Oskar frowns at me and continues to insist, “You should do this for Kenric’s peace of mind.”

  I laugh, “My husband’s peace of mind is found in my presence, not my absence. He knows that I am capable of keeping the peace here, King Oskar. Even as my own king, King Ellisar, has trusted me to do the same many times. If your dukes are rash enough to approach me with malicious intent, I promise you that I will be the one maintaining the peace. In ways that they are unlikely to forget.”

  Oskar puts on a thin, sharp smile, “Very well. Your self-reliance is admirable, if unsettling. But know that your safety and the security of my kingdom depend on your restraint. For Kenric's sake, do not make me regret sending him away.”

  I give another toothy smile at Oskar. I’d dearly love to rip out his throat, but he’s a king. For now, I must exercise restraint. “Do not worry, Your Majesty. I am always mindful of what is done for Kenric's sake. If I might, there is a Fey proverb about plucking the autumn rose, and bleeding for every thorn.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Inaba sign to the rest of my honor guard to be ready.

  Oskar takes another step forward. His thin smile hardens into a look of frustrated dominance. “Good. For Kenric's sake, then," he said, his voice dropping to a smooth, too-familiar register. He reaches out, not to cup my face but to place a patronizing, possessive hand on my shoulder. This makes me furious. This gesture is meant to convey his final authority as he continues speaking. "See that you behave like a proper consort, and allow me to guide your..."

  If anyone is anyone’s consort, Kenric is mine, not the other way around. After our wedding in Imelenora, he’s my Royal Consort. He was dressed as befits his status, the day we arrived here, as a Fey prince. Kenric looked and acted more like a king than Oskar ever had. Oskar didn’t even recognize him. I won’t have it. I’m not a toy or a plaything for these lords or even this king to toss around. I am perfectly capable of incapacitating an opponent, even one of Oskar’s size. I trained against my war band. Nieven's bigger and stronger. Mirthal is smarter. Revalor is a better swordsman.

  In a blur of unconstrained speed, I shatter the semi-polite tension with swift action. I don’t flinch away from Oskar or step back to gain space. Instead, I reach up and knock his hand off my shoulder with a flick of my wrist. I don’t wait for Oskar to respond. It’s better if he doesn’t because I’d rather keep him alive. My other hand forms a fist and pulls back before it drives forward, directly into his solar plexus. It serves as a precise and calculated warning: Don’t put your hands where they don’t belong.

  I'm going to make sure this hurts for a long time. I could punch you in the danglies but that's over far too quickly. Too many of you men guard those bits too reflexively because you spend so much time punching each other there. No, this needs to be instructive. You need to remember this every time you try to inhale for the next few weeks. Perhaps that will drive home the lesson about keeping your hands off me. You've chosen to dance with the shadows. Now see how the darkness bites back.

  Oskar explodes, gasping and choking, wetly. His eyes are wide, bulging with shock and intense pain. His spine arches involuntarily in a spasm as he stumbles backward. He is busy clutching his stomach and his shattered dignity. Inaba shoves a chair behind him, and Oskar collapses into it, wheezing. He is immobilized and unable to speak. I am calm now. His offensive hands have been removed from my person. I bend down to look at him, and give him a cold smile.

  When I speak, I think he can hear in my voice what I could have done. “That was not an act of plotting, Your Majesty. That was me exercising restraint.”

  Turning on my heel, I head into the room where my ladies are. Inaba drops a glass of water on the table near Oskar, and my honor guard follows me out of the room, leaving Oskar to recover on his own, in private. If there’s no gossip about it, then it didn’t really happen. If it didn’t happen, Oskar can’t cry foul for striking the king.

  Oskar finds himself bent over and wheezing in a chair. “That tiny thing just flattened me. She didn’t even look stressed when she did it. I can’t even breathe. That’s a simple, necessary act. She stole it. Gods above, but it hurts. Like someone driving a spike into my chest. No one has ever touched me like that. That blinding force is contained in that tiny, delicate frame. Just one punch… The audacity!. She punched a king. She doesn’t even reach my shoulder.”

  He sips gingerly at the water Inaba left him. “I should be staggering out into the hallway, screaming for the guard, demanding her execution. I can’t! Gods! Mustn’t let the dukes find out about it… No, no. That wouldn’t do. That makes me look weak. The shame of being bested by someone who’s literally less than half my size should be crushing me. Instead, I’m huddled here, wheezing like a dying dog. She didn’t even run after she did it. She walked away, calm as you please. She dismissed me like I was an overeager chambermaid.”

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  “I don’t want her dead. I don’t want her gone. Oh no! Not at all! Every other woman in this court is a trinket I can buy or steal. Predictable. Soft. They yield to my command, to my money, or to fear. But not her. No, she punched me. I’m… I’m angry. It is intoxicating. I’m as hard as iron. She defied me. No one defies me. I’m the king! I will possess her. Bedding her would be a relief, but what I really want is to force her to kneel before me and beg.”

  “The stones on that woman…. I AM A KING!”

  For a moment, he thinks, “How did Kenric win her?”

  This is followed quickly by, “Lucky bastard.”

  Oskar dismisses all that. “I must gather myself. No one can ever know. It will be some sudden affliction. That is what the doctor will say. She cannot believe she is safe. She must think her little show of defiance worked. Let her think she’s won this small private skirmish. Let her ride off with Kenric. I’ll be here when they get back. It just gives me more time to plan.”

  “The game is not over, Víl?. It is just beginning. I was going to bed you once or twice and then leave you to Kenric. Now… Now you’re a challenge. I haven’t had any woman ever try to drive me away like that. I don’t want you for a mistress. I want to subjugate you. I want to own you. I want you on your knees begging me to touch you. And the best part… I’m the King…. I have nothing but all the time in the world to chase you, to bring you to bay. Since I’m the King, I have all the resources in Centis to make that happen.”

  Oskar finally pulls himself together and tries his best to walk normally to the Royal Apartments.

  No man wants to admit to being bested so easily by someone a fraction of his size and female. It’s a calculated risk, but I doubt Oskar will say anything. If he claims I bested him with one punch, he looks incredibly weak, and dukes will eat him alive. He’s already sent Kenric to the exchequer with far too many witnesses to claim Kenric hit him. At the worst, he might claim my honor guard punched him. He can’t really do that either, since that begs the question: why would my honor guard feel the need to protect me from this King?

  Now we’re back to a few clauses in the trade agreement that pertain to my personal safety and to Ellisar’s right to send his army here to enforce it. I doubt that Oskar will breathe a word of this to anyone. I would say that I’ve made an enemy, but in Oskar’s case, I’m sure that I already had one. I’ve heard too much about him from too many people to operate under the idea that he might ever be friendly. Oskar’s been catered to his whole life. Before he was king, he was the crown prince.

  “Ugh! I hate Oskar. The best part of that man must surely have dribbled down his mother’s leg. Why didn’t his father pull out? It’s a shame that birth control isn’t retroactive. You think of putting your hands on me?! I am a Princess of the Fey, you ill-bred, cud-chewing, knuckle-dragging, mouth-breathing, snot bubble of a human.. You should count yourself fortunate that your hands are still at the end of your arms and not shoved into some part of your anatomy. Better yet, be happy you’re still breathing, even if it hurts a bit right now. The funny part is that this was Plan B. Plan A was kill you, dispose of your bloated carcass by any means necessary, and then pretend to be you for a while. It would have made things awkward with Kenric for a bit because he'd have suddenly become infatuated with Oskar. That's another thing that's not well accepted here either. No better than magic users and often no better than women either. We've side stepped all that, again, for now.”

  It takes some time, as we wait in a tense silence, listening to Oskar wheeze. The wheezing eventually quiets, and we hear the door. I send Inaba to check, and Inaba signals that he’s gone. I nod for him to lock the door. I gesture for the ladies to stay put. My honor guard follows me, and I shut the door. “Not a word, even among yourselves.”

  They all nod, understanding the gravity of the situation.

  “Good. He's courted the wolf and now he's meet the teeth,” I exhale heavily, “Then let us wait for Kenric so we can leave this place for a while.”

  I just punched a king. I didn’t plan on it, but I won’t let him man-handle me either. Kenric is the only man allowed to put his hands on me. I plan to keep it that way. First, I send Mila to watch Oskar. If he’s truly hurt, I can heal him. I don’t want him dead just yet. That creates other issues, mostly with Jannick. She’s sitting by a window, working on her embroidery, with a clear view of everyone coming and going. Then, I sent Hagiwara and Oshida to see Kenric. I leave Lilli in the rooms to keep an eye on things.

  Mila sits working on her embroidery when she notices Oskar entering his royal apartments. Mila’s unsure what happened between Víl? and Oskar, but it seems Oskar might be a bit worse for wear. This almost makes Mila giggle. Mila received an offer from Sophus Olsen. While Mila’s father is an Earl, their estates have not done well. Mila is one of a few sisters, so she doesn’t have much of a dowry. Sophus is a Baron, but a wealthy one. He made an offer for Mila mainly because he liked her.

  According to Oskar, Sophus was overstepping his station. Oskar refused to let them marry. He had promised to help her find a husband of a more suitable standing, but that help never came. Mila despises Oskar from the bottom of her soul for stealing her one chance at having a family of her own. Sophus has since married elsewhere. With her modest looks and limited funds, she’s unlikely to receive another proposal. Instead, she finds herself resigned to becoming the spinster aunt.

  While Mila is busy stitching, one of the Royal Guards leaves. The guard returns shortly with the Royal Physician in tow. Mila waits, seemingly absorbed in her needlework and observes. The Royal Physician isn't in with Oskar for long. Mila hears the Royal Physician tell the guards outside that Oskar is not to have any visitors, not even the Queen, for the next three days. Smirking, Mila focuses on her needlework and pretends to be unaware of the drama unfolding around her.

  What do you think the Royal Physician thinks? Let me know in the comments...