King Dom Comes (3 page)

"Yes.
Daddy?"

"What
is it, sweetheart?" Malkai stroked her face softly, his eyes brimming as
she offered him the honorific.

 
"My screams do not hurt you.
Why?" Shannon blinked through glazed eyes.

"My
bloodline parallels yours. I am immune to your cries. But not," he wiped a
drop from her nose, "your tears. I will always fall victim to those, for I
hate to see you so unhappy."

"Must
you go away and leave me here?"

"I
must. I have a kingdom to care for, and a son I must return to. He also
struggles with a birthright, like yours, that he must control. Right now, my
people are ill-prepared to accept someone as special as either of you."

Shannon
tilted her face, her eight-year-old eyes filled with a wisdom beyond her years.
She sniffed again. "We need to teach people not to be afraid of those who
are different, don't we?"

"Spoken
like a true future queen." He held her small face between his two large
hands, and steadied her eyes to look into his. "You have loved and
respected me as a father and a teacher for over four years. You call me 'daddy'
from the depths of your heart. I have been true to you and your mother, who
possessed my very existence. I promised her that if anything ever happened, I
would be responsible for you. I have decided that you will wed my son when you
come of age, and that you will stand by his side and rule as his queen when he
takes the throne."

"I
have never met him, Da," Shannon shook her head. "How can I be queen
when I know nothing about him? I only know the swamp, healing, and that people
are not to be trusted."

"You
are far too young to have learned the lesson of mistrust," Malkai sighed
sadly, holding her against his chest. "Being a queen starts with your
mind, my darling. You are to question everything that comes before you, and not
be afraid to challenge things told to you. Being blind to life will not make
you a ruler. You are too young to understand what this means right now, but you
will remember every word spoken this day. I promise."

"Your
son does not know me, or the ugly thing that I am," Shannon whispered,
snuggling under his strong chin.

Malkai
rested his cheek on top of her head. "There is nothing ugly about you. You
are simply different, and very beautiful in your uniqueness. You will win
Domitri's heart just as you have won mine. You will make each other happy and
complete. Do you trust me?"

"Yes,
Daddy. You are the only one I trust."

"I
will not disappoint you, but you must mind me and follow my instructions. Can
you do that?"

"I
will try."

"That
is all I ask. I love you, my girl. Domitri will love you even more fervently. I
promise."

Malkai's
words rang through her mind as though they were spoken only moments ago.
Shannon's heart fluttered as she mourned his passing. He had been kind to her
and loved her in a way that only a father could. He had proven that he was
constantly thinking of her by remembering her birthday and holidays with gifts,
and sending her monthly notes by raven. He visited her every summer and quizzed
her on her progress, exclaiming his pride as she demonstrated her new skills in
simple conjuring and healing. She feared she would disappoint him, and worked
diligently to learn all she could in the ten years that she had lived under the
tutelage of the Sisterhood of Truth.

Shannon
fingered the shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Malkai had given the luxurious
item to her on her eighteenth birthday, just days before he had passed away of
the plague. Her gift protected her from illness, and he came to her so that she
might remove his pain and comfort him in his final hours. The shawl reminded
her of this surrogate father, the only person other than her mother who had
fully understood her. It was, like him, gentle, intricate and rare.

She
glanced down at the note again. She knew the young king to be several years her
senior, and he was alleged to be quiet, moody and isolated. Gossip indicated
that he refused invitations to events, ruled his household with an iron fist,
and was capable of summoning thunderstorms when angered. He was also said to be
merciless when it came to the slaughter of his enemies. Shannon shook her head
and tried to follow the teachings of the convent—to ignore rumors and
gossip.

"What
disturbs your thoughts this night, my girl?" a voice asked from her
doorway.

Shannon
looked up and offered a soft smile. "I am brooding over my future, Sister.
I do not wish to leave my home for a man I have never met."

"You
knew and respected this man's father, yes? King Malkai made you his ward. He
loved and cared deeply for you. Did you not trust him?"

"I
trusted him with my life. He was more of a father to me than any. He saw
through my evil nature and gave me hope."

"Tsk,
tsk," the old Sister shook her head. "He would be taking a switch to
your bottom if he heard you talk about yourself like that. There is no evil in
your nature, child. You must stop repeating the lies of the past. He saw how
exceptional you are, and wished to give you the gift of his son and his kingdom
to show you his love."

"Then
why did he not take me back to live with him? Why was I kept here, isolated
from everyone by the Sisterhood? Was he afraid or ashamed of me?"

The
woman sat on the single chair in the room and patted the mattress for Shannon
to sit. "You know the answers to those questions. Your gift was too
unpredictable when you were a youth, it was subject to your tantrums and
temper. These walls have the power to absorb most of the damage, but not all.
He could not risk the world becoming victim to your gift until you could
control it. He was saving his kingdom, his people, and you, by having you stay
here."

"My
temper has calmed, has it not?"

"I
wish I could say that was so," the woman chuckled. "Only the chickens
and the goats have been spared from your screams. No amount of switchings have
limited them, either. You do tend to be unruly, yes?"

"Yes,"
Shannon sighed. "I seem to have no power to stop the keening when it
erupts. Even now I doubt my ability to control it. But I would not hurt anyone
intentionally."

"We
know that. Your gift controls you still, rather than you controlling it. As you
mature, it will become easier if you apply discipline to your actions."

"I
fear that my betrothed will not be as patient. If he is like his father, he
will be immune to my cries…"

"But
not your tears," the woman said with a gentle smile. "King Malkai
always said that you have no need to scream. He would give you the moon at the
first sign of a silent tear."

"I
would give up my gift to have him here and alive once again. I fear for my
future, Sister."

 
"The king would never subject you to
danger. He wished you to be happy, and trusts that this coupling will be the
best for all. Believe in his heart, Shannon, even if you don't trust your
own."

"His
son is said to be unlike him. Cruel, heartless, demanding. Rumors say…"

"Rumors!
Rumors are what took your mother's life," the sister scolded. "To
believe in a rumor is foolishness. To repeat a rumor is wicked. You have been
taught this!"

"Rumors
usually have some element of truth in them, do they not?" Shannon argued.

"Then
you are to find the truth and dispel the lie. Must I run you through your
exercises to remind you of this?"

Shannon
shuddered and shook her head. She hated doing Spell-binding. Its purpose was
simply to make her focus her energy into a single flame and clear her mind of
cobwebs, and it always left her with a headache and a burned hand.

The
sister took her silence as acquiescence and nodded her head with approval.
"Good. Wisdom prevails. The novices will come in and pack your trunks
while you make haste to finish your tasks."

Shannon
wrinkled her nose. "It is my last evening at the abbey! Must I?"

"You
have been trying to get out of evening chores since the day you first
arrived," the woman chuckled. "I recall King Malkai placing you
promptly across his knee for refusing to cooperate. Have you forgotten?"

"No."
Shannon blushed. Having never been spanked before, she had been stunned by the
gentle king's actions. They had been in the cathedral talking with several of
the Sisters, and Shannon had been told to sweep the floors. She had promptly
thrown a horrid tantrum and shattered the beautiful stained-glass windows that
sent rainbows of light onto the wooden furnishings. Without a word, Malkai had
scooped her around the waist and over his lap. The pain he deposited upon her
bottom shocked her even more, and her screams turned into pleas to cease.
Satisfied that she had learned a lesson, he lifted her onto his lap and rocked
her lovingly in his arms. She clung to him, crying against his shoulder from
both pain and humiliation. From that moment, Shannon was determined to never
again invite another episode of his hardened palm applied to her tender
buttocks, but that did not discourage her from challenging the Sisters at every
opportunity.

"Good.
Now put on your apron and gather the goats for milking."

With
a sigh, Shannon rose gracefully from the hard mattress. Her long legs carried
her to the goat yard, where she looked distastefully about her. She hated
milking more than scrubbing pots. For some reason, the animals wanted to
sit
on her rather than allow her to do
her task. Glancing around to make certain she was not being watched, she used
her gift to manipulate liquids. She inhaled deeply and began to sing, swaying
her body to the sound of her voice. The druid's dance took control and she lost
herself to the flow of her heart and blood matching the earth. Slowly, she
began to spin…

 
One by one, the buckets filled with the
foamy milk. She was nearly finished when she heard clucking behind her. She
felt her heart sink as she slowly turned to see the Grand Dame standing behind
her, arms crossed sternly, and tapping a black shod foot.

"I
know, I know," Shannon groaned, lifting her skirts automatically and
placing her hands on the wooden bench.

"You
know, yet you continue to pursue what is forbidden," the old woman
scolded, producing the long, slender 'rod of correction' from her copious
robes. "The time has come for you to feel this upon your flesh, child. Why
do you still insist on wearing a man's braies beneath your smock? They are
indecent."

"They
keep me warm in this God forsaken weather and help preserve my modesty. I see
no problem with wearing such."

"Remove
them."

"What?"
Shannon stared at the woman in shock. "You presume me to bare myself
before you for punishment?"

"I
presume nothing. You shall do so and without delay."

"I
am of too many years for you to punish me thusly," Shannon argued. "I
am a grown woman of eighteen and about to be married."

"Yet,
you are still unable to follow the basic rules set forth for your protection.
Obey me."

Shannon
fought back angry tears as she untied the drawstrings that kept the linen
underclothes around her waist. Blood rushed to her face as the garment fell in
a soft puddle to the ground.

"Step
out of them and place them upon the bench. There is no need for them to be
sullied as you stomp about," the Grand Dame ordered patiently.

Shannon
grumbled to herself, embarrassed by the fact that the old woman was correct.
She still was unable to take a punishment without hopping around like a fairy
during a festival! She folded her clothing carefully, laid the small pile upon
the bench seat, and then sighed as she repositioned herself.

Cold
air struck her bared bottom as the Grand Dame lifted her skirts away from her
fleshly objective. Shannon held her breath as she felt the slim dowel touch her
protruding mounds, knowing that the target was sighted. A swoosh proceeded the
sharp snap as the rod sliced cleanly across her flesh.

"Yeow!"
Shannon cried out, standing up straight as she grabbed her insulted backside.

"Bend
over. You know the penalty is six."

"No!
It hurts!" Shannon protested, stunned by the intensity of the stroke.

The
Grand Dame tapped the bench with the tip of the rod. "Must I call for help
and further your humiliation by having others watch your punishment as they
hold you in place?"

"Please,
I promise…"

"How
many times have you been caned for this same misdeed, Shannon? Twice? Thrice a
month? And those were only the times that you were caught. Bend over now and
let us finish this so that you may resume your chores."

Shannon
trembled as she reluctantly obeyed. The skin of her bottom and thighs quivered
as the wooden staff was again lined up to take aim. The searing bite was met
with a loud squeal, followed by a milk bucket exploding. The goats, unbothered
by her gift, scampered out of the way, bleating plaintively as though they
understood the pain of their companion. The Grand Dame said nothing as she
wiped the foamy white liquid from her face and aimed for stroke number three.