It was the time to get his tired queen-to-be to bed and hope on the morrow when they did not drink ale and dance in a pub but instead traveled in an effort to see the Lights, the night sky showed her its wonders.

“Would you like to use the screen, darling? Or shall I turn my back?” he offered her the choice of how to prepare for bed.

She dropped her head and appeared to studiously examine the floor as she moved toward the screen.

“Those young men put my bags behind the screen. I’ll use that,” she murmured.

“Farah,” he called when she was almost behind the tapestry-covered screen in the corner.

She stopped and gave him her eyes. “Yes?”

“I enjoyed the dancing,” he said quietly.

“Did you find it fun?” she asked.

“Fun?” he asked in return.

Suddenly, she appeared very sad, and not about the loss of her mother.

Therefore, he hastened to say, “Of course I found it fun, sweetling.”

She lifted her chin just the slightest bit. “Your desire is to be a king who provides a peaceful, prosperous nation to the people of Wodell. My desire is to live my life beside a happy True Axelsson.”

True felt his heart clutch.

“I am happy, Farah,” he said gently.

“Mio amore, you don’t know what happiness is,” she whispered. “You’ve never felt it. And I have never had a mission in my life.”

She lifted her chin further and her voice was much stronger when she spoke on.

“There is one thing in the now I am glad about. I have a mission. To make True Axelsson happy. And I vow I will not die until I accomplish it. And neither will you.”

And with that, his Farah disappeared behind the screen.

63

The Vows

King Mars

The Master Bedroom, Cord Cottage, The Arbor

WODELL

Mars awoke without his queen in his arms.

His immediate instinct was to growl his displeasure, find her and drag her back to bed.

He did the first part of that.

But upon turning his head, he saw her lying at his side, on her belly, her long, black hair a tumble over the pillows and sheets, face turned away, covers down to her waist, one arm thrown out, the other buried under her body, the ivory skin of her back bared for the rest of her was nude, and even unconscious, she appeared worn out.

Something he knew she was.

For he had made her that way.

No longer annoyed, he grinned to himself, reached and pulled the cord that would call a maid.

He then rose, moved to the fire that was dying and fed it some kindling and logs.

Not that he felt the cold. He was not immune to it, but it was rare it was a concern for him.

However, Silence felt it.

He then moved out of the room and into his cabinet.