Page 103 of Sweetling
Taking a deep breath, the princess looked away to consider her next words.
Her voice dropped to a tentative softness when she finally said, “If I were you…I would refuse my father.”
“Indeed?”
She nodded at the garden. “My father has many qualities, but unfortunately, he’s a jealous man. His cousin is the Pyrrossi emperor. His wife is the Eirean queen. Nowhere is he ruler in his own right.” Looking up at him, Princess Isolde said, “I’ve heard him speak of retaking Caledon, how it would bring glory to our name to reunite all of Eirea under one rule.”
“And does the queen support such conquest?”
“No, of course not. Her health, though, is…” The princess bit her lips together, her eyes going glassy. “Her health isn’t strong, and if she cannot keep a close eye, my father does whatever he wishes.”
“I see. And he hopes, one day, to lead a conquering army into Caledon? One with otherly soldiers?”
She nodded gravely. “That’s what I suspect, yes.”
Grave, indeed.
Allarion sighed. This wasn’t totally unexpected or unprecedented. Humans had always had a tenuous relationship with the other races. Smaller and unable to wield magic, humans only had their numbers as an advantage in ancient battles against the dragons and orcs and manticores. It was their numbers that attracted otherly folk in times of peace, too, and there were far more halflings in the world than either orc or human or dragon cared to admit.
Not that humans were always the aggressors or villains in these stories, of course. There had been one Fae Queen, many ages past, who’d thought to subjugate the human realms in order to serve the fae. It took a united front of orcs and humans to repel the attacks, and many fae warriors and dread-mounts had been lost. The fae rarely ventured past their borders since.
Allarion supposed, in some small way, the king’s demand made a sort of sense. Human memories were far shorter, yet they retained a sense of foreboding when it came to otherly folk. The rivers of their lands had flowed red many a time as everyone jockeyed for space and power, and humans were often slaughtered in the process.
If there were to be otherly folk in Eirea, best to make them loyal subjects, ones who would fightforyou.
Yet, here again, the human memory was short. Humans had tried this not a century past, pitting harpy flocks against orcish mercenaries. The ensuing battles were so bloody, so horrific, that it wasn’t just harpies and orcs who abandoned the human realms. Sirens left their coves for more peaceful waters; the dragons disappeared to their island strongholds; and the manticores disappeared into the deepest reaches of the grasslands.
“I recommend King Marius read his own histories,” Allarion told the princess.
Her brows rose nearly to her hairline. “That’s what you want me to tell him?”
“Yes.” He thought he said that clearly enough. “And I hope he heeds my advice. Lives are not weapons to wield blithely, and I am not the only otherly who won’t bleed for his conquest.”
Princess Isolde regarded him gravely, her countenance far more serious than it should be for one her age. “I understand, Lord Allarion.”
Taking her hand, Allarion bowed over it, touching his forehead to the back. “I’m glad to hear it, Your Grace. I won’t fight your father’s war, and my loyalty is to my own queen, my belovedazai,but I can offer my friendship to the crown of Eirea, Queen Ygraine, and her true heir.”
A blush bloomed across the princess’s cheeks, and her lips parted in shock.
“B-but you said…”
“Your father is not the king he thinks he is, Your Grace. Ygraine is queen, as you will be one day. I hope to be a friend to you both.”
The princess swallowed hard, but he enjoyed witnessing the look of determination that hardened her soft face. These were far more responsibilities and worries than a child should have to bear, but Allarion admired how ably she carried them nevertheless.
“Thank you, master fae,” she said, breathless. “I hope to earn that friendship.”
“I’m sure you will.” Straightening, Allarion added, “And please also tell your father that threats to myself, my mate, my home, or the Darrows won’t be tolerated.”
Princess Isolde actually smiled when she said, “He won’t like that very much.”
“I suspect not, no.” Offering her a smile and his arm, Allarion led them back out into the garden proper. “Now, would you care to take a turn about the gardens with me? I’m rather bored without my Molly and would appreciate your company.”
23
Of the four girls, Rory was the most difficult to pack up and bundle off out of the tavern. She didn’t throw a tantrum or lock herself away, but it took hours of coaxing to finally get her out of her room and into the care of Mayor Doherty’s eldest daughter, Glenda.
Over the three days it took to get the girls sorted and settled, Molly cried every night, her heart breaking for what had to be done. Although their father and the tavern were often horrible, it was what the girls knew. Molly well understood that the most terrifying thing was the unknown—when she’d left her village at the age of ten, part of her had wanted to run back to the cottage she’d been trapped in with her deceased parents because it was all she knew. The prospect of going to a new place, acity,where the only person she knew was Brom had terrified her more than plague.
