The Shadow Queen

“Where is my father’s body?” Taj asked.

“It has been taken to the Farewell House to be processed for the ceremony,” Lara answered her son. She found it difficult to look at him now, for Taj Hauk was his father’s image. At thirteen he was already at least three inches taller than Lara. He had his father’s long nose, high cheekbones and thin lips. Like Magnus his short hair was dark gold with lighter gold highlights, and his eyes his sire’s turquoise-blue. Suddenly it hurt her heart to gaze upon him.

“I think we should use my uncle’s new vessel,” Taj said. “It will be considered unlucky now. Better to have it convey my father’s body to the sea.”

“I agree,” Lara answered, keeping to herself the fact that she had already decided upon that course of action. Taj would always recall when he thought of this day that first decision he had made without her. She was proud he was beginning to think like a Dominus. And Magnus would be proud, too.

“My aunts must be informed before the official notification is cried,” Taj remarked. “I would do it myself,” he told his mother.

“I will transport you. Which would you visit first?” Lara asked.

“The eldest of my grandmother’s children,” Taj said. “At this time of day Narda will be in her hall working upon her tapestry while her husband, Tostig, plays an endless game of Herder with his eldest son.”

Lara waved her hand. “So you are there,” she said as her son disappeared.

He reappeared in Lord Tostig’s hall, and the sight of the young boy stepping from a haze of green smoke caused his aunt Narda, the eldest of Lady Persis’s children, to shriek with surprise and drop the needle she had been plying.

“Nephew!” she scolded him. “Could you not come to visit in a more conventional manner? This magical transport you have effected is most disconcerting.”

“I come to bring you tragic news, Aunt,” Taj began.

Lady Narda shrieked again, but this time it was a sound of distress. “Mother,” she cried, a hand going to her heart.

“Nay, my grandmother is in good health,” Taj reassured her. “It is my father who was today killed on Captain Corrado’s new ship when the main mast they were raising snapped, and crushed both my uncle and my father. Corrado will live. My father did not. The Farewell Ceremony is in three days as custom demands. I have claimed the right of inheritance. I am now your new Dominus.”

His aunt stared at him both shocked and surprised. Then she burst into fulsome tears. “My poor, dear brother,” she sobbed, but her tears were only partly sorrowful. She had not been close with her younger, only brother. Then as suddenly as they had begun her tears ceased, and she said, “You are very young to rule Terah, Nephew. You will need the guidance of men like my husband.”

“My father’s Farewell Ceremony will be held at the castle in three days as custom requires,” Taj said, ignoring his aunt’s remark. “Now I must go and inform my aunt Aselma of this news. Mother!” And he was gone from Tostig and Narda’s hall in another burst of pale green smoke.

“He is too young to rule,” Narda said to her husband, who had heard all, but said nothing while Taj was with them. “You must make certain you are chosen to be the boy’s regent. My sister, Aselma, will certainly be encouraging her husband, Armen, to the position. And he dotes upon her. He will do anything to see she is happy. If worst comes to worst we can share the regency, but you must be first as I am the elder. I will not have Aselma and Armen lording it over us. You know how she is.” Narda’s deep blue eyes were concerned. She was an attractive woman who had been some years her brother’s elder. Her dark blond hair was beginning to show streaks of silver.

“It is possible that Magnus made other arrangements,” Tostig said in his quiet and pleasant voice. “We only know your brother is dead. We do not know if he lingered before he died, nor can we know if he had previously made arrangements in case of his early demise. I would not advise you and your sister get into a power struggle over the young Dominus. At least not before we know all the facts. And there is the Domina to consider, my love. You are not foolish enough to think that Lara would allow anyone to interfere with her son’s rule.” He was a gentleman of medium height and build, with fading brown hair, and mild blue-gray eyes that peered out on his world through a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles.

“Women have no place in governance,” Narda said primly.

Her husband smiled. “I am not certain that now is so, my love,” Tostig answered.

Narda gasped. “My lord! What a radical thing to say,” she exclaimed, shocked.

“Your brother valued his wife’s counsel,” he replied. “He told me countless times that there were decisions he could not have made without her. And often it was Lara who suggested the solutions to the various problems a Dominus faced, and needed to solve.”

“Certainly he was teasing when he said such things,” Narda responded.

“Now, my dear,” Tostig said with a smile, “there is no doubt that Magnus loved Lara, but he was not a man to misrepresent the facts. If he said his wife advised him, and gave him answers he could not find, then she did. I have often wondered why women are considered incapable of rule when they so obviously rule their homes, and do it well. Is not a kingdom just an extension of one’s home?” He patted her hand.

“Sometimes you absolutely 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.”

“And it will be as Magnus Hauk directed us with his dying breath,” Lara told her son. “But I will still cause the rain to fall tomorrow, and the road to muddy. A day’s trip shall become two. They will reach us the night before the Farewell Ceremony.”

“Kaliq said that everything has happened as it should,” Taj told his mother. “He said my father’s fate and mine were decided upon the day we were born.”

“Did he?” Lara sighed. “I suppose he is right. He is always right, damn him!”

“Will he help us, Mother?” Taj wanted to know.

“If we need him,” she replied.

“Does my grandmother Ilona know of my father’s death?” the boy asked.

“Aye. While you were gone I went to her,” Lara responded. She did not tell her son that her mother, the Queen of the Forest Faeries, had been less than sympathetic.

“Sooner or later your mortal would have died,” Ilona said sanguinely. “Better it happen now than you be forced to see him become old, and as white-haired and grizzled as his own mother is. You have had your children by the men you have loved, Lara. Now for goodness’ sake embrace your faerie heritage fully, and take no more husbands. Lovers are far more satisfactory, and so easily discarded. A husband is generally nothing more than an encumbrance.”

“Is that what you think of Thanos?” Lara asked of her stepfather.

Ilona’s laughter tinkled gaily as she tossed her pale golden hair, and her green eyes twinkled. “Gracious no! Thanos is the perfect husband. He sired a son and heir upon me, and then found an interest that keeps him away from me most of the time. And bless him, he takes lovers to feed his appetite for passion. But unless you wed a man of the magical realm you would not have such latitude. So better you just take lovers from now on, my daughter.”

“Try to be respectful when you come to the Farewell Ceremony, Mother,” Lara had said dryly. “If not for my sake, for Taj’s.”

“Oh never fear, I shall be properly mournful. Magnus Hauk was, after all, a good mortal, and he loved you completely even overlooking your time with Kol, the Twilight Lord,” Ilona said.

Lara had departed her mother’s home at that. Now she looked at her young son. “Your grandmother Ilona was shocked by the accident, and she will be here for the Farewell Ceremony, Taj,” Lara told her son.

The boy nodded. “I am weary,” he told her.

“Go and eat, and then sleep,” Lara said to him. “I will see you in the morning, my darling. While it is my duty to make all the preparations for the Farewell Ceremony, I should appreciate you being by my side, and approving my actions.” Lara put an arm about her son and kissed him softly on his cheek. “Good night, my dearest Taj.”

The boy hugged her hard. “Good night, Mother,” he said and then left her.

Alone. She was alone. How long had Magnus Hauk been dead now? Ten hours? Eleven? Lara felt the tears come again. She had been wed almost twenty years to Magnus Hauk. Her life had become a comfortable round of seasons that had blended into one year, and then another, and another. She had never been bored, and while she waited for the destiny foretold for her to unfold she had been happy. She had been content in his arms, and in this life. Oh, there had been an occasional adventure. But Magnus Hauk was always there waiting when the adventure was over. But now she was alone. Lara sank down upon their bed, and wept bitterly once more.

* * *

KALIQ WATCHED HER from the shadows, and fought back his urge to go to her. To take her into his arms and comfort her. But now was not the time. She needed to vent her grief in this lonely privacy, and then reach deep down into the well of strength he knew she possessed. She would need to be strong for her son. She would need to be strong to convince Magnus Hauk’s family and the religious community of Terah that her late husband’s wishes must be followed at all costs. She was the only one who could aid the young Dominus so that when the danger came he would be strong enough to withstand it.

Still her weeping clawed at his heart. It was rare that a Shadow Prince fell deeply in love, but Kaliq of the Shadows did love the faerie woman, Lara, with every fiber of his being. He had for years. She was his single vulnerability. He wished he might transport them immediately to his desert palace of Shunnar to console her, but, cloaked in his invisibility, he instead stepped near to the bed where she now lay sobbing with her grief. Moving his hand gently above her body from her head to her toes, he set her into a deep and dreamless sleep. Her sadness would not abate, but at least come the morning she would awaken rested, able to face the responsibilities that were now hers.

Her body relaxed. The pitiful sounds of her mourning suddenly ceased. Her breathing grew regular and even. Kaliq smiled to himself as he stood next to Lara’s bed watching her sleep. He considered what would happen next. Hetar, of course, would be involved somehow once word of Magnus Hauk’s death reached them, but how quickly he was not certain. He had already set a watch to see if any among the tiny faerie post folk was a spy, for he was certain there would be one or two subverted by Hetar’s rulers.

Kaliq frowned thinking of Hetar. They had been making great strides toward the equality of its citizenry until recently. The two Shadow Princes currently serving on the High Council had reported that something was disturbing the rhythm of Hetar’s being of late. They had not yet been able to pinpoint it, but they were listening. Still, even unsubstantiated rumors had been scarce. A sure sign that something wicked was being brewed, Kaliq thought. He would speak with Lara soon about this latest development. Neither Terah nor the young Dominus needed to be dragged into Hetar’s problems whatever they turned out to be. The great Shadow Prince bent and kissed Lara’s cheek as she lay on her side, her pale golden hair tousled and spread across the pillows. Sleep well, my love, he told her in the silent language of magical folk. Then he was quickly gone from the chamber.

When the morning came Lara awoke. Her heart ached. With a sigh she encased it in ice. She could show no weakness now. She was faerie, and yet magic had little to do with what she was about to undertake. She arose from her bed feeling well rested, to her surprise. She had dreamed no dreams in the night. Indeed nothing had disturbed her slumbers despite her great grief. How had that happened? And then she smiled to herself. Kaliq, bless him! She had sensed him as she wept for Magnus Hauk, but had not wanted his company. He had understood, of course, and had not intruded upon her physically. But he had, she was certain, given her the gift of restful sleep and Lara was grateful to him for it.

“Mila,” Lara called to her serving woman. “I am ready to bathe.”

Mila appeared looking properly somber. “They are ready for you, Domina. Shall I lay out your garments?”

“Aye. Does everyone in the castle have purple mourning bands for their arms?” Lara wanted to know.

“Aye, Domina, and there are enough for any who come,” Mila informed her lady.

Lara nodded, and then went to her private bath. The serving women were silent, and she was glad. She was not quite ready to deal with anyone else’s sorrow but her own. But the moment she left her own apartments it would be a different matter. When she had completed her ablutions, she returned to her bedchamber and got dressed. Mila had laid out a pale lilac-colored gown trimmed at its round neck, and the cuffs of its round sleeves with an embroidered band of gold threads and tiny violet crystals. The serving woman fastened the deep purple mourning band about her mistress’s upper right arm as Lara slipped her feet into her flat-soled lilac kidskin slippers. Sitting, she let Mila brush her long hair, and then weave it into a thick single plait. Then, standing again, she left her apartment, hurrying to the small family dining chamber where she discovered her five children and her daughter-in-law awaiting her.

“Dillon! Cinnia!” she exclaimed with genuine delight.

Dillon immediately enfolded his mother into his embrace and kissed her cheek. “Are you all right?” he asked tenderly. “This has to have been a terrible shock for you, Mother. I am so sorry. Magnus was a good stepfather to me. We came as soon as Kaliq came to tell us. He says that Grandmother and Cirillo will be here later today.”

Lara felt a brief moment of weakness, but then she returned her son’s kiss. “My faerie heart has turned to ice, Dillon,” she told him. “I cannot believe any of this although I know it is true. Yes, it has been an awful shock.”

“Tell me what happened?” he said gently.

And she told him quietly, dispassionately, of how Magnus Hauk had died.

Dillon said nothing. He just nodded.

“Magnus made them all swear as he lay dying that they would honor my rule,” Lara told her firstborn. “It shall, of course, appear as if Taj is ruling for you know how the Terahns are about women. I do not wish to change their customs, but Magnus knew what would happen if he ordered a regency.”

Dillon laughed briefly. “Aye,” he agreed. “But how will you placate those who see themselves grasping the reins of Terahn power?”

“I intend forming a special group of advisors for the new Dominus,” Lara said. “It is possible some of them may have good ideas, but of course the last word, the final decision, is that of the Dominus.”

“Clever,” Dillon agreed, “but how will they take to having a woman overruling them, Mother?”

“I will remain as much in the background as possible. Marzina says I will be a Shadow Queen. It must appear publicly as if Taj is in firm control of Terah at all times,” Lara explained. “And eventually the council of advisors will actually forget I am even there which is what I want. Magnus’s elder sisters will, of course, want their husbands involved. And I want Corrado. I think it is better to keep this group small and manageable, don’t you? No one but the Dominus’s three uncles.”

“Agreed!” her eldest said. “Will you tell Tostig and Armen the truth?”

“Aye, I will. Whether they tell their wives is, of course, up to them,” Lara said with a mischievous twinkle in her green eyes. “Now if you are through questioning me let us sit down and eat. We have a busy day ahead of us. I must have everything done by the morrow, for it will be my duty to sit at the foot of Magnus’s bier and accept the condolences of all who come until the burning vessel upon which he will take his final voyage is sent off to the sea.” She turned to her daughter-in-law. “Thank you for coming, Cinnia.” Then she looked to her own daughters, and gave them a small smile. “We are together, my daughters, and that is all that is important for now. Taj, take your place at the head of the family table. You are not just the Dominus of Terah now. You are also the master of this household. I will sit in my usual place opposite the Dominus until the day he takes a bride. You, Dillon, will be at your half brother’s right hand.”