The snow softly crunched beneath her feet. The clouds above were grey, brooding, and heavy. Against the feathery white landscape, she knew she stood out like a drop of dark blood. She looked up at the castle. It rose before her on a slight hill, ominous, imposing, commanding the gaze of anyone who saw it. The fortress’s shape jarred against the rolling mountains in the distance.
The steward at the door tried to remove her ebony cloak, but she waved him away. She proceeded up a spiral flight of stairs, shaking the snow off of herself. A long stone hallway greeted her at the top. Like the rest of the castle, it was designed to be cold, hard, and unwelcoming. She shivered in spite of the heat emanating from the walls. Purposefully, she strode to a solid oak door.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, she opened the door. No one was inside the dark drawing room, though a fire burned brightly in front of two red armchairs. She breathed a sigh of relief, only to be filled with an impatient anxiety. She finally hung her cloak on a peg, and crossed to the window. She looked out as the snow started falling faster, hugging herself. There’ll be at least two feet by nightfall, she thought absently. He would demand an answer from her soon. Time seemed to be flowing agonizingly backward, and as she stared at the snow, she could almost imagine the flakes rising again as she waited for him. She almost wished time could flow backward so as to have avoided this decision. Just as he had intended, she now questioned herself. She brushed a strand of black hair back under her golden circlet. In the background, the fire crackled and whispered.
The door opened. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of acknowledgement. King Espiridion was an attractive man by many ladies’ standards: powerful, lithe, wealthy. But his good looks did not fool anyone with an interest in royal politics. He was sharp and ruthless in tongue, policy, and manner.
“Welcome, Rhian,” Espiridion greeted her softly in his deep voice. Rhian turned. Espiridion hung his blue and silver cloak next to Rhian’s. His velvet tunic matched his cloak, embroidered with the silver dragon of the House of Aadland.
“Espiridion,” she replied coolly. She crossed her arms as his frost blue eyes studied her. Espiridion advanced into the room, placed his hands on an armchair, and gazed past Rhian to the weather outside.
“It appears you will be staying the night, my queen,” a touch of amusement colored Espiridion’s voice. Rhian’s eyes flared with anger. He was toying with her! Insolently, she tossed her head back to the window. Fine. She would play his game.
“It appears so. Your Northern winters are much harsher than the Valley’s.” she said.
“That they are. This is just a small storm. Soon the snow will seal the castle off from any…intruders,” Espiridion remarked. Rhian turned back to the king. She hadn’t missed his implications. “Please, won’t you sit? The fire is much warmer than that window.”
“I don’t think I will, thank you,” the queen countered. A silence followed. Rhian watched as Espiridion relinquished her from his gaze, and stared into the fire.
“Let’s get to the heart of the matter, shall we?” he asked finally. Once more, his calculating scrutiny turned on Rhian. All light-hearted politeness had left his eyes and manner. “You have thought about my offer.”
It was a statement, but Rhian answered wryly “I have. How can I not? You threatened to invade my kingdom.”
“True, but you can prevent my onslaught.” Slowly, ever so slowly, Espiridion started sauntering toward her. He stopped just before her. Apprehensively, Rhian looked up at him. His eyes were unreadable. Espiridion leaned over and breathed in her ear, “Only you have the key. Only you can prevent it.”
Rhian’s mouth curled into a sneer. “You gave me an ultimatum: either I marry you or you invade my kingdom. That’s hardly a deal. You gain my land either way. What do I gain? Nothing! I gain nothing.”
“I would hardly say ‘nothing,’” Espiridion said, a half-smile twisting across his mouth.
“You’re right. I would gain you!” Rhian snarled. She slapped him. When the king turned back toward her, his smile had disappeared. He seized her wrist and whirled her around, marching her farther into the room.
“I can play rough, too, my dear,” Espiridion shouted. He was shaking and panting, his eyes wild. He released her hand. “But I won’t. I won’t force you to make a decision.” He backed away covering his face, and grabbed an armchair for support.
Half-stunned, Rhian looked at the man before her. His blonde hair hung in his eyes. He was fighting an inner battle, something that hurt him deeply. She almost…pitied him. What was she thinking? “But you are forcing me,” she said softly.
“What is your answer? Will you marry me?” Espiridion’s voice was ragged. He turned his head and his blue eyes pierced Rhian’s core. The angry fire in those twin blue eyes had died, and something despairing and empty hypnotized her.
A silence that seemed to last forever followed his question. Finally, Rhian said, “Yes, for the sake of my kingdom, I will marry you, Espiridion.” Inside, Rhian felt something in her heart give way.
Espiridion looked back down at the chair before Rhian could gauge his reaction. When he looked up, he took his hands off the chair. He was composed. She expected him to gloat and glory in his triumph. Instead, he merely looked at her. Then, he crossed to her, and gently took Rhian’s chin in his hand. Her chestnut brown eyes searched his blue. “You won’t regret this.”
“Why?” Rhian breathed.
“Because I love you,” he said. He let her chin go and took his cloak from the peg. He opened the door, and looked at Rhian. In shock, she stared back. Without a word he left, closing the door quietly behind him.
The steward at the door tried to remove her ebony cloak, but she waved him away. She proceeded up a spiral flight of stairs, shaking the snow off of herself. A long stone hallway greeted her at the top. Like the rest of the castle, it was designed to be cold, hard, and unwelcoming. She shivered in spite of the heat emanating from the walls. Purposefully, she strode to a solid oak door.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, she opened the door. No one was inside the dark drawing room, though a fire burned brightly in front of two red armchairs. She breathed a sigh of relief, only to be filled with an impatient anxiety. She finally hung her cloak on a peg, and crossed to the window. She looked out as the snow started falling faster, hugging herself. There’ll be at least two feet by nightfall, she thought absently. He would demand an answer from her soon. Time seemed to be flowing agonizingly backward, and as she stared at the snow, she could almost imagine the flakes rising again as she waited for him. She almost wished time could flow backward so as to have avoided this decision. Just as he had intended, she now questioned herself. She brushed a strand of black hair back under her golden circlet. In the background, the fire crackled and whispered.
The door opened. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of acknowledgement. King Espiridion was an attractive man by many ladies’ standards: powerful, lithe, wealthy. But his good looks did not fool anyone with an interest in royal politics. He was sharp and ruthless in tongue, policy, and manner.
“Welcome, Rhian,” Espiridion greeted her softly in his deep voice. Rhian turned. Espiridion hung his blue and silver cloak next to Rhian’s. His velvet tunic matched his cloak, embroidered with the silver dragon of the House of Aadland.
“Espiridion,” she replied coolly. She crossed her arms as his frost blue eyes studied her. Espiridion advanced into the room, placed his hands on an armchair, and gazed past Rhian to the weather outside.
“It appears you will be staying the night, my queen,” a touch of amusement colored Espiridion’s voice. Rhian’s eyes flared with anger. He was toying with her! Insolently, she tossed her head back to the window. Fine. She would play his game.
“It appears so. Your Northern winters are much harsher than the Valley’s.” she said.
“That they are. This is just a small storm. Soon the snow will seal the castle off from any…intruders,” Espiridion remarked. Rhian turned back to the king. She hadn’t missed his implications. “Please, won’t you sit? The fire is much warmer than that window.”
“I don’t think I will, thank you,” the queen countered. A silence followed. Rhian watched as Espiridion relinquished her from his gaze, and stared into the fire.
“Let’s get to the heart of the matter, shall we?” he asked finally. Once more, his calculating scrutiny turned on Rhian. All light-hearted politeness had left his eyes and manner. “You have thought about my offer.”
It was a statement, but Rhian answered wryly “I have. How can I not? You threatened to invade my kingdom.”
“True, but you can prevent my onslaught.” Slowly, ever so slowly, Espiridion started sauntering toward her. He stopped just before her. Apprehensively, Rhian looked up at him. His eyes were unreadable. Espiridion leaned over and breathed in her ear, “Only you have the key. Only you can prevent it.”
Rhian’s mouth curled into a sneer. “You gave me an ultimatum: either I marry you or you invade my kingdom. That’s hardly a deal. You gain my land either way. What do I gain? Nothing! I gain nothing.”
“I would hardly say ‘nothing,’” Espiridion said, a half-smile twisting across his mouth.
“You’re right. I would gain you!” Rhian snarled. She slapped him. When the king turned back toward her, his smile had disappeared. He seized her wrist and whirled her around, marching her farther into the room.
“I can play rough, too, my dear,” Espiridion shouted. He was shaking and panting, his eyes wild. He released her hand. “But I won’t. I won’t force you to make a decision.” He backed away covering his face, and grabbed an armchair for support.
Half-stunned, Rhian looked at the man before her. His blonde hair hung in his eyes. He was fighting an inner battle, something that hurt him deeply. She almost…pitied him. What was she thinking? “But you are forcing me,” she said softly.
“What is your answer? Will you marry me?” Espiridion’s voice was ragged. He turned his head and his blue eyes pierced Rhian’s core. The angry fire in those twin blue eyes had died, and something despairing and empty hypnotized her.
A silence that seemed to last forever followed his question. Finally, Rhian said, “Yes, for the sake of my kingdom, I will marry you, Espiridion.” Inside, Rhian felt something in her heart give way.
Espiridion looked back down at the chair before Rhian could gauge his reaction. When he looked up, he took his hands off the chair. He was composed. She expected him to gloat and glory in his triumph. Instead, he merely looked at her. Then, he crossed to her, and gently took Rhian’s chin in his hand. Her chestnut brown eyes searched his blue. “You won’t regret this.”
“Why?” Rhian breathed.
“Because I love you,” he said. He let her chin go and took his cloak from the peg. He opened the door, and looked at Rhian. In shock, she stared back. Without a word he left, closing the door quietly behind him.