The Unfortunate, стр. 76

truly had been. But at least they had acknowledged him. King Beadurof had never offered tenderness toward his son. In the king’s eye, Banan had never been anything except his heir and the future of his legacy. His this and his that! Is that all that had mattered to King Beadurof? Jenn’s thoughts had then returned to the past, to a time more peaceful. On numerous occasions more than she could recall, Banan had departed for training skirmishes and sometimes campaigns. He had never been gone for extended durations, but she had always worried and prayed for his safety. And each time when Banan had returned, Jenn had always greeted him, and he had always pulled her into his embrace and held her.

But never again.

She had sighed, and as she had looked back to the altar, her tears had again swelled.

He had always come back, but now Banan had been taken from her.

This time forever.

✽ ✽ ✽

She did not sleep well. The ceremony, though it had been necessary, had done nothing more than arouse countless memories. It had also reminded Jenn of her want to leave Armania. Even though she desired nothing more than to run away and never return, there was something she needed to do. She needed to speak with King Beadurof, not about herself or Banan but about something much more important.

It was late morn, and the doors of the hall were closed when she arrived, but she did not hesitate to reach for the handles. Before she could push, however, she heard the king speak in a commanding tone.

“I told you to leave me alone!”

The handmaiden retreated several steps as if it had been she who had been scolded. She nevertheless continued to listen. There was a momentary silence. It was longer than a simple pause one may offer before adding to a previous thought but not long enough for a complete response by another. Eventually, however, the king added, “I do not care!”

Another pause.

“Why will you not let me be?”

Still there was no indication of a second individual, and curious as to what was occurring, Jenn opened the door and caused it to creak.

The king stood at the far end, and he turned to discover the reason for the disturbance. Having seen the handmaiden, he grunted before inquiring, “Has the physician sent you?”

“No, Your Majesty?” Her tone was meek. “I need to speak with you.”

“Did they not tell you I want to be alone?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

It was not a lie. There had been no sworn shields or even guards outside the great hall, and she had not encountered anyone who could have instructed her not to disturb the king.

Another grunt was followed by a brief period of silence before the monarch eventually inquired, “Have you come to offer sympathy or gain mine? If so, especially if it is the latter, you are wasting time.”

“I do not seek your remorse—”

“Then what do you want?” he interrupted, and his voice was even more gruff.

Will he ever change? No. If he had never before, why would it be different now? Why ever? The thoughts spawned hardships, and anger boiled inside her. Rather than return the sort of unkindness that King Beadurof had never withheld, however, Jenn remained calm and eventually replied, “Why is it you hate me? What did I ever do to cause you harm?” Her voice, though slightly stronger, was still meek, but she no longer cared about respect. She had withheld her feelings far too many years. “You have always despised me, but you must now make a decision.”

“A decision?”

She could not help but smile. Even though the king’s tone had not altered, his dumbfounded expression suggested otherwise.

“Yes, a decision. I ask for your protection.”

Yet another grunt followed by a spat. “And why would I protect a silly girl?”

I am not some silly girl! I am the daughter of King Aengus of Drunacht, and I lay claim to his throne! Banan had tried to tell the king, had tried to help expand Armania’s territories, but King Beadurof had refused to listen! She wanted to make the king realize the truth—to realize his mistake, and more than anything, to realize his arrogance—but it was not time for spite.

“Because the future of your legacy grows within me,” Jenn instead replied, placed a hand on her slightly-rounded stomach, and paused long enough for the comment to register before adding, “For the sake of your grandchild, your heir, I beg your mercy.”

Initially the king was speechless, but he eventually managed, “My heir?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” With her words she had been able to lure and claim King Beadurof’s full attention, but the element of surprise was soon turned against her.

“What do you know of my heir?” The king’s tone became more animated. “My heir, my precious son, is near death! And do you know why?”

She did not and knew not how to answer. Jenn could make no sense of the rambling. It was as if King Beadurof were mad. But eventually she answered by shaking her head.

“It is my doing!” he exclaimed. “My son will die because of me!”

Near death? Will die? She was even more confused, yet she made a final attempt to understand and perhaps, as odd as it seemed because of their past relations, to even comfort the hysterical monarch.

“You cannot blame yourself for Banan,” she offered. “You were not there. There is—”

“Not Banan! My first born! My true heir!” he interrupted, and paused momentarily before raising his dagger, pointing it toward Jenn, and exclaiming, “And it is all her fault!”

The use of her rather than your caused the already confused handmaiden to pause and inspect the king’s expression and gesture. She first noticed his eyes and how they did not meet hers. And his arm was not centered toward her either, but neither of those were the greatest shock. It was the words that followed.

“Tell me you can see her, Jenniver. Tell me.”

The handmaiden had been so taken aback to hear her name, her actual name