head. “No. He is a kind man. There are many tales in his life that brought him to our shores. He may yet prove to be more honorable than I had dared hope.”

  For a long moment, Jonas said nothing, his eyes black and unreadable. Finally, he spoke. “I hope that he is such a man, my princess.”

  Astrid shivered, the chill of her wet clothes suddenly reaching her.

  “You must return to your chambers, my princess. It would not do for you to fall ill on your wedding night.” Jonas extended his arm with a little bow. “After you.”

  Just as Astrid took a step, the boat lurched, throwing her off balance. She stumbled and Jonas caught her. She looked up, their faces so close together she could distinguish between the two shades of black in his eyes. She could feel his heart beneath her palms, pounding as wildly as her own. He uttered a low oath and stepped back quickly, almost causing her to fall. Neither spoke as he followed her back to her quarters. This, Astrid feared, would be more difficult than either of them had anticipated.

  ***

  The sun was directly overhead when Oliver approached Astrid as she stood at the railing, looking towards the west. Her hand-maidens fell silent as he approached. They had been talking around her, hoping to distract her and themselves from their circumstances.

  “A word alone, my princess?” He asked politely, if a bit stiffly.

  “Of course, my prince.” Astrid glanced at her trio of childhood friends. “All of you are dismissed.” She flicked her eyes to Jonas and motioned for him to step out of earshot. His face remained impassive as he moved back. She turned her attention to the prince.

  “Astrid,” he began. “If I inquire of something will you answer in truth?”

  She considered the question carefully before answering. “Yes, Oliver. I will be truthful with you. I pledge, always.”

  “Did you bring a guard because you feared for your life?”

  “No,” Astrid answered. “I trust you, my prince, and my husband, to honor your pledge to protect me.”

  “Did you bring him to be your lover?” There was no anger in Oliver's eyes, only a sadness that caused Astrid a pang.

  She shook her head. “No, Oliver, I speak truly. It is true that Jonas had been my lover, but we would not dishonor you, on my life. He asked a boon of me, to accompany me, to watch over me when you could not.”

  “Do you love him still?”

  Astrid knew she had a choice to make. She could break her pledge and lie, betraying Jonas and possibly saving both of their lives, or she could risk all on her belief that Oliver was a good man. She chose the latter. “I have loved Jonas since I was a girl and he saved my life. Had you not come to the island, he would have been my chosen. But, my prince, I will honor my pledge to be yours always. You are a strong, kind and honorable man. I truly believe that, in time, I could love you.”

  Oliver looked at her as if searching for an answer. When he spoke, she could not determine the nature of his words. “Go to the cabin. I shall be there shortly.”

  She wanted to ask what would happen, if he would send Jonas away, if her husband would kill her love. She did not though. She was a princess. She kept her head high as she walked back to their quarters. Once inside, she stood in the center of the room, unsure what she should do.

  A season seemed to pass as she waited. When the door opened, she was fighting back an icy chill that wanted to take over. When Jonas entered, she made a small sound of surprise. Then Oliver followed, and she realized that Jonas appeared to be as confused as she felt.

  “If you will both sit,” Oliver said. He did not sound upset. “I wish to offer an explanation, and, perhaps a solution.”

  Astrid sat on the trunk at the foot of the bed. Jonas took the narrow bench opposite her. Oliver remained standing.

  “Last night, Astrid saw the scars on my back from when my father beat me for expressing my disagreement over invading your island.”

  Astrid was puzzled. This was what he wished to speak about? She did not understand.

  “When I still refused to lead the invasion, my father took the woman who had nursed me and raised me after the death of my mother. He tortured and killed her, showing me her body when it was over and telling me what he had done. He then told me that he had taken the woman's daughter, and if I did not do as he asked, he would do worse to this child who had not yet seen her thirteenth summer. The things he said would be done to her...” He shuddered. “I would not wish upon my greatest enemy.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I would have killed him then if he had not had one of his men render me unconscious. When I awoke, I was here on this ship, sailing for your island. The captain had been given orders to not return until the island was conquered. He is, you see, the brother of the girl my father has. Many of my men fought to protect members of their families.”

  “I-I...” Astrid did not know how to respond to the revelation.

  Oliver held up a hand. “I tell you this because I want you to understand that I did none of this for selfish gain, and so you will know that my proposal also comes from an honest place.”

  Astrid's heart began to beat faster.

  “In my hand, the kings of old wrote a law to allow them to keep their marriage for political reasons while still maintaining a relationship with a mistress, particularly one who bore him children.”

  She did not understand. Was Oliver saying he wanted a mistress?

  “The way the law was written, however, is open to interpretation. It does not specify that the third party be female.”

  “My prince?” Astrid tried to stifle the wild hope that bloomed inside her. “What are you saying? I do not understand.”

  Oliver gave her a smile. “If Jonas will consent, I would like him to become our third. He will have no royal title, and any children produced would be, in all ways, accepted. He will be your second husband.”

  Astrid's mouth fell open. He must not be serious. This could not possibly be true.

  “I cannot dissolve our marriage and,
if I am honest, I do not wish it. But I cannot allow a hidden relationship nor do I want to cause you the pain of being apart from the one you love. There is a ceremony and a pledge that we three may take, that we will be loyal to each other and that two never neglect the third, but treat all as equally married with all rights and privileges.”

  Was it possible? Astrid could hardly dare to believe it.

  “What say you?” Oliver turned to her. “Are you willing to stay with me, trust me as your husband in all ways, and accept Jonas as our third?”

  For the first time in her life, Astrid did not trust herself to speak. She nodded, then turned with Oliver to Jonas.

  “I will.” His voice was hoarse, his dark eyes disbelieving.

  Oliver's face lit up. “Then I shall get the captain and two witnesses. Philip will perform the ceremony at once so that we may be joined before we reach my... our land. My father would try to stop us. If it has been consummated before we arrive, the laws of our land will prevent him from undoing it.”

  Her head was still spinning as she stood between her husband and her lover, vowing before the witnesses to be faithful to these men as they were faithful to her and to each other. She waited for someone to tell her that there had been a mistake, that she could not have both peace for her people and keep Jonas, but it did not happen. The captain took their hands and placed one on top of the other. Only as he began to speak the final words of bonding did she dare to look away from the captain. She glanced first at Oliver and found him watching her, his eyes bright as a summer morning sky. She held his gaze for a moment, then turned to Jonas. He, too, had his eyes on her, his face so full of hope that Astrid's heart constricted.

  She was surprised at how natural it all seemed. Once the captain and the witnesses departed, Astrid knew what needed to come next. Without saying a word, she pulled her dress over her head and went to the bed. By the time she turned to face the men again, they had shed their clothes as well. They stood at the end of the bed, so similar and yet so different. She looked to Oliver for the next step. She did not know who was to come to her first. He inclined his head and she understood.