Legacy of a King

By Charlene Sponsel

Lilis fathers business was decimated by the Eldermans War, which put Tali Major on the throne of Conica. Now, she must make a wealthy match before her fathers debts destroy everything she loves.

She finds a friend among the sovereignty. Cam may be the youngest son of the king, but he is far from a prince. Impulsive and adventurous, he leaves Conica to find happiness. Called home by familial obligation, he discovers what he was looking for was there all along.

Surprised to find that she is an object of desire, Lili makes the fatal error of falling in love. The Major family will change her life as she is faced with incidents out of her control. Together, can Lili and Cam be the light that saves a nation or will the shadow of life as a sovereign leave Lili alone in the dark?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 18, 2017
• ISBN: 9781532031144

Charlene Sponsel

Charlene Sponsel lives in North Pole, Alaska, with her husband and three kids. Dark winter weather is perfect for sharing stories with her English bulldog, Puk, who listens without judgment. During the endless summer days, she and Puk explore the wide-open spaces of her beautiful home state. Sponsel is also the author of Legacy of a King, book one in the Legacy Series.

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Copyright © 2017 Charlene Sponsel.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-3115-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-3114-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017915037

iUniverse rev. date: 04/11/2018

For my childhood nemesis, my husband, my best friend. Thank you for helping me make my dreams a reality.

My heart is yours, always.

Contents

Chapter 1 - Iliota of Weselder

Chapter 2 - A Promise

Chapter 3 - An Unwanted Guest

Chapter 4 - Unsolicited Help

Chapter 5 - Impossible Expectations

Chapter 6 - Finding My Place

Chapter 7 - Accomplishment of a Goal

Chapter 8 - Becoming a Pawn

Chapter 9 - Distraction

Chapter 10 - Preparations

Chapter 11 - Retreat

Chapter 12 - Octennial Wine Tasting

Chapter 13 - Becoming a Queen

Chapter 14 - Threats

Chapter 15 - Alone

Chapter 16 - Camich Major, Earl of Liot

Chapter 17 - Cam’s Deception

Chapter 18 - Lili’s Dilemma

Chapter 19 - Cam’s Misery

Chapter 20 - Lili’s Commitment to a Lie

Chapter 21 - Cam’s Regret

Chapter 22 - Lili’s Confession

Chapter 23 - Cam’s Loss

Chapter 24 - Lili’s Freedom

Chapter 25 - Cam’s Journey Home

Chapter 26 - Lili’s Acceptance

Chapter 27 - Cam’s Struggle

Chapter 28 - Lili’s Long Wait

Chapter 29 - Cam’s Pain

Chapter 30 - Lili’s Suspicions

Chapter 31 - Cam’s Promised

Chapter 32 - Lili’s Turn

Chapter 33 - Cam’s Union

Chapter 34 - Lili’s Heartbreak

Chapter 35 - Cam’s Flight

Chapter 36 - Lili’s Removal

Chapter 37 - Cam’s Maneuver

Chapter 38 - Lili in Exile

Chapter 39 - Cam’s Vow

Chapter 40 - Lili’s Reprimanding

Chapter 41 - Cam’s Temper

Chapter 42 - Lili’s Letters

Chapter 43 - Lili’s Discovery

Chapter 44 - Lili’s Goodbye

Chapter 45 - Cam’s Sacrifice

Chapter 46 - Lili’s Musings

Chapter 47 - Lili’s Journey

Chapter 48 - Cam’s Goodbye

Chapter 49 - Lili’s Adversary

Chapter 50 - Cam’s News

Chapter 51 - Lili’s Nightmare

Chapter 52 - Lady Iliota of Weselder

Epilogue

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Chapter 1

Iliota of Weselder

Seventy-sixth day of Spring 446

Iliota, daughter of Niel, tradesman of Weselder, the herald announced.

I’ve always hated my name. It sounds like someone out of a history book, old and boring, but that night there was a world of possibilities at my feet. I stepped forward and waited at the top of the grand staircase. My fingers played with the rough blue-silver encrusted banister, and my stomach knotted as I viewed the crowd below. The rumors were that the king and queen would choose mates for their children that evening. All the old sovereignty was in attendance, and their eyes were on me.

It was the spring of my eleventh cycle, the first time I had stepped outside my native titleship of Weselder, and the entitlement ceremony of the cycle. My brother, Ilix, stood beside me, treating me like I ruined his life, as he always did. His smoky gray eyes were stern and fixed at some point down the corridor. They were the same as our parents’ eyes, nothing like my own. I never understood why he allowed his red hair to flop over them, hiding them from the world. I would’ve worn them proudly. We didn’t have the funds or position for him to find a match. He hadn’t attended an entitlement ceremony since his own, three cycles before, but I needed an escort to travel due to my age.

I descended the stairs, heart pounding in my chest. The ballroom was filled with girls wearing headpieces of precious metals and jewels. I fought the urge to adjust my own as the feathers attached to the braided leather tickled my forehead. My ensemble was as refined as it was because I made it, but it was inadequate compared with those that filled the room. My composure wavered. What am I doing here? My father’s connections had procured the invitation, but I wasn’t the equal of anyone in the room.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and their candles scented the air with honey. In the Great Hall, servants were setting up for the feast. I craned my neck to see and stumbled. Pain stabbed through my hands and knees as I caught myself on the merciless marble floor. A boy in the crowd failed to stifle his laughter, if he’d tried at all. My face heated, and blood pounded in my ears, which muffled the herald’s voice as he called my brother’s name.

Ilixam, son of Niel, tradesman of Weselder.

Ilix stood at the top regarding me with the same disapproval that often lay in his eyes. The crowd redirected its attention, and I stole the opportunity to find an empty corner where I let my body slide to the floor. I drew my knees to my chest and buried my head between them as if it would make me invisible.

I don’t belong here. I want to go home.

Do not worry yourself, child, a stranger said, his voice deep and gentle.

My father will be angry. My words were soft as I said them into my gold knee-breeches. It was impolite, but the alternative was to let him see me cry.

He knelt in front of me. You are young and have many entitlement ceremonies ahead of you. I apologize for my son’s laughter, do not let it trouble you.

I intended to contradict him, but as I lifted my head, my eyes fixed on his gleaming blue-silver crown. I should bow, or something, I thought, but I was frozen. He caught hold of my hand and straightened. I followed as if in a trance. Sire. My mouth dry, I curtsied, in an obvious afterthought, tucking a wayward strand hair behind my ear.

They will forget in time. Come, I will make your introductions.

It’s not necessary, King Tali, but I thank you for your kindness. He still clasped my hand and it shook as he led me forward.

Iliota of Weselder, this is my mate, Queen Vourin.

Her dainty crown of blue-silver and amethyst sat on her dull black hair. Her skin was pale and sallow with none of the violet hues of her people. She lifted her gaunt hand to me, and I hesitated before I took it and curtsied. It was only a moment, but she cast her eyes at the ground as she gestured to the seat beside her. Please, sit with me. The slow cadence of her voice revealed the effort it cost her to speak.

While the queen greeted other guests, I stared at my hands and fingered the silk needlework on the edge of my tunic. King Tali’s forest green eyes sparkled at his queen. He didn’t appear to notice any of her imperfections. He was as enamored as a child is with the first snow. Blinking back moisture, I stared past them to control my burst of emotion. A man leaned against the grand staircase. He had the brown skin of an Everforester, and his clothes were as black as the dark forest. He was a shadow, and a shudder coursed through me as he glanced our way.

I tore my eyes away as the queen said, You should meet my son, Camich. Had I been paying attention, I may have avoided the words that followed. Would you fetch him for us, my love? The king’s smile lit his handsome face.

It caused an involuntary sigh to escape me, which formed the words, He loves you. Shutting my eyes, I waited for reprisal. My father was always scolding me for being impertinent and speaking out of turn.

Yes, he does, the queen replied, her lavender eyes forlorn as he left us.

The marble tiles on the ballroom floor were slender right triangles, like a T overlaid with a V. Was it intentional? I wondered.

You had the attention of the entire ballroom as you entered. Your skin is flawless.

I shook my head and concentrated on my fingers, embarrassed by her assessment of me. The handmaids used powder. They said my skin was too white.

No. Your shading is developing, there along your cheekbones, burgundy like your hair.

My cheeks warmed my hands as I covered them.

It is your eyes that I noticed first. Red-brown is an unusual color for a Westforester, isn’t it?

Yes, Your Majesty.

Iliota of Weselder, may I present our youngest, Camich? King Tali encouraged his son to step forward. I curtsied, as was my obligation, but I refused to meet his gaze.

Please forgive my outburst, he said, his face a mischievous grin. Your misstep was unexpected. His eyes flashed in amusement. His skin was a deep, radiant brown, like his father’s. He wasn’t much older than I, but his mop of hair was already mixed with the forest green highlights that appeared in maturity. Someone shouted his name, and he glanced at his father for permission to leave. A moment later he was snickering at me with a group of friends making me wish I’d never met him.

We must find you a dance partner. King Tali gave me a grin of encouragement revealing deep-set dimples. He bowed to us both as if I were entitled and kissed the queen’s hand before leaving.

He looks like the king. I glared in Camich’s direction and pursed my lips.

He takes after his father in many ways.

My eyes rolled, and I hoped the queen didn’t see. King Tali was tenderhearted and gallant. His son was neither of those things. I plastered a smile on my face as the king returned with another boy. This one bowed and asked me to dance. I accepted but glanced back at the queen, reluctant to leave her.

Will you sit with us for the feast? she asked, proving not only how transparent I was but that her purported generosity had not been exaggerated.

My spirits soared. No one received that kind of invitation. Though the moons had reached their apex, I was ready to dance all night under the ceiling of painted clouds.

Everyone said pleasant things about the sovereignty, it was expected. I had doubted the accuracy of such adulations, seldom had the entitled lived up to them. The queen spoke to anyone who approached her with graciousness regardless of their station, even the dark man from beside the stairs who kissed her hand and sat beside her as if he belonged there. His facial expression was immutable, but the queen regarded him with tenderness.

The bells chimed announcing dinner, and I was escorted to a table upon a stage. It was set with porcelain dishes finer than any I had seen. They were in various shapes and sizes accompanied by a few glass goblets and polished blue-silver cutlery, a metal more expensive than gold. I had never seen it used for something so common. The tableware was inlaid with gold and sat on a silk tablecloth thin enough that the polished, water colored paintwood beneath was visible. The settings were more elegant than the entitled tables and those more elegant than the common tables, where my brother sat with a wooden cup, glowering at me.

The recently titled Duke of Majorca, Farin, stood at attention next to his father, the king. He was hard as diamond, shaped and polished in his officer uniform. Next to him was his sister, Kesma, who wouldn’t receive her title for another cycle when she turned fifteen. She nodded to me like a delicate flower does to the sun. Her velvety, olive skin was bordered in budding green in the shape of a heart. Both were more reserved than Camich or Princess Balia.

Princess Balia was magnificent. She had dark Everforester skin, violet shading contouring her face, and black curly hair. Held in high regard for her devotion to Conica, she was what came to mind when someone thought of a princess. She was the measure of every girl as they reached maturity. We all fell short. A cordial smile adorned her face as she made her way to the table but her eyes narrowed, and her smile disappeared as she stood across from me. These tables are for sovereignty, she said in a sharp tone to the servant who stood behind my chair.

His voice shook as he answered, She’s the queen’s guest, miss.

Seriously, Mother?

You may go, Queen Vourin told him, interceding on the boy’s behalf.

None at our table sat before she did. The gesture was significant as was the sovereign couple’s linked fingers. I ate a few small bites of the foreign dishes, terrified. Everyone was waiting for the commoner at the sovereign’s table to make a mistake. As we ate I listened to the conversations from entitled throughout Conica.

My people, Westforesters, revered beauty and grace above everything. The West Fall was without question the center of art and literature, and Wescasel was its crown. I knew it to be true because that was what I was taught.

The other races I had been exposed to were Vinlanders and the Paintwood Tribes. Vinlanders are a passionate and romantic people. Like Westforesters, they are lovers of art but more important to them is family, numbering in the thousands. The Paintwood Tribes are affectionate and compassionate with strict policies of non-violence.

The Weslan Forest, where the king was from, was steeped in politics, history, and philosophy. These were out of my realm of comprehension, but it made Elonji, the capital, highly militarized. Everforesters deemed themselves to be socially aware. I had yet to see them as such, but I was so naïve I didn’t see the hypocrisy of my own people at that time.

The Plainsmen were boisterous and quick-tempered. Their men believed they were superior to women and much better than the Coastal Clans who were modest in dress, manners, and speech. The education I received at the sovereign table was better and more honest than anything I learned of other races in school.

It was the best night of my life and over too soon. To Queen Vourin’s surprise, and mine as well, I wrapped my arms around her tiny waist. Thank you, for everything. I will remember you always. Be well, I said, a tear spilling onto my cheek.

The king supported her so she could remain standing to bid the guests farewell. Be happy, Queen Vourin responded, holding both my hands in hers. I kissed them, curtsied, and backed away.

What was that about? Ilix asked in a nasty tone as I sagged upon the carriage seat.

You wouldn’t understand.

What I understand is that you squandered an entire evening without a single prospect to show for it. What a waste. I ignored him and peered out the window facing the gray castle, which was a shadow against the darkened sky. You made a phenomenal fool of yourself, tripping and pestering the queen. Wait until Father learns what you’ve done. You are nothing but a useless child, he scolded me. Elonji castle faded away through the early-morning fog like a dream and my vision blurred with tears I made no effort to stop. Cry all you want. It may work on Father, but it will not work on me. He balled his cloak and thumped his head on it.

You don’t know anything. I clenched my teeth and glared at him regardless of his closed eyes. I drew my knees to my chest and wrapped my cloak around my legs providing them more warmth than my sheer stockings. I imagined I was still dancing while the gentle rocking of the carriage lulled me to sleep.

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The four-day trip from Elonji to my home in Marketon crawled by with only Ilix’s disappointment for company. I waved out the carriage windows as we rolled through the hills past row after endless row of vines, pretending I was a queen. The field workers among them were happy to oblige my fantasy by waving in return. The carriage wheels assailed my ears as we rumbled over the bridge into Weselder, but quieted as we made our way down Market Street. The sun was setting, and the street was empty, which gave it an eerie quality. Buttoned-down curtains of the merchant stalls flapped in the wind but the air was the spicy-sweet of caricat trees, not manure.

My excitement grew as we approached our cottage, no grander than those of the row houses in the poorest sections of Elonji. The roof was covered in crooked red clay shingles, not thatch, but the plaster had cracks I had never noticed. I had an overwhelming desire to sweep our stoop of debris and plant flowers to set it apart. Seeing my father, I jumped in an unladylike fashion before the carriage came to a full stop and ran into his arms.

Lili, how was it?

Marvelous.

But she tripped, Ilix said.

I bowed my head and kicked a stone, disturbing the russet dust, which landed on my shoes. It will not happen again.

It cannot happen again. A mistake is understandable, you were nervous, he hugged me to his side, But we need you to make a good match.

Father, she spent the evening wallowing. It’s unforgivable, Ilix scowled at me.

Lili, these events are a great expense—

I didn’t wallow, I kept the queen company. I faced my accuser. Which she asked me to do, Ilix.

Because she felt sorry for you, he taunted me.

Enough. Ilix, take the trunks inside so the carriage can go. My father paid the driver, and my heart fell. His tattered clothes stood in great contrast to the excess I’d recently enjoyed, and the lines in his face made him appear older than he was. His skin didn’t have the brilliant iridescent features it should. His red shading had diminished until it was seen only under his cheekbones.

I’m sorry, I cried as I wrapped my arms around him. His clothing hung off his frame in much the same way the queen’s had. Camich laughed, and I was mortified. If not for King Tali I wouldn’t have had a single offer to dance.

Iliota, the sovereignty is not where you will find a match. As thrilling as it may be, you made no friends in the common class with such a stunt, and less in the entitled. The cycles before you reach entitlement are precious. Our invitations are few enough at this juncture, and they will become fewer still. I’ve nothing to offer you, child, wish I had. Sorrow clouded his gray eyes.

I had been too young to remember our lives before the Eldermen’s War. My mother had been gone for six cycles and, if not for repetition, I feared forgetting her as well. She told me of the farmhouse, the swathes of land that followed the river, and the fields of fluffy fetter flowers. I imagined the gentle bray of bilon, and the stink of the stock pots as they cooked silk cocoons. She had described it as the smell of men’s feet, and her nose would wrinkle as she said it. She told me my father traveled and traded with the greatest families in Conica, his clothes always clean and in the newest fashions. The tiny cottage I called home was the only one I knew, and it had limited space for a small garden and some poultry.

I can attend the local events and those in Onioma, I said to bring him some hope.

I suppose what’s done is done.

I suspected it wasn’t the loss of his land or livelihood that crushed his soul but the loss of my mother for I had a faint memory of him smiling at her while he stood in front of the crumbling fireplace in the cottage.

Father, what’s wrong with Queen Vourin?

No one knows.

Will she get better?

We hope so. His heart-rending stare told me his mind wasn’t there with me but with memories of my mother.

Chapter 2

A Promise

Thirty-third day of Fall 446

Father, I shouted, running through the darkened marketplace, Calix Cantenac’s entitlement ceremony, I’ve been invited. It has only been half a cycle. I will do better this time, I promise. I twirled, my tattered shoes grinding in the dirt as I squealed. May I make a new ensemble?

We already must rent a carriage and pay for your accommodations. My father wrung his work-worn hands. I will pull some of my stock, and you may work on it after you finish your chores. His face was pensive.

What is it, Father?

Word arrived from Elonji. Queen Vourin has passed. I covered my mouth as a sob erupted from it. My chest tightened, and I pressed my hands to it as if it would help.

I must go to the interment.

It’s too expensive, and you need to attend the Cantenac ceremony.

Please.

It would be a frivolous venture. Go check if Cook needs any help with dinner.

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My father wasn’t home for dinner that night or the next. The sun had set well before I finished my chores but it didn’t deter me from working on my ensemble in front of the fire. Ilix’s face twisted in disgust at my design and he acted as if he were going to be sick. Take it back, Ilix, I snapped at him.

Everyone will agree, and you will be the fool again.

Father said I have a good eye.

Our argument came to an abrupt halt as the door opened. Cheap liquor hung around my father like a cloud making it evident he had drunk his dinner. He sat at his desk, ignored our bickering, and opened his books. I went to my room, what I called my room. Threadbare cloth formed walls, which provided me some privacy. It had been for my parents. Not much had changed since my mother died, but our home was no longer warm. The unvarnished red wood and dingy beige walls were suffocating reminders. Occupying their ‘room’ was a privilege that set me apart from Ilix, as was the tear-stained mattress. Stuffed with leaves, it crinkled as I moved and gave off a musty smell but it was better than the grass mats Ilix and my father slept on in front of the fire. I had a feather blanket as well, a wedding gift from my grandparents and all that had survived the war.

The queen was gone. I imagined my mother stroking my back. ‘Don’t be too hard on your father,’ she would’ve said. ‘His hopes are on you. It’s difficult for him, he’s accustomed to being able to provide for his family.’ I didn’t remember her voice, but the fabrication comforted me. It also increased my misery because I wasn’t the only one who missed their mother that night.

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Breakfast was on the table when I emerged the next morning but even the savory sautéed mushrooms didn’t wet my appetite. I pushed the omelet around my plate with disinterest while Ilix devoured his food.

This arrived for you. My father thrust a letter towards me.

I brushed my fingers over the bumpy surface of the thick paper where my name was written in silver and flipped it over to see the broken indigo seal. Whose is this?

The queen’s.

How is that possible? This is an invitation to the interment. My father’s face was blank. It says a carriage will arrive in two days. May I go, Father?

You must, it’s her dying wish. He stared at the paper as if it was something new.

What? Ilix snorted, stood, and placed his hands flat on the table.

I drummed my feet on the reed-covered floor and ignored Ilix’s protest. Who will escort me? I asked, breathing in the sweet herbs my feet had disturbed.

I will.

But Father, she will make a fool of us.

The matter is settled, Ilix.

Ilix stomped out of the cottage as he muttered his displeasure.

Thank you, Papa.

Papa? He snapped out of his preoccupation. You haven’t called me Papa since you started school. Finish your new clothes, and I will find something special for it.

Two days later we bumped along Cantenac Road, headed for Elonji. The high-reaching snowy trunks and crimson leaves of the caricat trees shrank away with the ice-capped Contiga Mountains. Vinlands stretched to the horizon, an endless barrier that lay between my home and Elonji Castle. The journey was pleasant, and at times, I forgot the terrible purpose of our trip. Thinking back, it was as if my father knew it would be our last.

The road that wound into the crowded square was so thick with manure I may have believed the road was no longer cobblestone if not for the jolting of the carriage. I covered my nose with the edge of my wool cloak shielding it from the moist scent of it. We moved towards the inn hampered by carriages and merchants calling out their wares. Visitors bustled through the dusty streets and alleyways, which appeared as tunnels because the stories above were wider than the ones below. Walking might have been faster, but my father said those were the conditions that caused accidents. I wasn’t about to argue when it was how my mother died.

Anyone with a spare room is renting it out, and there isn’t a vacancy anywhere. It’s fortunate the queen had the foresight to reserve accommodations for us, my father said after checking us in at the front desk of the inn.

How did she manage it?

When we woke, the inn was full of loud men drinking their breakfasts. I donned the new ensemble with none of my usual excitement. The crowd in the street below had more gaiety than I could rally. My father had been right, there was no way my presence would be noticed. What had I expected? Why did the queen bother? It was everything not to cry as I descended the stairs.

My father scrutinized my design. What a shame you don’t have a more pleasant occasion to wear it for. Take off your old cloak. I told you I would find you something special, he said, producing a silk cape from behind his back.

The cloth was the perfect shade, and my fingers slipped into the folds of its smooth surface. It’s too much, Father.

Let me worry about the expense. We ate, though I had no stomach for the small ration. My father offered his arm, signaling it was time to go, and patted my hand as we stepped out onto the cobblestone street.

I closed my eyes, shielding them from the brightness of the sunlight, and trudged with the hundreds of mourners toward the city center. The square had been swept clean, and straw lay on the path the sovereign family was to walk, which left the air fresh. My father and I edged through the crowd until we reached the ropes that lined the walkway from the castle gate to the burial chamber. The irreverent crowd acted like they were waiting for a parade to begin and it was only as the litter came within view that they quieted. Queen Vourin laid on a silk pillow, sun flashing off her blue-silver crown. She was covered with a sheer cloth opaque enough to imagine the woman she was before bouts of sickness laid waste to her body. The ground was speckled with indigo petals tossed to show undying adoration for the late queen. White gossamer veils covered the faces of King Tali and their children as they followed. Princess Balia carried her infant son in her arms, Queen Vourin’s grandson who she would never know. My face was wet with a steady stream of tears for the loss of the queen and the family left to grieve.

The mourners convened in taverns to drink and play games of chance. Children ran wild on the streets as if it were a holiday while mothers shouted when to be home. We waited for a table at the inn where a message was delivered to my father. Assuming it was one of his contacts, I continued to survey the room for an empty seat.

Come, we are to pay our respects at the castle.

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Down the southern streets, statuesque manor houses bordered the river. Matching rows of shabby buildings with thatch roofs lined the worn dirt roads to the north. My eyes fixed on the bedraggled children who sat on the stoops until we passed through a stone gate that hid them from view and Elonji Castle’s four towers crowned with teeth-like embattlements stood six stories high on the shore of Elon Lake.

Slow-moving guests had traveled from every corner of Western Conica to offer their condolences to the sovereign family who stood unveiled at the front of the Great Hall. The room was free of the decorations it had displayed for Farin’s entitlement. Queen Vourin’s name echoed against the cold stone on whispers that moved through the crowd like