Alicia’s back was straight and her chin high as she walked down the center of the Cathedral nave. Her eyes were wandering, moving over every detail, every hanging banner, every dangling ribbon wrapped by leafy vines laced with lilies and roses. Her hands were folded where her gilded embroidered white bodice came to a ‘V’ at the split of her petticoat over the red bustled dress lined with white spotted fur.

  She eyed the polished steel armored Paladins standing at apt attention lined on either side of her, leading toward the crossing, like silver statues with tall shields and spears topped with blue banners bearing a red cross rising from a Seven-Pointed Star. She was glad that was something she didn’t even have to suggest. It was the other soldiers she had to put her foot down about. Not literally—she was far too well groomed for that—but it had been a heated argument between her and the Paladin Commander Enya that the Clerics be at the center, behind the nobility, who would be closest to the apse, and the aristocrats behind them. The common merchants and those who had proven themselves worthy of places within the sanctum would fill the rest inside. Everyone else, including, especially, the knights and soldiers, would be in the square for his exit after the ceremony. Period.

  Alicia stopped when she reached the steps of the crossing and turned to see who had made their way to the front of the groups. Throughout the nobility, nearly all of whom were now foreigners, were looks of excitement and anticipation.

  She checked that the diocese were in their places. The monks and nuns, who were the choir, stood in the estuaries. Among them, Lisbeth caught her eye, another plain faced novice nun in a sea of other novice nuns. If there were any hints of the pride and nobility she once had left in her, it was hidden deep behind tired eyes and a face sunken as if it might never form a smile again. The children’s choirs were already being herded to their stands by other nuns. The street orphans with clean faces and healthy, excited smiles.

  Behind her, in the chapel spaces, were the royal staffs of King Charles of Utrecht, including King Charles himself, with three Cardinals in their full white and red robes and tall hats, holding hooked ornate staffs. On the other side…well, there will be someone there eventually, she imagined.

  The light of the day was enough to make the entire Cathedral nave bright as if they were standing out in the square. A good sign, Alicia grinned. However, she turned to the tall stained-glass visage of the Holy Mary beyond the apse, surrounded by the Apostles. She needed more of the candles lit.

  She nodded to one of the priests near the Cardinals. Father Bruno, the Cardinal Candidate, a hopeful one, she knew.

  “We need more candles lit around the apse. Perhaps the altar, too. Bring more attention to the Holy Mother and to the crowning,” she whispered to him.

  “Those are lit during the sacrament.”

  “All of them?”

  He hesitated. “No, not all of them.”

  “Can we make it all of them?”

  “Not without committing sacrilege in front of the most respected members of the College of Cardinals, no.”

  Alicia nodded. “Would it be sacrilege to have candles going up the steps to the apse?”

  He thought for a moment. “I don’t see why it would.”

  “Please have your monks lead the Prince’s entrance by twos with candles and lay them on either side of his path going up the apse to make it look like it is part of the ceremony. It’s too dark in here. They won’t see what is happening until the sacrament is under way. They should see all of it.”

  “Yes, my Lady.” And he was off to speak with a monk, who rushed through a door behind the chapel.

  Good, Alicia finally looked over the gathered nobles.

  In her head, she checked off the attendees. Prime Minister Joseph Cumberland of England, King Henry MacFaedon of Scotland, King Patrick O’Dolan of Eire, the Dauphine Ophelia and her brother, the Dauphin Julian Feinnes of Parisia because their father was campaigning against the Republique de Bourdeaux, Lord Charles von Mueller of Neuse-Baden, and many others. Double-breasted coats, three-piece dresses, bustles and bodices, tiaras and crowns, all adorned the many before her, waiting. Everyone was where they should be.

  The staff, too, were in their best, moving with trays of drinks braced with white gloved fingers and straight backs covered by tailed coats, keeping the many attendees from becoming parched while they waited. The last of the drinks were being handed out and they were going to their places at the back in a perfectly choreographed line, as she had planned. She grinned with pride that made her turn to one of the crosses she could see between the monks in the estuary with a nod of thanks only meant for God.

  Then she saw the Dowager Paladin Regent Aurelie Clevlan where she was supposed to be, at the front and near the center, thumbing at where her bodice met her armpit. Alicia didn’t allow it to show, but inwardly, she was rolling her eyes at that one.

  She had tried every day for a week to get the woman to wear the many dresses widened by paniers, with their ornate bodices that were tailored to emphasize her motherly hips, firm waist, and lift that bust enough that there was some form to it, so that this didn’t happen. She wanted her to get used to it. She could tell by how the petticoat hung to the floor that she wasn’t wearing the slippers she had given her either. She heaved a sigh and went to her with a motion for one of the staff girls to come.

  “Is it too tight?” she whispered when she was close enough so only Aurie could hear.

  Aurie let her arms drop to her sides to rest on the support of the paniers as if they were tables. “I feel like I’m a walking barndoor.”

  Alicia tried not to laugh. Instead, she smiled warmly, looking her over. She had already heard from the girls how, against all her expectations, the Dowager Paladin had been very kind and cooperative during her fitting and dressing. Her bodice was exactly as she instructed them; low enough to show Aurie’s finely formed collarbones and allow her heart a bit of air, but high enough that there were no prying eyes from onlookers, no advertisement for suitors and impropriety. Dark lace to cover the skin beneath the collar bone, a black ribbon with the gold cross of the Paladinate to hide her scar, but still show off that wonderfully long thin neck that the Baroness had always wished she had.

  The bodice was a shade of black that was dark enough to show that she was in mourning, but light enough that it did not emphasize it. Gold and blue gilded embroidery with sequins and pearls filled it from across the bust and down to the squared hem where the matching petticoat met. The underpetticoat was a touch lighter, but still black. Once again, mourning and not ready for a suitor. When Alicia looked at the puffed, ribboned sleeves, she saw the problem. Underneath, Aurie’s sweat was making the silk tighten. She drew the girl’s eyes to it and stepped to lean around the girl to whisper in Aurie’s ear.

  “Hold still, Dowager Paladin Regent,” She whispered as the girl snipped with tiny scissors at the fabric. “I know this is uncomfortable for you. Have you had a look at yourself in a mirror?”

  Aurie’s chin lifted and tucked back as an answer. The girl straightened.

  Alicia looked her over again. The one thing she was worried about was the Dowager’s complexion in all the black. She’s platinum blonde and blue eyed with skin as white as apple blossoms. The Baroness always wanted herself paled by makeup. Her staff—what was left of it—was trained to do just that, make the skin as pale as possible. But not for this woman. Alicia had said to them, ‘Touch of color on the nose and brow, cheeks and lips, emphasize her features. Bring attention to her eyes and make her look as if she belongs not in their beds or at their sides, but with them at her feet.’

  And that was far less than what they did. Aurie’s pale blue eyes looked worriedly at her. She had to swallow down her own awe to grin warmly and approvingly.

  They had curled her hair loosely at the front and braided it thickly so it hugged her ears but didn’t hide them, framed her face, but didn’t hide her beauty, and allowed that long neck to be noticed. Her defined cheekbones were given just enough color not to be drowned by the dark of her dress, and to match the tiara took Alicia the better part of two weeks. It had to have blue stones as vibrant as those eyes. It was a simple one with mostly faux stones glued to it, but it did have one large azurite crystal at its center which made her eyes glisten. Of all the things she and Valmond ever argued about, this one he was right. She would have looked less in a wig.

  “I did,” Aurie grinned a little. More color in her cheeks.

  Alicia nodded. “If you need anything, ask. No matter what I am doing, I am your Madame now.” She hesitated in case there was more.

  Aurie winced, “I didn’t get to see my daughter with all the meetings. Is she—did she get ready in time? Does she look alright? Is she nervous? Is she shaking? She used to shake a lot and with her—”

  “She’s steady as the stones and looks wonderful. I made sure of it,” Alicia grinned. “All has been set, Dowager Paladin Regent. Breathe…with your chest, not your stomach.” And she moved to where Valmond had stepped in from the square.

  When she got to him, she beamed. It took all of her will not to leap into him and kiss him right then and there, but she kept her poise. “How goes it?”

  Valmond leaned to speak softly, his glasses at the tip of his nose. “I will say simply, well as expected, given the subject in question.”

  Alicia frowned. “What happened now?”

  “Well, a few things, I’ll mention the most mentionable,” Valmond’s eyes were looking over the hall and its crowd. “Sometime during the night, he snuck out of the room and ended up in the stables again, but didn’t take off the rehearsal dress, which included the same trousers as he’s supposed to wear today, so we had to fit him with new ones. Those, apparently, are too tight in particular areas. The horse refuses to leave his side except to go to Princess Maudeline, which has led to her dress getting hoofmarks around the bottom, which has then led to some alterations. Then, when they chased the horse off, it decided to—somehow and God knows, because I certainly don’t understand it—chew through the harnesses of the horses for his carriage, freeing them to trample through the streets. They, and their driver, have injuries from her mistaking them for—how did the Princess put it?—ah, yes—pears.”

  Alicia swallowed. The door to the tower was only a few paces behind him. She couldn’t look away. Air was filling her head. Her ears were becoming clogged.

  “Alice,” Valmond touched her cheek. “We figured out the horse wants to be the one who takes him here. She’s driving the carriage. Princess Maudeline’s skirt is clean. His trousers mended. They’re on the way. Your monks are lighting candles.”

  “So, it’s not ruined?”

  “He’s a Paladin, dear,” Valmond chuckled, “It could all turn into a drunken brawl and God would still make sure our King was crowned this day.”

  “And the feast settings in the courtyard? Have you—?”

  Valmond didn’t care that they were in the Cathedral. He kissed her square on the lips, causing her breath to stick. “Of course I have. It’s set and ready. And the servers are prepared for the one in the square for the people as well. Go, you are needed by the Dowager Regent.”

  Alicia tapped her cheek at him, “You fiend.”

  “Off with you, I can hear the carriage.”

  Maud still didn’t understand why she had to carry an empty pillow like it had something on it. Seemed ridiculous to her. But, Draka kept looking at her with that smile, that half-cocked brow and glistening golden eyes of his twinkling with a pride she had never seen before.

  The carriage ride was a formality. They had to enter through the front doors. So, they rode a carriage from the back end of the barracks, through the square that was filled with so many people that it looked like a lake of hats and faces they were crossing a bridge over.

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  She did like the dress, though. Definitely won’t be wearing it in Talkro much. Well, not to clean or anything. She did say that she wanted a new one, after all. The wooden thingies on her sides kept catching on stuff, but she’ll get used to that. It was like having an extra place to set things, if she can talk to the seamstress into tightening it enough that it doesn’t bow every time she sets her brush there.

  It was a deep rich lavender, for her father and brother, with white and silver embroidery on the stiff bodice that made her back curve like a resting bow and pointed like an arrow into her petticoat. There were little pearls and diamonds—she really liked those—sewn into the gilding of the embroidery and they even braided them into her hair. Some of the jewels in her hair were greenish-blue like her eyes, others were bright blue, and of course, pearls. They powdered her cheeks and neck, brushed her lips and brows, painted her eyelids and darkened her lashes.

  Maud looked over her shoulder at Draka as he was helped out of the carriage by Valmond. He looked so different without his scruff, yet still the same. His cheeks were more defined without it and clean shaven, she could see the sharpness of his jawline. The burn-scars had faded to a dim spiderweb that his hair was growing around. She liked how they trimmed the rest of his scruffy, graying auburn hair to match it; still long enough from the top to hang over the curve of his chiseled cheekbones and brow, but fading into nearly shaved as it reached around his ears. They shaved those, thank God. He wore a gold-buttoned doublet with gilded embroidery that matched hers in a more squared and masculine way—without all the pearls and stuff—over a chest of short red felt. Lady Alicia told her it was because of the flag he had hung on the tower of the Cathedral.

  Maud didn’t tell her that the flag was red because his silk shirt she was trying to repair was red and kept pulling apart, so she hemmed it into a square. Though his other banner was long and not half as wide, she didn’t feel like cutting anymore and embroidered the big cross and star from his armor on it. Of course, on his armor, the star was pointing up. On the flag, she didn’t realize until she was finished that she had accidentally made the star upside down as if the cross were splitting it in half, driving it into the ground.

  The Battleflag of Alcalia, it was called now.

  The exact same sigil was put on a field matching the blue ribbon she used for the hem—because silk is a fabric she will absolutely never work with again—as the official Flag of Alcalia during peacetime. And then they made the rest of Draka’s coat and trousers match so that he looked like her mother’s eyes had thrown up on him.

  Vigora curled her head to chew on the harness. Draka swatted her nose and snapped a pointing finger at her to stay. She huffed at him.

  Maud laughed. Vigora would put the crown on his head if he’d let her.

  He straightened his coat, then his cuffs of powder blue and the peeking white shirt around his hands. His sword at his side was on a black belt instead of his usual one, but he would never change out that leather scabbard. At least the sword looked the part better than he did with its gold-wrapped hilt, gilded cross guard, and shimmering ruby pommel.

  The pillow in her hand was red with gold tassels. She took a deep breath.

  Cradling it carefully, knowing that Lady Alicia would have rabbits if she found a single wrinkle on it, she freed a hand to touch the necklace she wore, making sure it was straight. When Draka handed it to her, he had Enya read that it was a gift from Queen Isabella, with the matching tiara on her head. It was hanging strings of diamonds—longest at the center and shorter as they rounded her neck—looking like trails of raindrops to her, bottomed by droplet-shaped emeralds the size of her thumbnail in the center and half the size on the others. On her tiara, the emerald was shaped to form a cross surrounded by twelve rubies and tiny blue jewels between. The cross was nearly as long as her pinky, nestled in the center of her forehead so the rings of diamonds kept the curls and braids pinned from her ears, face, and neck.

  Her first thought when she received it was that the Queen of the Holy Lands thought she was Draka’s future wife, like everyone else who sees how they are together without paying attention. But then, she was given her own letter from the Queen. That one congratulated her on winning his heart the one way the Queen imagined truly ever was possible—as a daughter.

  ‘The Daughter of a King,’ Queen Isabella wrote in beautiful handwriting that Maud knew now would be her goal to emulate, ‘is only called one thing: a Princess. Draka is too daft to think of such things before they become a problem, so I took the liberty on behalf of my oldest and dearest friend in providing you with the mark of your station.’

  Maud took in a breath and lifted her chin. She couldn’t wait to see Karl’s face when he laid eyes on her. She just had to get through the ceremony and find him during the feast. She made sure she had the pillow held just right over her flat palms and she took the first step into the Cathedral.

  Steel chimed and polearms thumped the stones as Paladins, all of which had arrived within the week, straightened as faceless armored statues between her and the crowd on either side of her.

  She walked. Her eyes searched. She couldn’t see if anyone was looking because she couldn’t turn her head. She couldn’t look away from the gray robed monks that suddenly filed in front of her by twos carrying short candles. She heaved a sigh of relief as she watched the apse beyond them fill with white robed figures and someone in a fur lined red one with a golden crown the size of a helmet on his head.

  Her eyes widened. The one with the big crown had a sword. And it was nearly as big as the one Draka put on the saddle and never carried. Her pace skipped a beat. She corrected it with a stumbling skip. She winced a little and swallowed dryly.

  She looked stupid. The dress was stupid. Her face was stupid. Her eyes were stupid. This tiara was too much. Why was she wearing stuff like this? Why would she ever think that she would belong in something like this, doing something like this, surrounded by people like these, carrying an empty plowing pillow? She must look like the dumbest woman in all the kingdom!

  She caught a glimpse of a fresh-faced man, probably about her age, looking between the Paladins at her. He was obviously nobility. She knew they were the ones towards the front, and he was far up the nave, close to the crossing, so he was royalty somewhere. And her age. And his mouth hung open with eyes like wide saucers staring at her. Then there were more. All men. All gaping. At least, until there were motherly hands slapping the backs of their heads and dragging them from between the Paladins on either side.

  She heard one of the Paladins snicker within his or her helm. She lowered her chin and beamed as the monks in front of her set the candles on the steps and spread to either side before her. She reached the steps of the crossing and stopped, just as they rehearsed.

  Cardinal Thomas stepped to the center of the Apse above her with his white, gilded robe and hooked staff. Maud did the bow she had been practicing for days and straightened. This was the Cardinal Thomas. Draka’s Cardinal Thomas! Wrinkly faced, intelligent pale eyed, tall, broad shouldered, wise Cardinal Thomas. Her breath quickened.

  He beckoned her.

  She stepped up the crossing, between the light of the candles that lit her path towards him. All she could see was him and the stained-glass Holy Mother over top of him as if her hand were touching his head in validation of his righteousness in the eyes of the Apostles and God. He subtly motioned for her to stop just before the last step of the apse. She had almost forgotten.

  She started to wince and he must have expected it because he also, just as subtly, gave her a thumbs up as he turned to the burly red robed man with the gold crown.

  Behind her, she heard the bustle of feet and bodies turning to face the center. Another tap of polearms on stones announced Draka’s entrance. She wasn’t allowed to look, but she knew what was happening. Draka would follow exactly as she did. Only, when he reached the crossing, he would be joined by her mother, who would guide him onto the crossing and remain on the last step up before it. He would continue to the apse and kneel behind Maud on one knee. Her mother would sidestep and bow a curtsy and hold it until he is officially crowned and presented by the Cardinal. She felt Draka take his knee behind her with the scrape of steel on the leather of his scabbard.

  The Cardinal raised one brow from an otherwise emotionless face.

  The King, who was standing beside the Cardinal with another crown hanging in his hand, looked…irritated. Maud looked up with a grin beneath challenging eyes. That’s her Draka, what did you expect?

  “The crown,” Cardinal Thomas reached out and grabbed the one the King was holding.

  The King didn’t let go until the Cardinal gave it a hard, tight-lipped tug. He was blinking and shaking his head as he carried it to Maud between his hands as if it were the most precious thing ever to be carried. He set it on her pillow with care and bid her to rise.

  It did look precious. It was gold fleur-de-lis held by a silver band with a golden cross in the front. At the center of the cross was a small ruby like the ones on the pommels of Draka’s swords—only, very tiny in comparison to those. Also, in comparison to the one the King was wearing, Maud noticed with a careful sideways glance.

  She carried the crown on the pillow to the altar where two other Cardinals were waiting. First, she waited for them to finish communion. Then, while holding the crown, they had her do communion. Then, they began the sacrament and blessings, sprinkling holy oil over the crown.

  “God eternal, All powerful, Creator and Governor of the Heavens and the Earth, Maker and Disposer of angels and of men, King of Kings, Lord of Lords, Thou who madest Abraham Thy faithful servant to triumph over his enemies, who hast raised to the highest in the Kingdom David,” Cardinal Thomas began.

  Maud tried not to wince. This was the hard part. It was so long. She wondered how hard it was for Ma, who had to be in a curtsy the whole time. Lady Alicia said that they would slip a stool under her dress when the time came, but still.

  “…inspired with the humility of David, adorned with the wisdom of Solomon, he may be to Thee ever pleasing, and walk evermore without offence in the way of justice, and henceforth in such wise succor, direct, guard and uplift the souls of the whole kingdom,” Cardinal Thomas continued as Maud began to ease her knees back and forth to get blood circulating in her toes.

  You’d think royals would have more respect than to make people stand through all this. Oh, wait, Draka only has to kneel. Little cheat.

  “…armor of Thy protection, and ever guarded with the invincible shield, and compassed about with the celestial armies to whom he answers, he may happily triumph over evil, cause the Enemy to fear his power, and with joy, bring peace to those who fight under Thy banner. Adorn him by many a gracious blessing, with the virtues with which Thou hast enriched Thy faithful ones aforesaid, counsel him richly in the government of the kingdom, and anoint him plenteously with the grace of the Holy Spirit.”

  That was her cue. The other Cardinals waved for her to turn around and walk to beside Cardinal Thomas. She could see that they did put a stool under her mother’s dress. She was glad for that. Draka had his sword in front of him, his head bowed. She stiffened, waiting. Any day now…

  “Do you swear, upon receiving these blessings that you shall be the light within the darkness, that your kingdom shall bring peace where there is war, love where there is hate, offer alms where there is blight?”

  Maud pursed her brows. He can’t answer. You know that! You gave him the bloody vow of silence yourself!

  Draka pressed his right hand to the blade. Maud’s chin stiffened. Don’t you dare.

  “And do you hereby swear, before Jehovah Thy God that yours shall be a land above all others, a Kingdom of Conscience, a Kingdom of Justice, a Kingdom of Heaven’s light, and that your line shall carry the Divinely chosen line of succession in obedience to Paladinate Discipline and the studiousness of the Divine Universal Church from this day until there are none who bear the name Luminis upon the day of Judgment and the Second Coming?”

  Maud’s nostrils flared as Draka sliced his hand down the blade and held it up for all to see. Paladin Enya already had a cloth ready?!

  Enya pressed the cloth to Draka’s hands. He looked up to Maud first. She shot him a glare.

  I’m not stitching that, it said.

  I don’t expect you to, he answered back with a flicker of his brows over a facetious grin.

  Cardinal Thomas took the crown from the pillow and lifted it over Draka’s head. “Blooded Ascended Paladin of The Holy Sepulcher, known by the Seven Pointed Star, endorsed and uplifted by the Divine Universal Church, with authority recognized unquestionably for this day until your last day to enforce Divine Will at beck and call throughout Christendom and all who answer God’s Holy Trumpets’ Call,” he placed the crown on Draka’s head, “God’s Will Be Done. Rise, King Dietrich Luminis of the Kingdom of Alcalia, and be recognized and acknowledged by thy peers.”

  Draka stood and turned to face the nave, his sword in hand. He raised it. The nave filled with cheers. And, as if the sun had suddenly risen to its fullest height, light burst through the stained glass of the Holy Mother over him.

  The Cathedral brightened to match the thunderous roar from the gathered. The front wasn’t as loud as the back, but they were still loud. There was clapping among the royals, some were smiling, some weren’t, but mostly Maud saw smiles. The Paladins were tapping their bannered spears. The choirs began singing their coronation hymn, though Maud could barely hear it over the cheers of their own people toward the back.

  Maud heard a Cardinal whisper to King Charles, who used to be her king, “If you don’t, we’ll excommunicate you and everyone in here will declare war, tear your kingdom apart and donate most of it to us. He won’t have to lift a finger, but we’ll give at least half of it to him anyway.”

  “No need for idle threats,” King Charles growled in answer. “I’m in no mood. It took my family three generations to gain this region, and I lost it in barely a year.”

  She watched Draka help her mother stand back up and there was something about the way they looked at each other, just for a second, just for a blink, before Draka continued down the crossing.

  When Aurie looked up to her, Maud’s brows were crinkled. She didn’t know what that was, but she knew it was something. The look Aurie gave her confirmed it.

  “At least I lost it to the Paladinate and a man worth his weight in the most precious of jewels,” King Charles sounded somewhat amused. “Still hurts, though.” He lightly touched Maud’s shoulder as he passed her, “I’m not sure if your father is open to it, but my son is about your age and is quite a good sort, if a bit soft on the underbelly. Perhaps, in the future he could be so lucky as to earn the heart of one as beautiful as yourself, Princess.”

  Maud smiled with a turn toward her blush. She had no idea what she was supposed to do now that the nave was falling into disorder. Then she saw Draka and Aurie waving for her from halfway across the nave.

  “Maud! You’re the Princess,” Alicia had been climbing through the crowd to get to her. She grabbed her hand, “You’re to be at his side the entire feast until your mother dismisses herself. Come on!”

  “Do I stay with Ma or him during the feast?”

  “Pretty sure it’ll be both.”

  PALADIN: A ROSE IN FROST