"Preening," Sefton said. "Lucy, the stonemason's daughter, won't even look my way these days, and we were neighbors as children."
"Patience," Finnikin said. "And it's not haughtiness or preening. They have suffered greatly, and if any of you hurt them in any way, you will have me to reckon with."
"I have no idea what Lady Celie's problem is," Lucian muttered. "We used to play together as children, and the other day I heard her refer to me with disdain as 'the Mont cousin.'"
Finnikin stared at him. "Lucian, you sat on her head when we were children. And wouldn't move until Balthazar counted to one hundred."
Lucian shrugged arrogantly. "A Mont girl would never carry such a grudge." He took in Finnikin's appearance, his dark eyes growing serious. "Wish our boy luck, lads," he said. "When the
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time is right, I will stand by your side to display her kin's support and approval. It's the Mont way, Cousin."
Finnikin clasped Lucian's hand tightly. Then he turned to make his way to the queen. As he pushed past the crowds of people, he heard Balthazar's chuckles and Isaboe's giggles and Lucian's snorts. He felt the love of his mother, who had died giving life to him, and took heart in the strength his father had shown during his darkest moments in the mines of Sorel. He heard the voices that had drowned his mind as he entered the kingdom, and within all the cries of anguish, he heard the songs of hope. He sensed the first babe of Beatriss and Trevanion and the presence of Vestie, the child who had walked with the queen and whose arm bore the answer to the question, "Is hope coming?" His name.
When he reached the circle of guards, Perri gestured for him to enter, but then grabbed him by the back of his cloak.
"I must confess that I dropped you on your head once or twice as a babe," Perri said, "and if you walk out of the palace grounds tonight without a title, I'll do it again."
Finnikin shrugged free. "My father will hear about this."
Perri chuckled and swiped him affectionately across the back of the head before propelling him toward the platform.
She saw him instantly, surprise on her face at his appearance. They faced each other in silence.
"My queen."
"Finnikin."
Aldron stood between them, his expression impassive. Lady Celie and the novices looked on solemnly. The crowd behind pushed forward, and he found himself shoulder to shoulder with the young guard.
"I can take over from here, Aldron," Finnikin said.
"Not your decision, Finnikin," Aldron said arrogantly. "Nor is it the queen's. I take my orders from Trevanion or Perri."
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Isaboe stared at Finnikin, waiting. But the smirking Aldron stood in the way, and anger welled up inside of Finnikin. Everything he wanted to say was stuck at the back of his throat. "If I agree to become king," he began, "you ..."
She gasped with fury. "If you become king, I would prefer that you see it as something you want, rather than something you have to agree to."
He took a moment to regain his composure. He heard the hiss of whispering around him. "Finnikin of the Rock is speaking to the queen."
"If I become king," he began again, "will you promise me no more impromptu visits throughout the kingdom until the borders are secure?"
"If you become king, perhaps I will invite you along on one of my impromptu visits," she said airily, turning toward the novices, who looked at him as only novices trained by Tesadora could.
He shoved past Aldron and took hold of her arm to swing her back to face him. The music had begun to play again, and he could hardly hear himself. "Your security is not a laughing matter, Isaboe!"
"Do you see me laughing, Finnikin?"
Aldron yanked him away and the circle of girls closed around her, but he pushed through as gently as he could. "Excuse me," he said politely to Lady Celie before moving her aside. "If I become king, do I have to ask your guards and your ladies permission each time I want to touch you in my marriage bed?"
Her eyes blazed. "When you become my king, Finnikin, you can touch me whenever you want. Wherever you want."
He had the satisfaction of watching Aldron gulp. The novices gasped. Lady Celie giggled behind her hand.
He drew as close to Isaboe as he could, but still Aldron refused to move, and he could sense every pair of eyes in the kingdom
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watching them. "If I become king, will you sometimes humor me and allow me to win?"
"Isn't it enough that you have won me if you become king?"
A hint of a smile appeared on his lips.
"If you become king," she said, pushing Aldron's head to the side so she could have a better view of Finnikin, "you will work on the archives without the help of a sweet Mont girl as your scribe."
Finnikin's smile broadened. "If I become king, I will continue my work on the archives with my scribe, who happens to be Lucian's great-aunt, on his mother's side. Lots of hair on her chin. Looks like Trevanion in those days after the mines."
She bit back her own smile as he shoved Aldron's head out of the way for a better view of her. The guard growled. "If I become king, when the prince of Osteria comes visiting, I will be the one to meet with him," he said firmly.
"Pity. I hear he's a strapping boy."
"Strapping boys are overrated. Sometime there's nothing up here," he said, pointing to Aldron's head.
"And sometimes there's too much up there," she replied.
"If I become king, we declare war on Charyn," he said soberly.
"Without involving Belegonia."
He nodded. Suddenly he seemed to have more space. The girls had stepped back, but not Aldron. He reached over the guard's shoulder. "This I like," he said, touching her hair.
"I knew myself better without it," she said honestly. "I miss yours. It made you look softer. Kinder."
"Soft and kind will happen when you get rid of this between us," he said, shoving Aldron, "and allow me to guard you. Do you think you should warn him that I'm going to kiss you?"
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He loved the flush that appeared on her face, and there was an intake of breath from the girls.
"Aldron," she said, clearing her throat, "if he agrees to become king, I'm going to let him kiss me. Please don't stop him."
Aldron thought for a moment and sighed, holding up his hand. "Wait there and do not move," he ordered Finnikin, before calling out to one of the other guards who stood on the platform. "Ask Perri if he's allowed to touch her if he's agreed to be king."
Suddenly a great cheer erupted from the crowd around them, and then another and another as the news spread across the courtyard. The novices formed a circle around Isaboe and Finnikin to keep everyone out, standing with their backs to the couple. For a brief moment they were in their own private cocoon.
"This hand says you spend the rest of your life with me," he said, holding out his left hand, "and this one says I spend the rest of my life with you. Choose."
She bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes. She took both his hands in hers and he shuddered. "I will die protecting you," he said.
There was a look of dismay on her face. "Just like a man of this kingdom, Finnikin. Talking of death, yours or mine, is not a good way to begin a--"
She gave a small gasp when he leaned forward, his lips an inch away from hers. "I will die for you," he whispered.
She cupped his face with her hands. "But promise you'll live for me first, my love. Because nothing we are about to do is going to be easy and I need you by my side."
Lady Celie cleared her throat. "Hurry up and kiss her, Finnikin. The Mont cousin is coming this way with alarming speed."
"Then turn the other way, Lady Celie," Finnikin murmured before placing an arm around the queen's waist and lifting her to him, his mouth capturing hers.
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***
Hours later, when everyone seemed to have gone home except for Trevanion and the Guard, Finnikin and Lucian sat on the roof of one of the palace cottages
with Isaboe sleeping between them. They spoke of the past. And of Balthazar. About the ten years in exile. About their fathers, and the mothers they missed. About the queen.
Finnikin heard a cry in the distance as a hint of light began to appear. He leaned down to whisper into her ear. "Wake up, Isaboe."
He helped her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her, his cloak engulfing them both. They watched the light crawl across the kingdom, illuminating their land piece by piece. Its mountain and rock, its river and flatlands, its forest, its palace. She placed his hand against the beat of her heart and he felt its steady pace.
"Listen," he whispered.
And then they heard the first words of the priest-king's song traveling across the kingdom, and they saw flickers of light appear across the landscape of their world.
"My king?"
"Yes, my queen?"
"Take me home."
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Melina Marchetta, Finnikin of the Rock
(Series: # )
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