as he retreated. “Say the word, my queen, and I shall enter and slaughter the Southern pig.”

Ryken’s eyes went wide, but he maintained his composure. The heavy door shut behind them.

“Leola,” he said, collapsing in his chair. “You play a dangerous game—”

“Be quiet, Uncle. I have no time for games. I come here with an offer to save your kingdom and our good name. You will listen to it, and if you are wise, you will do as I say.”

Ryken stared at her in disbelief. “What has become of you?” he said at last.

Leola stood up to her full height, and though doubt still coursed in her veins, she willed it away. Her voice was strong when she spoke. “I have become a queen.”

Chapter 17

Datharia stood, hands clasped, in front of the door after it was closed. Her expression was one of shock. She looked back at the door, as if to assure herself that it was indeed closed, and she had no means of escape. Then, awkwardly, she genuflected in the Southern style reserved for queens, which Leola had not seen except as a child, playing games.

Leola laughed, and Datharia looked horrified.

“Datharia!” Leola exclaimed. “What has gotten into you?”

Datharia clasped her hands together again and pressed her lips tightly closed. “My… uh, lady…”

Leola smiled. “I am Leola, Datharia,” she said.

Datharia managed a weak smile. “You are not the same Leola that left here,” she ventured. “You are… so very different.”

Leola tilted her chin with her hands on her hips. “Datharia,” she began, but as she began to speak, she realized that what her former servant said was true: she was not the Leola who had left this kingdom a plaything of a Northern warrior. She had changed.

“I am not the same,” she agreed. Then she held her hands out to Datharia. “But you are still my trusted servant, Datharia, and I still require your help.”

Datharia walked toward Leola and took her hands. Then she smiled, and a few tears welled up in her eyes. “Oh, Leola. Is it true? What they are saying? That you will… marry the Northern beast king, and give our kingdom to them?”

There was terror in her eyes.

“Datharia,” Leola said. “It is true. But there is much about the Northern kingdom you do not understand, and the king is not a beast.” Her eyes lit up. “I love him,” she said quietly.

Datharia held the back of her hand to Leola’s forehead, as she had done all her life to check for fever.

Leola laughed and swatted the woman’s hand away. “I have no fever, Datharia. It is true, and you shall see that our kingdoms together will be great. But there is no time for these musings. I am to be married today according to our custom, and I require a dress and suitable arrangements.”

Datharia’s eyes went wide. “Why… married today?” Her face took on a sage expression. “I see.”

“What do you see?”

Datharia smiled shyly. “You must be with child. This is why wedding are rushed.”

Leola frowned, and then laughed, clasping the older woman’s hands again. “It is not that,” she said to Datharia. “It is something else.”

Datharia stared at her, and then understanding crept into her eyes and she blushed and looked at her feet.

“Oh, help me, please, Datharia,” Leola said with exasperation. “The king has not… taken my maidenhood, and he will not do so until we are married. So,” she added haughtily, “I wish to be married. Today.”

Datharia stifled a giggle, and then covered her mouth. “As you wish,” she managed to say. “My lady.” She dropped her hand and grinned at the floor.

“He is… a desirable specimen,” Datharia whispered, as they opened a trunk of clothing.

Leola bit her lower lip and said no more.

The wedding ceremony of a princess, in the Southern kingdom, should have been a great affair, to which all the people were invited. Datharia fretted that the whole kingdom would believe Leola to be with child if they rushed the wedding, and that they would also be disappointed to not attend one of the few feasts that had been celebrated in this land for ages.

“We shall marry quietly, and have another wedding to which they may all come,” Leola said. “There is scarcely a stew to be made in these parts, but all of that will change when we unite our kingdoms.”

And so they convened, Sedrak and his men glowering on one side of the sacred grove, and Ryken and his closest advisors on the other. The lone priest of sacred rituals within the castle walls had to be roused from a stupor, and did not seem to entirely believe he was awake as he prepared the sacred rites.

The Southern ceremony was a simple one, requiring their hands to be bound together with a gold chain and a long poem to be read by the priest. Sedrak did not know what was happening, so Leola had to tell him, laughing, what to do. As the priest read the poem, he looked at her deeply, his gaze burning into her, incinerating her from the inside out.

He was surprised when the ceremony ended. The priest announced to all present, in an ancient dialect that few Southerners still understood, that they were man and wife in the eyes of the Southern gods, and that their kingdoms would be united by the fruit of their union.

Leola translated quietly, and blushed when Sedrak squeezed her hands tightly. They stood there, hands bound by the gold chain, until the priest walked by, rubbing his eyes. “The gods have bound you, highnesses. You needn’t stand there until the end times with your hands tied together.”

This made everyone laugh, even Ryken, who approached Sedrak nervously and bowed very slightly. “Our kingdoms are now united,” he said gruffly. “Your chambers have been prepared, the best we can offer on such short notice. You are welcome here as long as you wish to stay.”

“Come,” Leola said, pulling Sedrak along by the hand. “I am quite

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