Myuri: Chapter 3: Heiji

“I wonder where they are, Aranea? Where the Heiji sisters are, and whatever is taking them so long?” the young new queen was pacing back and forth in her dear friend’s rooms as they supped. She was anxious; she was the Queen Kylani; she was respected and feared and beloved and hated all at the same time. Scandal and slander followed her name everywhere, and while countless would like to see the death of her, they knew she was an undefeatable duelist and impeccably brilliant at war, at politics, at everything; they knew that in her marvelous prime she was simply unstoppable, invincible.

            “They have just entered the city and are delayed by traffic, Kylani,” Aranea replied, calmly. But of course Kylani was impatient. The notorious Heiji sisters were on their way to grant her immortality; they were the last magicians with such power in all the land. How could anyone wait patiently, for something so truly great?

            “You will call me, ‘Your Majesty,’ Aranea,” Kylani replied, harshly. “I am a queen, you know. I am the queen of the city-state of Espiarus. My invincible armies are moving in to that useless, oversized farm Autumnrain. They are moving in towards the enormous market, Ra Fay. They are advancing to Eurandala, the place with an army, but no government. And then they will go and fight to the death with the King David in Congrella, the only place that may be able to some slight challenge. And then all will be mine.”

            “Yes, Your Majesty,” Aranea replied, coolly. She had called the ambitious young queen by name since childhood, since she was a little princess. Only she, and perhaps Warren, had been allowed to call her Kylani with no title, and now this small privilege had been stripped from her.

            “You know what they often say, Aranea? They say that I compare to the Queen Myuri I.”

            “Do they, Your Majesty? In my humble opinion, there is no one that lives or has ever once, that comes even remotely near comparing to you.”

            “Yes, and you know why that is so? Because by tomorrow, I will be immortal. I will be youthful and beautiful and glorious and almighty as I am now, in one thousand years, in one million.”

            “She had been immortal, too, Ky – Your Majesty. But to be immortal in Myuri means that you should live forever, unless something like poison or a stabbing should intervene,” Aranea pointed out. “She was poisoned, it is believed.”

            “Well, she was a fool to have consumed something that she did not grow from the Earth and prepare with her own hand; she was a fool to trust, if not others, than one other person. I won’t make that mistake, Aranea. I won’t make any mistakes. Watch me.”

            “I know that you will not, Your Majesty. You are perfect,” Aranea said aloud, but thought to herself: Assassination nor illness will be your undoing, but your own vanity.

            They ate in silence for a few minutes; they sipped their wine, ate their bread and fruit that Kylani had insisted upon preparing for them herself, and had some fine, small conversation for a bit, until a young page appeared in the doorway.

            “The Lord Warren desires to see the Lady Aranea,” he announced, after kneeling before Kylani.

            The queen's smile vanished.

            Aranea flushed.

            “Tell him that the Lady Aranea cannot see him. She is supping with the queen,” Kylani alas replied, in an uncharacteristically warm tone.

            “Yes, Your Majesty.” He bowed and then backed out of the room.

            “So, Aranea. Do you see Warren, in private, beyond palace banquets? Do you see him often?” she said, coolly. “Hmm?”

            “Your Majesty – ”

            “Surely not, when you know how I feel for him? How I have desired him all my years? Surely not, when you know that to see him would be to betray me, and to betray the queen is treason, and to commit treason against the queen is to lose your head?” Kylani pressed on. And then she sighed. “I beg your honesty, Aranea.”

            My honesty, you beg for? I have known him all my life, before he came to court, before you ever laid eyes on him and shallowly came to covet him. His family has been dear to mine, and I have always been dear to him, but it has only been a short time, that he has come to be dear to me, Aranea thought. But aloud she said: “Then here it is, Your Majesty. I have seen him, and he has proposed marriage to me. But I have decided against it because I wish to stand Your Majesty’s undying friend, and I know that surely Your Majesty has other marital plans for me.”

            “Thank you, Aranea. So you have formally declined him?”

            “I have not seen him in some time. I had planned to do so, our next meeting.”

            “Don’t fret. I am your friend, Aranea. I will handle this, for you. I will handle this now.”

The queen walked past a small party of guards into the receiving rooms of Warren’s apartments, where he was dining with his gentlemen.

            She dismissed them all in a single hand-gesture.

            Warren came to kneel before her. “Your Majesty,” he breathed into her fingers.

            The last time Kylani had seen him was the night of which she murdered her father, was the night he broke her heart, was the night he denied her.

            Now, she stood before him Espiarus’ crowned queen.

            Now, she stood before him not a devastated child but his superior, a divine monarch – and in just a number of days.

            “Go back to your seat,” she ordered, imperiously.

            He did as she bid him, and poured a silver goblet to the brim with wine for her. “You were supping with the Lady Aranea, Your Majesty?”

            “Yes. Now, about her, Warren. So you proposed marriage to her, yes?”

            “Yes, Your Majesty.”

            “She has declined, Warren. She does not wish to wed you. I am here to tell you so.”

            “Your Majesty…”

            “Why ever would you propose marriage to her, so soon after denying my feelings?” Kylani burst, regardless of the party of guards within earshot.

            “The proposal… it had absolutely nothing to do with how I feel for the Lady Aranea. She is my dear friend. It was my family. Yes, my family. As you know, Aranea’s clan is a strong ally to us. They hadn’t a clue of your feelings for me. They forced me to propose to her, although in my heart, there is no other I wish for more than you,” Warren cried out. It was all lies though. Passionate lies. To be at the Espiarus court was to instantly learn how to lie and lie very well so to please your superiors.

            “Oh, you desire me? Then explain why you refused me, that night?”

            “Because, Your Majesty! Do you not see!” Warren replied, “I thought you wished from me but a small romance, perhaps to last just a summer. But I had wanted of you much more; I had wanted you to be my wife, nothing less. And so I declined.”

            “You want me… your wife?” Kylani breathed, astonished. Her face reddened.

            “Yes, Your Majesty. I do. But it could not be. I am far below your station.” Warren feigned rue. Kylani had a most alluring body, that he could not deny, and a pretty enough face, but he valued the realness in Aranea and that the way she viewed the world was not purely centered around herself. He felt terrible that he should lie of his feelings for her, lie they did not exist. He felt terrible that he should deny her.

            “I am Espiarus’ queen and I shall do as I please,” the queen replied simply. “We shall be engaged.”

            “I-I am to be your king-consort?”

            Kylani shifted uneasily. “We will be engaged. When we have a more secure position in this war and the time is right, you will marry me and be my consort, Warren.”

            And then she left for her bed.

            And Warren left for Aranea’s.

Aranea dismissed all the maids of her small household, and brought Warren to her privy chambers.

            “Kylani has seen me,” she said, softly. “She told me all that you said. Warren, you denied me.”

            “You denied me, Aranea,” Warren argued.

            “I did, Warren, I did. But now that I have been forced into denying you, I’ve nothing. Now that you’ve denied me of your own will and selfishness, you are to be king.” They were quiet for a bit, sitting at the foot of her bed. “Now leave me Warren. You can either have my body, my heart, my love – or her crown. You cannot have both.”

*

“Ah, Ardin.” David greeted his son who standing in the doorway of his bedchamber.

            “My Lord Father,” Prince Ardin knelt.

            “You did not attend last night’s council. Were you in town?”

            “I was, actually. To pick up gossip for Your Majesty.”

            “Thank you. Good news? Bad news? Out with it,” David said.

            “Your Majesty, the Queen Kylani – ”

            “Queen of what? Queen of what, boy!” David cried out, in a sudden flare of heated rage. “Of Myuri? Of my Myuri?”

             “No, Your Majesty. Queen of Espiarus. The city of Espiarus, and nothing more.” Ardin lowered his eyes and sunk to the ground. And, of course, being a vain prince, he did so reluctantly.

            “Nothing more,” breathed David. “I am king of the city-state, Congrella, the capital of Myuri, and thus divine and true king of the kingdom Myuri. How dare she claim what God knows is mine?”

            “She is a fool, my Lord Father. The Queen Kylani is a fool, and she will be shown her place when you defeat her,” Ardin said, reassuringly. And then he stood, and looked up at his father, at his old, pitiable father. He looked at this man, King David, and thought of the portrait he had seen earlier, of the young and beautiful and glorious Queen Kylani – there was no comparison, between these two rulers. None at all.

            “You are right, Son. Now do tell me what you have heard.”

            “She is engaged to one of her courtiers, Your Majesty. The Lord Warren. He is noble-born, yes, wealthy enough with some estates. But he is without an army or extreme influence, and so their betrothal is thought to be a love-match.”

            David laughed scornfully. “A love-match? A love-match, for the heartless, soulless, loveless queen, Kylani?”

            “Yes, Father. Merchants that have done trade in the city, of recent, say it is so, and as do my spies.”

            “When will they be wed?”

            “The queen states that they will be wed when she has a more secure position in this war.”

            “Anything else?” sighed David.

            “Why, plenty more, Your Majesty,” Ardin said, with the enthusiasm of a schoolboy. “The city Autumnrain has surrendered to the Queen Kylani’s army.”

            “I cannot blame them, for it. I cannot. Rather than to see each of his people cut down; women and children – Kylani cares not. She would cut down any in her way.”

            “And I have some quite frightening news, my Lord Father. The Heiji Sisters…”

            “No…” breathed David. “God, what of them? Tell me that they are dead? That those foul creatures are dead. Tell me they are dead!”

            “They have sworn their loyalties to the Queen Kylani. They support her in this war, as the rightful queen of Myuri. They believe everything you own – and more – is hers.”

            The king paled. “I thought they had no interest in politics.”

            “They do not. God knows, if they did, if those three vile witches did, the throne would already be theirs. But at any rate, they have just arrived in Espiarus to serve the Queen Kylani faithfully.”

            “What could this mean, lad?”

            “Many things. They could give her immortality, conjure up an army of invincible soldiers out of thin air, for her.” Ardin paused. “Summon the Queen Myuri I…”

            “No! Gods, what are we to do, Ardin? If all you say is true, then Kylani is truly undefeatable, and my army of good, honest men is worthless!”

            “Queen Myuri, Your Majesty,” the prince whispered. “And I have just the way to get her.”

            “That is?”

            “I have sent a trusted companion, Sir south to search for a couple of capable persons, with nothing else to live for. I have told him to invite them to court, and when the time is right they will be given their task and dispatched to…”

            “To where? My boy, you cannot mean…”

            “Mount Ascendon. The fabled Mount Ascendon, the last distract of magic in all the realm, the birthplace of our kingdom Myuri,” Ardin finished, grandly.

            “When I was a boy, an explorer travelled to it. He told no one where it was; some did not believe him but then he offered a small rock from the mountains as proof. Oh, it was fine, it was magical. I remember day it was brought to my father. But then he died, the explore Manox. He died and he did not leave any maps.”

            “He did. He left one map, to his apprentice – his apprentice, who I met today, and who gave me this.” Ardin held out a worn, rolled-up sheet before his father. He spread it out across David’s bed.

            The prince watched as his father’s eyes welled with tears. “Right away, my boy. I want an able party mustered up and sent there, right away. I want the Queen Myuri I. I want her to help me. I know she will. She will have Kylani. She will hate to hear that the people compare Kylani to her. She will side with me; she will save us from all of this!”

            “I will, Father. I swear to God, that I will.”

            “How long does a journey from Congrella to the Mount Ascendon take, Son?”

            “A year or so. Twelve moons; perhaps less… perhaps more. And I am told that its magic will be more ‘potent’ should it rain… perhaps a summer storm, an autumn shower, a winter rage, a spring drizzle…”

            “I am so tired. Leave me, Son. We will discuss this later. Perhaps you should search this very city for a competent lad your own age, fit for the job, on the morrow.”

            “As Your Majesty bids me. Take care; do sleep well.” And then Ardin knelt. “Long Live my father, King David, true king of Myuri.”

            He stood, and opened the door, surprised to find his father’s page waiting outside.

            “Your Majesty,” the boy cried out. “I must see you.”

            “Howe, it is very late and I would like to sleep.” David leaned back into a sea of pillows at the head of his bed.

            “I am told by the guard that two women in this city are of a village in the south that was captured by an Espiarus army,” the page said, breathlessly. “Madame LaRue, and Mistress Reina. You must see them at dawn tomorrow, Your Majesty. Oh, Your Majesty!”

*

A servant boy brought Eric his breakfast: some bread and a bit of cool wine for dipping.

            Eric sat up and shook his head sleepily. “Pray take that to the Mistress Dele, in the other room. She is our dear guest.”

            “Oh, but Sir, she is gone. She left earlier this morning,” the boy replied uneasily. He watched his master flush.

            “Oh… oh, of course,” Eric stammered; he cleared his throat. “Did she take with her a baby?”

            “No, Sir. She left the child crying in the other room.”

            “Thank you,” Eric said, and he waved the boy off. He quickly dressed himself and poured the wine down his raspy throat and hurried outside and down the hall to where Dele had slept.

            A young maid, a new one, he supposed, that the cooks had probably hired, was cleaning and dusting as though a wench at an inn. She was quite pretty but Eric took no notice.  He ran to the bed and picked up the little thing wrapped in old sheets and lying about, and smothered it in kisses and hot tears.

            “I love you, my heart, my Rynn,” he breathed into the baby’s little neck. And then he turned to the wide-eyed maid.

            “I want a fine crib made for her, at once. I want good sheets for her, and I want a tailor to come and fit her for some new clothes today, so that she does indeed appear the daughter of a wealthy man, which she is. And I want a wet nurse for her, one that is educated, and when the time comes, can teach her something of the world.”

            The maid nodded. “I will take company and go into town at once.”

            Another servant hurried in through the open door, his face bright. “Sir, a party of men sent by His Majesty the Prince Ardin, is at the door. They seek you.”

             Eric set the baby down gently and followed the boy to the front doors of his house. All of his servants were crowded about and whispering.

            “Good morning, gentlemen,” Eric said simply. “How can I be of service?”

            “The prince says that he would be obliged to come and sup with you, this evening, if only you would welcome him into your household,” the captain of the royal party replied.

            “Oh, His Majesty is always, always welcome. Tell him to please come.”

            The men began back to the palace to tell the Prince Ardin, but Eric stopped them. “Why ever does His Majesty so suddenly wish to see me?”

            And then the captain leaned close to him and whispered, “Sir, I do not know. It is a secret.”

*

The door of Kylani’s receiving rooms was locked shut behind three dark figures, and a herald.

            “Your Majesty, the Heiji Ladies,” the herald announced, and he bowed and exited.

            The queen set aside the challis of ale she had been sipping; she stood, Aranea rising uncertainly at her side.

            “Ah, the Heiji sisters,” Kylani breathed imperiously. She flushed, trying to hide her shock, her excitement, her nerve at seeing them. Three such pretty figures; small and delicate and fine, and yet dangerous, murderous…

            From left to right, they were Aurella Heiji, she was little more than darkness and a full, voluptuous body; Etsuko Heiji – she was night and day, she was an angel and a witch; she was so terribly beautiful, and dripping with an unearthly allure. If Kylani was not so mesmerized by the girl’s goddess-like presence, she would be in a most dreadful, envious rage. Her vision did not wander from Etsuko; she did not turn to examine Zelda Heiji, small and used to being overlooked; Zelda had no identity: she was just the Little Heiji, a creature of her two older sisters.

            They knelt before her in perfect unison. They breathed, “Your Majesty,” in perfect unison.

            “Come now. I can scarcely wait to live my forever,” Kylani said, after recovering her wit.

*

Reina and LaRue followed their escort towards the king’s apartments, just down the hall.

            “You will kneel before him until he raises you; you will keep your heads down, and you will not speak unless spoken to,” the captain of the escort prompted them. And then he looked at Reina with some coolness. “And you will be proper and mannerly and respectful.”

            “Of course, Sir. No more and no less than you,” Reina replied.

*

Klaude had come to enjoy her new life.

            She had been given a place in the maids’ tent, although she would slip away in the night to Justinian’s; they would sit before a fire in the other’s arms talking, and then, sometimes, they would make hazy, sleepy love.

            In the morning she would cook with the other maids, and break her fast; they would watch the children, and then Justin would leave his work in the marketplace very carefully so as to not be seen, and come to her. They would walk about town for a little bit; they would stop for a small bite and a drink of ale and then up against a wall or a tree they would steal a kiss or perhaps a bit more and return to their duties.

            Both waited for night to come.

            Their subtle courting went unnoticed by all but one person.

            “Are you Klaude?”

            Klaude had just stepped out of her tent and was, of course, leaving for Justin’s, when a girl pulled up before her. “Yes, and you?”

            “Ashleigh,” the girl replied. “It can be dangerous, here, in the night. I wouldn’t want you roaming about on your own. Wherever are you going?”

            “The pot,” Klaude lied.

            “I can come with you,” Ashleigh said, “Klaude.”

            “Thank you for your concern, but…”

            “I hear you work very hard. Would you like to be my personal maid? Be with me always; be with me at all times?” She paused. “In the night, at my side…”

            “There are other maids that work much harder than myself.”

            “Oh, of course: Because you are always with my betrothed, with his mouth in yours.” Ashleigh smiled sweetly. “So you will be my maid?”

*

“Just do exactly as I do,” LaRue whispered, as she and Reina began into the king’s receiving rooms. “Kneel to him once we enter. Kneel to him.”

            “He is just a king, not a god,” Reina replied, with a scoff.

            “He is a king, and so you must treat him like a god.”

            They spotted him at once, the King David, sitting tall and grand about a gold framed couch and draped in robes of fine gold cloth embroidered with fat jewels. On his head of graying copper curls rested a gold crown encrusted with rubies. So large, so golden, so… godly.

            At once, LaRue threw her knees to the floor, her forehead to the floor. “Majesty.”

            Reina remained standing; she was half shaking.

            “Get down,” hissed the old woman, under her breath. “Gracious, get down.”

            The three were alone in the room, and for a few painful moments, they were completely silent.

            David stared at Reina like a man enchanted, spellbound. His eyes were wide and he opened his mouth several times to speak, but nothing came out. And then, Reina broke the silence and threw herself at the king’s legs, weeping, panting.

            “Your Majesty, we have come to humbly beg for your mercy. I have nothing but a broken heart and a broken soul, but I give both to you,” she whimpered.

            “And I accept both,” David replied, warmly. “Do have a seat… Mistress Reina.” He looked at LaRue. “And you, as well, Madam.”

            Reina and LaRue seated themselves awkwardly at the couch across from the king.

            “So you say that your southern village, Mira, was taken by a small Espiarus army?”

            “Yes, Your Majesty,” LaRue said. “A small one, no doubt come to take our little village as a war camp. I don’t doubt more troops will be sent.”

            “How long have you been travelling?”

            “Perhaps a week.”

            The king quieted; his gaze returned to Reina: fiercely dark and full and refined. He’d only just met her then, and yet David desired her so greatly that he would give up his crown, if only just to touch her, stroke her, at that very moment in time.

            “Your Majesty? Will you send an army to our village? In defense of the innocents and before the camp can develop?”

            David recovered his wit, and laughed harshly. “Innocents? As if Kylani would spare any. Perhaps she is all the more humane, for it.” He paused. “And, at any rate, my army has better things to do, than march down to a village so small and unimportant that it appears on no maps.”

            “It was not unimportant!” LaRue gasped, shaken by the king’s cruelty. And then she quickly added, “Your Majesty.”

            “Before this, I hadn’t known it existed,” David said.

            LaRue opened her mouth to speak in her village’s defense, but Reina, her bout of weeping finished, beat her to it. “Your Majesty, it was my home.”

            “Oh… oh, Mistress Reina. I apologize if I have offended you. I am very gracious to you, both, for your good loyalty to me,” David stammered.

            “Your Majesty could never offend me,” Reina whispered. “I am a Myurian. I am yours forever.”

            Silence.

            LaRue studied the king’s face. He desires her.

            “Ah, now then. Madam,” he turned to the older woman. “I give you Willow House. You will have plenty of companions there. They will be good to you. I wish you merriness.”

            “I thank you, Your Majesty. But of the Mistress Reina?”

            He turned to Reina, and smiled. “This vivacious young thing belongs at my court. I will give you apartments, near my own. You will be very welcome here.”

            “Majesty!” gasped Reina.

            “Oh, Your High, High, Highness… but due to the invasion on our village, she is just an orphan. And she has no knowledge of court, or court politics… or…”

            David laughed heartily. “Few at my court do.” He clasped his hands together and turned to Reina. “You need no knowledge of anything to be welcome, at my court. You need only the king’s favor.”

            “And do I have it?” Reina breathed. Her voice had a seductive tinkling to it.

            “Yes, Mistress.” He paused and looked her over. “You do.”

*

Eric’s cooks had put together a fine dinner of several light courses and good wine from the cellar.

            His servants set the table well; they lay a gold cloth on the seat at the head, and plenty of chairs had been laid out although Eric suspected he and the prince would be dining alone.

            And he set a little place at the table for Rynn.

            The Prince Ardin soon arrived, and with little ceremony he took his seat at the head of the table, four guards standing at each corner of his chair. “Good evening, Master Eric.”

            Eric knelt. “Your Majesty.”

            “Do rise and take your seat. Let us dine. I am very happy that you should have me here, tonight.”

            “I am deeply honored by your presence, my lord Prince,” Eric replied, humbly. “Will these gentlemen of yours be dining with us?”

            “Oh, no, Master Eric. I should think they have already supped. I hope their being here does not offend you; I am a prince and I must always be safe.”

            “Of course, of course!” gasped Eric. “But I can assure you that no harm will befall you, while you are here in my household. I would guard you with my own life!”

            “Ah, but you needn’t. I have these good sirs.” Ardin brought a goblet of wine to his lips and kept it there, sipping and sighing with delight.

“So Eric,” he began. He gazed about the room and then stopped, stopped dead, when he spotted a little infant girl. “You… you have… a child?”

“Yes, yes. And oh, isn’t she just the finest thing?” sighed Eric, dreamily, and then he recovered his manners and quickly added, “Your Majesty.”

“Yes, yes. Very fine. Very pretty. But… I hadn’t known you had a daughter…” mumbled Ardin. He would not just leave her. He clearly adores her. He would not just leave her to do my bidding, to risk his life and do my bidding, the prince thought to himself, anxiously. And yet my father and I are so terribly desperate…

“Your Majesty,” Eric interjected, awkwardly, “I do wish you’d explain to me why you have so honored me this night, by coming to my household to sup? In truth, I hadn’t known you were even aware of my very humble existence.”

“I am always hearing your name, Master Eric. It is always on the lips of the ladies of court,” Ardin said. “And you are a young and good war veteran and land owner.”

“Your Majesty, I am so honored. But pray tell me; I am so curious! Why have you come to see me?”

You wouldn’t believe me; you are fool to ask! “I had come… I had wanted… I had wanted to invite you to court, Master Eric. Yes, to court. But you have a child, and the palace is not at all a place for a child; or at least not a royal child.”

“A pity,” sighed Eric, although he cared little. He would much prefer to spend the next twenty years in that very house with his dear, dear, daughter, his dear, dear, daughter that was a princess to him.

“You would have apartments and wealth and title. We could be dear friends. I would do you favors, perhaps you could do some, for myself…”

“Always, Your Majesty,” Eric said.

“Royal child,” breathed Ardin. So desperate, we are. “That daughter of yours…”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

The prince hesitated. Myuri I. “I’ve reconsidered. Oh, please! Say you will come to court! Take your daughter – yes, you may take your daughter and I will bestow upon her all sorts of royal honors!”

“Your Majesty, I-I –”

“Please, please, Master Eric. You can’t even imagine how gruesome Myuri’s situation is; you can’t even imagine how much you can help. Know that I would do anything for you, for your daughter, if only, if only… at some time in the future, you would ”

Eric hesitated. “Your Majesty, I would do anything for you.” He paused. “I would die for Myuri.”

Ardin smiled. Good, for you may indeed.

*

“Klaude!”

            She smiled at the voice calling her name; she turned around at once. “Hello, Justinian.” Klaude made out his darkly handsome figure in the blackness of the tent of wine barrels.

            Within a heartbeat he was standing before her; his warm breath grazed the skin of her neck, enticed her senses, quickened the beating of her heart. “Here for a drink, at night?”

            “No… I…”

 “I miss you terribly. I never see you anymore. You don’t come at night and you’re never with the maids in the day,” Justinian whispered.

            “The merchant’s daughter took me as her personal maid.”

            He frowned. “I hadn’t known such a position existed.”

            “I wish it did not.” Klaude reached out and touched his naked arm. “I wish that I could have you,” she breathed.

            “Is Ashleigh cruel to you?” Justin gasped. He took a lock of her crimson hair and brought it to his lips; he took her in his arm and brought her to the back of the tent, behind barrels of wine.

            “Yes, and with good reason! She is so in love with you, and she has seen us together. We are not subtle enough, my love.”

            “We shouldn’t have to be. I should be able to love you, like this, before the world. The kingdom should know that Myuri’s sweetest maid is mine, and I am hers,” Justin whispered.

            “Don’t say that. You know it can’t be so. Not when you’re betrothed to her.”

            “I want to marry you,” he persisted. “Not her.”

            “You can’t!”

            “You don’t want to, Klaude? You don’t want to marry me?”

            “You know I am in love with you,” she whispered. He sat down and took her in his lap, and she brought her head up and brushed his firm chin slightly with her lips.

            “We’ve only two choices, Klaude, and I leave the decision to you. We can stay here and never so much as look at the other, again; this would be very pitiless of you, as you would be condemning me to a loveless marriage to a woman better suited to be the devil’s wife,” Justin offered.

Klaude laughed a little bit, stirring in his hand. “Of course not. I want you for myself.”

            “Or we can run away together, in a little bit – at twilight, and marry and be happy like this, forever. I have plenty of money saved and could easily find employment, elsewhere.”

            “That sounds difficult,” Klaude sighed.

            “It will be. But is the truest of love not worth some difficulties?”

            “Justin…” she breathed. “Then I want to. I want to run away with you and be happy. You’re the first true thing in my life; I could never let you go.”

            He smiled. “Know that I feel as though my whole life, before finding and meeting you, has been the search for you.”

            Klaude stood and took a bottle of wine from one of the barrels. “Then I’ll go and bring this wine to my mistress. I’ll pack my things and when she sleeps I’ll come to you. And we’ll leave.”

            “Yes. Yes, perfect.” Justinian stood. “Then I will see you soon.”

            “Yes, but…” Klaude hesitated; she turned to face him; she reached for him.

            “But?”

            “I need you right now… I just… I need you. As wife needs husband…”

            He brought his head down, brought his mouth down with firm passion on her own. “My love,” he breathed, drawing back and then kissing her again. His hand slipped skillfully from her neck to her flank; he helped free her of the bodice of her dress, helped her shift slither down her chest. His lips, his mouth kissed, lapped at her breasts. With a small moan of desire, she brought herself down to meet his mouth, and then he pushed her to the ground and installed himself atop. His hand crept up her skirts; she laughed and sighed and panted, she pushed and pulled and reached for him.

            They shared a final kiss, a final kiss that set Klaude’s mouth afire and then she pushed him away with renewed strength, fixed her dress and her hair, took the bottle of wine and left the tent for her mistress’, as though she hadn’t been in the arms of her beloved, making hot, passionate love just moments before.

*

“More wine, for the Lady Heiji!” Warren leaned back into the couch of his receiving rooms; his arm coiled itself around Aranea’s shoulders, but she tore herself away.

            On the couch across them sat the three Heiji sisters.

            “Is the queen resting?” Aurella held out her chalice for the servant to fill.

            “Yes. She has been in her bed for some time,” Aranea said. She drew her own glass to her lips.

            “Good. She ought to rest.”

            “But why ever? When she has a whole eternity to rest?” Warren turned to Aranea, who returned his warm gaze with a glare.

            “Because the process of granting her with immortality may be too strong for her body, at first. She needs to rest.”

            “Kylani – I mean, Her Majesty – has a very strong body,” Aranea argued.

            “Even so. As you know, we three are immortal. We are not human. We have been alive since the reign of the Queen Myuri I. We are three persons bound together; we are three bodies and one soul, one life. A small dose of our blood can grant any immortality. All we did was give Her Majesty the queen a little bit of it,” Zelda said, with a shrug and a wide, vain smile.

            They were all quiet for a little bit.

            “Incredible,” Aranea breathed.

            “We are incredible. We are Heiji.” Etsuko tossed locks of golden hair, which Aranea swore had been black just a couple of hours ago, back, and smiled that dashingly alluring smile of hers.

             “It’s late,” Warren said. “We will take you to your rooms.”

            “I will take them to their rooms. You can go to the queen’s. I’m sure she wants her dear betrothed.”

With some reluctance, Warren drew the key to Kylani’s bedchamber from his long sleeve, and opened the door before him.

            She was sitting up in her bed, as though waiting for him. “Oh, Warren,” Kylani breathed, her voice shaking with desire.

            “Your Majesty.” He came to her bed and she tore his robes from his body.

            “Have the Heiji sisters been properly accommodated?” she inquired, her palms smoothed against his chest.

            “Yes,” Warren said, hesitantly lying down beside her.

            “Oh, just think of it. I will live forever. Myuri will be mine forever,” she sighed. “Forever.”

            Warren was quiet for a little bit; he was thinking. “I won’t be with you, forever, Kylani. Will you… miss me?”

            She turned to him, but when she did not reply, he continued. “Will you find a new king? A new love? And when he dies, another? Another, and another, and another, till you have scarcely a memory of your first love? The one who loved you best?”

            “Oh, Warren…”

            “Have you ever thought that I want you, forever, too?”

            “Warren!”

            “Just a bit of their blood,” he breathed into her neck, “and forever I am yours.”

            “I love you, Warren…”

            “Then won’t you speak to the Heiji sisters on my behalf?”

            “I…I…”

            He silenced her with his mouth, kissing her, caressing his head to her own with fake passion. “Consider it, my love. Consider it for me…”

            “I can’t live without you…” his mouth stopped hers once again. They withdrew to breathe, “I must have you…” He kissed her again, and she drew away: “Forever.”

*

“Sir, you dropped this.” Justinian turned around. A man held out a leather bound composition book.

            “The lady’s.” He took it in his hand and returned it to Klaude. Other maids at the merchant’s camp had been teaching her to read and write.

            She blushed a bit, took it under her arm, and turned to the man. “Thank you.”

            “Of course.” The young man stared at them awkwardly for a bit. “Would you like to sit with me?” He was sitting at a table in the tavern inn, lavishly covered in fine dishes and wine.

            Klaude turned to Justin; he nodded his head and they seated themselves beside the man. “What are you called?” Justin asked, accepting a bit of wine.

            “Thomas,” he replied, “of His Majesty’s court.”

*

It was morning; Kylani was admitted into the Heiji sisters’ rooms.

            “What are you laughing at?” she asked, with a frown.

            “Not you, Your Majesty. Come, you must hear this,” squealed Zelda. The sisters were huddled by a window; they looked like three goddesses with the light shining down on them.

            Kylani came, and waited expectantly.

            “We hear that the King David is half mad with desperation to defeat you,” Aurella said.

            “Yes, but he cannot.”

            “They say he will be starting an expedition to find the Mount Ascendon,” Zelda continued.

            “Why ever?”

            Etsuko leaned in close, and whispered, “To summon Myuri I herself. To summon Queen Myuri I.”

            At this, the sisters burst into a fit of laughter.

            Kylani paled; she said nothing. She was perfectly silent. And then they could not believe her words: “I want her. I want Queen Myuri. Go to Ascendon and get me her.”