BLUEBLOOD SCORIA |

{ i }

Tearfully, Asta had clung to her folded legs, hiccupping and sobbing softly, when her mother had parted the pale curtain that surrounded her small bed.

"Asta," she had called softly. She had stepped forward and taken a seat at the foot of her bed. "Have you had another nightmare?"

She had nodded. She had dreamt of hooded figures with pale white faces crowding her in the center of a cold desert, above her the sky had been a mirror that reflected the blood offered to her. She had woken with a chill and with the distinct metallic scent of blood, spoilt and fresh, drying and clotting. She had opened her eyes and had seen one of the faceless hooded figures hovering above her face. She had screamed, kicking away all the sheets, and had blinked, realizing that it had been her imagination. That had not stilled her heart, ramming like a violent drum in her chest, it had instilled a different kind of fear in her.

Nightmares had frequented her sleep since she had been captured by rebels some time ago. They had not treated her badly. They had apologized to her repeatedly and had tried their best to create a non-frightening environment, but she had been sad that she had not been able to see her mother each day that she had been in captivity. They had promised to take her home as soon as her father had agreed to listen to their requests. Her father had arrived wielding violence and Commander Ivor's soldiers had massacred every person in sight.

The physician had told her they would go away eventually, but enough time had passed since and she had wanted them gone, exhausted with the sleep they had taken from her.

"What did you dream about?"

Asta had shaken her head, sealing her eyes shut to keep the images from seeping back into her mind.

"You don't want to speak about it?"

"No."

Her mother had reached to caress her face. "A woman once told me that dreams are a reflection of the subconscious."

"T-The what?" Asta had hiccupped, her interest piqued.

"Subconscious. It is something that is rooted inside you," her mother had said, moving her fingers to the center of her forehead, "that can influence your actions. It is something that is present, but at the same time not."

"What does that have to do with my dreams?"

"You have worries and experiences and frights and knowledge embedded deep inside your mind that you may not be aware of," her mother had continued, dropping her hand back into her lap. "That woman had described it as a small voice in a crowd of shouting people. Nobody hears it speak, so it remains unknown. Your dreams are that tiny whisper trying to tell you something."

"Tell me something? But they're scary dreams, mom." Asta had scrunched up her blankets tightly. "Scary dreams are just scary! There's no little voice!"

Her mother had smiled. "Maybe you'll change your mind if you meet her."

"Who?"

"Maeve."

Asta opened her eyes and rose onto her elbows before her mother's white outline faded into the darkness. She sat up and rubbed her face, blinking sleepily until the odd tingling abandoned her flesh.

Once the chill set in, Asta left her bed and ventured out. The Olander siblings were off sleeping, but Sigge, the Bear, as he was nicknamed, stood guard at her door. The auburn haired man stood upright upon hearing her and bowed deeply. Even bent in half, the man was huge, broad, and bulging with muscles. His face was kind and his personality complimentary, though it did not suit his powerful body one bit.

Like the Olander siblings, Asta had grown up alongside Sigge.

"Is there something you need, princess?" asked Sigge.

"I wanted some air," she answered. "Have you been here long?"

"No, princess, my shift started half an hour ago."

"Would you like to walk with me?"

He bowed his head. "It would be my pleasure, but you should probably find yourself a coat. It is cold."

Asta returned to her room for one of the woolen coats and tugged it on as she shut the door behind her. She and Sigge walked towards the eastern tower where they made a turn into the arched balcony that wrapped around the wing. Soldiers from the Kou Empire patrolled the area, moving in and out of sight every ten-minute interval. Sigge insisted immediately to find her a seat and left her under the watchful eye of a soldier.

Asta stood leaning up against the balustrade, meditating with the sound of the wind and the eerie rustling of trees. She feared the midnight sounds because her overactive mind conjured haunting images. She focused the beat of her heart with each deep breath she exhaled and opened her eyes to the stretch of darkness that fell across the Hult's forest.

"Asta."

Her muscles locked. Sigge's voice was much lower and he would never call her name without attaching the appropriate title. Kouen was the only one that would call her name, but his voice was deeper, richer. The voice behind her was familiar. She heard her name roll off that man's tongue as if it were sweet poison and endured the sting of his words for years.

She heard the quiet pad of booted feet as they fell in line beside her. The powerful scent of blood reached her, dulling the crisp smells of nature.

"I hated the name Asta. I wanted to name you Skadi, but your mother insisted you bear the name of the capital. I always thought Astoria was a stupid name. So, I could deal with Asta, but I hated it regardless." A pause and a sigh. "Say what you will, but I loved your mother."

Paralyzed by the fear of realizing that she inherited her mother's affliction, Asta repeated to herself that it was only her imagination and that her father had not risen from death to speak to her on the balcony. However, a cold hand wrapped around her shoulder and his frozen breath pressed against her ear.

"This isn't your imagination, my child," he whispered darkly. "I'm right here."

Asta's eyes snapped opened and she recoiled. The shadow that stood beside her that had taken her father's shape disappeared in fragments before her eyes. She blinked, tears springing into her eyes, and released the breath lodged in her throat, watching the heat kick up a white cloud. A shudder weakened her knees and her fearful heart hammered. She sank to the floor, holding onto the balustrade, and cried silently.

"Princess?" Sigge set down a cushioned bench and got down on one knee, his huge body cast a shadow across her smaller form. "What happened?"

Asta gave him her hand and felt his warm fingers wrap around it, pulling her back onto her feet gently. She looked up at the kind giant and whispered, "It was only a fright."

"The night can be a frightening beast, but you're not alone."

Sigge rummaged through his pockets after she released his hand and offered her his handkerchief. Asta thanked him and patted her cheeks dry, apologizing to him when she returned it to him. Sigge pushed the cushioned bench closer to the railing and she sat beside the guard in silence, finding his presence comforting.

It was enough to convince herself that she had imagined her father's appearance, but the odd feeling in the pit of her stomach tightened into a stone. She couldn't let it go, but other thoughts found their way inside her head. The meeting with the Ionian House would be happening soon. She wanted to believe that she was doing the right thing by agreeing to stay at her husband's side, but she no longer knew what that was.

Would standing beside her husband be a display of subjugation? Would that mean she waved her white flag? Or would the people understand her actions?

During these times, she wondered what her aunt would do in her situation? What about Io, the ferocious Warrior Queen that conquered Ione? Would she need to become the face of a rebellion to undo her father's wrong? Or could she convince the people that the Kou Empire meant no harm? Would they believe that when she herself was unsure about their nation? The Kou Empire's reputation for swallowing up countries it conquered came to mind persistently and she felt inclined to protect her people, but she did not know how to do so.

Sigge did not interrupt the chaos in her mind until dawn broke. Darkness transitioned to light. The sun rose from beyond the Hult forest and dispelled the shadows. Birds chirped their morning song. Guards swapped positions on the dot.

Asta stood, suspecting that Bo and her attendants would be at her door at any moment, and turned to Sigge, gratefully. "Thank you for accompanying me."

Sigge inclined his head. "It was an honor."

He walked her back to her bedchamber. She thanked him once more outside of her door and entered her room. She wandered curiously towards the entrance to Kouen's solar, but stopped herself from knocking. She had about a thousand questions pending, but did not feel it was right to disturb his sleep.

She crawled into bed as the cold sank into her skin. She hoisted the coverlet over her head and shut her eyes tight. Not again, she told herself, not again. The same feeling that overwhelmed her outside in the balcony started to seep underneath her flesh and she feared her father's voice would manifest above her to taunt her, but the door to her bedchamber opened instead, startling her.

Something sprang onto her back and she yelped turning and scrambling towards the end of the bed. She heard a low meow that filled her with relief. She pushed the blankets off her head and looked at Joa. The large tabby yawned, its big brown eyes staring sleepily at her.

She imagined it all. She told herself and slept.

{ ii }

Asta noticed an increase in guard presence around her. That sort of development was not wrong during times of dissent where protecting the royal family was of monumental importance. Ione, however, presently sat under the peaceful guise of harmony. There weren't any upheavals since the Kou Empire's aid circulated the kingdom, though that was not to say that they had not simply been pushed underneath the surface of their equanimity. Perhaps, her stubborn form of belief negated all the signs of which everyone else was aware. Maybe she trusted too easily, as she was so often accused, and thought too naively to see beyond the feigned temperament of the people.

What if they were furious about her compliance? Did they want her to steal the throne from her father in his absence? Was that what the denizens of Ione expected of her defiance? What did they hope she accomplished from her current situation? Did they understand the fact that her marriage was quite the permanent arrangement?

Critical thought had not abandoned her after waking. In fact, she was certain it had pursued her with persistence through dreams on lights that filled the night sky to the shattering earth that swallowed everything into its core. She developed a little self-loathing for being a weak and incompetent princess by the time the sun began to set.

The servants went around lighting the castle, beginning their evening chores. The cooks downstairs worked fervently to prepare supper, which she eventually took in her lonesome company with seven guards standing outside her door, five more than the usually modest number.

As the day slowly ended, surrounded by her attendants as they prepared her for bed, Asta received an unexpected visit.

Bengt entered her bedchamber, a sour look upon his wrinkled face. She did not fail to notice the absence of his journal, which he never left behind, and that his writing hand was wrapped in gauze.

Bo moved up behind her, draping a coat over her shoulders.

"Good evening, princess." Bengt bowed, reluctant but respectfully. "The prince requests an audience with you. He is waiting in your mother's library. Come, I will escort you."

"There is no need," said Bo. "Guard Carina will accompany her. I am certain you have more important matters pending."

Bengt's nostrils flared. "I do not," he said. "It was his majesty's request that I bring the princess to him."

Strangely, Bo approached Bengt, who stepped back cautiously. She leaned forward and whispered lowly, words that reached only his ears while Asta watched on confused by his wide-eyed reaction.

Bo turned to her. "Go on, princess, you cannot keep your husband waiting."

Asta slid her arms through her coat and tugged it over her shift.

Bengt waited for her outside and walked half a step behind her. She found herself staring at his bandaged hand every time she stole a glance. The chamberlain was audacious. He did not respect her. In fact, he abhorred her and never walked behind her, so she found it suspicious that he appeared to have made the effort to do the respectful thing.

"What happened to your hand?" she asked.

"I cut myself earlier."

"That's unfortunate. I hope it heals quickly."

Bengt left her in front of her mother's library. She entered after knocking, peering in first to find Kouen standing by a bookshelf in the lower level.

"Close the door."

Asta did. She approached him as he read the labels of her mother's collection. Curiously, she ran her hand along the spines of several tomes in the adjacent shelf and looked at him.

"Do you enjoy books?"

"Only if they offer me knowledge."

"Oh." She noticed his mouth tightened in irritation. "My mother was the same."

When he turned, she looked away to the gold lettering sitting on the tips of her fingers. She removed them, feeling a bit shaky as the knots in her stomach began to tighten and the air in her lungs thinned out. They were alone.

"Bengt said you wanted to speak to me," she whispered shakily.

"Our meeting with the Ionian House is tomorrow morning," he reminded her. "You are previously acquainted with the members of the Ionian House, right?"

"Yes," she said meekly.

"You will be the bait," he informed, surprising her. "After rules like your father's, people naturally search for a savior—someone that will make it all better. You are the people's savior, Asta. You have time and again rebelled against your father." He met her eyes and the breath left her lungs. "You rallied the Castle Guard to fight for your mother's freedom. Although, it cost many of them their lives, they followed you willingly, and you knelt before your father to spare those that remained. Though they were exiled, they lived because of you. And when you were kidnapped by upstarts, you put your life on the line for them."

Asta lowered her eyes, guilt spreading through her. "I understand my actions led to the death of many."

"Surprisingly, your actions inspired your people. Stupid as they were, you showed them that you were willing to fight for them against the man they perceived a tyrant. People love you because they believe you are the fearless hero they have been waiting for since Hákon revealed his intentions and that your path is the road to the utopia they dream of having. You are kind, compassionate, and ebullient. People speak of your generosity and gentleness. The servants and the guards admire your honesty."

Did he compliment her? Her cheeks warmed.

"However, the people are not aware that your actions have been mostly driven by your naïve and impetuous nature, but the Ionian House is. As such, you are an easy target for people's ill-intent."

Asta deflated.

"You were also your father's weakness."

"You are mistaken," she said, shaking her head. "He did not care for me. I was as much a prisoner in this castle as my mother."

"Hákon gave this kingdom to the Kou Empire because we guaranteed your protection."

She resisted against the wave of emotion taking hold of her. She shook her head. "He hated me. He could pretend and deny it all he wanted, but he hated me. He's mocked my ambitions and grown bored of my company. I was never enough for him. I was not the son he wanted. I'm a woman and that was wrong. But what about him? He singlehandedly drove my kingdom into the ground. Thousands of people died during the famine. He drafted everyone into the army. My mother went insane in the eastern tower. The people have had every right to rebel against him."

"He kept you within the reach of the castle to ensure your safety. He built an army so vast and powerful to attract the attention of a nation capable of protecting you in his absence." Kouen took a single step towards her. "His methods were extreme, but his intention was clear. You could say he painted himself a tyrant, so people would look upon you and see their only hope. Coincidentally, that would protect you from me."

Asta teared up as she stared into her husband's face.

"Do you think your people would stand idly if they heard I mistreated you?"

She let out a sob and covered her mouth. She refused to believe any of it.

"I can't say I understand your father's reasons completely, but I do know that he secured your future," Kouen continued. "You may never be queen of Ione, but in the unified world, you will be empress."

She wiped at her eyes. She disagreed. She knew her father and he loved power. He sold her to the Kou Empire because that meant becoming a part of a bigger power. He used her to his benefit when he could if that meant striking fear into his subjects. He killed Johan. He killed her mother. He did it to hurt her.

"Ionian nobility is a point in politics that needs to be resolved," said Kouen, stepping away from her. "The probability that Hákon's death will give them reason to rebel is high. I need you to weed out the rebels from within the House. We keep who we need and dispose who we don't."

"Dispose?"

"If an individual is determined to fight against a new order without providing benefit, they won't be necessary."

Asta lowered her head.

"You should be aware of it now."

"Of what?" she asked, raising her eyes.

"That you cannot save everyone."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Listen and be resolute. Simple enough. Do everything in your power to protect the Ionian House."

"What will you do?"

"Observe."

Asta wrapped her coat tighter around her nervously. "That will be all?"

He nodded.

"Okay."

Kouen's gaze flickered. "Go rest."

Asta walked towards the door, pausing halfway, and looked over her shoulder. "And you?" she asked softly. "It is late and…" Her face flushed at the thought of the words she struggled to speak. "I will…I don't think..."

She wished she possessed a smidgen of Bo's bluntness to get through the conversation.

Kouen's expression soured. "You're mumbling."

She startled. "I-I'm sorry. It was nothing. Good night."

Asta left quickly in a panic.

Bo waited in her bedchamber for her to arrive. Her caretaker rose to her feet.

"Everything is well I presume?"

Asta smiled. "Yes."

"Into bed then."

"Did you hear about Slimy Bengt's hand?" asked Asta, climbing onto her bed.

Bo helped tuck her in. "An awful accident."

"He won't be writing in that journal of his anytime soon."

Her caretaker laughed. "Indeed."

"He looks miserable," said Asta, pitying him.

"No reason to feel sorry for that cretin."

"Cretin?"

"Well, I am certain he did not come across the nickname Slimy Bengt for being a ray of sunshine."

Asta giggled. "He didn't."

Bo pulled the coverlet over Asta and patted it. "Good night, princess."

She closed her eyes and dreamt of Kouen. Perhaps it had been a subconscious thing as her mother had often said when describing the nature of her nightmares. She saw him in darkness with the sun in his hands. Its light cast hard shadows across his face, but his expression was soft.

Asta woke with his name on her lips and the feeling that something about him would change.

The curtains parted and a rod of soft light fell across her feet. She looked up to Kouen's face. Her heart seized up.

"You called me?" he asked.

"It was a dream," she whispered. "I had a dream."

"A dream?"

She hoped the warm light from the fireplace hid her reddened cheeks. She realized belatedly that she admitted to a dream that involved him and panicked at the thought of it being misconstrued into something inappropriate. "Yes. I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

He released his hold on the canopy's curtains and she sank back into the darkness. She couldn't bring herself to ask him to sleep with her knowing that it might mean doing more. She reminded herself that she was his wife and that it was her duty, but she also recognized his kindness in allowing her to get away without doing her wifely duties. He didn't seem to mind, but a part of her was starting to. Not because of the threat of concubines, which was Bo's main concern, but because she wanted the marriage to work. She needed it to stay intact. He could be the only hope she had to ensure the survival of her people.

Honestly, she worried about the concubines as well…a little more each day. She figured she could live with them because it was a part of his culture, which she wanted to respect, but her overactive imagination led her down a dark road. If she failed at her position as his wife, would he not divorce her and replace her with a concubine? She didn't know whether he could do so or not, but the thought haunted her for several disconcerting hours. She tried not to worry. Her feelings wouldn't be hurt by the presence of other women because she wasn't in love with him. Loving him was an odd thought. She couldn't imagine loving another man. Johan was lodged in her heart. In her better dreams, she saw her world with him at her side, but reality reminded her quickly that she was married to another.

Kouen and his empire made the difference in her kingdom. If she let it all slip through her fingers, if an ambitious concubine replaced her, if she could not provide heirs or a purpose, she wouldn't have the slightest idea what to do. Dealing with Bengt was the last thing she wanted too.

With all her worries circling her head, Asta exhausted herself to sleep.

{ iii }

Asta had not been able to stomach breakfast that morning. She had woken before Bo had arrived to her room; the anxiety had persisted until she had given it her attention. She had dressed in a dreary colored gown, in the Ionian fashion, and her white hair had been braided.

The House's representatives would gather at Io Castle in their Meeting Hall within its western wing. It had been cleaned thoroughly over the course of yesterday. Broken furniture had been replaced, insects had been chased out, and new paintings had been fitted. Servants had been handpicked from the staff to serve them if called, the guards had been chosen to patrol the surrounding area, and the adjacent room had been cleaned out to accommodate each representative's guards.

Food was prepared downstairs for the follow-up lunch that had been scheduled to occur after the meeting concluded.

Asta was nervous upon hearing that several representatives had arrived. Kouen watched her with a hint of exasperation as she paced anxiously around the room. She had found a way to make his simplified request into a web of confusion, a convoluted piece of negativity and self-conscious fright.

She thought about everything that could go wrong and all that would. She had no doubt in her mind that she would say something unnecessary before the meeting concluded.

Bengt courteously knocked at the door and announced that the last Ionian House member arrived. Asta froze in her tracks. Kouen rose from his seat at the table as Bengt excused himself, frowning disapprovingly as he did. Her husband turned his sharp eyes on her and she jumped.

"Sorry."

She walked out first and waited outside for Kouen. They went downstairs to the small crowd of noble leaders waiting on their arrival inside one of the largest sitting rooms in the castle.

Asta entered with Kouen half a step behind her and the aristocrats ended all conversation, turning to them and bowing with respect. She spotted her aunt in a high necked, double-breasted military coat standing with Kay Åkerman, a bearded man with his hair combed back, and Ylva Vång, the wife of Egil, with her sleek cheekbones, small eyes, and thin-lipped smile.

Gry Nyström, from the angler's province, was a tiny, gray woman. She stood alone with expressed disdain. Round Caj Öman, giant Finn Byquist, and elegant Cilla Strand had been laughing when they had entered. Cilla's pale green eyes found her face and lit up. She, Agda Hult, and Rolf Ljung were the first to step forward to greet them.

"Sweet Princess," called Agda genially, touching her shoulders. The older woman was tall and built strong like the trees of her forest province. She wore her brown hair short, a mere two inches long, and her face, though weathered with age appeared younger than a number of her contemporaries. "You look well."

"You have not kept your promise, princess," said Cilla, brushing a loose strand of her jet-black hair off her naked shoulder. "You owe my province a visit." Her pale green eyes went to Kouen, shining with interest. "You are welcomed to come as well, Prince Kouen."

"This is Cilla Strand, leader of the Ionian Guild," Asta introduced, then gestured to the older woman, "and Agda Hult, our neighbor. To her left is Rolf Ljung, he endorses the arts in this country."

Kouen inclined his head in acknowledgment. Slowly, the others approached and Asta introduced them. Questions concerning the summons arose immediately, though Freja was already aware of the news, she appeared to have kept quiet. Asta asked the members of the Ionian House to accompany her to the Meeting Hall. She was under the mistaken impression that the initial greeting would be the hardest. Walking with the others as they whispered behind her, Caj and Agda half-interrogated Kouen unsuccessfully, and Cilla asked one question after the next, probing her, making her more nervous than the early anticipation had. That had been difficult.

Cilla touched Asta's shoulder drawing her attention from her nervous thoughts. "I heard Lady Tjäder dropped in for a visit."

"Do you understand it is rude to speak of someone while they are within the vicinity, Lady Strand?" asked Freja, cutting between them to Cilla's displeasure.

"There is no need to start any fights, Lady Tjäder," said Kay, appearing to her left.

Asta looked onto Kouen helplessly, but he appeared engaged in an exchange with Caj and Agda.

Rolf and Finn laughed boisterously at something Ylva said. Asta had thought it would be odd to ask Ylva why she was standing in for her husband, but felt very curious to do so. Gry remained isolated at the far back, showing no interest in joining any passing conversation.

"No fights, Lord Åkerman," said Freja. "I only hoped that Lady Strand was taught the appropriate manners."

"Worry not, Lady Tjäder, you will find that I was," answered Cilla, grinning. "What purpose did you have to visit? I hope it was without ulterior motive."

"Do I need a true reason?" asked Freja. "The princess is my niece and I worry for her. I wanted to see that she was doing well."

"But for what purpose?"

"Lady Strand, it appears to me that you are determined to frustrate Lady Tjäder," commented Kay.

"She wanted to invite me to hunt," interjected Asta, sensing the tensions between her aunt and Cilla begin to rise. "Commander Werner exaggerated my talent with a bow and she wanted me to show her."

"It was a disappointing hunt," said Freja.

"I do doubt that," said Cilla. "Her majesty is a great shot."

"If she were aiming at trees and mounds of dirt, I would have to agree, but running targets appear to be her downfall," Freja criticized.

"It is nothing a little practice won't solve," said Kay with a gentle smile.

Asta nodded.

The aristocrats filed into the Meeting Hall, a grand room with five tall windows overlooking the tiny rooftops of the capital shielded in part by the ivory walls that surrounded it. Bright sunlight poured into the chamber, illuminating every corner and highlighting the cracks on the wall. A long table sat in the center, carved out of redwood and covered in a violet cloth lined with gold. There were eleven chairs, one at each end, five on each side and eleven silver goblets before each seat. Bottles of expensive wine were strategically placed on the table's surface with bowls of fruits to complement their drinks.

The doors sealed at her back as the Castle Guard left four soldiers to stand protectively at the entrance while the House's bodyguards were escorted into the adjacent room, forbidden entry into the hall. There they would be served as well as nobility while they waited and conversation among them was a point of interest to Kouen, so he had ordered Vilhelm and Sigge to join them as simply members of her guard.

The House members naturally gravitated to specific seats, but did not sit until she and Kouen had taken theirs at the ends.

Asta felt the lump in her throat again as all eyes scanned her face in search of answers. She peered at Kouen, who sat silent and observant—a vision of innate strength. Once the silence settled, everyone turned to him, expecting his words and his powerful voice to carry on a conversation that many felt had been long overdue, but it was hers that spoke up, drawing their attention with a snap.

Though soft and tremulous as her voice was, she appreciated that she managed to gain their attention. "I apologize for the sudden request and I appreciate that you have all come here in response to a matter of urgency."

She stuttered every other word. Her hands shook anxiously.

"My father is dead."

Sound shattered the quiet, voices overlapped and blended into one; questions found their way to her ears in jumbled pieces, exclamations and gasps ran rampant. The common inquiry, however, appeared to ask how and who. She found her voice a moment later and cleared her throat to rein them all in, all eyes returned to her face. Freja's gaze was intent, her reaction had been mimicry of the others' for she had already been aware of the misfortune, but she hid it well.

"He was killed in the battle for Corrin."

Again, she stole a glance of Kouen's expression in an instant of doubt. He observed her and the intensity of his stare left her a little breathless. Her heart beat wildly in her chest like an ensnared creature desperately seeking freedom. Her face remained unmarred by emotion, though it pained her to be reminded that her father would not return to make a difference in their lives. Despite Kouen's argument that her father had committed to his deeds to ensure her safety, Asta didn't acknowledge that as fact, only a mere observation on her husband's part.

Be resolute and determined, she told herself. Protect the Ionian House.

The Ionian House would not pose a threat to the Kou Empire. She promised that and set out to prove their innocence.

"I request that you help me gather as many people in the capital so that I may announce the death of our king," continued Asta, tremulous. The nobles exchanged glances, none too pleased by the idea as most lost all respect for her father when he ridiculed them. She lowered her eyes briefly. "Preparations for his funerary rites are underway and I will offer you more information as it becomes available."

"Do you expect us to honor your father for his misdeeds?" asked Agda. Asta's heart sank to the pit of her stomach, though she expected that sort of question to come up. "Should we glorify his tyranny and call it a good reign?"

"Should we forget what he did to Queen Ingrid?" added Gry. "What he did to us?" Every noble expressed their agreement to her powerful inquiry by either vocalizing it or physicalizing it with a gesture. "What about what he's done to you? To the country?"

"Perhaps, you should not be too quick to criticize what he did with the country with our new owner in the room," said Finn, his thick, muscular arms crossed over his broad chest. The older man eyed Kouen as if expecting a response.

"Oh, what a surprise?" came Cilla's voice, dripping sarcasm. "Lady Hult expresses her hatred towards King Hákon, Lady Nyström shows her support for Queen Ingrid, and Lord Byquist pretends he cares about our new foreign prince."

"You were a wee brat when the king dismantled the House," commented Ylva, her smooth face relaxed. "I do not believe you have a right to an opinion of the sort of comments your elders have to make."

Cilla laughed boisterously. "What say do you have, Lady Ylva? You're not even a member of the House!"

Asta watched the scene unfold helplessly.

Rolf uncorked a bottle of wine and poured himself a drink as he sat back to observe the escalation. His short golden curls fell effortlessly across his forehead, his face was chiseled and beautiful, like the perfection a sculptor strove to create with marble. The servants enjoyed his visits because they found him pleasant to look at. He offered wine to Caj, who sat to his left. He accepted, holding his goblet out to him.

Kay reached up to place his hand atop Cilla to stop her from springing out of her seat while Ylva defended her presence.

"In my husband's absence, I am Lady Vång of the Ionian House," said Ylva, her slender neck and long face made her resemble a white snake. "I have as much right to be here as you. Perhaps, even more so, seeing as you are a child."

"Yes, girl, know that you are only here because your father ran the misfortune of dying," said Caj, downing his drink. "You are much better off doing what you do best."

A number of nobles laughed mockingly and Cilla's elegant face went red.

"How dare any of you question my position?" she snapped, glaring at all that ridiculed her.

"Go back to opening your legs for whatever man or woman will have you," cursed Caj, waving a dismissive hand.

Cilla took her goblet and prepared to launch it across the table directly into Caj's face, but Kay grabbed her wrist and took the gilded cup from her. She demanded that he release her as the others spoke critically about her behavior, worsening her mood.

Asta snapped out of her own trance and saw an opportunity to intervene before they all drowned in hostility. She followed Cilla's example and took her own goblet. She threw it as hard as she could to the wall to her left. It hit hard, the sound reverberated through the room, cutting through the overlapping voices that immediately ceased. The goblet fell to the ground, clattering.

"E-Enough!"

When all eyes returned to her face, she realized her body was trembling. She started to feel nauseous as she addressed the silenced aristocrats.

"I did not call on you to bicker," she said, a little louder, a smidgen stronger. "I summoned you to a conversation—a civil conversation—to inform you of my father's death." To her amazement, she retained their attention. "I did not ask any of you to mourn his passing; I am ordering you all to create a platform for me to speak to the people about this matter because they deserve to know."

The adrenaline kicked in as she saw Cilla return to her seat and Caj set his goblet to the table. Gry, who sat to her right, leaned forward to listen.

"I would like to remind you that what he did to my mother was not an act he did alone," continued Asta, feeling anger welling inside her from the thought. "That was a mistake that you all committed with him."

The overall mood soured. The nobles, acknowledging their own wrongdoings, shrank in their seats in shame.

"This meeting is about Ione and its people," clarified Asta. She looked at Kouen, who appeared to be amused for a reason she could not pinpoint. "It is about the Kou Empire as well."

"Well, what does this mean to the Ionian House?" asked Ylva, collected.

"The Ionian House has automatically reinstated with my father's death," answered Asta.

"Will the kingdom fall into the Kou Empire's hands or pass onto yours?" asked Finn.

Asta opened her mouth to respond, but Kouen beat her to it.

"The Kou Empire will not stand in the way of her ascension," he said calmly. "Preparations for her coronation have already begun. The members of the Ionian House are welcomed to attend the ceremony."

She understood completely what he meant by becoming the bait now.

The mood in the room changed drastically with the news. The nobles rose from their seats and bowed deeply, one hand flat against their chests and the other behind their backs. "As it was destined, Queen Asta."

She stared at the nobles completely awestruck. One by one, the members of the House each swore on their aristocratic titles that they would comply with her earlier request and that all she needed to do was give the date.

Kouen rose from his seat, excusing himself. Asta did the same and pursued him out of the Meeting Hall. She called out to him as she tried to keep up with his strides, but he did not turn around until they were at a distance from everyone.

"A coronation?" she asked, breathless. "You said this country was yours and that I had no say in what became of it."

"Consider it a temporary title," he said. "Once the Byzen Cluster is under the Kou Empire's control and all its islands acclimate to the new government, you will become its retainer, given that you have learned everything necessary to do so."

"Of the entire Byzen Cluster?"

"Yes, but if you are found to be an unsuitable candidate when the time comes, another will be assigned to this location and you will come live with me."

"But—"

"Return to the Ionian House," he told her, interrupting.

"Where are you going?"

"I have other matters of importance. I will rejoin you later in the day."

The claw of anxiety made her stomach sink like a stone in water and she stepped closer to him. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Entertain them, as any able host would."

If their earlier display had been a preview of what she should expect, Asta did not want to return to them. Unconsciously, she pinched the bottom of Kouen's sleeve and stared up at him pleadingly. She didn't have Bo, any attendants, or even one of her guards at her side, she only had him. She wished she had the courage to ask him to stay because she didn't want to be alone in that jungle.

He took her hand briefly. The strong, warm hand that encased hers prompted her to release him. "You did well, Asta."

He complimented her again.

"Next time, don't shake so much," he deadpanned. "You looked like a frightened rabbit."

Asta's hands clenched into small fists, her face quick to redden. "I can't help that!"

"Hm."

Kouen walked away, leaving her to return to the waiting aristocrats. She found them a little more divided than before and quite impatient.

"I apologize for departing in that manner," said Asta, upon reentry. "There was an urgent matter in need of discussion."

"Where has your husband gone?" asked Freja.

"He went to attend to it."

Cilla sashayed to her side and linked their arms together, pressing her soft body so close to hers that she blushed. The coquettish noblewoman pressed her dark violet lips together into a smile.

"I hope he is treating you well, princess," she whispered, tightening her hold on her arm. "I would not like it one bit if he so much as neglected you."

"Yes, yes, she is such a delicate flower that she would wither in an instant if ignored," commented Freja, joining them. Kay followed close behind. "How are you, princess?"

"I am well."

Kay leaned forward, drinking in every contour, blemish, and freckle on her pale face. "You are looking quite beautiful, princess," he said, straightening. "Not to say you weren't before, but I do believe married life suits you."

Asta touched her face unconsciously, flushing. "Please don't tease me, Lord Åkerman."

Kay laughed. "A woman should be told she's beautiful at all opportunities."

"Oh? Where is my compliment?" asked Cilla, playfully biting her lip.

Freja elbowed him. "Enough with the flattery."

Cilla pouted. "You certainly know how to ruin the mood."

Finn joined them, his graying blond hair slicked back. "What guarantee do we have that the king is dead?"

Asta tensed. "You will have to take my word for it until his body arrives from Corrin. If you wish to confirm it for yourself then, I invite you to do—"

"You should be wary, princess," said Agda, who walked from across the room with Caj. "Do not let yourself be manipulated by that new husband of yours. Can you be certain this death is not another ploy of your father's orchestrated by the Kou Empire?"

Kay laughed. "But that sounds so silly."

"In what form?" snapped Agda.

"It's unfounded," said Caj. "Princess Asta will inherit the throne as she was meant to do."

"Well, forgive me for being skeptical, but I do not endorse any alliance that was bridged by Hákon."

"We cannot deny that the Kou Empire has helped Ione," said Asta, reminded that she needed to rid the Ionian House of such thoughts.

"It is also impossible to say that their intentions are good natured," said Freja. "Our country offered the Kou Empire little in the line of benefit. You were likely not the most desirable choice to marry into the imperial family."

She inhaled and exhaled deeply.

"That is no way to speak to your queen, Lady Tjäder," criticized Gry.

"She is my niece and I worry for her."

"Her station is far above yours and you should learn to respect that."

Freja grimaced. "You should learn to stay out of this."

"Please," Kay said, hands up in a calming gesture. "We should be getting along, not bickering. The princess, after all, invited us here for quite the treat."

"Right, so when is lunch?" asked Caj.

"We have more important matters to discuss than lunch," argued Agda. "For one, what will happen to the Ionian House? Will you dissolve it? Where is your loyalty? With Ione or with the Kou Empire? Why have you been chosen to be queen when the Kou Empire is notorious for swallowing up their conquests?"

"You will have your answers at a later date," she said, hoping her response would keep them at bay. "Until then, I ask for your patience."

It did, surprisingly.

Following a rather peaceful dissolution to their meeting, the Ionian nobles agreed on a day's hunt at Agda's suggestion. Everyone participated for the most part with the exception of Caj, who hated horse riding, Rolf Ljung, who disliked the wielding of weapons against animals, and Ylva, who was not versed in the craft and uninterested in learning it. Together with an individual guard each, they made up a group of ten, but split up after Cilla proposed a contest that pitted nobles against guards in which the group with the more successful hunt emerged victorious.

Asta followed tracks with Gry, who observed her mostly. She spoke very little, but was kind to her in a way that made her feel as though she were a delicate flower in need of nurturing.

Kay and Freja were naturals when it came to catching small game. Agda knew the forest so well that she understood where to find certain animals without the need of tracking any. Finn stayed close to Agda, but remained mindful of everyone. Cilla met up with Asta and Gry during several occasions, remaining with them until their hunt concluded at sundown. The contest resulted in the guards' victory when they returned with one of the wild boar that plagued the tranquil province.

Kouen rejoined them as many were departing. Asta invited them to stay overnight and leave the castle after a night's rest replenished their energy, though only a few accepted her offer. Kay, Agda, and Freja lived in the surrounding provinces and they did not mind returning to their homes later in the evening, but Finn decided to leave early to ensure he arrived home before nightfall made it difficult to travel. Asta asked the castle's servants to prepare the guest rooms in the western wing for them and joined them for dinner inside a smaller dining room with her husband at her side.

Kouen did not separate from her since he joined them. She found it odd that she did not mind his presence or semi-polite conversation. He did find a way to call her an idiot once, though it was better to say he alluded to it. She noticed belatedly that they were being watched keenly by the Ionian nobles, analyzing in depth with their hawkish eyes and racing thoughts. By then, she made sense of her husband's surprising attentiveness, though it was a small effort, as he acted no different from any other time.

Except there was one particular detail that differed from what she considered ordinary behavior—he made it obvious that he would sleep at her side. At the surprising development, Bo turned to Asta with a secret smile, likely praising her for whatever effort she conjured up in her mind that could have convinced her husband to sleep with her.

Kouen dismissed their attendants. Asta latched onto Bo and pleaded with her to stay in a long, unintelligible whisper. Bo demanded that she behave while snatching her arm from hers and bowed deeply to them both, bidding them a good night.

Asta met his eyes accidentally and lowered her gaze. She walked to the table in the center of the room where her attendants had left her shift draped over an armchair.

"Do you mind?" he asked as he removed his sword and belt.

She jumped with the sound of his voice. "Mind?"

"My presence."

"No, no I—"

Kouen stepped in front of her and she walked backward into the armchair.

"Do I offend you?" he asked, deadly serious.

"No," she answered, her voice a little loud.

"Why is it that you always seem eager to run away?"

"I don't!" she defended, nervously. His expression was unchanged. "I'm sorry."

"Do you not trust me?" he demanded, sounding annoyed.

She shrunk. The urge to run increased.

"It isn't that!"

He was right before. She did want to run from him. However, it was not for the reasons he believed. She found him a little intimidating. She felt small in his presence and quite insecure as a result. She felt bombarded by her lingering feelings for Johan, her desire to make her marriage a working partnership, the expectation for her to become a good wife, her father's death, and the Ionian House. She experienced more pressure than she could handle.

"Then what is it?" he snapped.

Asta's blue eyes welled with tears. "You're too scary!"

He stared at her blankly. "I will leave you."

"Why?"

He took a step away from her and she worried about what that meant for her people.

"If you are frightened of me, there is no point in me being here," he said, taking his sword from the foot of the bed.

"I'm sorry!" Bo would hate her if he divorced her over something this silly. Asta blocked his way and grabbed onto his robes. Her heart hammered in her ears, tears rolled down her face. "Don't go. I promise I'll be a good wife. Don't leave me."

He arched an eyebrow. "What?"

"I'll be a good wife. I'll be the best wife you'll ever have, so please don't divorce me," she cried, eyes sealed shut.

There was a pause.

"I was leaving the room."

Asta looked at him, feeling a bit foolish. "Oh."

He removed her hands from his clothes and walked past her to the door of his solar. "Good night."

Bo would kill her tomorrow morning for ruining the opportunity. She clenched her hands into tight fists and summoned up her courage as he started to close the door to his solar.

"Kouen!" she called.

He paused.

"Don't."

"I am not divorcing you," he deadpanned.

Her face flared. "Not that."

He leaned against the doorframe. "What is it?"

"Stay here," she blurted. The heat continued to rise to her face. "I thank you for allowing me the space, but I think we should do everything we can to make this work."

She never expected that to work, but surprisingly, it did. Kouen walked up to her once more.

"Do you understand what your invitation means?"

She gulped. "I am your wife and you are my husband. I won't fight you—"

"I won't bed you if you are even a little unwilling," he interrupted. "You can refuse me and I can refuse you. There are no laws demanding I take you for the validity of this marriage."

She nodded. His proclamation relaxed her.

With her understanding, Kouen returned to undressing and he changed into something comfortable to sleep in.

Asta, though embarrassed to be seen naked again, quietly tugged off her dress and threw it along with her corset onto the armchair before pulling her shift on over her head. She glanced off the side of her shoulder and found Kouen tying the sash around his plain robe.

"Are you finished?" he asked, catching her staring.

She walked to his side, her eyes fixed on the sword he carried with him everywhere. She touched it briefly, her fingertips brushing the black scabbard. "You never take your sword off, not even in the castle," she said, "Are you wary of an arrack on your life?"

"It is important to me."

"Oh."

"Did you expect any other reason?"

"No, I was only curious," she admitted. "You wander the castle with armor and a sword. It was a little odd. Only the Castle Guard holds weapons. Well, my father did on occasion, but he only did so to flaunt his power." She stole a glance at his face and worried that she was rambling. "I, uhm, sorry…I don't mean to bore you with talks of my father. You don't have to listen to me."

She climbed onto the bed and sat on the edge.

"How did you find the Ionian House?"

She stared at the rug on the floor. "I want more time to form an opinion."

"Did something about them appear different to you?"

"No, not exactly," she said quickly. "They bicker every time they come together. The last time had been our…it was our…it was during our proxy marriage. Cilla, I mean, Lady Strand threatened to kill Caj, uhm, Lord Öman. Lady Hult spent the entire night arguing with my father. She hated him." She paused, bringing her hands together. "They are curious about you. Actually, about ninety percent of the conversation was about yourself and the Kou Empire."

He said nothing in response. He placed his sword atop the center table with another piece of his armor. The rest of his clothes he left with hers, draped on the same armchair. He joined her in bed shortly and they exchanged looks.

Asta could think of a million ways to divert his attention elsewhere, but she read the atmosphere and though nervous as she was, she was willing because he made an effort with her. It was becoming apparent that he was doing more than she initially gave him credit.

Be dutiful.

Those words came to mind as she scooted closer to him. Perhaps, she was taking on everything in an incorrect manner, but she had no guidance to help her all the time. She would have to make her mistakes.

"Are you certain?"

Asta nodded. Her face was red. "My bruises still hurt, so could you please…not so…"

"I understand."

He reached over, his large hand on her sore thigh, and pulled her swiftly onto his lap. Nervous butterflies fluttered in her stomach and her ears heated. She admitted, to herself, that it scared her a little to do it again because their first experience had not been the greatest and she swore she would not try it again. However, it bothered her to think she could do nothing for her country when she had been married to him. That already meant she had done something, but whining about it solved nothing. She felt weak and unimportant. She decided to trust him. She accepted him. If she could see through to his true intentions, perhaps, she could do something. She would not be able to do this if she allowed their marriage to fail. He would never open up to her completely if he did not recognize her as a person that he could speak to because she wanted to be that person.

She had to think about the Kou Empire too, even though she knew the Ionian Kingdom longer.

Admittedly, she did not think her actions were quite as relevant. She was a child masquerading as an adult in a game full of dangerous players. Her naivety would be her undoing. Her trusting nature would lead to her death. Maybe she was going about it the wrong way.

Asta rose on her knees as he stripped her naked. A little shudder went through her as the cold air hit her back.

If she was honest, she was curious, too. Brita assured her it would get better. Everyone that had offered her their opinion on the matter boasted on how wonderful a thing intercourse was because it felt better than the most exhilarating thing she had ever done. She was skeptical, but curious.

Asta anticipated it would be pleasurable when she found herself at the mercy of his touch. Her body melted against his, her face pressed against his neck. She heaved and moaned, her chest rising and falling in the same rhythm as his fingers thrusting inside her. Her entire body trembled, twitched every time he pressed in deep. It felt strange, but it was a good strange. It was pleasant. As her back arched and another feeling overcame her, he slowed his movements, drawing out the pleasure that left her limp against his body.

She sat up on his lap, pale hair clinging to her face, and felt him hard underneath her. Her body was flushed pink and it grew a darker shade as she watched him undress. As soon as he entered her, the pleasure turned to pain.

She tensed. Tears sprung in her eyes. She felt stuffed and that made it difficult for her to move. She clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder as she breathed noisily, groaning and flinching with every shallow thrust. She told herself not to trust another person that said it would get better because it had not. She forgot that for a moment it had.

Once he switched their positions, pushing her down against the soft pillows, things went quicker, but they did not end without tears. She complained openly. He slowed his pace, but the agonizing burn of their union made it impossible to enjoy either fast or slow. He stopped at one point, removing himself from her. She covered her face, ashamed of her tears and apologized. She took several shuddering breaths before asking if they could continue. He shook his head.

Asta's insides throbbed long after they finished. She sat quietly beside him with her legs drawn up to her chest and her hands flat against the top of her knees, dressed once more in her thin shift. He sat with his back against the headboard, eyes closed. His breathing evened after some time of careful observation. She thought he was asleep.

"You are too tense," he said bluntly.

"It hurts," she complained. "I can't stop being tense."

"You're too small."

"I can't help that either."

He opened his eyes to look at her, unimpressed. It was not as if she could make herself bigger on cue to suit whatever his tastes were and she certainly was not going to stop being tense so long as it hurt.

She frowned and turned away, announcing to him that she would go to sleep. She burrowed under the blankets and closed her eyes. Johan's face flashed in her mind. She folded her legs and clenched her small hands into fists. Her body shook with emotion. She swallowed it down, afraid of crying. She didn't want to ruin things because she felt guilty about sleeping with her husband.

She was not stronger than her guilt. Tears slid down the side of her face. She cried silently for several minutes. She thought about her relationship with Johan again from start to finish. He had been so important to her. He had been the world. Her heart ached for him. She still felt butterflies in her stomach at the thought of his kiss.

Had she been so naïve?

Exhaustion pulled her under into a dark dream world filled with ashen figures whirling in circles through the corridors of her castle. As they spun, specks of their flakey skin fell and filled the corridors with white ashes. She touched them and they fell apart. With white bone dust left in her wake, she moved until the long corridor reached its end. A monstrous throne of skulls sat between obsidian carvings of horned men. A figure in white sat atop the throne and upon meeting her eyes, her blood ran cold. There was an unnatural light to its electric blue gaze. It rose from its seat and walked to her shedding ashes that sparked and crackled as they fluttered to the floor. The sound of heeled boots walking along hard ground bounced off the stone walls.

The figure stopped before her and from its head took the ivory crown, a circlet of tangled vines and frozen flowers. As it presented it to her, darkness crept at her back, engulfing them in its cold embrace.

She reached for the crown and it dissolved in her hands.

"Asta."

Asta woke up that morning before Bo arrived. Kouen was getting dressed when she sat up. He looked in her direction briefly.

"My father is here," she said absently.

Kouen returned his attention to her when a knock at their door filled the room.

"Come in," he beckoned.

Bengt entered after bowing lowly. Asta frowned and hoisted the blankets up over her chest the instant their eyes met. Joa padded into the room with a low meow and jumped onto the bed with her. The large tabby made himself comfortable beside her. She ran a hand across his soft fur. He was cold, which meant he slept outside.

"Excuse the disturbance," said Bengt politely. "I received word that the king's body arrived at port. He is being transported to the castle as we speak."

Asta felt Kouen's eyes on her as she pet Joa, who purred delightedly. A part of her was not ready to face her father's corpse, another part wanted to get it over with so the next chapter of her life could start.

"Princess Asta," called Bengt. "Preparations for his funerary rites will be finalized tomorrow morning." He produced a small journal from his robes and opened it up to a bookmark he placed between pages. "Once you decided upon a date, please inform me."

"A date?" asked Asta.

"For the king's send off." He snapped his book shut. "Also, I need a date for your outing."

"My outing?"

"To central Astoria. To tell the people. We need to inform them so that they may gather."

She nodded. "Thank you, Chamberlain Bengt."

"Anything, princess."

Inside, she felt a bit empty, but her mind was crowded.

BLUEBLOOD SCORIA | END