Chapter 3
Later that night found Samaire awake on the balcony, unable to sleep. The hour was very late—the city of Ania was darkened under the moonlit sky. Fantina had long since drifted off, and Samaire could hear the steady rhythm of her breathing through the open double doors. The night was even more peaceful than the sunrise had been that morning, Samaire thought. From far away she could hear the ocean crashing against the rocks in the harbor as it welcomed in the night tide.
As she sat in the silence, Samaire's mind was busy replaying the evening. After Fantina had "rescued" her from her betrothed, the day had taken a pleasant upturn. The sisters had spent the rest of the day together, and thankfully alone.
And now, hours after their conversation in the garden, Samaire found her thoughts still dwelling on it. She had known about Fantina and Illan for many months now—she had met him on several occasions—but had never seen them display their affection for each other that intimately. It had suddenly occurred to her that afternoon that Fantina was no longer a girl. How easy it was, she mused, to think of her that way. Just a few years ago she had needed Samaire to look after her… to make sure the sash of her gown was tied properly, to make sure she studied her lessons. But now… she's a young woman… about to be engaged...
Engaged.
The word sounded foreign, especially when associated with Fantina. But after seeing her sister with Illan today, there was no mistaking that the two were perfect together. Samaire couldn't forget the tender look that had filled his eyes when he looked at her sister, and the devotion that had been reflected in Fantina's.
How strange it was, to imagine her little sister married…
Well, you will be too, before long, the logical voice in her head argued mildly.
"It's not the same," she murmured out loud to herself. Her marriage would only be on paper. There was no way, she knew, that she could ever fall in love with Ieago. At least, not in the way Fantina was in love with Illan. She supposed she might eventually come to tolerate him, but that was the extent of it. There would be no tender looks, no holding hands, no kissing beneath the willow tree.
It was ironic, she though. Though her sister was only fifteen, she knew more of love already than Samaire ever had.
The thought did nothing to comfort her.
As the moments slid by, Samaire felt a swift, silent feeling of panic descend upon her. She felt suddenly trapped… suffocated. She would marry Ieago. And then what? She would be trapped—forever.
That's not what I want! She cried mentally. I want to love someone… to be loved in return.
For the first time, she found herself wishing she was someone else—anyone else—than the Crown Princess of Cassalie. Anyone else would be able to marry who they pleased. Anyone else wouldn't have to worry about producing an heir to the throne. Anyone else would be free…
A single tear slipped down her white cheek, falling onto the stone balcony, catching the light of the stars as it landed. The night wore on, and Samaire continued to sit, feeling unequivocally alone.
The next morning found Samaire in her mother's chambers, having been summoned before her day at the Senate would begin. When she entered, the Queen was standing in the family's sitting room, a small but spacious room with light paneled walls and colorful tapestries hanging throughout.
"Good morning, Mother," Samaire greeted her as she entered.
"Good morning," the Queen replied. "I won't keep you long… I know you have duties at the Senate…" she trailed off, and Samaire knew immediately why she had been summoned. It happened often when the King was gone; her mother would begin to suffer from bouts of anxiety in her husband's absence, and would turn to her daughter for comfort. Today was no different, and Samaire was prepared to deal with it in her usual way—cater to her distress, fill her head with empty reassurances. Her mother's neurosis was an annoyance, but Samaire had found that over the years it was better to simply placate her mother, as though she were a small child.
It was a definition of their relationship—her mother needed someone to lean on, and when King Gideon was absent, she turned to her next pillar of strength—her daughter.
"There's been no news of your father for days," she said, anxiety dominating her voice.
"Mother, I'm sure he is well," Samaire said soothingly. "Perhaps he plans to surprise you and arrive home early," she added, giving her voice an optimistic up-tone as she did so.
The Queen sighed. "I would rather have word that he is alive," she said. "Tell him that, Samaire. Tell him that when he returns. He listens to you…"
"I'll tell him," Samaire assured her.
Her mother gave a small smile, which Samaire took to be a good sign. Her work was almost done.
"I heard Ieago came to the palace yesterday," the Queen moved on.
"He did," Samaire replied stiffly.
"I don't understand why you don't approve of him, Samaire. He's the perfect match for you. He's young, handsome, valiant…"
And arrogant, and conceited… Samaire mentally filled in.
"…perfect for the future king. Why, just think of the beautiful children you'll have!"
Samaire was jerked back to reality at her mother's words. Her look of horror must have been apparent, for her mother said, "Oh, Samaire, that look is so unbecoming of you. You really should try to embrace the idea—the marriage agreement has been in place for three years already, and it is certainly not going away."
"With all due respect, mother, I don't understand the rush for me to be wed," Samaire said, carefully crafting her words so as not to sound impertinent. "I'm only seventeen. Many girls wait until nineteen, or even twenty…"
"You, however, are not most girls," her mother responded coolly. "It is custom for a young princess to take a husband when she comes of age. Especially if that princess is next in line to the throne. Cassalie must have an heir, you know."
"Mother, there would be plenty of time for that!" Samaire protested. "Marriage could wait a few years… perhaps I could travel in Father's stead… I could see more of my kingdom, travel…"
"Out of the question," the Queen responded, and Samaire knew that she had pushed her mother too far. "None of us know what the future has in store. Something could happen… you might suddenly find yourself Queen should anything… happen… to your father. You know he wants to see you married…" her voice took on another level of hysterics. "You wouldn't defy your father, would you?" she asked, tears welling in her eyes. "Not now… when he's so far away… You wouldn't want him to come home to discord?"
Time to take things back into her own hands, Samaire decided.
"Of course not, mother," Samaire said, bringing her voice back to a soft, soothing tone. "Forgive me. I was selfishly thinking of my own desires before my kingdom's. It was wrong of me. If it is for the betterment of Cassalie, then I shall bear whatever I must."
"It is the burden of a queen, daughter. It is your duty to bear it."
"Yes, mother."
"Now I'm to hear no more of this talk of traveling."
"Yes, mother."
"And not a word of this to your father—we wouldn't want to tax him with our womanly woes."
"I know, mother. And he'll be home soon."
Her mother put on a brave face. "Thank you, my daughter. You have been much comfort to me. Go now… the Senate awaits you."
And with a wave of her mother's hand, Samaire knew she had been dismissed.
As she left her parents' chamber, she felt like screaming.
Heaven help me if I should end up like her, she thought furiously. Her mother was weak, and she hated it. That wasn't how a queen should act, she thought as she made her way toward the palace gates to meet her guard. That wasn't how she would act. She would be a strong ruler, like her father. She stopped in the corridor, suddenly finding herself before a portrait of the very person she was thinking of. Her father looked very regal in the painting, standing with one hand on his throne, scepter in the other. The artist had captured him perfectly—tall enough to be a dominating figure, yet not overwhelming enough to be considered intimidating. His countenance was stern, but there was a hint of a smile that played around his lips. Samaire knew that her father was a just ruler, loved by his people. He was a good man, and a reasonable one. Perhaps, she thought, she might ask him one more time to waive the marriage agreement. If nothing else, she would spite her mother in the asking.
The thought made her surprisingly happy, and she strode toward her guard with her head held high with determination.
A/N: just a shout out to everyone who's reviewed so far: you all rock:)
