Of Wars and Weddings Read online

  ***

  The trip to the port was short but The Knave savored every minute of sleep. She chose not to disturb him, content with reading a book as the scenery flew past the car. The Knave awoke when they reached the port and it didn’t take long before they disembarked for Maryland. Before leaving he had given final orders to his commanders and the moment the anchor was hoisted and they were away he went straight to his stateroom where he fell asleep the moment he laid down on the large bed. He slept for sixteen hours straight before waking. He yawned, and then turned as he heard the telltale laughter of his wife.

  "Hey," he said.

  His wife poked her head out of a nearby room. "Good afternoon, sunshine."

  He blinked. His wife poked a hand out and pointed at the clock hanging above his head. He looked up. It was one in the afternoon.

  "Shit."

  "Wouldn't be the first time you slept away an entire afternoon and morning. How about you take a bath and we'll get some food? According to the captain it’ll be sunny all day."

  The Knave stretched his limbs and threw off the blanket as he hopped out of bed. "Okay."

  Closing her book she walked out the room as The Knave made his way to the bathroom across from it. The room was a private sanctuary he had built for her - a library with two couches and a coffee table atop a Persian rug and a port hole that allowed sunlight to pour in. They kissed as they passed one another and The Knave slid the bathroom door behind him as he entered. From the other side he heard her say she’ll have the mess officer prepare lunch before heading out.

  The Knave filled the tub halfway before sinking himself into the water. He enjoyed taking cold baths during the summer. He rested his head on the cool porcelain edge and closed his eyes. He felt like he could sleep for another sixteen hours. But he didn't, and when he was done he got out, dried himself, and got dressed to join his wife on the ship’s deck.

  A table with food had been set close to the bow. There were fresh fruits and vegetables, meats of all kinds and cheeses taken from the milk-rich cows of the south. Between a bite of roasted pork dipped in wine sauce The Knave's wife said, "I'm looking forward to your brother's wedding."

  Unable to respond with a mouthful of watermelon The Knave nodded.

  "There was a time when I thought we'd never see them marry."

  Swallowing he said, "There was a time I thought I’d never either of them again."

  She nodded. She thought of her folks out west and felt an ache in her heart. She had last spoken to them right before all long distance communications had been lost. A hand squeezed hers and she squeezed it back. The Knave understood. His parents had retired overseas years before. After the world had gone to hell and he had consolidated his power he spent years and resources trying to find out what happened to them but to no avail. Many men disappeared in the attempt and the one man who came back died before he could say a word. He had been found in one of Miami's ports emaciated and dying of scurvy. All The Knave had were his wife, his army, and the family yet living. He was looking forward to seeing them. Mostly.

  They were a week from Baltimore. The Knave leaned back and looked out at the Atlantic. The cool ocean breeze refreshed him. His wife set down her glass of wine and said, “What are you thinking about?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck with a hand. "My sister."

  She thought so. The last time they had seen each other had been years ago, after the Peace of Annapolis. They hadn't parted in good terms. She said, "You're afraid of what'll happen when your siblings see each other again."

  "Yes."

  "But her last telegraph to us had been positive. She swore to keep the peace." His wife leaned in and placed a hand on his knee. “By all accounts she’s kept her word.”

  Unable to contradict her he nodded.

  "Then what are you worried about?"

  His lips moved but he stopped short. He feared giving it voice would make it true. The Knave shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

  She looked at him for a long time. “Okay,” she said and leaned back.

  While reaching for a grape she saw a midshipman walking towards them with an envelope in one hand. When he reached their table he offered a salute - the classic way with the fingertips of his right hand almost touching the spot above his eyebrow. The Knave nodded and the sailor handed him the envelope before saluting and walking away. He opened it and read the letter. She watched for any sign of emotion but he betrayed none, even when he finished reading it. He held it for a moment before placing it on the table. She glanced at it. “Something wrong?”

  He paused before answering. “My cousin is heading to Maryland from his territory in the north.”

  She was confused. She leaned in as if she misheard him. “Right, he’s going to the wedding like we are.”

  “Yes.”

  She scrunched her eyebrows. “Then what’s the problem?”

  “He’s supposed to cut through Pennsylvania and head west into my brother’s territory. But he’s not.” The Knave looked at her. He said, “He’s traveling through Delaware. He’s going to see my sister.”

  The Raven

  The Raven shifted on her chair as the waves rolled in and out. The summer sun was overhead and she found it to be the perfect day to bathe in its warmth like it belonged to her. Situated along a magnificent stretch of beach the estate gave her a clear view of everything around her. Inhaling the clean ocean air she stood and stretched her arms over her head. Her lithe physique the picture of captivating beauty and lurid, overt sexuality, she was naked but for the tattoos that covered great swaths of her body. Numbering in the dozens she had gotten most of them before the collapse, others after. But there was one in particular, one that meant more than all the others. It was a cover-up: a tattoo over another tattoo. It was once a dove, and she almost couldn’t remember what it had looked like. Almost... The Raven reached a hand over to her right shoulder blade and caressed the ink that now perched there.

  Her “other” brother’s wedding was next week.

  The Raven bit hard against a torrent of anger until it subsided. Removing her hand from her shoulder she snapped her fingers. A tall, sturdy man walked towards The Raven with a bathrobe draped over both arms. She turned her back to him and he draped the robe around her shoulders. She flicked long black hair back as the man tied the belt around her waist and stepped away. She didn’t look at him as she began walking towards her house.

  The floor creaked as The Raven entered the house and shut the door behind her. Entering the large kitchen two men stepped forward and held out their hands: one held a bowl of fruits while the other held a tray with a pitcher of water and a full glass. She began picking from the bowl. As she ate she eyed both men up and down. One was dark and slender and possessed well-defined musculature. The other had a similar physique but was lighter in complexion. Though different men, there was one similarity: they both had the same tattoo on the left side of their neck under where the jaw met the ear. It was a single black feather locked behind a cage of gold. She looked at both men with dispassionate lust.

  After eating her fill she took the glass of water, downed it in a single gulp, and placed the empty glass onto the tray. She moved in close to both men, reached down to cup them, and squeezed. Hard. Neither man reacted to what should’ve been a painful and degrading act. Seeing no emotion she squeezed harder, but still no change. The Raven bit her lip. She said, "Both of you, go to my bedroom and wait until I get there."

  Neither men spoke as they bowed their heads.

  She showed her teeth in a vicious grin and released both men. Her toy-boys set what they were carrying on the countertop beside them before heading down the long hallway to her quarters. The Raven watched until they rounded the corner before walking over to a nearby cupboard where she pulled out a wine glass. She reached over to a wine rack holding several bottles of various vintages and pulled a half empty bottle of red, popped the cork, and poured a generous portion into her glass. Holding the stem she s
wished the deep red liquid and took in the nose before enjoying a mouthful of wine. Despite the heat of summer the warm liquid was soothing and she enjoyed every sip until there was no more. Licking her lips she set the glass down and then made her way to her bedroom where the two men were waiting.

  And this, like the wine, she enjoyed.