Warprize

you’re returned safe and sound to us. A coronation feast, the ceremonies—”
    The bread tasted wonderful, and I dipped a piece in the soup as Anna talked about a half dozen things, including preparing my father’s old rooms for me. Othur said nothing, just studied his ale, then my face, then returned to his ale again. Eventually, Anna ran out of words and she sat silent, darting looks between Othur and me. Neither of us was willing to speak first, and finally Anna lost her patience. “What is it, child?”
    “She doesn’t want the crown.” Othur rumbled.
    “What?”
    “Othur,” I pleaded. “You’ve been the seneschal for years, under my father. Can you honestly say it’s in the best interest of the kingdom for me to rule?”
    Othur frowned. “You are a Daughter of Xy. Your duty requires you to rule your kingdom and rule it well, Xylara. That is what your father would expect of you. Regardless of your personal desires.”
    “Othur, I never wanted to be queen. I don’t have the skills to be queen. My dream was having a school of healing, not to—”
    “The events of the last month have frightened the people. They need stability, reassurance that all will be well.” Othur’s eyes drilled into me. “Your presence on the throne will comfort them. You can learn the skills necessary, given time.”
    “Anything less is a betrayal of your father and your father’s father.” Othur stood, pushing his stool back. “
    I’ll hear no more of this, My Queen.” With that, he walked out of the kitchen. Anna placed a trembling hand on my arm. “Child, you’re home and safe. Where else would you want to be?”
    I sighed, and ate more soup.
    I left Anna, and went out into the kitchen gardens, then down the path to the great rose briar. My two guards followed like shadows.
    I hated to admit it, even to myself, but Othur was right. Father had always said that the price of privilege was responsibility. Like it or not, I was Heir to the Throne of Xy. I had an obligation, one that I could not avoid or ignore or pass to someone else.
    The scent of roses grew as I got closer to the briar. Apparently Anna had not yet picked it clean. I picked one of the flowers, and held it to my nose, enjoying the scent, bringing memories of my father. But not just his sickbed. I saw him on the throne, and in council, making decisions, ruling wisely and well. I walked on, lost in my thoughts.
    I knew little of politics, little of diplomacy, and the thousand other things one needed to be queen. Maybe Keir’s people had a better way, one that depended on proven abilities rather than birth. One thing was certain, at least to me. I’d be an inept ruler. And if I did take the throne, it was highly unlikely that I’d be able to tend a sick person ever again. As warprize, I’d be able to, even encouraged to heal, maybe teach.
    I jerked to a stop and stopped breathing. For here in the dimness of the garden, where shadows hid me from prying eyes, I faced the truth.
    I wanted Keir.
    I wanted Keir more than I wanted to make the sick well, or pass on my skills to others. I wanted Keir more than I wanted to sit on the Throne of Xy and ward my people. I wanted his strength, his touch, his sly sense of humor, his honor and his passion.
    I stroked the flower against my warm cheek, feeling the velvet of the petals. Days? Had it only been days? Does the heart count days, or even hours?
    I moved over to one of the stone benches, and slumped down. I sounded like one of those horrid old ballads, sung by minstrels to lovesick court maidens with empty heads. Part of me was ashamed to face the truth. A true Daughter of Xy would put aside her desires and serve her people. With Keir beside me, that service was one that would fill my days with joy and purpose. Without him, it felt like a cold and joyless burden.
    If I’d thought my options limited with Xymund alive, they seemed even more confining now that he was dead. Being the warprize might be a risk, but it held out opportunities I’d never dreamed of. Keir had made his decision, for reasons I didn’t fully understand. Clearly, Anna and Othur would not help me. They seemed to think that they could put everything back the way it was, reassemble the broken teapot and put it back up on the shelf, as if nothing had happened. Except, I didn’t want to go back on the shelf and I couldn’t believe that my father would have wanted me to be miserable. There had to be a way.
    Anna had housed Simus in the