14. 14
Selene
Dinner with Magnus was nice. I suspect there’s much Magnus needs to talk about, but I don’t want to push.
I barely know the man, and he is not one of my patients. He’s my husband.
That will take some time to get used to. I am a wife. Magnus’s wife.
Accepting I’m queen is easier.
We go over the events of the day and touch on the ceremony yesterday. Nothing personal, just a recap.
The mention of Magnus’s mother is the most personal we get.
It’s going to take time to get to know each other. Time to trust.
We’re ruling a country together, but there is still so much to know about each other.
“This was delicious,” I say as we finish the roasted leg of lamb and new potatoes. Magnus nods as he finishes his wine. “What’s your favourite meal?”
“I like burgers,” he confesses. “I’m not much for fancy.”
“I’ve done a lot of fancy,” I tell him. “It could be time for less.”
Magnus grins as he pushes back his chair. “I have something to show you.”
It’s enough that he keeps smiling at me. A sincere smile, not like the one he flashed today to all those people.
His public face, I decide, is what the people see. But here, when it’s just the two of us, he’s different.
Duncan gets to see his private side as well. And Diandra.
Not for the first time, I wonder about his relationship with Duncan’s sister. It doesn’t worry me, perhaps because I don’t let it.
I’m not sure if I’ll ask him about it.
I follow Magnus out of the dining room. He leads me down the hall on the first floor to the back of the castle.
The castle was built in the sixteenth century—or so Magnus says. He doesn’t really know.
The way he tries to remember is… sweet. Like he’s making an effort for me.
I did my own research.
Ragger the Red built the castle in 1588, after he united the various bands of Vikings who had come to what was then Canada. He set himself up as jarl and ruled the bands with an iron fist.
He was killed by his wife, three years after the castle was finished. I don’t think that is common knowledge. If it is, Magnus was definitely not about to tell me that part of the history.
He stops at a closed door. “I thought you could have this as your own space,” he says as he pushes open the door.
I glance around the room. It’s definitely a… space.
It also doesn’t look like it’s been touched in years. “It was my mother’s sitting room,” Magnus adds, a note of apology in his tone.
The family must have shut off the room when she passed. Dust covers everything, with a massive cobweb hooking the chandelier to the curtains.
“It will have to be cleaned,” he says. “I’ll ask the maids to do it… if you like it.”
Blue wallpaper with a pattern of huge gold and pink hibiscus marching up the wall.
It has a faint metallic sheen, even through the dust. The furniture matches the pink—stripes, with white and blue cushions that have seen better days.
I’m not sure what era it came from, or even what decade.
“Thank you,” I finally manage. “I can speak to the girls about giving it a good clean.”
“And clear out the furniture so you can decorate how you like.” He chuckles at the expression of relief that crosses my face. “I didn’t really think it was your style.”
“Not really, no,” I admit.
“But it’s a good space. Big windows, lots of sunlight. The fireplace is great when there’s not. Chairs and a couch to entertain your friends.”
I have no friends. I don’t know anyone in Laandia yet, except Magnus and Duncan. Even Diandra doesn’t live in Battle Harbour full-time.
“You could have a desk over there,” Magnus points to where a dainty, too-small writing table sits in the corner. “For your work.”
“I don’t have any work.”
“Yet.” I shrug. “Selene, I told you I need help. And you’re the person that I kind of thought would help me.”
“What about Duncan?”
“Duncan does seem to have a grasp on how to manage the country. Much better than I do,” Magnus admits.
“He’s very good at this.”
“Being a king?”
“Helping you. You move in sync.”
“I didn’t marry Duncan. I’m trying to give you time to get to know the castle. Get to know me. But I need you to help manage me.”
I can’t hide the smile. “I don’t think you really want to be managed.”
“I want something. I need something… guidance, maybe? Instructions? What you’ve been doing, but more. Because I’m honestly worried about messing up every time I open my mouth in public. Private too. And if I’m horrible at this king stuff, then—”
“Your brother,” I finish.
He shrugs. “I can help with that,” I tell him.
“But I don’t think you need to worry. I think you’re a natural.
” Magnus looks at me with an uncertain smile.
“Really,” I assure him. “And I would know. I’m the one who grew up planning on being queen.
Although in Avelaine, the queen doesn’t actually do anything. ”
“Is that what you think?”
“Behind the scenes, maybe. In Avelaine—”
“Well, we’re not in Avelaine, we’re in Laandia,” Magnus interrupts. “And I don’t need someone to stand behind me and hold my hand. I’ll find you something to do, something better than being just a queen. If that’s what you want.”
“It is,” I tell him.
“Good.” He gives himself a shake. “That’s good. Hey, do you want to check out the secret passage?”
“A secret passage?”
“Don’t all castles have secrets?”
“Not in Avelaine.”
Magnus grins. “Like I said, we’re not in Avelaine anymore.”
He shows me the hidden door in the wall, the crack almost imperceptible among the flower pattern. But Magnus runs his hand down the wall, gives a little push, and a door pops open.
Darkness waits, and cold air seeps out to swirl around my legs. “Feeling brave?” he asks with a grin.
No one would ever call me unbrave, so I steel my shoulders. “Always. Where does it lead to?”
“This one goes to the garden out back, as an escape route in case of attack. But there’s a couple of passages that go in different places.”
I picture a labyrinth amid the thick stone walls of the castle.
Magnus picks up a box of long matches on the mantle. “We need something to light on fire.” Both of us glance at the cushions. “I’m not sure if that material is flammable,” he admits.
“The wallpaper definitely isn’t,” I say under my breath. But in one of the drawers of the desk, I find a small flashlight that still works. “Lead on,” I tell him.
“You sure? There might be… things in there.”
“I can handle mice,” I say, not mentioning how I would prefer not to have one run over my open-toed shoes. “But I don’t like snakes.”
“Too cold for snakes, but there might be some four-legged critters in there.”
“We had a chalet in the Swiss alps, and every time we’d be up there, mice had made a home somewhere different. It got to the point where I expected to see them.”
“Good with mice. Good to know.” And Magnus holds out a hand to me.
I take it, the first time I’ve touched my husband since the wedding yesterday. This is not how I expected my marriage to begin, although I’ve never really thought about what marriage would be like.
Magnus’s hand is big, like the rest of him. And warm.
I expect the rest of him is like that as well, like a warm fire burns within him. It makes me want to move closer to him as we enter the darkness.
“I haven’t really had a chance to give you a tour of the place,” Magnus says, like we’re talking about a summer cottage and not a four-story castle with turrets and battlements and slots to fire arrows from.
I’ve wandered a bit, but I was more afraid of ending up somewhere I shouldn’t be, rather than getting lost. It definitely doesn’t feel like a home yet.
Part of that has to do with Dante constantly making his presence known, like he’s trying to claim his territory. But I need to learn how to get around because it wouldn’t do for the new queen to be lost in her own castle.
“So I should consider this my tour?” I ask, my voice quiet in the dark. Magnus left the door open behind us, but ahead blackness looms, so thick that I doubt I could see my hand in front of my face.
I’m glad when Magnus turns on the flashlight.
“No, I’ll do better,” he promises. “You’ve seen the ballroom, and most of the main floor, I think.”
“Is there a throne room?” I ask. It’s very much a castle, but not one for a king.
“There used to be a throne in the ballroom,” Magnus explains as we creep farther into the tunnel. “Ugly thing – I think it was made out of a tree but gilded. And wing-like things out the back, that weren’t really wings.”
“What are wing-like but not wings?”
Magnus huffs. “Back in the day, when Vikings were Vikings, they would punish prisoners by ripping the ribs out of a man and spreading them. Like… wings. Someone thought it would be attractive to carve those in the throne.”
“Pleasant.”
“When my grandfather took over the castle, he had it removed. And never really got a new one. He wasn’t the sitting-on-a-throne type.
He liked to do things – fighting mainly.
You hear talk of how many times he’d get thrown out of the bars in town.
Physically thrown out, like through windows and doors.
I never understood why he wanted this. Who gave him the idea to be a king?
Because based on what I know of him, he wasn’t the king type. ”
“My grandfather was definitely the king type,” I muse. “I can’t see him even going into a bar, let alone being asked to leave. King Leif sounds more fun.”
Magnus glanced over his shoulder. “He could be. He died when I was still young, but I remember pieces of him. He’s the one who showed me the tunnels. Said I could escape from my brother.”
“So you and Dante? This isn’t a recent thing?”
“We’ve never really gotten along, but it’s definitely gotten worse recently.” The disappointment is there in Magnus’s tone. For a man who has sought out attention, the limelight, it must be difficult to have a family that dismisses him so easily.
“Why did you have to escape from him?” Sizewise, I can’t see the younger Dante ever intimidating Magnus.
“My brother would follow me around, looking for ways to get me into trouble.” Another glance over his shoulder. “And when I was younger, I didn’t really need help with that. I was never bad, just had a way of finding trouble. Or maybe it found me.”
“I can see that.”
“I suppose, being a psychiatrist, you could explain the reasoning for that.”
“Psychologist,” I correct. “And I probably could, with a few questions.”
“You haven’t really asked many since you’ve been here,” he says. I don’t need a psychology degree to hear the faint passive aggressiveness of the comment.
Magnus wants me to ask. He wants me to learn about him and his history. His country.
“I guess I’m still trying to process everything,” I tell him slowly. “There’s been a lot, in a very short time.”
“It has been. I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s not you. You’ve been…
wonderful.” And as I say it, I realize that it’s true.
Magnus has made this move as seamless as he could.
“It’s that I had managed to accept that I wouldn’t ever be queen of Avelaine, and honestly, that took a bit.
And then, all of a sudden, here I am, queen of Laandia. It’s been quite the mindshift.”
“Never thought of it that way.”
“I do want to learn more. Everything,” I admit. “But I’ve been a bit focused on myself.”
“That’s fair. And I want to learn about you. Everything. So it’s nice to hear things.”
Tell me more, is what he’s saying, and as we walk through the dark tunnels, I do.