Page 49 of The Kingdom of Flames

The cart started up. The man rose from the field, straightening his clothes and bowing to Lord Solis, who did not return any gestures. He simply stared at the coin.

“What is that for?” Celestine asked, turning to face Tristien now that the lustful display was out of sight.

"In my realm, nothing occurs without my awareness or approval," he declared as he offered her the coin.

“They must pay you to couple?”

Tristien smiled. “Not exactly. It is an accounting.”

Celestine took the coin, stamped with only the emblem of a bundled wheat, wondering what it meant.

“Come, Lady Celestine, dinner awaits, and I must show off the star that has visited the realm of the Yellow Banner.”

The estate of Lord Solis was situated upon a grand hill with golden fields and gardens on all sides. In the far distance, you could see the sea churning, washing the golden shoreline with whitecaps. Ships moved there, the specks of hundreds of people in a port town coming to and from a boat.

“Many visit your realm,” Celestine said.

Tristien lay smiling in their litter, carried so far, so many miles, by his attendants. “Many do. Few ever wish to leave. Who can blame them? Life in the Yellow Banner is one without indecision, without worry. Now behold Suncrown, my jewel.”

Suncrown was a vast mansion estate. The sun shone on it, even in the falling light of day. Everything seemed golden, slow-moving, and perfect. The manicured crushed stone driveway became a soft crunch under the attendants carrying the litter. His guards, or honor procession, she did not know—rode proudly next to him.

Yellow carriages with unique designs and crests circled the grand fountain. The mansion was an estate of glass and yellow banners flapping in the wind. Servants were everywhere, tending to the gardens, the grounds, and the estate, even in the failing light. All wore yellow ribbons or chains around their necks, a sign of his emblem.

“You have guests?”

Tristien smiled and took her hand, kissing it full now. “Many come to do honor to the Final Bride. Many Nobles and Ladies in my realm come to dine with us.”

Celestine smiled but felt a trickle of nervousness. Though she came from what could be called a noble house, she was not from great wealth, only proper manners.

“Lord Solis, I am not one used to…”

He cut her off, “Tristien, my lady. Tristien. Do not worry. My attendants and servants will dote upon you. All a star must do is shine, nothing else.” Tristien kissed her hand as the litter stopped. A stool was brought forth. All the attendants and servants stood back, heads down.

Tristien stepped down from the carriage. A handsome man dressed in his finery came forth. “Lord, much is ready. Some selections need your attention.”

Lord Solis was absorbed by the scroll his manservant held out to him. The young man wore a dazzling yellow necklace.

A male attendant who had carried the litter noticed Celestine standing unsteadily on the mattress, stepping forth to the stairs set out. He came forward, head down, offering his arm to her.

Celestine took it, smiling, but the man would not meet her eye. She steadied herself and stepped onto the crunched white stone of the driveway.

“My thanks, sir.”

A crack sliced through the air like thunder had appeared before her. Celestine jumped back. The man held his face, kneeling on the ground. Tristien stood over him, ready to deliver another slap.

“Do. Not. Touch. Her.”

The man groaned, holding a face leaking blood, but spoke, “My apologies, Lord Solis.”

Celestine’s mouth was agape. Tristien came forth, his face softening. He took her in his arms. “I apologize, my lady. His touch was not warranted.” His eyes cast down to the kneeling man. “He should know better.”

“It is no trouble…” Celestine said, shocked. What had just happened?

“Nor will it be again.” The finality of Tristien’s tone was absolute. The entire procession put their heads down. His manservant stepped forth, snapping his fingers. “To the medicae.”

Two other attendants stepped forth, stone-faced, and lifted the wounded man, taking him away.

“Come, my lady.” The manservant smiled and came forth, hands gloved. He held out a handkerchief. “For your arm.”

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