Chapter 6 Thessia
Thessia
Seawings wheeled overhead, spinning specks in the gorgeous sunlight. The water lapping against the boat was only a gentle
whisper in the salt air. From the white stands where Mythrians waited to send off their queen, cheers echoed into the harbor.
The Sapphire Palace prepared to set sail. Thessia stepped onto the polished deck, feeling . . . unlike herself.
She loved it.
With the wind whipping her blond hair, the salt drying her skin, the queen of Mythria smiled.
She peered over her nearest railing, gasping when she found the huge wooden hull descending far down into the water. They
were hundreds of irons above the ocean! She’d never sailed on the Sapphire Palace, the finest seaworthy vessel ever constructed in Mythria, but she’d waved the enormous passenger ship off on her maiden voyage.
Enhanced by hand magic from a hundred hand magicians, the ship’s size rivaled Queendom’s castle—hence her impressive name.
When Thessia leaned forward, Hugh grasped her elbow, halting her. Half protection, half restraint.
“Careful, my love,” he murmured.
Thessia withdrew from the deck’s edge.
She rejoined her royal entourage, who’d ensconced her on the short walk from their carriages in the seaport onto the decorated
wooden walkway that led high up and onto the Sapphire Palace.
Her press positioner was there, of course. Her fashionists. Her schedulers. Tabitha, her body double, had boarded earlier. Thessia would have liked to have given her the vacation off, but her team insisted that she may need a decoy for protection in a foreign realm.
The Sapphire Palace usually played host to Mythria’s wealthiest travelers, including now, on the queen’s honeymoon voyage. Despite Thessia’s
objections, a few scribes had also been invited, for “necessary” honeymoon coverage, ensuring Mythrians felt connected to
her.
Yet Vestriya waited. The realm had fascinated Thessia since girlhood. In centuries long past, explorers from Vestriya had
founded Mythria, and the vestiges of Vestriyan culture had grown into something unpredictable on the shores Thessia now ruled.
Vestriya’s older roots had flourished into an illustrious land at once familiar and entirely remarkable. For every commonality—language,
government—Vestriya was enchanted with rich details entirely her own.
After the walkway had been pulled up, the boat’s crew sprang into action. Vast sails dropped from wooden masts. Suspended
on midair perches and secured with complicated interconnected ropes, hand magicians conjured wind and parted the waves.
With the first enormous, coordinated gust, the Sapphire Palace lurched powerfully out of port and onto the open ocean, commencing her swift journey toward the horizon.
Thessia could not help herself. She let out a small whoop.
The sound made Hugh’s eyes shoot to her. Past her self-consciousness, she saw curiosity flash in the king’s expression for
an instant, before portcullises dropped once more over his gaze.
“Welcome, Your Highness,” Captain Norcross greeted her as he descended from the helm. Weather had roughened the captain’s
skin, but kindness, Thessia suspected, had crinkled his eyes. “I hope you find everything of your palace in ours.”
“I thank you, Captain,” Thessia replied earnestly.
But I hope I don’t, she wanted to say.
Her entourage dispersed to attend to out-of-sight preparations while Thessia and Hugh toured the ship with Captain Norcross.
Only one guard followed.
Only one! Thessia marveled. This voyage was looking up, and that was before Norcross revealed the ship’s stunning features. They were led down to the lower decks, past stackjack tables with magical
views of the ocean, open-roofed gardens where pinroses grew under flourishing high cloudflowers, and liquermasters who hand-magicked
effervescent cocktails into shapely glasses on shining silver counters. A small theater played medleys of Sir Cheswick Chestlewitt’s
comedic plays.
One entire lower deck consisted of restaurant-style dining, with chefs who could net pestleshells right from the ocean floor
and bake them into honey-dough pockets on the spot, or sweep up sealeaves and fry them into crispy pancakes. There was even
a small Harpy & Hind outlet.
Thessia could easily enough imagine herself here with Hugh on a real honeymoon. Happy, honest, and in love. Hugh, in the dashing
gold-threaded doublet he wore now, would share cracklecandies with her while they watched the waves. She would pretend to
need instruction in disctoss, then trounce him easily while he laughed, her gullible mark. They would . . .
Never mind it, Thessia comforted herself. Who fretted over loveless royal marriages when one had fresh sealeaf pancakes?
Not she!
Captain Norcross smiled. “Would you like to see your suite now?” he asked.
“Yes,” Thessia replied instantly. The suite would perfect the honeymoon experience, providing what Queendom could not—privacy.
While Norcross escorted them down the ship’s corridors, Thessia envisioned indulging in solitude, the sweetest of luxuries
for ever-public royals. Outside the hallway’s grandest entryway, Norcoss presented Thessia with a key. She eagerly unlocked
the door—
In hindsight, she should have expected what would come with privacy.
Pinrose petals carpeted the floor. Conjurated pink miniature clouds hung in heart shapes everywhere. Cherry wine flowed in
a small fountain on a wrought-gold table in the corner, with rougeberries floating in the sweetened drink. The bed—heart-shaped
like the clouds—invited the occupants to enjoy hours of passion upon the crimson silk sheets.
Reminders, reminders, reminders.
Her face fell. The captain noticed.
“We are honored you would join us for the beginning of your honeymoon. We did our best, but I see we have fallen short,” he
said with earnest dismay. “My deepest apologies. We will fix it. Swans would improve it, yes? And—”
“No, this is . . . everything,” Thessia managed hastily. “Isn’t it, my love?”
She winced, hearing her own mangled delivery. Desperate, she looked to Hugh. He was the performer, not she. He could pretend
to this happiness like she never could. She, someone who’d never experienced it.
Of course, Hugh rose to the occasion.
He swept Thessia up, hooking his powerful grip under her back and beneath her thighs while her arms fell to rest around her
husband’s neck.
Her eyes found his. Surprise dropped her defenses, forcing her to face just how handsome her husband really was. With his
stubbled chin inches from hers, his gaze held depths to rival the ocean underneath them.
“May I carry you into our bedchamber, my queen?” he asked.
His voice was velvet even while his grip was stone. Oh, he really could perform, couldn’t he?
Mouth dry, Thessia nodded.
As if she were featherlight, he strode over the threshold. Then, gently, he spun her while he set her down, sending the rose
petals and conjurated clouds whirling with them, wrapping them in pink and red.
The movement disoriented Thessia, and she couldn’t find her footing. With no other choice, she kept her arms locked around
Hugh’s neck, pressing them close. When she finally righted herself, she dizzily recognized the cleverness of Hugh’s maneuver.
Their noses were close, their chests pressed together, their lips a breath away from kissing.
Captain Norcross applauded. “We shall leave you alone for many, many hours now,” the captain promised, relief profound in his voice. “Enjoy, Your Highnesses!”
The moment he closed the suite’s door, Thessia let go of her husband.
“I think I don’t like being carried,” she said.
Hugh blinked. “Oh,” he uttered. “Of course. My apologies.”
“It’s fine,” she replied. “I’m sure other women enjoy it. But it’s not for me.”
“Noted.” Hugh strode to the cherry-wine fountain. “For the record,” he continued, plucking one of the rougeberries from the
fountain, passing the round fruit past his lips, “they do. Enjoy it, that is.”
Thessia watched the cherry wine drip down his fingertips. “Yes,” she replied, her voice stately. “Yes, you’re very skilled
at it. It just does nothing for me,” she insisted.
Hugh scrutinized her. “I wasn’t aware I was trying to do . . . something for you.”
Thessia reddened.
“No. Of course not,” she hastened to say. “You’re right. The captain loved it. That’s what matters.”
Hugh kissed the final errant drop of wine from his thumb.
“Although,” he said.
He strode forward. Were they entering uneven ocean waters? Why, if not, did Thessia feel slightly uneven on her feet?
“You would be more convincing if you did enjoy our playacting,” he commented.
“You’re saying I was deficient,” she returned, grasping her chin as she mentally replayed their exchange.
“I’m saying I often carry the horseball team on my back in our performances. No offense,” he added with a wry smile.
Thessia felt herself deflate. He was not wrong. “It’s difficult for me,” she conceded with a sigh. “I’ve never had . . . the
real version of this.”
Hugh frowned, understandably uncomprehending. “You and Galwell were engaged and loved each other.”
Thessia did not bother to correct her fake husband.
“We were very young. Very innocent,” she said, proud of the honesty in her evasion. Galwell, she reckoned with mirthless humor,
would not have wanted her to lie.
“I see.” Hugh clasped his hands behind his back. While Thessia was tall—indeed, she’d noticed how the half iron she stood
over most women made her fashionist and press positioner purse their lips ruefully—her husband’s high, muscular frame imposed
on hers easily.
“I’m not like you,” Thessia went on. Her unselfconscious explanation had unlocked something in her—a jealousy she was ashamed
of. She cast her gaze to the floor. “You experienced it in every way. Love. You know how it should feel. How it should look.”
Everything I don’t, she stopped short of confessing. Like she would never know how it felt to use magic. The queen of wanting.
“It’s nothing like this,” Hugh said.