The Lioness

In her eyes shone the terrible light of one who had paid far more than she thought she owed. Together they sat in silence, each beside the man they had loved, brother and husband. For a long while no one came to disturb them, the two women in the wreckage of the forest, one in the ruin of her life.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Tell me,” said the king, Gilthas with his hand on her cheek. “Kerian, my Lioness, tell me.”

She’d dreamed of the wolf again, but she would not tell him. Instead, she covered his hand with her own, and she brought his hand to her lips to gently kiss. He took her in his arms, held her, and when she nestled against him, her head on his shoulder, she smelled the old familiar scent of exotic spices, the fragrance of far Tarsis, of an older time when she was a laughing servant who spied upon her master for the sake of her lover. Now she wore that girl’s clothing, her silk bed gown, her perfumes and her lotions, but she was not that girl. She would never be again.

“Gil, tell me what your mother has learned from Thorbardin.”

He sat up, and he drew her to sit beside him. From the window a chill breeze came wandering. He wrapped her in the sheets when she shivered. “Only hopeful things. In Thorbardin, they may soon be laying plans to create a safe passage out of here if and when we need it. As soon as he returns home, Stanach Hammerfell will speak to the Council of Thanes in our behalf. He doesn’t imagine anyone will gainsay us now.

“The dragon will not hold her patience much longer, and that hasn’t to do with us. It has to do with the politics of her own greed and lust for power.”

She moved to slip under the covers again.

“Kerian.” He brushed her hair from her cheek, breathing the scent of it, the scent of her skin when he kissed her. “Kerian, my own outlaw. You’re soon gone.”

She was. Plans had already been made for her return to the forest. Her force of Night People had been severely damaged in the battle with the Skull Knight and his draconians and Knights. No one imagined that a new Lord Knight would not swiftly be sent to oversee green Beryl’s kingdom. Kerian planned that this one, whoever he might be, would come into the kingdom thinking Eamutt Thagol had died putting down a rebellion that hadn’t the least spark left in it or thinking that he’d left behind a population so cowed by the fighting that they would not, could not, hit a hand to defend themselves.

She smiled, a predatory smile. That was fine with her if the new lord protector thought so. Those in Qualinesti who needed to know otherwise, did know otherwise.

Gilthas sighed. “You’re soon gone,” he said. “I know. Before you go, I will do what I am certain no king in Krynn has had to do as often as I.”

Kerian looked up at him, knowing what he’d say. In the silence before he did, she saw again all the dreamless nights of the year gone past, the hard days without him, the long roads away from him. She saw loneliness, and still, she did not know how she could answer him as he wished.

“Kerian,” he said, “you have risked your life to fight the enemy of my embattled kingdom. My love, my Lioness of Qualinesti, I ask you again: Be my wife, be the queen my people need. We can wed in secrecy but go on as before for now. Kerian, you have loved me, you have fought in my cause, you have—in the name of all gods, woman, why will you not marry me?”

“In the name of all gods,” she said, “how can I? How can I risk what would be said, how this marriage would be used against you? Gil, you don’t know what you’re asking.”

His eyes narrowed; she saw a sudden flash of royal impatience. He took her by the shoulders, gently, and he turned her to face him. He leaned close, kissed her, and held her a little away again.

“I know what I’m asking. I’m asking you to marry me. I’m asking you to trust the future. I have asked you to be my outlaw, now I ask you to be my queen.”

Trust the future. Who could ask her to do a harder thing? Yet, what else had she been doing all this year past?

“Today I have to leave,” she said. “I am taking Stanach to the border. Your mother will have an escort for him from there.” She smiled grimly. “He’d rather trudge through the Stonelands than use the emerald’s magic again, but we can wait a bit. Meet me at Gilean’s Oak at day’s end.”

She said only that, and the king took her into his arms again.

In the evening of the day, with the sky purpling and the light dimming, the last of the year’s fireflies danced in the gloom beneath the oaks, four people gathered: a king, his lover, the queen mother, and a dwarf far from home. This should have been a marriage of golden splendor, of feasts the month before, feasts all the month after. There should have been balls and wine pouring from fountains. There should have been masques, visitations from every lord and lady in the land, felicitations from each member of the Thalas-Enthia.