Fantasyland 03 Fantastical (47 page)

I rounded his body with all my limbs and the
fingers of one hand slid into his hair. His face went into my neck
and I felt him kiss me there.

I loved his soft bed. I loved his lush
sheets. I loved the room filled with candlelight. I loved the
gentle breeze drifting in through the doors opened to an emerald
sea. I loved the weight of him on me. I loved the feel of him
inside me. I loved his scent in my nostrils. I loved the thickness
of his hair.

I loved everything that had anything to do
with my fairytale prince.

Therefore, I turned my head and whispered in
his ear, “I love you, honey.”

He lifted his head and looked down at me
through the flickering candlelight, his eyes tender, his face
soft.

“And I you, my sweet,” he replied
quietly.

I bent my neck until my forehead was against
his and I smiled.

Then I dropped my head to the bed and noted,
“We had a lovely day.”

“Indeed,” he agreed.

“It’s just you and me now,” I told him.

“For a time,” he replied, his body shifting,
his hand sliding so it was resting on my belly that now had the
barest hint of a hard, beloved bump, “then it will be you and me
and our son.”

“Or daughter.”

Without hesitation and without indication of
a shred of preference, he repeated, “Or daughter.”

I grinned at him. “It’s good being a
princess.”

His hand left my belly and came to my face,
his thumb sweeping my cheekbone when he remarked, “This I find
surprising.”

I tilted my head to the side on the pillow,
“You do?”

“Yes, for my princess doesn’t
act
like a princess.”

I let out a small giggle then informed him,
“I’m the new and improved kind of princess.”

“Right,” he muttered, his mouth
twitching.

God, he looked hot when his mouth twitched
like that. Then again, he always looked hot.

I wondered if I’d ever think differently and
decided I would not.

Not ever.

Not
ever.

I sighed happily and when I did, I realized
I was exhausted.

So I asked, “Are you going to let your
princess sleep? I had a long day, danced all night and this kid is
beginning to take it all out of me. Yesterday, I fell asleep right
in the middle of reading to Clarabelle. Aggie had to peck my hand
to wake me up.”

“No, I’ll not be letting my princess sleep,”
he answered and I blinked at him.

“You’ll not?”

“No, love, you’re a princess. You can sleep
all day.” His head dipped, his face disappearing in my neck. “Your
prince gets your nights.”

“Tor –”

He nipped my earlobe and commanded,
“Quiet.”

“Tor!” I snapped.

His lips moved to mine, he kissed me hard,
deep and sweet and I was quiet.

Oh well, whatever. He was right, I was a
princess. I could sleep all day.

So I rolled him to his back and then
I
kissed
him
.

My prince’s strong arms got tight around me
and he kissed me right back.

Commotion

Nine months later…

I heard the commotion outside, my head came
up from the book I was reading and I saw Clarabelle holding my
sleeping, dark-headed three month old son, Hayden Noctorno
Hawthorne of the House of Hawthorne, heir to the Kingdom of
Hawkvale and the city-state of Bellebryn.

I totally
dug
my son’s title as any
proud mother of a future king was wont to do.

I saw Clarabelle’s head tipped to the side
and her sightless eyes were aimed at the window facing the sea. My
eyes went there too but I could see nothing but emerald green
waters and large galleons floating.

The commotion was coming from the street
which was on the opposite side of the house, a location we could
not see.

Aggie hopped excitedly on my knee and I
looked down at him.

“Chirpity, chirp, chirp,” he said which
meant, “Something’s happening, Cora.”

“I know, Aggie,” I whispered then I looked
at Clarabelle who instinctively had pulled my son protectively
closer to her chest and her head had turned to me. “Is something
happening today, Clarabelle?” I asked.

“You are princess of our city, my dear,” she
reminded me with a kind smile. “Do you know of something
happening?”

I shook my head and since she couldn’t see
me doing it, I said, “No. I –”

I stopped speaking abruptly when I heard the
door downstairs fly open, crash back on its hinges and then loud,
heavy footsteps intermingled with light, clumsy ones were running
up the stairs.

Standing as I gave Aggie my finger and he
jumped on it, I turned alertly to the door while positioning myself
between it, Clarabelle and my son all the while adrenalin flooded
my frame.

Since my return, we’d had good times… no
great
times, months of them. Sunny days, family, friends,
the safe delivery of the next heir to the throne which heralded
parties and revelry all through Bellebryn and Hawkvale (of which I
didn’t partake, seeing as I’d just had a kid and was exhausted) but
it was all good stuff.

The only pall was that I didn’t get to share
it with Mom, Dad and Phoebe but the rest was so good, I could live
with even that.

Still, whatever that commotion was that led
to someone racing up the stairs didn’t bode good things and I hoped
I didn’t have to assume warrior princess mode considering I had no
weapon, limited experience, some time had elapsed since I’d wielded
daggers and therefore I was a little rusty.

On this thought, Blanche (fortunately not a
threat) suddenly filled the door, her much bigger now toddler at
her hip (in fact, the kid should be on his feet, he could walk,
just not steadily which was why I figured she was hauling him
around, due to her haste), her five year old’s hand clutched in
hers. Such was her dash, he was swinging in her grip, unable to
stop himself as his mother came to a dead halt.

“The sergeant at arms is heading this way,
my princess. You’re needed at the castle,” she announced, my heart
clenched because I was never “needed at the castle”. My son needed
me, my husband needed me and Perdita, every once in awhile, needed
me. I had a good life, a beautiful life. My time was my own. I was
a princess who did my princess gig the way I saw fit (which was the
way Tor had finally quit bitching about and just let me be and that
was to say, friendly and open and often out amongst “my
people”).

I highly doubted Perdita needing to discuss
the week’s menus (which we’d agreed two days ago) was what sent
Algernon off to get me. If Perdita needed me, she usually waited
until I got home if I wasn’t home already.

Therefore, I wasted no time, turned
instantly to take my son from Clarabelle, lifting my hand so Aggie
could perch on my shoulder.

Confirming Blanche’s announcement, a loud
banging could be heard from downstairs with a shouted, “Princess
Cora! Your prince requires you at the castle immediately!”

Algernon.

And it was Tor who needed me.

Hells bells. What was happening?

Clarabelle lifted Hayden to me, I took him
from her and he fussed in his sleep for about two seconds as the
transfer was made before he settled.

My baby was a good baby, quiet and content
most of the time, he let it be known in a weirdly commanding way
when he was hungry or wanted to be changed (he got this from his
father, I decided). But mostly he was happy to take in his
surroundings, although, that said, there was a weirdness about that
too considering, since birth, not kidding, he was alert, almost
watchful, as if he could see, sense and process all that was going
on around him.

Like I said, it was weird but still, it was
cool.

I tucked him close to me, bent quickly to
kiss Clarabelle’s cheek, murmuring words of farewell, and then
straightened and hustled toward Blanche to whom I did the same
thing.

Then Hayden, Aggie and I shuffled around
Blanche and her son who were moving out of our way so we could
quickly leave the room. I headed down the stairs, seeing my
personal guard, Geraint, standing at the side of the open door with
Algernon in its frame.

Since before Hayden was born, my prince,
taking no chances, decreed that if I left the castle and Tor wasn’t
available then Geraint went with me.

Geraint was one of Tor’s warriors.

No, strike that, according to Tor, he was
the best
of Tor’s warriors, tall, broad, muscled, dark blond
hair, light brown eyes and entirely forbidding. When I met him, he
looked so ferocious, so
capable
of being all things warrior,
I was thinking he would not like his new duties of looking after a
woman and child.

I was wrong.

Sure, he wasn’t talkative. He also wasn’t
friendly (at all). He was broody and intense.

But he took his responsibilities seriously.
He was guarding the future queen and the future (future) king of
the realm. This was serious business and he communicated that in
every action, every move, every tilt of his head or glide of his
gaze. I never saw him when he was not fully armed (that was to say,
sword at his back, daggers at both sides of his waist and another
knife shoved into the side of his right boot). And I never saw him
looking tired, distracted or bored.

Never.

Including now.

“Is anything wrong?” I asked when I was
halfway down the stairs.

“We need to get you to your prince,”
Algernon answered, his eyes glued to me and mine went to
Geraint.

“Geraint?” I called when I got to the bottom
of the steps.

“Swift,” he growled.

Geraint, by the way, didn’t do anything but
growl and when he did it was usually monosyllabic words. Sometimes
he’d string two or three monosyllabic words together but this was
rare.

I did not know why he wasn’t very
communicative but, considering the amount of time I spent with him,
I had attempted to coax this information out of him then, when that
didn’t work, pry it out of him. That also didn’t work so I gave up
on him and asked Tor.

Tor’s response was slightly more informative
but not by much.

“War is war, sweets, and most things that
need to be done during war for any soldier are not enjoyable,” he
explained then his eyes held mine and I saw his were somber when he
went on. “And then there are things that need to be done during war
by some soldiers that are even
less
enjoyable. Geraint was
my warrior who did
those
things.”

I decided, after getting this explanation,
that I didn’t need further information.

Therefore, as I did whenever Geraint deigned
to speak (or, more accurately, growl), I did what I was told.

I hastened out the door and saw that
Algernon was not alone. There was a small guard (if twenty could be
considered small) and this did not give me a good feeling since I
had never, not once, had a guard of any number except one
(Geraint). My feeling got worse when they moved instantly to flank
me all around, Geraint taking point, Algernon walking close to my
side.

I did not quibble. Instead, with the guard,
my son and I moved swiftly up the cobbled streets to the castle,
through the gates and I sucked in breath and pulled my sleeping son
even closer to my chest as I saw what I saw filling the vast
courtyard of my home.

Soldiers…

No.

Warriors.

Hundreds of them. All on horses. All with
long, black hair plaited or bunched down their backs, wearing pants
made of hides, shirts made of hides, swords at a slant at their
backs, knives at their belts, boots on their feet, their dark eyes,
fierce brown-skinned faces and immensely huge and muscular bodies
all on obvious alert.

They looked like a tribe of giant Native
Americans without the feathers and such.

And I knew instantly they were Korwahk.

What the heck?

We had, of course, sent several missives to
Circe but we had also not had any communication in return. And
nothing we said in our letters would lead to a squadron of gorgeous
but frightening warriors taking up the courtyard.

As my gaze moved from the Korwahk, I saw
standing on the steps to the castle a motley crew of about a dozen
men wearing shirts, breeches, boots and they were also armed.
Motley they might have been but they were also all handsome and
well-built, just rough around the edges. They, too, were obviously
on alert.

And lastly, there was a phalanx of about
fifty soldiers opposite the Korwahk. These men were mounted and
looked to be from Hawkvale except the colors of the Vale (as well
as Bellebryn) were blue and green and those soldiers were wearing
red and gold which meant they were from somewhere else.

I quit looking around as Geraint led the way
to the steps. I held Hayden close, my guard peeled off and Algernon
guided me up the steps to the top where Tor was striding out the
front door.

My heart settled at seeing him then skipped
at the look on his handsome face.

Yes, if the guard didn’t say it and the
courtyard filled with warriors didn’t say it, Tor’s face said
it.

Something was wrong.

“Your grace,” Algernon muttered, being far
more formal than usual, likely due to the huge audience he had,
before he dipped his chin respectfully, lifted his hand silently
for Aggie to hop on (and Aggie, clearly feeling the vibe, did this
without even a chirp) and then Algernon fell back soundlessly.

Without a word, Tor expertly pulled Hayden
out of my arms, tucked him to the side of his chest in the curve of
his own arm and wrapped his other arm around my shoulders, quickly
escorting us into the castle.

It was safe to say Tor adored his son.
Considering his days were filled doing prince things and mine were
filled doing princess things (which was to say, whatever the hell I
wanted to do and what I wanted to do was be a Mom so I spent all my
time doing that even when I was doing other things too), Tor had
decreed in the nights, he got Hayden. This, of course, also came
with me being around (which was also a Tor edict but I didn’t
quibble about that either seeing as being with my husband and son
was where I wanted to be anyway) but if Hayden was awake, Tor was
holding him and playing with him. When Hayden needed to be put down
to sleep, Tor took him to his crib. Even if Hayden needed to be
changed, Tor did that too.