Chapter 1

“A king shall arise and a queen shall be his key. Legends repeat and history will be. Hundred scores or one must fall but the one who knows blood determines the call”

Marina

“No!” came his sharp answer after the whole court had stayed silent for almost fifteen minutes listening to the ragged man sing his life story from the days he began plucking buckleberries as an infant in his grandfather’s farm.

It was really inglorious. If that was a word in Aspena lexicon.

“N-no?” The man stuttered and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who noticed that the poor man was losing his footing from the disappointment that struck like a wave of lightening, because one of the guards who had escorted him to the feet of the throne took two steps closer to his side.

“Yes. I believe I was clear, Mr…?” The prince, now king, said. Looking like he couldn’t care less about the man’s name, but he didn’t want to address him as a peasant or an unfortunatia. In genuine honesty, the man before me had mentioned quite a number of unfortunate events, and if I were in his shoes, I would have thrown myself into a garden of thistlewoods to allow its thorns pierce through every surface of my skin till I bled to death.

And that would be less painful than ninety percent of this man’s struggles.

“Gollow” he replies, his head bowed to the throne. From shame or out of due respect, I can’t tell.

“Ah! Yes, Mr. Gollow. It’s a no. Next!” and just like that, the poor man was dismissed.

“But my prince-“ Mr Gollow started, still trying his best to grasp unto a silver lining in a clear blue sky when he was interrupted.

“King” the man to the king’s right, the High Adviser, corrects.

“But my king, you have to help me out” the correction was clearly taken and followed immediately with a plea.

“I am not obliged to give you any assistance and with your life story of bad luck, I’d be half as lucky to still have my heart beating in my chest by tomorrow if I offered a helping hand. You have offended the gods of fruitfulness so horribly that your case might as well be added to the list of Aspena’s communicable diseases. What you need is a cleansing and not a hundred thousand silver coins to offset your debts and start a new life. The chances of a wild boar attacking you in the market center on your way home and taking all the coins from your possession is ninety nine point nine percent to the zero point one chance of your dream actually coming true. My answer is final and I do not have a reservoir of energy set aside for arguing my decisions. It is a no, Mr…?” asking for his name twice in one minute would make you believe that he never listened to the man’s story in the first place.

That, and the fact that his response feels so much like a slap on the man’s dignity.

“Gollow” I’m surprised the man saw it within him to reply again. Tugging at the hem of his hand sewn clothes. A rice storage sack which had been cut out to make space for his neck, arms and legs. The waist was held up by a simple twine that had been rolled twice below his belly button probably to fasten it. He was also barefoot and looked like he hadn’t shaved since he plucked his first buckleberry at two years old.

It was an unwritten norm that you try to look your best when coming to the throne room of the king. Some say a good or tolerable appearance has been known to give you a higher chance of getting your requests answered. And if you get dismissed, try dressing better next time.

Probably that was why I was in a floor length golden silk gown with a mid thigh high slit teased with a thigh chain Jeneva had lended me. One that my mother would have been disappointed to find me in. I had added a gold tainted necklace to sit right on my chest, causing the next look below it to be my cleavage that was peeking from underneath the heart shaped neckline of my outfit. Pairing it with matching necklaces, bangles, my fathers barely visible golden wedding ring that I had stolen from his table three hours earlier and hoped he wouldn’t notice till sunrise, and a pair of heels that added about three inches to my height. My black hair had been rolled into waves that fell across my shoulders and some, all the way down my back to where my brassiere ought to have been if I was wearing one.

I was almost cringing at how much the outfit screamed ‘desperate’ when I put it on but that is exactly what I am.

Desperate.

I had seen quite a number of men and even women giving me triple takes and some sending snares in my direction as I walked in the queue with the rest of the crowd waiting for the King.

I could spare them no mind at all because we all came here looking for something and I really want to get what it is I came here for.

The cold winter wind blew across once again and goosebumps splattered across my arms and exposed thigh. This was definitely not the weather to be dressed like this but it is either now or I wait for the next flame cycle which would be in four months.

Four months was too much time to give away.

That is also why I had gathered every single coin I had saved in my jar to visit Jeneva, one of my old friends and a talented seamstress, to have this dress crafted for me once I had heard of the return of the dead prince. The money in the jar was meant to have matured by the next four flame cycles (apparently sixteen months) if I was consistent, to be able to pay for a little three month education at the city town hall. The plan was to pair it up with knowledge I would gain from studying books at the library to equip myself enough to take part in the annual standardized tests so I could become a legitimate teacher at one of the government owned schools and get a better pay that would be of benefit to myself and my family.

But my mother’s health was failing faster than the healer had proposed and the bankruptcy our family had been plunged into over the years was now taking a toll on us.

Father was frail and almost feeble but was still selling haystacks under the scorching sun to raise some copper coins. Lanthernia willingly gave up herself to the neighboring farms six days a week to be able to provide a slightly tangible amount that would be used to pay up a part of the debt owed to the healer for his services rendered to my mother over the years, whilst my father gathered his less than reasonable daily income for our feeding.

Jepheeth and I were pulled out from schooling because finances became sparse and even when I had taken up housekeeping and child watching jobs to be able to keep Jepheeth and I in school, the mental and physical weight our mother’s sickness was taking, was more than enough to keep us out of school.

I still kept my jobs. Whatever I raised was used to pay the town taxes whenever the collectors arrived.

We were barely surviving but at least we woke up everyday with hope that one day mama would get better and our lives may return to normalcy.

What pushed me was watching my eleven year old brother get publicly whipped at the market centre for stealing bread from a bakery stall to eat. We had not eaten for about twenty four hours because papa  did not make any sales. Lanthernia had given all she and I had to the healer because we requested he double his visits because mama kept getting worse and had hit a state of delirium.

We were so used to it that we never took a second to imagine how much that decision would have weighed on the only child in our home.

Then he stole.

He stole because he was hungry and was caught and was whipped so mercilessly, the skin on his back would definitely scar after healing.

Now Jepheeth had developed a burning fever since that day and the healer’s medicines within our budget only gave transient effects. After hours, he’s burning up again and expelling all contents of his stomach.

Another problem. Another financial crisis with no way out.

That was why I was here today. This plan seemed like my only hope as stupid as it may be.

But when had anyone great ever been scared of their ideas?

Okay, maybe sometimes they are but that’s besides the point.

I looked back through the large double door where I could sight the King on his throne at a slight distance. The throne of the queen had been removed from his side because he did not have one and his father, whom used to sit there just barely two months ago had been killed by him.

His mother either sat somewhere below the castle in the dungeons or at the Farlick tower chained to the top floor windows like a rapunzel.

So yeah, no queen.

“Mr. Gollow, you may leave” the king’s high adviser speaks again and now Mr. Gollow changes from the calm man who came to plead all that he could, to the crude man who literally just spat on the floor of the throne room.

“Your father would have shown more mercy” the spite rolling off Mr. Gollow’s back from where I stood was enough to refill my empty jar of coins underneath my bed and roll over.

“And that is exactly why he is the king anymore. Now step away before you awaken a nerve of wrath in me” this was the king once again and this time, the rackety man obeyed and walked out of the throne room.

It was my turn.

Before the guards ushered me in, I noticed an exchange between the king and his high adviser who in turn, passed the information to one of the swordsmen who stood to the left of the throne, who also in turn marched out of the premises, in the same direction that Mr. Gollow had just taken.

I tried not to think too much of it when the guard to my right nudged me forward with the edge of his shield and I began walking two feet ahead of them with the both following closely behind.

Observing the throne room from the night crowd outside the room is totally different from being inside here. The cascade of different shades of green lined the walls with only gold being the odd color that marked out some carvings or the edges of paintings that hung a bit too close to the floor.

I guess it was a protective strategy. If any of the images fell, the impact would be too light to cause real damage.

I walked on the green marbled floor with almost too much exaggeration in my steps. Time was ticking by and I did not want anyone in my household noticing I was gone at this hour.

Getting found in this outfit by anyone who knew me personally was sure to earn me the nickname ‘lady of the night’ and I assure you, contrary to how ephemeral it may sound, it does not literally mean I am a female superhero or a lady found outside at night. It’s certain that the individuals here already thought me so.

As I approached the throne that sat up on a stage, making me raise my chin to look the king directly into his eyes, this was the first time I was truly able to drink in the King’s features.

Brownish gold irises stared at me with curiosity and I watched as it shamelessly raked from the crown of my head to the red paint on my toes. Lingering a little bit on my lips.

Jeneva had said a red lipstick had gotten her into quite a number of beds. She wasn’t quite the maiden the society expected her to be but she at least had a better life than I who was.

His whitish blond hair was held back in a slightly little ball behind his head, allowing a few strands to fall across his face. Albeit plump lips were pressed together in a thin line that almost resembled a scowl. The golden tan of his skin made me self conscious of my almost burnt shade due to excessive sun exposure from doing the laundry and dishes of my temporary acquirers.

The King was beautiful. Too beautiful.

My eyes ran across his broad shoulders, to the royal purple outfit he doned.

After some seconds, his expression turned sour and I watched as he stood to his feet.

He was terribly tall. I was sure he’d have at least a foot over me in my heels.

“Anthonier, attend to the rest of the crowd. I have other issues to address” came his words that immediately drew me out of my trance.

I didn’t need the high adviser to hear my request. I needed the King himself and watching him walk away felt like seeing my future get smashed into smitherens.

“I wouldn’t want to bore you with my history like all men before me. I’m only here to make one request” I started, he was still walking away and I impatiently waited for Anthonier to give me approval to carry on.

The king was now ten steps away from his throne.

Twelve…

Fourteen…

“What is it you seek from the Court of As-“

“I seek to be the consort of your highness” I blurted out without waiting for the High Adviser to finish off his statement.

Following the gasps that filled the hall and the bewildered expression of Anthonier, the King also came to a halt in his steps.

A consort was all I sought. Asking to be the queen was asking for too much. The king was barely two months on the throne and seeking for the highest rank after him over the kingdom would pose a red flag. I could put my family under treasonous attempt watch for the rest of our lives.

But a consort as far as I knew, was as simple as asking to be the king’s official plaything.

As a consort, I was entitled to allowances, free medical checkups and drugs footed by the castle bills, free meals and snacking in between to whatever would suit my taste, free clothing, a tax free home and many other requests I could present to the King which he could positively grant depending on the mercy of his heart.

If my flame cycle request was granted, I don’t ever think I would be at the losing end. No strings attached and I get the most of whatever I wanted.

The position of consorts over the years had been played by women regarded as the most beautiful, who paraded events in the foreign lands in their expensive ball gowns. The flashier and prettier they were, the more wealthier the king looked.

Had to do with an ego battle of men being able to get whatever they wanted without really wanting them. The last king, the current king’s father, had had only three consorts in my lifetime. After one had died from a tragic food poisoning, the other fell in love and sought the king’s permission to withdraw and get married. Then the last duly resigned. She owns the fashion house which Jeneva works in.

There had been no consorts ever since. But I am hoping to change that now.

“I’m sorry but that cannot-“ Anthonier began but he was cut short by the King.

“Do you know the duties of the position you seek?”

I could almost hear a faint smile behind the speech that emanated from his beautiful lips.

“Y-yes” was all I could muster. Now it suddenly dawned on me that I may not have thought my actions through.

Turning around from where he stood, the king approached his throne but with predatory steps this time. Ensuring to not take his eyes off me.

He scanned my appearance from head to toe once again and stood directly above me. From my angle, I could see the chiseled muscle features beneath his suit. The lean muscle seemed to be dancing behind the seams of his clothing.

Compared to the last king, this King was too pretty. Maybe I was making a mistake.

“I don’t think you do. I don’t conform to actions that depict words whose meanings have been long lost in history. As a consort you agree to warm my bed whenever I please and satisfy my needs anywhere, anyhow and anytime. You agree to submit not just your duty to the community but your body to my desires. You agree to be a national bait as well as my personal puppet. I ask again, for the last time. Do you know the duties of the position you seek?”

It felt like the air had been drained out of me. Madam Magnolia, had always given us her consort stories back at the fashionere and not once had she mentioned mattress relations with the King.

It seemed like I did have something to lose, if I removed my escapades with the little country boy who came visiting during the last winter solstice.

I hadn’t realized I was staring and was yet to answer the King’s question until the sound of murmurs grew all around me. The conversations varied from the craziness and irrelevance of my request to little wonder I was dressed as a lady of the night.

But one question from a feminine voice caught my ear in the midst of the hushed conversations.

“Is she really that desperate?”

And the answer is yes, yes I am.

“Yes” a newfound confidence matched my tone. If I was responding to the woman’s question or to the King’s, I wasn’t sure. But I made sure to repeat myself, louder this time.

“Yes, I am”

The court fell into a deathly silence and the still air suddenly felt too cold that it seeped into my bones.

There was no response to my answer. All the king did was walk away and I watched Anthonier give me a pitiful expression before calling out for the next person.

I wished the embarrassment swallowed me whole. Literally.