The Born Queen - J. Gregory Keyes [195]
“I’m so pleased to see you well,” he said.
“I’m pleased to see you, Tam.”
His jaw dropped for a moment. “You’ve never called me that,” he said. “Of course I’m pleased.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t had time to speak to you before this,” she said. “There was a lot to do. The circumstances of that night—I don’t know how much you remember.”
“I remember it well, until our own soldiers trampled me,” he said. “I remember you rising from the dead, for instance.”
“I was never dead,” she said. “My soul fled my body for a time so it could heal, that’s all.”
“That’s all,” he said. “You say that as if it were nothing. I thought you were dead, Anne. I believed I loved you, but when I thought you were gone, I went mad. I don’t know how you came back to me, and I don’t care, only that you are back, and I love you even more dearly than before.”
“I love you, too,” she said. “Simply, honestly, without pretense. The way I have always wanted to love.”
He closed his eyes. “Then why wait? You’ve already made me king of Virgenya. Surely everyone will agree we make a good match.”
She tried to smile.
“We make a good match,” she said. “We do not make the best match.”
He wrinkled a confused frown. “What do you mean?”
Anne wished just for a moment that she had the cold, terrible nature of that night back, but that Anne was dead, stillborn. Whatever she might become now had never been foreseen, and she meant to make the best of that.
“I must marry Berimund of Hansa,” she said.
“But you just said you love me.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “And so I wanted to tell you in person before you found out through the court. It will bring peace between us and Hansa.”
“They hate you there. They think you’re a witch.”
“Marcomir died five days ago. He was the heart of that hatred, but even so, yes—in Hansa I will not be loved. But it is, very simply, what must be done.”
“I don’t accept that.”
“You must. I hope to always be your friend, Tam, but no matter what, you will accept my word as your empress.”
He stood there red-faced for several heart-wrenching moments before he finally bowed.
“Yes, Majesty,” he said.
“That will be all for now.”
He left, and so she freed the last of those she loved, and felt another crack in her heart, and knew that this was what being a queen was.
I saw Anne cede her power to the Briar King, and then I helped Aspar—I still call him that sometimes—conceal the thrones again, better than before, I hope. The power wanes, and Anne passed laws against the use of the fanes. Time only will tell, for men and women are foolish. I’m proof of that.
Leoff kissed his son’s tiny forehead. The child looked about aimlessly with unfocused eyes, and he wondered what strange melodies might be in there, waiting for an instrument to give them life.
Areana looked pale and beautiful in her sleep, and the glare of the midwife forbade him to wake her. He gave the child carefully back to the old woman and went out onto the grounds, whistling.
“Not a new singspell, I trust?” a raised voice asked from some distance off. It was Artwair, approaching on a dun mare.
“No,” he said. “Just a lullaby I’m working on.”
“So, well?” Artwair dismounted and let the horse have its head.
“All is well,” Leoff told him. “The child is healthy, and so is Areana.”
“Saints bless, that’s good news,” Artwair said. “You deserve some good fortune.”
“I don’t know if I deserve it,” Leoff replied. “But I’m grateful for it. How are things in Eslen?”
“Quieting slowly,” the duke replied. “There are still rumors, of course, that the queen is really a demon, a saint, a man, or a Sefry beneath her clothes. Liery is still making noise about the wedding, and the winter was hard. But we have peace, and the early crops are good. Few monsters have been seen, and those only in the deep forests, far from town or village. And the Church—well, that might take time to settle out. Anne intends to establish her own, you know. One free of z’Irbina’s influence.”
“I wish her luck there.”
“She actually sent me to talk to