The Shadow Queen. Bertrice Small
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confuse me, my lord,” Narda said. “But I love you nonetheless. Very well. We will wait to see what happens. But we must leave tomorrow for the castle if we are to be there in time for my brother’s Farewell.” Her blue eyes filled with tears. “We were not close,” she said with a sigh. “But he was my blood, and always kind to me, and to our children. Poor Mother! She will be heartbroken. I suppose Aselma knows by now.”
Aselma and her husband, Armen, had been eating their evening meal when Taj appeared in their hall. They blinked in surprise, but then Aselma waved her nephew forward inviting him to join them. “It’s roast boar, Nephew,” she said. “It has been marinated in apple cider and clove.” Aselma was a plump woman who had always had a penchant for good food. Younger than Narda, but older than her brother, she had rosy cheeks, a head of blond hair that time seemed not to have faded and the same bright blue eyes as her siblings.
“I thank you for your hospitality, Aunt,” the boy said, “but I am the bearer of sad tidings.”
Like her elder sister had, Aselma cried out, “Mother!” as her hand flew to her plump bosom.
“Nay, it is my father, Aunt. He was killed this morning when the main spar from Captain Corrado’s ship broke as it was being set into place. The Farewell Ceremony is in three days’ time.”
“You are the Dominus,” Aselma said quickly.
“I am,” Taj responded.
“You are too young,” she said.
“But I am Dominus,” Taj repeated. Then he bowed to her, saying, “You are invited to the castle with your family to pay your respects to my father. Now I will leave you. Mother!” And he was gone.
“You must be regent!” Aselma said to Armen.
“If it will please you, my love,” her husband replied.
“We must leave tomorrow for the castle,” Aselma said as she cut herself another slice of the roast boar and began to eat it. “Narda will certainly be trying to get there ahead of us, and Tostig is too mild a man to be regent.”
“There may already be a regent chosen,” Armen murmured to his wife.
“Nonsense!” Aselma declared. “Magnus was young. He would have hardly expected to die in an accident. It is unlikely he had made any arrangements at all.”
“What of the Domina?” Armen asked.
“What about her?” Aselma said. “She was his wife, nothing more. And she is faerie to boot. I thank the heavens that of the three children she bore my brother two have no magic in them at all. Zagiri is a lovely girl, and Taj as sensible a Terahn as any despite his foreign blood.”
“And Marzina?” Armen said with a wicked smile.
Aselma shuddered delicately considering her large frame. “Do not mention that brat to me, husband. She is a wicked creature if there ever was one. Look what she did to my cat. It was terrible!”
He laughed. “It was partly your fault, my love. You said in her presence that you wished you could keep Fluffy forever, for you loved her so. But you did want to keep her from birding in your garden, for the birdsong delighted you, as well. Marzina was but attempting to please you.”
“She turned my cat to stone as it sat among the roses, Armen!” Aselma said, outraged. “She is a dreadful child!”
He laughed again. “There was no harm done, my love. Lara restored the beast.”
“It has never been the same since,” Aselma grumbled.
“But no longer birds in your garden,” he remarked.
Aselma sniffed. “I do not care to discuss my niece,” she said. “And tomorrow we leave at the break of day for the castle. You will be regent if I have anything to say about it, my husband.”
“You will not,” he murmured so softly that she did not hear him, but his gray eyes were considering as he wondered if his late brother-in-law had made any arrangements for his only son in the event of an unforeseen emergency. He rubbed his bald pate slowly, thoughtfully. As much as he loved his wife Armen did not wish the responsibility of a regency, and he suspected that neither did Tostig. They were both contented landowners with grown children. They were moving, slowly of course, toward old age. This was no time to be saddled with the responsibilities of a government, a nation, a people. It might have been better if things had remained the way they once were, and the men of Terah did not hear the voices of the women. Both his wife and his sister-in-law were always saying that women must be subservient to their men, and yet both of them were supremely ambitious women. It was an interesting conundrum. He wondered if his nephew realized the trouble he had left in his wake.
Taj, however, had returned to the castle as evening was slipping into night. He suddenly felt weary, and saddened beyond anything he had ever known. He was thirteen years old, and he was suddenly responsible for Terah and its people. “I cannot do it,” he said aloud to himself, and his young shoulders slumped as he stood alone in his mother’s dayroom. He felt tears pricking his eyelids.
“It does indeed seem more than one lad can bear,” a sympathetic voice agreed.
“My lord Kaliq,” Taj exclaimed as the great Shadow Prince stepped from the gloom. “What am I to do? I cannot be Dominus! I am but a boy yet.”
The Shadow Prince came forward, and put a comforting arm about Taj. “Let us sit, my lord Dominus,” he said as he led the boy to a settee. They sat. “You are your father’s son, Taj Hauk. And your mother’s son, as well. You have no magic in you despite your bloodlines, but you do have the strength of will that certain mortals have. It is instinctive in people like you. You knew just what to say to your aunts this day, and you did not permit their words to trouble you. You comforted your grandmother. You have already begun taking charge as the man of the family must do.
“There will be some who say you are not old enough to rule. You will not hear their voices, for mortals like that are quick to complain, but slow to put forth solutions. At your birth it was decided that this responsibility be set upon your shoulders at this moment in time, my lord Taj, even as the instant of your father’s death was set out when he was born. And your father was a wise man. He refused to let go of the life force until he had set forth his wishes for you.”
“My mother is to rule for me,” Taj said, low.
“No, my lord Dominus, you are to rule. But you will do so under your mother’s guidance. Her wisdom is great and she respects the customs of Terah. She will never permit it to appear as if you are not in total charge. And in a few years you will be, for you are intelligent, and will learn quickly. Already today you have realized that your uncle’s ship is best used as your father’s funerary vessel. It was a wise decision,” the Shadow Prince complimented the boy.
“I did, didn’t I?” Taj remembered proudly.
“Indeed, my lord Dominus, you did,” Kaliq said. “Now, if you will permit me to direct you, I think you must go to your chamber where you will find a small meal waiting, for you must keep up your strength. Then you will sleep.”
“I will bid my mother good-night first,” Taj said.
“I am pleased by the respect you show her,” the Shadow Prince replied. “I will bid you good-night now, my lord.” And with a bow Kaliq disappeared back into the shadows of the dayroom.
Taj went to the door of his mother’s bedchamber and knocked. Hearing her voice bid him enter, he did, and went directly to her. “I have spoken with my father’s two sisters,” he said. “They both said I am too young to rule.”
Lara smiled almost grimly. “I am certain they have pretensions of a regency, but I suspect their husbands have not. They will be on their way to the castle in the morning, but I shall slow their travels, for I am in no mood to cope with Narda and Aselma.”
“My father said how it must be,” Taj answered her. “I heard him as did others.”