Bastian

Where was the King?

The same question had been floating around in Loraena’s mind for the past half hour. She’d been waiting for him in the library, per his request, far past the agreed upon time. Half of her felt anxious that he still hadn’t arrived, but the other half was just plain irritated. King Domitian valued promptness; it wasn’t like him to keep her waiting.

She sighed, blowing a strand of her dark curls off her forehead. A late summer breeze swirled in through the open window and caressed her skin, almost as if it were comforting her. Loraena stood and crossed the room. She rested her hands on the windowsill and surveyed what lay beyond.

Nihilo was a vast, beautiful kingdom; there could be no denying that. The towering trees that surrounded the castle attested to it, their lush foliage only just starting to tint orange in preparation for the approaching autumn. A river passed by the southern border and supplied the area with fresh water and fish. Hills rose beyond the forest, some hundred miles away, looming in shadow. From her vantage point in the soaring library tower, Loraena could also see most of the surrounding area that comprised Nihilo.

It was actually the only city in the entire kingdom, and as such, had to compensate by sprawling across nearly thirty miles from end to end. Thatched roofs were tightly packed together in a patchwork that somehow fit narrow roads crisscrossing in too many directions. Loraena could barely see where the city ended and the towering wall began. The massive structure had always been there—completely surrounding and protecting the Nihiloans within from whatever lay past it. She had never been beyond it of course due to the King’s orders, but even without them she wasn’t sure she wanted to venture outside the wall. Rumors about a mysterious force or creature that roamed the forest had circulated for as long as Loraena could remember. It was said that those who entered the Darkwood never returned, but if questioned, no one knew exactly what was out there. Loraena had spent many late nights staring out the library’s tower window, wondering what evil lurked behind the solid stone she trusted to keep her safe.

As she watched the city now, people bustled about, carrying their goods and shouting across alleyways. It was market day, which meant that all the vendors of the city would be setting up booths and trying to sell their goods in the main square. Loraena always thought it looked like an exciting, diverting day, and would sometimes watch the goings-on from her balcony or the library’s various windows. She smiled sadly then as she spied a husband and wife walking hand in hand down a cobblestone street. He whispered something to her, and a jovial laugh escaped her lips. The sound of their mirth carried up to the library’s open window and filled Loraena’s heart with jealousy. For the millionth time she wished for a family, for a companion, for laughter…for freedom.

She sighed and turned away from the window to pace the library. Where is he? She wondered again. Nearly eighteen years of relentless reminders to be on time, eat sitting up straight, never curse, always address the King as “your Majesty,” and countless other commands flitted through her mind. Of course he never told these things to her directly--no, he was too busy for that. It was Eldy, Loraena’s caretaker since she was a baby, who passed the missives on to her.

“The King wants you ready, Sweets,” Eldy kindly repeated any time Loraena complained. That would shut her up, if only because a chill would run down her spine at the thought of what was to come. She didn’t want to be Queen; she wanted to be free. But she had learned that what she wanted didn’t matter in the end. She was trapped.

And after all that training, now he was the one to be late? It wasn’t like him. Their monthly lessons were always on the same day of the third week, at the same time, and at the same place. Loraena’s irritation was slowly morphing into worry.

The door burst open suddenly and a tall, dark-haired man with a thick beard entered the library. The mere breadth of his shoulders was imposing enough, but taking in the heavy-looking crown atop his head and crushed velvet cloak that swept the floor when he walked…well, he cut a daunting figure. Loraena supposed he was handsome in his own way, a way that might attract women thirty years her senior, but she was young enough to be his daughter. If she were honest, the King was more of a father figure to her. It was for this reason she was dreading the next full moon--the day she would wed the King.

Loraena whirled around at the noise and clutched her chest, startled.

“Your Majesty!” she squeaked. “You scared me.”

King Domitian offered a partial smile and motioned toward the table and chairs in the center of the room. “I had business to attend with my guard, something unanticipated. Shall we begin the lesson?”

Loraena nodded and took her seat diligently across from the King. She knew better than to expect an actual apology for his tardiness. The King did not have to answer to anyone, let alone her, but sometimes she imagined that he cared for her more than any other person in Nihilo. She certainly never saw him associating with anyone other than his advisors. But occasionally during their lessons, the King would travel down a tangent--almost as if he were talking to himself--sharing memories from his life or vivid dreams he couldn’t quite seem to shake. They were extremely rare occasions, but when they happened Loraena got the distinct feeling that he had no one else to talk to. A place in her heart softened for him then, and she would listen with a warm smile.

Moments like this would remind her of her true place.

The King removed a book from the shelf behind him, a heavy, worn tome, and handed it to Loraena without preamble. The weight was more than she anticipated and it fell with a thud onto the table. She dusted the cover off and proceeded to open the book.

“Today, Loraena, you will learn the history of Nihilo. If you are to be my queen by the next full moon, it is high time you became familiar with how this kingdom came to be. Your education, evidently, has been lacking in some areas,” the King boomed in his deep, authoritative tone.

Loraena brightened. Finally, she would get some answers.

He paced the room as he spoke, allowing her to look through the book as his lecture progressed. There were detailed maps painted on yellow parchment that curled and cracked at the edges, there were lists of cities and names, of battles and warriors and kings. She studied the colorful images and beautiful script with fervor.

“Centuries ago, there were three kingdoms—Havendale, Lothaewen, and a third far into the West whose name has been lost to time. The first two had kings that were brothers, Hagen and Huska, and the third was ruled by King Garryn. All three were powerful in their own respect, enough that they thought they deserved to control all three kingdoms.”

For once, Loraena was completely entranced by the story the King was telling; usually it was a challenge to stay awake during his lectures. Something about this particular tale had Loraena on the edge of her seat.

The King looked at her pointedly and continued. “King Garryn fancied himself the most powerful of the three, and so set out to conquer the brothers. A fierce battle ensued on the Plains of Sorrow, now called thus because of this conflict. Three kingdoms met in a clash of blood and fire, holding nothing back and showing no mercy. Even the brothers, Hagen and Huska, who had originally joined forces to defeat Garryn, turned against one another when the idea of ruling all the land consumed them.”

“That’s horrible!” Loraena exclaimed in disgust. Sometimes the thought of power-hungry men made her fists clench. “What was the point of all that death? Did anyone even win?”

“No. Not one person survived, save for a lone soldier from the West.”

The King pointed at the book then and Loraena glanced down to see a sketch of a man who looked strangely familiar. Her brow furrowed.

“Your Majesty…is that—is that you?”

He laughed hollowly. “Obviously not. That is my great-great-grandfather. He was part of the royal guard for King Garryn.”

“He looks an awful lot like you,” she repeated.

The King’s mouth turned into a thin line. “I say it is not I, therefore it is not.”

Loraena rearranged her expression into neutrality, her shoulders sinking humbly. “Of course, your Majesty.”

“My ancestor, faced with the enormity of deciding what to do now that three kingdoms had just been wiped out, fasted for three days and three nights. He wandered deep into the forest, aimlessly, listlessly, until he no longer knew where he was. Strange visions clouded his mind—visions of his fellow soldiers that were now dead, visions of ghastly creatures with pointed fangs, all sorts of evil. It was only at the point of death, when he had given up hope for life beyond this insanity, that he saw Nihilo. The outer wall was before him.”

Loraena turned the page in her book to see a map of the city, roughly drawn but still decipherable. The King’s eyes rested upon it.

“This was the map my great-great-grandfather drew upon his discovery. The city was strangely empty, but everything was in working condition. Food filled the courtyard and water flowed in a nearby river. It was almost as if the gods knew that a brand new kingdom was needed. After all, there were three that had just lost their military and government, yet were still filled with townsfolk.”

“So he sent out a message to the three kingdoms, summoning their people to come live in Nihilo. While their leaders had not gotten along, the citizens had no issue with each other. The call was answered a month later by their arrival. Thousands of people swarmed the city and began making it into a home. My ancestor became their new king and ruled for forty years of peace.”

Loraena wrinkled her brow. “But what of the other kingdoms? It seems odd that the people would just abandon their home cities for a stranger.”

The King opened his mouth to respond, but paused, as if he didn’t know quite what to say. Loraena watched him with interest.

“Some remained and formed new governments and kingdoms,” he finally said. “The ones that came to Nihilo, however, wanted a fresh start and had heard of the city’s many resources. They had had enough famine and strife at the hands of their old kings.”

“So those three kingdoms—Havendale, Lothaewen, and the third in the West—do they still exist today? Did they survive?” Loraena questioned eagerly. She knew very little of what lay beyond the wall, so this idea intrigued her. Were there other kingdoms? Other places like this one? Maybe traveling outside Nihilo wasn’t such a frightening prospect after all.

The King looked deep into her light, searching eyes, a sense of solemnity in his own dark gray ones. Loraena could not look away.

His voice blazed with power. “No. They were destroyed. There are no other kingdoms.”

The fire in her eyes receded into a spark that soon vanished. Loraena leaned against the back of her chair in disappointment, unaware that she had literally been on the edge of her seat. She had more questions, hundreds of them it seemed, but the King’s tone of finality wiped them from her mind.

The King stood to his full height and opened his arms wide.

“But what else could you possibly need!” he exclaimed with a false smile. He strode to the large window and gestured to the city. “Look at this land, Loraena! We have everything right here—food, water, livestock, good people. Our kingdom is entirely self-sufficient. Our people are peaceful and grateful.”

He suddenly returned to her and grasped her hands. Loraena tensed but did not pull away; she could not offend the King. His breathing mirrored his enthusiasm. She held her own so his stench would not reach her. Loraena wasn’t sure how it was possible, but he smelt like the blackest night; like darkness.

“Our reign together will be prosperous. You will produce heirs to my throne and our power will extend its hand farther into the world! Together, we will be the rulers of this land. Now, is that not what you want?”

No! Loraena’s mind screamed in protest. Her hands began to sweat in his tight grip. His eyes held hers, the smile slowly slipping off his face the longer she took to answer. Loraena’s tongue was held still by fear and she swallowed nervously. She managed to push out a feeble “yes” at length, and his hands released her, satisfied.

“You worry at being Queen,” he stated, misinterpreting her fear. “But you should not fret. Though you will be my Queen, all responsibility will still lie with me. You won’t have to lift one finger if you do not wish it. Everyone in this castle will be yours to command—any food or entertainment you could wish for—it will be yours.”

He kissed her forehead and Loraena had to physically restrain herself from grimacing.

“You leave the wars and politics to the King, my pet.”

He grinned then, and left Loraena sitting in the library alone, his thick cloak sweeping behind him regally.

Loraena could not catch her breath, which she let out now in one huge gust only to suck it back in with quick draws. She held her hand over her heart and tried to steady herself. In, out, in, out, she commanded her lungs.

It never ceased to amaze her how much of an effect the King had upon her constitution. It was as if one word from him could crumble her entire resolve in an instant. She hated being fearful of him, hated it more than her entrapment. And being his Queen…well, it sounded as if she were merely a pawn in his game, a way to gain heirs but little else.

Leave the wars and politics to the King.

Loraena stilled.

What wars? How could one have wars if there were no other kingdoms with which to battle?

Her pulse beat like a drum through her veins. It was not the first time she had questioned the King’s trustworthiness, nor would it be the last. Numerous mysteries surrounded Nihilo, things Loraena had seen and heard over the years that didn’t add up. She tried to ignore them or pretend they were part of her vivid dreams, but nothing could put them from her mind. Of course, she had learned long ago that it was best to keep her discoveries to herself.

Once, when she was six, she asked Eldy why there were no other children her age. She wasn’t allowed outside the castle, but from her window she had noted that there weren’t any children running through the streets, either. Eldy told her that they had grown up and moved away. But Loraena knew better. Babies were born all the time, yet she never saw one child in all the years she kept watch for them. When she brought it up a second time, Eldy scolded her, saying, “Never ask about that again, do ya hear? Some things are meant to be wondered about, not known.”

Eldy’s answer unsettled her when she thought about it, even now. Loraena wondered about everything--how much would forever remain a mystery? How much knowledge was being kept from her on a daily basis? She suspected quite a lot. It was yet another prick from the thorn that was enduringly buried in her side. It pained her the most during moments like these, when she was reminded that the peaceful life she lived was not as it seemed.

Half of her pushed to know the truth. She deserved to know where she came from. She deserved to know why there was no one else like her in the city. She deserved to know why she had been locked in a castle for nearly eighteen years. But then the part of her that had reigned for all that time would resurface and take control. It told her she need not worry about those things. She had a comfortable life and access to anything she wanted. She would soon be Queen, and would have subjects and extravagant gowns and power. Why wonder about things of the past?

The side of Loraena that was slowly, steadily becoming stronger answered for her.

Because some things were meant to be wondered about.