There were too many arrangements to be made for the funeral to have it the following day. If each of the boys had died individually, in their own time, then they would have been buried by their families and life would have moved on. But the murder of five members of the Blood Royal and three squires—two of whom were noblemen in their own right—was a shock that rippled through the entire kingdom. People who didn't even know them were moved to tears at the mere thought of their loss and they were viewed as something close to martyrs.
Amichen watched from her bedroom window as people came and went from the castle. The queen had to absent herself to handle the details, so Amichen was alone. The queen offered to have one of her daughters sit with Amichen, but Amichen brushed her offer aside. She knew the entire royal family was trying to help with the arrangements, even while anxiously watching over Naissus—who was still not awake—and following Reni's progress as he and his group of men traveled north, trying to catch up to the murderers.
They had enough on their plate to worry about without also worrying about Amichen. Besides, she spent most of the day in bed, trying to sleep away the dark emptiness inside her.
Early the following morning—before it was even light outside—Amichen was woken by a blonde-haired girl dressed in black. The color was so severe against her fair complexion, she looked like a ghost. "Mother asked me to bring you one of my dresses since she thinks we're close to the same size," the girl said.
"A dress?" Amichen asked stupidly, still half-asleep.
"To wear to the funeral. If you want to go," she hurried to add. "You certainly don't have to go if you're still . . . injured." she said a bit awkwardly.
Amichen thought about the five young men who had so quickly become her friends. If she had been the one to die on the road, certainly all of them would have accompanied her to her burial—even if they had to go all the way back to Shi-Ha.
"I will go," Amichen said, pushing back the covers.
Naissus' sister left and a couple of maids dressed Amichen. She had thought that the Hyrulian dresses that the women wore were beautiful, but being put into a similar one felt strange to her, having only worn robes all of her life. The dress they put her into was fitted through the body—rather snugly, as apparently she was a little bustier than Naissus' sister—with silver buttons up the front that glinted against the austere black. It had a wide neckline that was practically off the shoulders, and which plunged a little low in the front—just enough to see the top of Amichen's cleavage, which was all the more noticeable for the tight fit. The skirt flared from the hips and was held out with several layers of crinoline.
Amichen felt rather exposed in the dress. She was used to wearing multiple layers over her linen shift; now she just had one layer over her shift, and it clung to her like a second skin. She was showing more skin above her bust than she had ever shown before her in her life, and even her hands felt naked without long sleeves covering them.
"This . . . seems . . . a little revealing," Amichen said as she looked at herself in a mirror. It seemed as if a stranger was looking back at her. A beautiful, exotic stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.
"It's not revealing, Your Highness," one of the maids said. "All the ladies wear dresses like this at court."
"I'm sure it's quite lovely at court, but for a funeral?"
"We didn't have black dresses enough for everyone," the maid confessed. "It's been so long since there was a death in the Royal Family, the girls have all outgrown their mourning gowns. We had to dye a few old gowns black because there wasn't time to make anything new."
Amichen didn't object any further.
The sun was just starting to rise when the maids escorted her downstairs to the foyer where the rest of the household was gathering. It looked strange to see every person, save the servants, dressed in black.
The queen saw her almost immediately and hurried over. "Amichen, thank you so much for joining us."
"It's the least I could do," she said, her voice choking up. She wanted to say something about how all the boys had been her friends—and how Rodger, especially, had taken her under his wing—but she found she couldn't speak at all. But the queen's eyes said that she understood.
Then the queen looked her over. "I see Yasi's dress fits you. It looks very lovely on you."
"Thank you for loaning it to me."
The queen waved her thanks away. "You are part of our family; of course we will clothe you."
Amichen puzzled over what she meant by "part of the family;" did she think that Amichen and Naissus had been married in Shi-Ha? But surely not. Obviously Naissus had been in communication with her on their return trip and Amichen couldn't imagine him lying to his mother. Maybe the queen didn't know that Amichen had not yet accepted Naissus' proposal and she thought them properly engaged.
But even then, they would surely not want to go through with the marriage now . . . would they? Of course, if Naissus didn't recover, it would be quite impossible anyway, but even if he did, Amichen couldn't imagine that he—or his family—would still want her.
"How is Naissus today?" Amichen asked.
"He woke up yesterday evening," the queen said, her voice full of cautious hope. "He wasn't coherent, but he did wake up. The doctor said that was a good sign; the swelling in his brain must be going down. We were able to get some broth into him, too, so that's good."
A moment later, the Master of Protocol came in and began organizing the assembly accordingly. Contrary to any other royal function or procession, the royal family was actually not in the lead. That honor was reserved for the immediate family of the deceased. Rodger was the highest-ranking nobleman among them, so his sister and two younger brothers went first. Then there was Walcott's parents and siblings. There was a brief question about Arlen and Bodi's status, since they were both of similar rank, but it was decided that Arlen's family went first, since they were descended from the king's father's third-eldest brother and Bodi's family came from his fifth-eldest brother. Seymour's family went next, followed by the three families of the squires. The family of the one who had been common-born looked quite nervous at being in a procession with so many nobles—and ahead of the queen and princesses—but the queen spoke to them and assured them that they should be there with all of the others.
"We are all family today in our grief," she said quietly.
After the primary mourners were arranged, the rest of the royal family fell into line with practiced ease: the queen, followed by the wives and children of each of her sons, then the princesses. The king and princes were conspicuously absent. Amichen knew Reni was gone, but she hadn't heard that Talent and their other brother had joined him. And certainly the king would not be allowed to do anything so dangerous. Amichen concluded that he—and possibly the others—must be participating in the funeral in some other way.
When the Master of Protocol came to Amichen, he hesitated. She was a princess, but she was also just a guest.
"We'll put you here behind Princess Tosha," he said, gesturing to the youngest princess.
"No, no, she is our guest and an ambassador of the Queen of Shi-Ha. And she is Naissus' betrothed. She doesn't walk at the back." Then queen waved Amichen forward. "Here, walk with me."
Hesitantly, Amichen stepped up beside the queen, who linked her arm in Amichen's. Amichen was pleased to be standing with her, but she felt awkward being at the head of the line in front of all the Princesses Royal. At home, even though she was the eldest daughter, she still had to process behind her sister, who was the heir apparent.
She worried that the princes' wives and sisters would resent her for usurping their place; if she had actually been married to Naissus, she would have to walk near the back of the line, since he was one of the youngest royals. But when she dared a backwards glance, she didn't see anyone glaring at her—as she would expect at Shi-Ha's court if she had been granted such an unusual honor.
Talent's wife saw her looking back and she gave Amichen a warm smile. Even the women who had married into the family seemed as pleasant as everyone else.
"Did we not give Princess Amichen a crown?" the queen asked.
"I'm sorry," Yasi called from further back in the line. "I didn't think about it."
"Go fetch a crown," the queen told the Master of Protocol. He hurried away, as if he had been caught in a failure.
Within minutes, he came back with several different crowns and he handed them to Amichen to try on. She felt self-conscious trying on crowns while everyone else—including the grieving families—waited on her.
"This one is fine," she said, settling for the first one that fit her head reasonably well. It wasn't until she had turned back to the line that she noticed that all of the other women were wearing very simple circlets, devoid of jewels. Even the queen's crown was unadorned.
Unfortunately, the crown that Amichen had picked had been heavily ornamented with jewels and pearls. But there was no time to exchange it; everyone was moving out of the hall and into the cool dawn air.
They paused outside on the steps. Then, from the western part of the courtyard came a line of men, all dressed in full plate armor. There were two lines of them, and each carried a long pillar candle on a tall golden post.
Then, in the middle of their lines came eight pallbearers carrying a bier. Four of them on one side had metal crowns riveted onto their helmets; Amichen now knew where the king and his sons were. Even Reni had come home for the funeral.
The knights marched past the line of mourners and took their place at the head of the cortege. Even in the dim morning light, Amichen could see Rodger's pale, peaceful face where he rested on top of the bier dressed in a full harness of armor with his sword clasped in his hands.
With the knights leading the way, the cortege began to process through the courtyard, towards the main gate. The castle staff and guards were lined up on either side of the drive, silently watching as they passed. More than a few appeared to be crying. Rodger had grown up in the castle with Naissus and he had always been a favorite.
As the procession began to pass through the main gate of the castle, bells around the town slowly began tolling again.
Amichen leaned into the queen. "Where are the rest?" she whispered. So far, the only body being carried was Rodger's.
"They're already at the monastery," the queen replied. "Only the royal family and the Knights of Hyrule are given a public funeral procession.
The streets of the town were packed with people silently watching the final procession of Sir Rodger, Duke of Summerfield. As his bier passed, the onlookers put a hand to their lips, then gestured outwards, as if offering their kiss.
They walked through the silent streets as the day grew brighter. When they passed out of the city gates, the sun rising in the east blinded them and they had to shield their eyes from the sunlight.
The monastery where they were destined was just outside the walls, but Amichen was already exhausted and growing sorer by the time they reached it. She was glad she had the queen's arm to lean on.
The Sanctuary inside the monastery was dim. The rays of sunlight filtered through stained glass windows and made beautiful patterns of color on the floor, like jewels. In front of the High Altar there were eight biers with shrouded figures on them. The knights put Rodger's bier at one end, then carefully placed his helmet on his head, covering his face. Then they moved out in two columns—one down either outside aisle of the Sanctuary—and took up guard positions there while the rest of the mourners filed in and filled the front benches. The benches farther back were already filled with more distant relatives and friends.
"Your mother told us that she wanted to take your maid back to Shi-Ha," the queen whispered to Amichen once they were seated. "So we had her embalmed and she will stay in the crypt until your mother can take her back."
Amichen nodded a little. She knew Hashin—so fiercely loyal to queen and kingdom—would much prefer being buried at home. There was even a special crypt on the palace grounds were the most devoted servants were buried. It was only fitting that she should rest there instead of in a foreign land.
The Abbot of the monastery gave the eulogy. Amichen stared at her hands in her lap and concentrated on not listening. All around her, people were giving into their grief and sobbing into their handkerchiefs, but Amichen didn't want to break down again. She felt if she cried one more time, she would never be able to stop. There was a darkness inside her that begged her to join it—to give up on living and sink into the peace of death. She purposefully ignored it, but it was still there—just like the Abbot's speech—if only she would listen to it. And to cry again, she felt, would be all the fuel it needed to grow louder and more insistent until she could no longer ignore it. So she concentrated on keeping her mind blank so she felt and thought nothing.
After a time, everyone rose to their feet and the knights moved forward and picked up Rodger's bier again and went through a door under the High Altar. More knights came forward and picked up another bier and took it through the door. The assembly stayed on their feet, silent, as five of the biers were taken through the door. Then three more were picked up and carried out of the Sanctuary. The mourners—Amichen recognized them as the families of the squires—followed them out; apparently they were to be buried elsewhere. Finally, the last bier—which Amichen assumed to be Hashin's—was taken through the door, followed by the remaining knights, who were still carrying candles.
The remaining principal mourners moved into the center aisle, reassembled their procession, then went through the door under the altar.
Inside, there were candlestands lighting the crypt. Amichen saw the knights putting Hashin's bier in an empty section, where apparently it would stay until her mother could take her back to Shi-Ha. But that crypt was obviously not the destination of everyone else, because there was no sign of the other bodies.
The queen guided Amichen to a set of stairs located in the center of the crypt. They went down them into a large circular room where a few of the knights stood with their candles, illuminating the stone room. There were fifteen doorways around the perimeter of the room and, in the center, there was one double tomb effigy.
Amichen glanced at the effigy as she passed it, then she stopped suddenly, staring at it.
It was the two beautiful people who had spoken to her in her dream.
The carved figures had been painted in colors so lifelike, it looked as if they were real people lying there, about to get up. The woman had the same long blonde hair and gray eyes as the woman in Amichen's dream. The man had dark blond hair and blue eyes, but oddly, he had four faint white streaks across his left cheek, like scars; she didn't recall seeing that on the man in her dream. But the figure on the tomb was dressed in a very similar-looking green tunic, so she was quite sure they were one in the same. Perhaps she just hadn't noticed his scars because he seemed to glow with an inner light.
The female figure was wearing a different dress, though. The one depicted on the tomb was white, with a bodice that had been gilded to resemble a brocade of cloth-of-gold. Around the hem of the dress was silver gilding, mimicking embroidery, and hanging down from the bottom of the bodice was an odd sort of rectangular apron in blue which was gilded with the arms of Hyrule and Erenrue in gold and silver.
The man and woman had their hands clasped tightly between them. In the man's left hand, he gripped a real sword. In the woman's right hand was a real bow, but unstrung.
Amichen stared for several long moments before the queen spoke to her. "That's Link and Zelda," she said.
Amichen was rather surprised. There was a picture of Link and Zelda in the portrait hall at the castle in Shi-Ha, but it was one of a large series depicting their adventures and fights against the demons. The one in Shi-Ha was of their fight against the dragon in the Southern Desert and the dragon took up most of the picture. Link and Zelda, who had their backs to the viewer, were tiny figures in comparison, showing how desperate their fight was against the huge demon.
She had never seen a representation of them that showed their faces.
"I saw them," Amichen whispered. "I talked to them."
"What do you mean?" the queen asked.
"When I was in the forest—after the attack. A beautiful woman and man came to me and told me that I needed to live—they begged me to live. And they told me that Naissus was alive and that I needed to take care of him—that we both have destinies that need to be fulfilled. It was only because of them that I woke up and took care of Naissus until help could arrive."
The queen stared at her in shock. "Link . . . and Zelda . . . came to you?"
"Yes. I'm not sure if I actually saw them or only dreamed them, but these are the people I saw," she said, pointing to the tomb. Then she shook her head. "I've never seen a likeness of them before, so I didn't recognize them at the time. But I'm certain these are the people I met."
The queen muttered a prayer, then tightened her grip on Amichen's arm. "Then maybe the legend is true," she whispered.
"What legend?" Amichen asked, turning to her.
"When Link was on his deathbed, all of his children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren and so forth came to see him one last time. The story is that he promised all of them that if they were ever in desperate need, he would come to help them. Most people assumed—if he even said it at all—that it meant he would reincarnate and come back as the Hero of Legend. But . . . maybe that's not what he meant. Maybe he really did intend to come back as himself—in some form or another—to help his descendants."
"But . . . why didn't he come back and warn us that there were bandits on the road, waiting to ambush us?" Amichen demanded. "Why didn't he do something to help the others? Why would he and Zelda appear to me? I'm only a human—the only one ever born to their line."
The queen looked at her sorrowfully. "I don't know why they didn't appear to anyone else—who knows what restrictions the gods may have placed on them?—but if you think that they shouldn't have appeared to you because you're human, then you don't understand them at all."
She swept her hand around the room. "Each of these passageways represents each of their children—even their adopted son, Valens. Each has a vault containing their children and their children's children and so on. This entire crypt was built just for Link and Zelda and their descendants. They are surrounded by their family for all eternity. These were people who loved their family. I don't know why they would ever be ashamed of you or anyone else for being who you were born to be."
Amichen felt the darkness within her recede. Maybe it wasn't completely gone, but it didn't seem nearly so prominent now. If Link and Zelda—of all people—had come from beyond the grave to help her, then how could she think of giving up on life?
As Amichen followed the queen through the room, she looked at the passageways and noticed that each had a name over it. She even saw one with a very familiar name: Anne-Marie. Amichen knew that Queen Anne-Marie lay alone in her crypt; unlike all the other rulers of Shi-Ha, she had ordered that her body be taken back to Hyrule and buried with the rest of her family. Even after being born in Shi-Ha, re-founding the monarchy of Shi-Ha, marrying a man from Shi-Ha, having all of her children in Shi-Ha, and living out her life there, she had still chosen, in the end, to go home to sleep eternally with the rest of her family.
Anne-Marie was said to have been a beautiful, fierce woman—the first female Knight of Hyrule. Amichen had always imagined that her ancestress was a lot like her mother: hard as nails, emotionless, and determined to be in control of everything at all times. But what if that wasn't true? What if Anne-Marie had been a warrior who nonetheless loved her family? Unlike most of the queens who eventually followed her, Anne-Marie had eight children. Had she loved them as she had been loved growing up in her large family? And if so, then where had Shi-Ha gone wrong and confused strength with coldness?
Queen Maris led the rest of the procession through a passageway marked "Zeyde." At the end of it was a smaller circular room. As with the first room, there was a lifelike painted tomb effigy in the middle. But lining the edges of the room were more tomb effigies—some depicting only a single person, some a husband and wife. Above a few were niches carved into the wall containing small coffins. Monumental brasses attached to the wall beside the niche served as a reminder of the children who had died too soon.
Next to a few of the tombs were additional doorways. When they walked past, Amichen caught a glimpse of more tombs resting in the darkness. Apparently the princes and princesses of Hyrule weren't the only people buried in the crypt; later generations built additional tombs off the main ones so that the entire catacombs spread out under the ground like a giant family tree.
Amichen was struck by that idea—that the descendants of Link and Zelda were spread out under the ground like the interconnected roots of a great tree. And their memory and legacy nourished those descendants still living on the surface, just as a tree's roots supported the living tree.
They passed through many more such rooms, travelling through a visual representation of the royal family's genealogy, slowly moving forward in time.
Eventually they came to a room that was empty, save a single tomb in the middle. "My in-laws," the queen whispered to Amichen. Here was the last queen and king of Hyrule—the king's parents.
Across the room from the entrance was another passageway and the queen led everyone into it. The families, knights, and biers were already there, along with five plain, white tombs in a tiny, roughly-hewn room. It looked unfinished.
"This was to be for me and my husband," the queen whispered in Amichen's ear as the rest of the mourners came in, having to stand close together to fit into the small room. "It takes years to carve a room out of the rock; they've been working on just this room for three years. We had no time to prepare a place for the boys, and everyone agreed they should be laid to rest together instead of separately according to their family lines. So we decided to put them here. We'll start another room for ourselves later."
The Abbot squeezed through the crowd and took his place at the head of the room. He said a brief prayer, then the pallbearers who had been carrying Rodger gently lifted him from the bier and laid him in the center tomb. They carefully arranged him so that he lay with both of his hands clasped on his sword, then, together, they lifted the heavy stone lid and placed it on the tomb, removing him from the world forever.
As he was being laid to rest, the other knights around the room began to sing a haunting song that sent shivers down Amichen's spine.
"Of all the money that e'er I spent,
I've spent it in good company.
And all the harm that e'er I've done,
Alas it was to none but me.
And all I've done for want of wit,
To memory now I can't recall.
So fill to me the parting glass;
Good night and joy be with you all."
"A man may drink and not be drunk;
A man may fight and not be slain;
A man may court a pretty girl
And perhaps be welcomed back again.
But since it has so ought to be,
By a time to rise and a time to fall,
Come fill to me the parting glass;
Good night and joy be with you all."
"Of all the comrades that e'er I had,
They are sorry for my going away.
And all the sweethearts that e'er I had,
They would wish me one more day to stay.
But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise and you should not,
I'll gently rise and I'll softly call,
Good night and joy be with you all.
Good night and joy be with you all."
Tears began to stream down Amichen's face. She called to mind the evenings they had spent gambling—losing money "in good company"—and the cold, rainy night when they had passed the bottle and drank together like comrades.
And what of the girls who had been in love with Rodger—those kissing cousins? Were they here, watching their hope for the future being put into the grave?
Each young man, in turn, was placed into a tomb and the lid placed on top, sealing him inside. All around the room, people were sobbing again—some not too quietly. Amichen could feel the queen shaking as silent sobs racked her body. And then she lost the fight against her own tears and she broke down, too.
She was barely conscious of being led back through the catacombs. She was no longer threatened by the darkness inside her, but that didn't lessen the mental and physical toll on her not-yet-fully-recovered body, and by the time she had made it up the stairs, she was leaning heavily on the queen's arm for support. As they exited the crypt, she staggered a little, bumping hard against the doorway.
"Amichen, are you alright?" the queen asked, sounding alarmed.
Amichen nodded a little.
"Here, sit down," she instructed, taking Amichen over to one of the front pews. Amichen collapsed there, doubled over, and cried into her hand—great racking sobs that felt like they were going to tear her apart.
She felt the queen put her arm around her and held her close, but the queen did nothing and said nothing to try and discourage Amichen's weeping.
A few moments later, Amichen heard the approach of someone wearing clanking armor. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Mother," a soft voice said, "but I need to get back."
Amichen choked down her tears and glanced up to see Reni standing in front of them.
"Alright," the queen said with a thick voice.
Reni leaned down to kiss his mother and she grabbed his hand, squeezing his gauntleted fingers tightly. "Be careful," she said.
"I will."
She reached up, touching his face with her other hand. "Come back to me," she said in a whisper.
"I can't make a promise I might not be able to keep," he said seriously. "But you know I will try my best."
She nodded, fresh tears rolling down her face.
He leaned down to kiss her again. "Pray for us," he whispered, then he pulled his hand away and strode out of the Sanctuary.
The king came forward a couple of minutes later. "Reni is going back," he said.
"I know," the queen replied. "He spoke to me before he left."
"Laertes is going with him, too. Talent wants to go, but I told him no."
The queen shook her head. "No, not all of my boys."
"That's what I told him. But he's chafing. Hell, I am, too, for that matter. I'd like nothing better than to catch up with those murderous bastards and kill them, slowly, with my own hands."
"You can't go for the same reason that Talent can't go."
"I know. But I don't know if I've convinced him. You'll have to talk to him and see if you can get him to see reason."
"Ask Wissy to speak to him. If anyone can convince him, she can."
But the king shook his head. "She thinks he should go."
The queen gasped. "Surely not!"
"She said no self-respecting knight should shirk from seeking vengeance for what happened—to Amichen, in particular—and that protecting the weak is our raison d'etre, and if we can't do that, then what use are we?"
The queen moaned, "Oh, Wissy!"
"I tried to tell her that I can't send every knight out—if only because we can't afford to lose many men if these bandits are leading us into an even bigger trap—and that I can't send all of my sons into battle, but she's hearing none of it.
"She should have been a knight herself," he said with grudging pride.
A moment later, Talent strode over to them. "Father, I'm going."
"Talent, no," the queen hurried to say.
"I told you no," the king repeated. "Would you disobey your king?"
"Do you tell me 'no' as my king or as my father? And before you answer that, know that if you order me to stay here, you will be causing a conflict between my duty to you, as my king, and my duty as a knight. Please don't put me into that situation."
The king sighed heavily and looked away.
The queen tried pleading her cause. "Please, Talent, stay. I can't have all my boys gone."
"You still have Naissus."
"Yes, and look what happened to him. I can't suffer that again."
"Reni and Laertes are going whether I go or not. So you may end up suffering whether I go or not."
"But . . . don't you see that's why one of you has to stay behind?" she pleaded. "I can't risk losing all of my boys."
"Then keep Reni behind; he's the youngest."
"He's also the best tracker we have."
"I cannot sit at home, safe, while my younger brothers risk themselves. It's my job to look after them. Naissus has already suffered; I have to do what I can to protect Reni and Laertes."
"Please . . ." the queen begged.
He knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. "Mother," he said, looking at her quite seriously, "I have to do this for me—for my own sense of honor—and for my brothers. I have to do this for Naissus and Amichen, too," he added, glancing towards Amichen. "Father wants to go, but his duty to the kingdom won't allow him to risk his life, outside of a full-scale war. So I must also go for him—to serve our family and kingdom and dispense the King's Justice on his behalf.
"I will go with or without your blessing . . . but I would rather have it."
Queen Maris glanced up at her husband, but he shook his head. "As king, I will not order you to stay," he told Talent, "because if you were anyone but my eldest son, I would let you go. And, as your father, I will not order you to do something that you feel will shame you . . . although I would ask you to stay behind for your mother's sake."
Talent looked at his mother. "I am so sorry Mother, but I cannot."
She sighed, defeat evident on her face. "I don't like it, but as your father says, I can't stand between you and your honor." She pulled him close and kissed him on the forehead. "You have my blessing."
He bowed his head and kissed her hand. "Thank you," he whispered. Then he rose to his feet and kissed his father's cheek.
"Gods be with you," his father prayed, touching him on the shoulder.
"Thank you. I will keep you updated regularly," Talent promised. Then he turned and strode out of the Sanctuary.
The king sighed as he watched his eldest son leave. "There's always a price to pay when you raise your boys right. Sometimes what you want as a parent and the right thing to do come into conflict and they must choose between them. And if you've raised them right, you will come out on the losing end of that proposition."
"I don't like it," the queen said again, "but I must admit that Talent makes me proud."
"He should," the king said, nodding. "He should."
The king escorted Amichen and the queen to the entrance of the monastery. Despite having a rest, Amichen found herself still feeling weak, and she was so sore, walking was agonizing. But, thankfully, they didn't have to walk back to the castle; the royal carriage was waiting outside for them.
The king helped both women into the carriage, then Talent's wife, Wyliss, and her two children also got in. The king left—intending to ride back with the remaining knights—and the carriage started back to the castle.
"I hear you encouraged Talent to leave," the queen accused Wyliss.
"Damn right I did," she said defiantly, shocking Amichen; she couldn't imagine anyone speaking to a queen like that. "If I thought I would be any use, I'd be going with him," Wyliss added.
The queen smiled a little. "George said you should have been a knight."
"I probably would have, if I had been born here."
"Where are you from?" Amichen asked.
"Erenrue."
That explained a lot. If Shi-Ha could be said to be competitive, then Erenrue was warlike. Few of their women ever fought on the field, but that didn't mean they weren't fierce when it came to a fight. They had a reputation for being as eager for war as the men. Despite the fact that it had been generations since there had been a war between any of the kingdoms, the people of Erenrue had not changed. They seemed ready to pounce on the opportunity, should one arise.
As soon as the carriage pulled to a stop in front of the castle steps, a servant came running down. "Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"
Alarmed, the queen started up from her seat. "What?" she asked, peering through the carriage window.
"Prince Naissus is awake! And he knows where he is!"
The queen threw open the door of the carriage and flew out; it hardly seemed that she touched any of the steps. She ran across the front landing—her skirt pulled up in her hands and all dignity abandoned as she raced to her injured son.
Amichen started to get out of the carriage, meaning to go see Naissus, too, but when she stepped down, she stumbled as her knees suddenly turned to water. She would have fallen but for the footman who was quick to catch her by the arm.
"Careful of the step there, Your Highness," he said cheerfully, perhaps thinking that she had just stubbed her toe. But instead of steadying herself, she sank down until—to his great surprise—she was sitting on the bottom stair, still holding onto his arm.
"Your Highness, are you not well?" he asked, growing more concerned.
"I don't suppose so," she said. She knew she was tired and sore, but she hadn't realized she had used up what little energy reserves she had managed to build up over the previous day.
Wyliss hopped out of the carriage and sat beside her, holding her hand. "Go find one of the men," she instructed the footman. "They should be right behind us."
The footman ran off to meet the knights, who were riding in a little behind the carriages of women.
"I'm sorry," Amichen said.
"Don't you dare apologize," Wyliss said firmly. "This has been a very trying day and I'm already tired. But you're not even close to well yet."
"I guess I shouldn't have gone, but I thought I was feeling better, and . . . they were my friends and I know if our fortunes had been reversed, they would have gone for me."
"Of course. They were all exceptional boys. Which just means you must be exceptional, too," Wyliss said with a smile.
Amichen shook her head. "I am anything but exceptional."
"Amichen, you saved Naissus' life when you were half-dead yourself. That's pretty exceptional in my book."
"I didn't do anything, really. I just put bandages on him—but he had almost stopped bleeding on his own anyway. I tried to lie close to him, to keep him warm, but I don't know that I did a lot of good. And I kept him hidden, afraid the bandits would come back, but they didn't, so that didn't do any good, either. In fact, I hid us so well, the search party missed us. I had to wave them down."
"That sounds like a lot to me," Wyliss argued, "especially when you were hurt."
Amichen shook her head. "It wasn't much . . . not as much as he needed."
"You provided as much as you could. And, for all we know, that's what saved his life. Had he bled out a little more, he might not have survived. Or without you to keep the chill off of him, he might not have survived. Or maybe he survived just because he felt someone near who cared about him. We may not know exactly in what way you helped him, but I am certain that he's here and alive because of you."
Amichen's immediate thought was if it weren't for her, Naissus would have never left home and gotten hurt in the first place. But she didn't say so; she didn't want to Wyliss to think she was argumentative.
A moment later, the king strode up. "What's wrong?"
"Amichen is not feeling well at all," Wyliss replied for her. "She walked too much today and I think she's relapsed."
The king pulled off his helmet and handed it to a startled footman. He began to unbuckle other bits of armor and Wyliss hurriedly stood up to help him, stripping him out of it as well as any squire might do.
When he was down to just his gambeson and pants, he bent down to pick Amichen up.
"Your Majesty, you don't have to do that," she said, horrified. "I'll be fine in a few minutes."
"Of course you will, because in a few minutes, you'll be in bed."
Then, before she could protest further, he picked her up and proceeded to carry her inside.
Amichen's face burned with shame. Her mother would have certainly never been so weak as to need carrying around, and the fact that the king himself was doing it just made it worse.
"I was going to see Naissus," she said, as the king carried her upstairs.
"You can see him after you've rested a bit and had something to eat," he insisted. "He'll still be here then."
"But he's awake now."
The king's step faltered. "Is he?"
"Yes. Someone came out and told the queen that he was awake and apparently he's regained his senses; he knows where he is."
The king suddenly began to move faster. "I didn't know that."
"That's why I want to go see him."
But he shook his head. "Rest a little first."
He carried her all the way to her room and laid her on the bed. Then he hurried out—no doubt heading for Naissus' room—calling orders to servants as he went.
A few minutes later, a maid brought in a tray of food and wine for Amichen to drink. "Do you need anything else, Your Highness?" the girl asked as she put the tray across Amichen's lap.
Amichen squirmed uncomfortably; it hurt to sit on the bed. "I think I need something for pain," she finally admitted.
The maid curtseyed. "The queen left instructions. I'll have it made up for you."
"Thank you."
By the time the girl returned with a beaker full of medicinal tea, Amichen had finished the plate of food. With everything else that had been going on, she hadn't realized how ravenously hungry she was.
She drank the medicine and scooted down in the bed so she was lying on her back. She intended to just give the medicine a little time to work before she got up to go see Naissus, but exhaustion overtook her and she fell asleep without intending to.