19.1

By mid-afternoon, most of the Northern aristocracy had already departed Castle Blackpool. Only a few stragglers remained, and they too were readying their horses.

"Good riddance!" Dirk whispered to himself darkly, as he watched the procession exit over the castle's main drawbridge. He stood in an open doorway of his study, looking out across the courtyard.

He glanced behind him at a clock expectantly. Zyrdicia was in her chambers getting dressed, apparently in no hurry given the daylight hour. She seemed to be taking forever.

A soft clearing of the throat from the direction of the courtyard caught his attention.

A pretty, young woman stood just below the steps leading up to the doorway. Dressed in a heavy burgundy riding cloak trimmed in white fur, she looked ready to depart. Her dark, brown locks were pulled back tightly within the cloak's hood.

Her green eyes glittered intelligently. The eyes seemed to avoid the new king's for a moment. "Your Highness," the woman greeted Dirk with exquisite politeness, "Lord Crandall and I thank you for your hospitality and wish you a glorious reign."

"Andrea," Dirk mused, pointedly using her first name. "How thoughtful you came to bid me farewell. I trust Lord Crandall is treating you well."

Andrea seemed to stiffen slightly at the mention of her husband's name. Her smile faded as she answered evenly, "Of course, my lord."

Her reaction amused Dirk. "I take it you had an opportunity to meet my queen?"

"Yes. She's lovely. I wish you both much happiness together." Something in her tone conveyed how very untrue the final pronouncement was.

Andrea's eyes moved to the space behind Dirk. The new king glanced behind him, surprised to see his wife hovering there, watching the exchange. He had not heard Zyrdicia come in. "Hi," he purred, reaching out a hand to draw her near.

She kissed his cheek lightly. Instead of moving to his side, she slid directly in front of him in the doorway, her back pressed against him. She took each of his hands in hers then pulled them around her until his arms wrapped loosely around her torso. She was surprised when instead of issuing a rebuke, his arms tightened, pulling her more firmly against him. He even nuzzled briefly against the nape of her neck behind her. It was as though he had a point to make with the woman watching from the courtyard.

Zyrdicia watched the unknown woman's eyes flicker briefly with jealousy, then travel up and down her lithe body critically.

The woman's eyes widened slightly as she took in the queen's attire. Instead of the previous evenings' finery, she now wore a very snug black wool tunic over sleek, leather leggings. Her long, black hair was unbound and hung loosely about her shoulders. She looked a bit more like the free-spirited predator she was.

Zyrdicia noted the woman's glance linger for a brief moment on Dirk's hands on her torso. The woman's uninvited thoughts swirled around her. The new queen blinked in surprise.

Before the woman could say more, a very fat, much older man lumbered up behind her. He bellowed unpleasantly, "Andrea! Stop irritating the king, you stupid cow! Come along!"

He bowed slightly in the royal couple's direction, "I apologize for her, Sire."

"Not at all," Dirk answered congenially, watching the man grab Andrea's arm roughly. He looked pleased as the corpulent, middle-aged tyrant dragged her away. "Bye."

Zyrdicia burst into laughter the moment the Crandalls were gone. She turned her head so that she could see Dirk's face. Her eyes twinkled expectantly.

"What do you find so humorous?" Dirk demanded.

"You and that woman were lovers!" she announced triumphantly, delighted at discovering a secret from his past.

"Don't be ridiculous," he sneered, rolling his eyes. Seeing the relentless look on his wife's face, he scoffed, "It was years ago."

He had no idea she already knew the entire story from Lady Crandall's mind. It had been years ago - Andrea was but a girl of seventeen at the time. It had lasted only a single summer. Dirk had been home on holiday from the Royal School. Her father had brought her with him to Saris' court. The girl had fallen madly in love with the dashing prince, a situation he took full advantage of. Unaware that she was merely a passing summer fancy, she had suffered from a delusion that, despite being beneath his social station, they would live happily ever after.

Andrea had been beside herself with grief when he told her at the end of the summer that he was bored with her and had no intention of seeing her again. She thought a ruse about being pregnant would sway him. She went so far as to tell her father she carried the prince's child, thinking parental pressure would force Dirk to wed her. She vastly underestimated the cunning prince's ruthlessness, and her scheme backfired in ways she had never imagined.

When her father went to see Saris about the "problem," Dirk coldly denied responsibility and accused Andrea of having a less-than-chaste reputation. In the king's open court, he fabricated an allegation that she was known to have entertained at least a dozen commoners in the soldiers' barracks. He went so far as to arrange several witnesses who "confirmed" the girl had slept with half the palace guard during the summer.

Andrea was disgraced. Her reputation was irreparably spoiled by the baseless accusations. For a time she became the subject of bawdy tales among the Northern infantry. No nobleman would consider a pairing with such a woman. No nobleman, that is, except Lord Crandall.

The greasy, old man took her as a wife soon after the first Lady Crandall died in childbirth, lecherously hoping at least some of the tales proved to be true. Disowned by her family, penniless, and with no other means of regaining her social status, Andrea accepted. Her entire existence now revolved around serving the loathsome wretch's every need.

Zyrdicia studied Dirk's face as he watched the Crandalls ride out. Something mocking and victorious glittered in his eyes.

"Did you ever love her?" Zyrdicia wondered curiously.

"Her?! Are you daft?" he sneered.

"Not even a little?"

"Never!" He shook his head firmly. A wicked smile played upon his lips. "Who do you think suggested to that lumbering monstrosity that he wed her?"

"You consigned her to that?"

"Yes," he answered smugly, inhaling the familiar, ephemeral scent of the perfume in his wife's hair. When he exhaled, his breath hot against Zyrdicia's ear. He whispered menacingly, "A lovely lesson about what happens to women who cross me."

Zyrdicia did not reply. Dirk noted she was staring at the sky rather than the chaos of horses and baggage in the courtyard. Her eyes squinted, despite the day's gloom.

She was impressed by the perfectly dismal grayness of the afternoon. It was not the foreboding, dark steel-gray of a thunderstorm. That sort of sky she knew well enough. Instead, this was a soft, powder gray. A light, misty fog accompanied it. It would have been almost pleasant, but for the cold . . . and the light. Even with the cloud cover and fog, the light was only barely tolerable.

"It's frigid," she complained softly.

"Winter has barely begun, my spoiled one," he mocked. "It's still warm, by our standards."

"That isn't funny," she protested, frowning. She turned her head and stared at him with deliberately beseeching eyes. "If we stay here, I'll freeze!"

He smiled knowingly and winked, "Only if you annoy me."