Chapter Two #4
“But that is the problem with being in the position that you and I are in,” he continued. “Our lives will never truly be personal. They belong to our countries.”
“I can see why you feel that way. Because you’re the heir.
Because you’re the only one left. It’s nothing like that in my family.
I have five brothers. In many ways, I am so unimportant because of my gender.
And yet, in other ways… Had I been a sixth son I would truly have offered him nothing new.
At least as a daughter I was able to offer the ability to enter into marriage agreements.
He could sell my womb to the highest bidder.
And did. But either way, I have never felt singular.
Not to my country. I am only useful to my father’s political ambitions.
If I esteemed those ambitions then perhaps I would feel differently.
But I don’t. I don’t care about what he wants. ”
“By all accounts Cape Blanco is a thriving country, particularly for the size that you are. Another Monte Carlo.”
“My father is a capitalist. The fact that it is easiest for our country to be wealthy due to tourism is probably what keeps everything so stable. He wants it to be safe and attractive. Anything good that he does is a side effect of it being good for him.” She paused for a moment.
“That is perhaps uncharitable. He’s not an evil dictator.
But he did make a deal with one. And was not in any way hesitant to hand his daughter over to him. ”
“Did you have feelings for him?”
He felt that it was important to ask. If she harbored a connection to his enemy, then she could be a liability.
It hadn’t occurred to him until that moment, but what he was gathering from this entire conversation was that the marriage had been arranged in her infancy.
Which meant she didn’t know anything else.
Her face contorted in horror. “I absolutely had no feelings beyond contempt. I’m glad that he’s rotting in prison getting everything that he deserves for being a despot.”
“Then I find your father quite monstrous.”
“Why? Clearly my free will doesn’t matter to you. You don’t even think I actually have it.”
“I didn’t say that. What I believe is that there are some things that bear so much weight your internal compass will continually point you back to them.
What I believe is that eventually you realize your choices are not limitless, because the things that you believe in, the things that you value, will keep you on a path. ”
She looked out the window. “I don’t even know what my path is supposed to be.”
“Perhaps when this is finished you will find it.” He found that he meant it.
He found that maybe he even cared. Even if just the smallest bit.
On the surface he had nothing in common with this woman, this princess who seemed to bemoan her life growing up in a palace.
But in other ways, he did understand. Because he had been thrust into a life that did not belong to him, and he had been forced to claw his way back out.
It would be easy to write her off as being spoiled. Selfish.
But she hadn’t had a chance to create her own fate. He supposed she was doing it now.
A valiant effort that he could only admire.
The car pulled up to the wrought iron gates that separated the palace from the rest of the world.
Security was still extremely high, turning this place into a fortress.
But they were such a new government, even if they were a continuation of the old.
He took nothing for granted. For now, the people were happy.
For now everything felt like a gain. But he knew how quickly the tide could turn.
If there was a downturn in the economy, if something went wrong, then his rule would be blamed.
There would come a time when what had happened in the past might not be at the forefront of their minds anymore.
It had happened once. Only a fool would believe that it could never happen again, that he could be immune.
He turned to look at Fern, whose eyes were wide as she looked up at the imposing black palace.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” she said.
“Did you not come to the country to visit your intended?”
“No. I met him once. When I was sixteen. He was in his forties. It was at the palace in Cape Blanco. He made my skin crawl. I thank God that I never came here to visit him. Who knows what might’ve happened.”
“Why thank God? If He truly wanted to help you He could have removed the problem altogether.”
“He did,” she said. “Eventually.”
Her eyes met his and held, and her lips curved just slightly.
“Out of the frying pan, I’m afraid,” he responded.
“But if I move quickly enough to the flames perhaps they won’t scorch me.”
He let out a hard breath, and when the car came to a stop, opened his door and rounded to her side.
He did not allow anyone to open doors for him.
He had not acclimated to any sort of royal protocol.
It was clear, however, that the princess was accustomed to having the door opened for her.
She had not made a move toward the car door one time since they had first approached the vehicle.
These were the sorts of things that betrayed her as royalty.
He thought about what she had said. About the paradox of her existence.
He could see it. Because there was wealth and high status in every line of her body.
The way that she held her chin up high, the straight set of her shoulders.
The imperious way that she spoke to him, even when she was at a clear disadvantage.
And yet she had no power.
She stepped out of the car, and he became suddenly very aware that she was not dressed in clothing fit for a princess.
Thankfully there was no press awaiting his arrival today.
They had no reason to. Another fledgling enterprise in this country—free press.
For the last twenty-five years they had been nothing but a mouthpiece for the regime.
He encouraged them to print the truth, and along with it their opinion.
They were allowed to criticize him, and often did.
They also watched many of his movements with great fascination.
When he did announce his engagement to Fern, and their swiftly impending marriage, it would create a firestorm. But thankfully, the fire hadn’t started yet.
And when it did, perhaps it would be as Fern said. They would move through it quickly enough to not get scorched.
But in the meantime, she would need to be clothed in a way that befits the future queen.
He took her arm again, and led her to the grand front doors of the palace. It was made entirely of volcanic stone, the interior as dark as the exterior. There were sconces that illuminated the walls, but there was only so much light that could be introduced into such a dark antechamber.
Other parts of the palace had been made brighter with Sheetrock and texture, paint or wallpaper rather than this oppressive stone. But the entry and the throne room were much the same as they had been at the end of the Viking age.
“Medieval,” she whispered.
“Yes. Fitting, given that it has been standing since the Middle Ages. Thoren the Bloody was the first ruler to take control of the nation, such as it was at the time.”
“You’re Vikings.”
“Yes. Thoren and his company came here shortly after Iceland was taken away from the Irish monks. This land was barren, and was seen as a safe place for the Vikings to send their women, and to use as a base when they went on raids. The women of course came from all over, as you know the Vikings famously claimed brides wherever they went.”
“You mean kidnapped and subjugated women.”
“Most marriage was based on kidnapping and subjugation at the time.”
She gave him a long, dry look. “Some still is.”
He chuckled. He did find it amusing the way that she insisted on fighting him. “True. But you know, we famously have quite easy divorces.”
“Do you?” she said, tilting her head. “Are you being serious?”
“Yes. And Viking women could divorce their husbands, as far back as the Middle Ages. They only had to declare it. This is still true. My country honors the old ways. At least we do again.”
“And yet you seem to take a dim view on God.”
“I would definitely be more inclined to say a prayer to Odin if I had the occasion to say one. But no.”
“I imagine losing your family the way that you did…affected that.”
“I thought you weren’t a nun.”
“I’m not.”
“You seem awfully concerned about the state of my eternal soul.”
“No. Just your…your peace, I suppose. I feel a great amount of peace in knowing that there is something bigger than me out there.”
“If that’s the case, why hasn’t He fixed anything?”
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
“You can’t convince me that I was meant to go through all of that.”
They had paused in the entry, and he began to walk again, eager to get out of the conversation.
“How did you escape?”
“Why do you care?”
“If I’m going to help you, I would like to know you.”
“You seem to be forgetting, you are my captive.”
“No. You seem to be forgetting that we have a deal. And I don’t want to be treated like a captive. But a partner.” She stopped walking, and was looking at him with a mutinous expression.
He sighed heavily. “I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything about my life in the palace as a child.
I don’t remember how I escaped. I barely remember who I was.
For years. I knew, but it meant nothing to me.
It was like I was in a fog. It wasn’t until I was fifteen or so that I decided I needed to make my way back here.
That I needed to do something to fix what was broken.
And that was when I began to make an army.
As quietly as possible. Without tipping off the broader world that I was still alive. ”
“How did you do that?”
“Very carefully. Now, come to your room.”
This time, she obeyed without pushing back. They walked up the spiral staircase, and into the more modern part of the palace. The hallway was well lit, with richly colored wallpaper that caught the light and didn’t feel quite so oppressive. He preferred the darkness, personally.
The room that had been prepared for her was sumptuously outfitted.
There was a canopy bed, a plush chaise, a bistro table and chairs so that she could take her breakfast in the morning.
The bathroom had a glorious tub, and a large shower.
His own room was completely Spartan. He didn’t wish to get soft.
He still slept on a bedroll on the floor most nights.
It was hunger and a need for things to change that had gotten him here.
He never wanted to lose that hunger.
He was glad, too, that the seaside home his family had been killed in had been burned after the coup. It was why his own survival had escaped notice for so long.
It also meant he could never go back there.
Those memories would never find a foothold.
Her expression was dreamy, soft as she looked around the room. He imagined that she had been without such luxuries at the convent.
As if she had read his thoughts, she turned to him. “I was very happy at the convent. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss having my own room.”
“You shared a room?”
“Yes. With Sister Mary Celeste. Who was lovely, but did snore. And also the bed was a bit…sparse.”
“Well, enjoy this. Because when you’re off on your own replete with choices, how will you be paying for your life?”
It was perhaps a bit unkind to pose that question to her.
“I don’t know. But I suppose I’ll figure it out. I’ll figure out what it is I want to do. Or maybe I will go back to the convent.”
A woman of her beauty devoting herself to the church was a crime that his body rebelled against. He was intent on keeping his hands off of her. He had her for a limited time, and there was work to be done. There was no time for indulging in anything.
But still. He couldn’t help but notice her beauty.
It didn’t mean that he would act on that notice.
“Thankfully you have some time to consider it. In the meantime, the only thing you have to worry about is preparing to be my wife. I will be making announcements to the press tonight. We will marry on the balcony in front of all citizens who wish to attend. In the meantime I will have someone sent to make you look like a queen.”