Chapter Eight

 

 

Perhaps I should have been happy, but all I could manage was shock. I tended to my mother first, calling for her ladies-in-waiting to help us. We got her onto a chair, and she finally opened her eyes. After some fanning, the Queen was able to sip some wine. Then she stared murderously at my father.

The King refused to be cowed, smiling back at his wife serenely. The brothers were standing together, off to one side of the room, awkward witnesses to our family drama. They looked at each other with varying expressions ranging from thrilled to smug. Guess which was the smug one. Barret was the only brother brave enough to come forward and ask after my mother.

“I'm fine,” she said primly to him. I shot her an angry look, so she added. “Thank you.”

“Your Majesty,” Barret bowed to her and retreated to the safety of his own family.

My father went to them and shook all of their hands, discussing the future with them. First, the King insisted that they go home and collect their father. We could not have their father living such a base existence as his sons married a princess. My soon-to-be father-in-law would have to be given a title and some lands of his own. By the time the brothers returned with their father, we'd have their rooms prepared for them. Rooms which would adjoin my own. Each brother was to have unlimited access to me as his betrothed.

Memories of Saunder stripping me flashed through my mind, and I started to tremble. No, they wouldn't do that to me. Would they? Four husbands. Dear god, what would my wedding night be like?

“Princess?” Robyn lost his smug look entirely as he raced forward and took my arm. “Do you need to sit down?”

Suddenly I was surrounded by the brothers, each one wearing a matching concerned expression. They began arguing amongst themselves over what was wrong with me. Arnet thought I needed to eat, Barret thought it was rest I required, Hugin said I needed air, and they should all back up, but Robyn held tight to my arm and declared it was them that I needed, their assurance that they would not hurt me like, and I quote, the bastard flying lizard had. I focused on him intently. How did Robyn know me so well already?

“Nothing will ever happen between us that you don't wish to,” Robyn promised in a gentle voice. “I swear it to you.”

I took a shaky breath.

“I will never touch you without your consent,” Arnet swore.

“I would die if I ever caused you harm,” Barret added.

“Princess, we only want you to be happy,” Hugin said simply. “If you would rather choose just one of us, we would abide by your decision.”

“I couldn't decide, had I been forced to at sword point,” I whispered.

Then I leaned forward into their arms and hugged them. Marriage to four men. It was unusual, sure, but my life had suddenly become unusual. Perhaps happiness wasn't like a brick, matching all the other blocks in the wall. Maybe it could be a boulder or even a butterfly. Maybe happiness could be whatever I wanted it to be. Whatever we wanted it to be.

“We shall have a celebration feast when you return with your father,” the King declared. “Off you go. The royal coach will deliver you home,” he thumped them each on the back. “We look forward to your return.”

The brothers stood, each of them keeping their eyes on me, and I nodded. I was looking forward to meeting the man who had raised such magical sons. They bowed to us and left, heading off for another journey. I felt horrible that they had to leave so soon, but I supposed that their home wouldn't be as far away as we had already traveled. At least they wouldn't have to take a ship.

I watched with casual interest as my mother sent away her maids.

“Gregor,” my mother growled as soon as we were alone. “What have you done? Four men with one woman? Our people will riot. They will stone our daughter for a harlot.”

“They will not, Eufemia,” my father said gently. Now that it was just us, he didn't feel the need to be so firm with her. “I will have the bards spread tales of the Four Clever Brothers, singing about their strength, wit, honor, and magic. By the time those boys return to us, they will be so adored that no one will think twice about all of them marrying our Addy. Trust me, my love.”

“They do seem to love her,” my mother sighed. Then she looked over to me, holding out her hand. “Do you care for them, Adelysia? Is this what you want?”

I almost dropped into my mother's lap and cried my happiness out. That she would ask me what I wanted, what made me happy, was more than I could hope for. She seemed to see it on my face and frowned.

“You know that we want you to be happy, don't you, Adelysia?” she asked.

My father turned to me in surprise, “You are my only child. I love you more than my own life. Did you ever think differently?”

“No, of course not,” I hugged each of them. “But I knew that someday I would have to marry a man of your choosing.”

“I would have chosen someone good for you,” my father declared.

“You offered me in marriage to whoever saved me,” I reminded him.

“Adelysia,” my father sighed. “I was certain that whoever was strong enough and smart enough to save you from the dragons would be a worthy husband for you. One not hampered by the trappings of royalty. Don't think I don't know about your training sessions with the spear and dagger,” he gave me a stern look, and I gaped at him. “And I believe that I was right. From this tragedy, you have gained not one, but four men to love and care for you. Four princes who will one day become kings. They will rule my kingdom together, and I think they just might do a damn fine job of it.”

“I'm more concerned over their doing a damn fine job of loving our daughter,” my mother grumbled.

“Cease, Eufemia,” my father groaned. “You saw it as clearly as I did. Those men would do anything for her. She has them wrapped around her finger already. Do not worry about our Adelysia; she is stronger than you think.”

“Thank you, Father,” I whispered in shock.

“I've watched you grow from a serious little girl into a stout princess,” my father touched my cheek fondly. “You are smart, kind, and have the steel of your mother in you. If you had been born a man, I've no doubt you would have been knighted by the age of sixteen. You may not wear armor, but you are a soldier, sweetheart. My little fighter. When that son of a bitch stole you from us, my first thought was that he was in for a hell of a surprise.”

“But he wasn't,” I whispered sadly. “I didn't fight him. I pretended to like him so that he wouldn't hurt me. I gave up.”

“I don't believe that for a second. Gave up,” the King scoffed. “I've no doubt that once his guard lowered, you would have hurt him,” he said with a serious glint in his eyes. “You would have used every weapon you had to survive, and then you would have conquered them all. Because you are my daughter, and that is the woman I raised.”

“We raised,” my mother corrected as she stood. She crossed over to us and hugged us both to her. “Our daughter. Home safe.”