Page 38 of Enamored
Perhaps all these years Maxim had occupied a piece of my heart. And now that he’d returned, I could see how my devotion to him had been holding me back and preventing me from caring about another man.
My insides heated again at the memory of the way I’d thrown myself at Maxim. At the time, I’d felt justified, telling myself I deserved to kiss him before I was relegated to kissing forever someone I didn’t want. But in kissing Maxim, in the moment of having his lips upon mine, of having him respond, of having his fullest ardor, of having his deepest devotion, I’d realized just how much I wanted to kiss him again. And again. And again.
I wasn’t satisfied with just one kiss and one moment of pleasure. I wanted a lifetime with him. But both of us knew such a thing was impossible. Utterly impossible.
That’s why he’d held himself at a distance, why he’d used caution, why he was reluctant to cross any boundaries. He’d known doing so would fan flames yearning for what could never be and make us discontent with the friendship we’d resumed.
I fidgeted with the spoon in the silver bowl in front of me, stirring the pudding but unable to force myself to take a bite.
The mood in the great hall was decidedly reserved. Word had reached us that King Canute and his army were marching toward the Valley of Red Dragons, one of the only level areas between the mountains connecting Norvegia to Swaine. The possibility of war with Swaine was all everyone was talking about. Earlier in the day, the king had sent missives throughout the land to the nobility of the southern realm and the clan chieftains of the north, alerting them of the need to rally their forces.
Despite being distracted by thoughts of Maxim, I’d tried to listen to the speculations. As the future leader of the country, I needed to stay abreast of the issues. I wanted to understand why King Canute wanted Norvegia, what he stood to gain from invading and attempting to force a union with me.
Some mentioned the Swainians were discontent over the mining rights in the Snowden Range, believing they should have been allotted more land after the boundary lines had been redrawn as a result of the last border skirmish.
Others discussed the dry conditions and a poor harvest in Swaine, speculating they were attacking with the hope of gaining the provisions they needed to survive the upcoming winter.
Whatever the cause of the aggression, I had the potential to stop King Canute if I invoked the power of the Sword of the Magi. With the threat of so mighty a sword at our disposal—even if yet unleashed—perhaps King Canute would hesitate to push forward into Norvegia. If the legends held true, once the worthiest man held the blade, we would surely defeat King Canute and his army.
Yes, Rasmus and Maxim were wise to suggest the use of the ancient relic. If only I could gather the courage to suggest it.
From a side table with the other Royal Sages, Rasmus stood and approached the king. As he neared the head table, his gaze connected with mine, and he gave a slight nod, as though he’d read my thoughts and wanted me to follow through with the plans.
A tremor started in my stomach and rippled out to my limbs. The feast was finished. We’d finally come to the end of the weeklong courtship. It was time for me to take my stand in front of everyone and announce my choice of a husband. Once I did, we would proceed with a betrothal ceremony and the declaration of my succession as the next ruler of Norvegia.
If I suggested using the sword to do the choosing, we would have to postpone the betrothal and succession ceremonies at least another day. My request would likely irritate the king, especially since he’d wanted me to make my selection days ago.
What should I do?
The master of ceremonies also approached the head table. It was the cue that the time had come. I could no longer wait. I stood, and upon my rising, the noblemen also stood out of respect.
As the king and queen crossed to their thrones at the center of the dais, silence descended over the room. Once they were seated, I made my way toward them, a slow beat of dread tapping within my chest. As much as I’d wanted to avoid this part of the week, time had a way of moving us toward the destination regardless of how much we resisted.
I went through the customary procedure of bowing and kissing their hands before I turned and faced the noblemen who had gathered in front of the dais. The rhythm of dread inside only pounded harder. The same question I’d faced all week now shouted at me. How could I possibly choose the right man?
At a movement near the entrance of the great hall, I glanced beyond the sea of noble faces and the tables of courtiers and staff.
There, in the passageway just outside the great hall, stood the one I truly longed for.
Maxim moved just inside the doorway on the periphery. His attire was disheveled and his expression disgruntled, as if he hadn’t wanted to be here but had forced himself.
I didn’t allow my sights to linger upon him, lest I draw undue attention his way. Even so, a forceful knocking started up again inside, this time a protest—one that hurt, one that demanded my honesty. I couldn’t single out any other man tonight. Maybe not ever.
I couldn’t deny that among my deepest secrets, those I hadn’t even allowed myself to consider, resided the hope that one day Maxim and I could both be Royal Sages. Together. Side by side. I couldn’t give up my dream yet. I now had a valid means of giving myself more time.
“Your Royal Majesty, after a week of seeking to find the worthiest of these noblemen to be my husband and the future king, I have decided...”
I wished I could glance again at Maxim to gauge his reaction. Was he hoping I would postpone so we might find a way to be together? Or would I find resignation upon his countenance?
The king straightened, his expression alight with expectation, and the queen smiled at me as benevolently as always.
Had I been a natural-born child of theirs, defying them might have been easier. But after making my entire life an exercise in pleasing them, I didn’t want to hurt them now.
Rasmus stood beside the king at his right hand. Though he didn’t nod again, his dark eyes seemed to assure me I had every right to defer this decision to a relic that could take the weight of the choice from my shoulders and place it upon Providence Himself.
“Your Royal Majesty.” I infused my voice with confidence. If I came across as tentative, the king would deny my request. “I do not have the wisdom to choose the future king for myself. Thus, I humbly beseech you to allow the Sword of the Magi to decide upon my future husband for me.”
At my declaration, voices arose, and the great hall erupted into confusion.
