Chapter 11

Ewa sat in the chair before the fireplace, low flames illuminating her nude body in the dark bed chamber. She had to be cold, James knew. Even there, her back had to be chilly. That couldn't be good for her, or their unborn baby. Or Marik, although the sleeping child had been carefully wrapped in his blanket when Ewa lifted him out of his crib. Tying on a thick robe, feet safely stuck in royally comfortable slippers, James grabbed a blanket from the bed.

James didn't know what to say to her. What he had already said had obviously been the wrong thing. She just stared into the fire, Marik cradled against her chest. Coming up behind her, James let out a sigh.

"You'll catch a cold." He placed the blanket over her shoulders, the blue covering falling down the back of the chair. Taking the ends, he wrapped them around her, careful not to cover Marik's head. Unsure what else to do, he moved his hands to her shoulders.

"I love you, Ewa. You know that."

She was silent. He cursed. She had known this day would come. Had talked about it. Accepted it, even as James had not. James had pushed the day of his royal wedding as far into the future as he could. He did not want those girls. He had who he wanted. He wasn't some harem gathering monster! He found his eyes staring into the fire, hands unconsciously massaging her through the blanket.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," she said, her voice distant. "It's him."

It was more than the Captain, naturally, but he didn't correct her. She wasn't blaming him. That was enough.

"Is there anyone you like?" he asked. She turned to look at him, surprise on her face. James smiled. "Someone you can be friends with is more important than most other traits."

She let out a snort.

"I don't know them. They have nothing to do with me."

Not that there had been much cause for the young ladies to be in the Palace. Hell, he had barely spent any time with them. With a sigh, he leaned down, kissing her upturned forehead.

"Do you have any suggestions?"

She looked back into the fire.

"A ball."

"Ball?"

"A Ball. A Royal Ball. You haven't had one since your coronation. Have Ola spread the word that you'll be picking a Queen, and dance with everyone. Praise the losers, then pluck out your new lover."

"YOU are my lover," James said, hoping she believed it. "This girl may become a friend, I may come to care for her, but you are my wife. Always."

Her eyes stayed on the fire. One of the coals popped, sending a spark out onto the hearth stones.

"So you say," she whispered.

"A ball?"

James could not help but chuckle at the Captain. Sleep had mellowed the man, but he obviously had not enjoyed much rest in the night. He stood in the King's office as one now unsure of reality. James looked between him and Ola.

"A Ball. A gathering of all that think they're important, and a few who actually are. I get a good look at my potential brides all at once, and when I'm not dancing with them they get to mingle with all the other single men of the Kingdom. Odds are almost all pair up within a week."

"A good idea," Ola remarked, stroking his smooth-shaven chin. "Social events have been few and far between."

"We should pair it with a festival for the rest of the people," James went on, "here and on the mainland. I wish we could combine them, let everyone mingle, get to know each other, but that's not practical."

"One last feast before winter," Captain Putaski said, nodding. "Before we go on serious rations."

"Yup. Give them something to look back on, and forward to."

"When?" Ola asked. James considered.

"Saturday. Five days should be enough time."

A young boy sprinted into the room, a message slate in his hand. Skidding to a stop on the polished hardwood floor, he bowed.

"Flag message, Your Grace!"

"Thank you." James took it, smiling. The pages had taken to having contests, seeing who could make the fastest round trip, deliver the most messages a day, et cetera. The room down the hall he had set aside for the boys (and now girls) had a chalkboard on one wall filled with complicated stats. James was tempted to give a prize to whoever was on top Saturday.

"What news?" The Captain asked. James gave it a quick scan. Then a longer one. He handed it over.

"They think they've located the last straggler."

"What?!" The soldier went over the message himself, eyes wide. James walked over to the map on the wall, finger tracing a line.

"They found no one on the other side of the Orlan. Everyone made it across, apparently. There are now some very rich ferrymen."

"THIS is worth celebrating!" The Captain straightened. "Your Grace, with your leave I should return to Fredrick. I'll send another ship up to that Frog village. We could have everyone safe within our walls before the week is out."

"Do it. If the Kikker villagers agree, though, I'd like to keep a garrison there."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Another bow, and he was gone, taking the page with him. James moved around his desk, collapsing into his chair.

"Thank God."

"Thank God, and the army," Ola agreed. James let out a chuckle.

"Let there be a small delay, at least, before the next crisis comes upon us."

"Yes. Now, Your Grace, if we could talk about the upcoming Ball..."

Shanna didn't like the looks she was getting.

It was long past the time where she was a strange looking outsider. Long past where her wearing male clothing, particularly pants, was shocking. They should have been well used to her. Thus, this was something different. Something new.

Something personal, perhaps.

Shanna walked down the market street with Anelie, shopping basket in hand. The day was cool, the noon sun doing little to provide relief. Nor was her light jacket doing much to keep her warm. She needed something for winter. Something thick, comfortable. There would be military issue winter clothing, naturally, but she didn't want to just wear that. She was more than just a soldier.

"Why are they staring?" Anelie asked, face scowling at a woman behind a vegetable stand. The scowl was more cute than not, defeating its purpose. The girl wore a tunic and trousers not too different than her own. Two cross dressing women, walking together through the market.

God, they must look like total lesbians to these people.

"I don't know. Let's ask." Shanna stopped, looking around as she adjusted her glasses. Women ran the stores, for the most part. Society here may have been sexist, but not in ways she had expected. If anything, the fact women owned retail businesses while men felled trees and built ships and homes out in the cold almost seemed to indicate men had the short end of the stick. Her eyes fell on a woman about her age, young daughter walking next to her holding a doll almost as large as she was. The black haired woman looked away, pretending to gaze into a shop window, hand pulling her daughter closer. Putting herself in cheerful, don't fuck with me mode, Shanna walked up beside her.

"Good day to you."

The woman turned, surprised. There was no fear there. Shanna advanced her estimate of her age a bit, putting her at around twenty, and thus only sixteen when the kid was popped out. Some of the mothers were damned young among these people.

"Good day, Lady."

"I assume there are some good rumors flying around today, after all that went on yesterday. Anything about me?"

"Rumors? About you?" The woman looked uncomfortable. Shanna nodded, smile firmly in place.

"I assume there are some, given the looks I'm getting. Must be good ones, too." Shanna saw Anelie glancing around. The four of them were the focus of attention on the street. "Come on, you can tell me."

The woman looked away.

"You brought the Elf Queen here."

Shanna blinked.

"Yes."

She waited for her to continue. The mother was silent. Realization hit Shanna. She found herself putting her hands on her hips, an unconscious imitation of her mother.