Royal Decoy (Fate of Eyrinthia Book 1)

by Heather Frost

  The king glanced past his livid daughter. “Join us, Bennick. This concerns you.”

  From the corner of her eye, Clare saw Bennick sit beside the princess, near the middle of the table.

  Newlan cleared his throat. “Let me introduce our guest.” He waved toward her. “Clare Ellington.”

  Every eye found her. Clare resisted the urge to wilt under their scrutiny by straightening her spine.

  Princess Serene’s long nails tapped against the table, irritation pulling at her features. “Why does she look like me?”

  Newlan eyed his daughter. “I’ve devised a way to offer you more protection.”

  She arched a sculpted brow. “You intend to replace me?”

  The king’s mouth thinned “Miss Ellington will be your decoy. She will be the target for any assassins that strike, thus ensuring your safety.”

  Grandeur glanced at Clare, concern sparking in his eyes. “That will put her in a great deal of danger.”

  “Miss Ellington knows the risks,” Newlan said. “She’s been well compensated and she’ll have protection.”

  “This is absurd!” Serene burst out. “I don’t need a decoy.”

  Newlan laced his fingers on the table, clearly striving for calm. “The threats against you are real.”

  “All royals are at risk,” she shot back.

  “You were singled out and attacked in the castle.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I know. I was there.”

  Newlan’s knuckles bloomed white and his nostrils flared. “I’m doing this for you.”

  “You’re doing it for your treaty.”

  His arms tensed. “The threats against you will increase as we move forward with your marriage.”

  Clare’s mouth dropped open. Princess Serene was to be married?

  Serene glowered at her father. “A marriage I’m not in favor of.”

  “Serjah Desfan is a needful match for Devendra,” Newlan said tightly. “You know what’s at stake.”

  Clare stared. Serene was going to marry Serjah Desfan of Mortise? The presence of the Mortisian emissaries suddenly made more sense, but Clare was still reeling. Mortise was Devendra’s enemy, despite their uneasy peace over the last few years. A marriage between their kingdoms seemed insane.

  “Your engagement will be announced in three days,” Newlan continued, unaware of Clare’s struggle to process the conversation. “Emissary Havim assures me a similar announcement has already been made in the Mortisian court.”

  Serene’s mouth curled derisively. “So you hired an imposter to ensure your perfect wedding isn’t disrupted by something as trivial as my death.”

  “Miss Ellington’s presence could save your life,” Newlan snapped. His face smoothed with visible effort as he turned to Bennick. “What do you think?”

  Clare could feel Bennick’s gaze on her, but she refused to meet it. She tried to ignore the flash of heat stealing over her face as he answered Newlan. “I approve of your choice.”

  Something about his careful answer bothered her, though she wasn’t sure what. Maybe it was just the sound of his voice that irritated her.

  Serene’s nails continued to rap against the table. “I assume this girl is the reason my maids were absent tonight. And you probably intend to put her in my rooms to further your ruse.”

  “I do,” Newlan said.

  “So I’m to be horribly inconvenienced so you can once again assert your power over me?”

  Clare cut a look at the princess. She felt inconvenienced?

  The candlelight flashed against the temper flaring in Newlan’s eyes. “I’m sorry if you find the preservation of your life inconvenient, Serene, but this isn’t negotiable.”

  The princess’s brow furrowed. “What does this mean for the trip to Mortise? Is she coming?”

  “Of course,” the king said.

  Panic gripped Clare. A trip to Mortise hadn’t been part of their bargain. But did that actually matter? She’d sworn an oath. Her life belonged to Newlan. If he wanted her in Mortise, she had no choice but to go.

  Newlan leaned back in his chair. “As the Mortisians insisted, the betrothal agreement must be signed in their court at summer’s end. The journey is long and your route will be highly publicized. It will be easy for our enemies to attack. Which is why I intend to leave the public travel to the decoy and have you take a different route.”

  Serene’s eyes narrowed. “But I have appointments at nearly every stop!”

  “I’ve seen your itinerary,” Newlan said dryly. “Balls, dress fittings, teas with noble families—these don’t demand your presence.”

  “And the required speeches?” she demanded. “The dedication of your new road? These require a royal presence, not some imposter!”

  Newlan’s mouth pressed into a line. “Those rare appointments do require your attention. And you’ll be there long enough to fulfill your duties before turning your tour back over to the decoy so you can travel in anonymity.” The king once again looked over them all. “We have three months to prepare Miss Ellington for this journey. I expect everyone to assist her so she can gain the required skills.” His eyes sharpened. “No one can know about our use of a decoy. This secret is to be guarded by each of you. If I’m betrayed, I won’t have to look far for the traitor.”

  Serene marched from the dining room the moment dinner ended. Bennick followed, casting a last look at Clare that she refused to return.

  King Newlan rubbed his brow. “Commander, show Miss Ellington to the suite. If Serene resists, send her to me.”

  “Of course.” The commander rose and Clare followed suit. She hadn’t eaten much, but the evening’s developments had driven away her hunger. She was eager to escape the room and hopefully find a bed. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

  The commander led her back through the same servants’ passage they’d used before. The silence, apart from their shuffling footsteps, only agitated her further. Desperate for distraction, she said, “I didn’t realize our differences were reconciled enough for Mortise to become an ally.”

  “Not all differences have been settled. But Mortise is a valuable trade partner and they have elite warships.” He shot her a glance. “I’m explaining this only so you understand the gravity of your position. You probably grew up on stories of our war with Ryden. They’ve had time to recover and now pose more of a danger than you could possibly imagine. Mortise is currently the lesser of two evils and this alliance could mean our victory in a future war with Ryden. Or prevent it entirely.”

  Allies. Enemies. War. It was staggering that Clare was somehow part of such things. Her shoulders tensed against the sudden weight. “Why wasn’t I told last night about the trip to Mortise?”

  “It wasn’t important for you to know.”

  “It’s important to me.” Leaving her family to live in the castle had been hard enough, but to leave for another kingdom . . . Her hands fisted at her sides. “I never agreed to leave Devendra.”

  “You agreed to do whatever the king orders, Miss Ellington.” His tone was stern, brooking no argument.

  They climbed two flights of stairs and eventually stepped into a wide corridor, abandoning the narrow hallway. As they neared a guarded suite, Clare heard the princess’s unmistakable voice ringing against the stone walls. “I won’t stand for it! I draw the line here, Bridget! You will hand over my pillows or I will scream until I pass out!”

  Bridget’s voice rose. “My lady, your father ordered the rooms to remain untouched. Only your most private things should be moved to your new chambers, to keep from raising suspicions. It’s for your safety.”

  “That imposter will not sleep with my pillows!”

  Bennick stood outside the open door, hands clasped behind his back. He turned at their approach, his stubbled jaw tensing briefly. He dipped his head. “Miss Ellington.”

  She looked pointedly past him and into the princess’s open chamber. The main room was spacious and bustling with maids making fi
nal preparations to move the princess. Serene still argued loudly with Bridget.

  Behind Clare, the commander grunted. “I don’t think the king would appreciate the shout she’s using to complain about his great secret.”

  “No,” Bennick said. “I doubt he would.”

  Princess Serene noticed her audience. She immediately stopped her rant, snatched up a large pillow that had fallen—or more likely been thrown—and marched forward. She stopped in front of Clare, who did her best not to cringe back. “Don’t you dare go through my things.” Without awaiting a reply, Serene swept past and Bridget hurried after her, toting a large bag stuffed to the brim with clothing and anything else the princess had deemed necessary to remove from the room.

  Bennick poked his head into the suite, his tone mild. “Cardon, remain with the room. I’ll send Wilf to relieve you soon.”

  Clare was surprised when she recognized the guard he spoke to. He’d been there during the hallway ambush. The long scar on his cheek stretched as he cast her a short smile before nodding to Bennick. “Good luck with the princess, Captain.”

  Clare startled at the title. Bennick was too young to be the captain of the princess’s guard. The scarred guard—Cardon—was probably ten years his senior. How was Bennick his superior?

  Nothing about the blue-eyed guard made sense, she decided. Nothing.

  Bennick twisted to go, but paused when he noticed Clare watching him. Fates, when had she started staring? He cleared his throat. “How’s your head, Miss Ellington?”

  She gave him a flat stare, shooting venom into her tone. “Well enough, Captain.”

  A muscle in his cheek jumped.

  “Bennick!” The princess’s shout rang down the hall.

  Bennick straightened, eyes still fixed on Clare. “I’m relieved to hear that, Miss Ellington. I hope you sleep well.” He inclined his head before striding after the princess.

  The commander took his leave as well and Clare stepped into the princess’s suite. It was similar in design to the commander’s apartment, but more elaborate and decidedly feminine. The main area was dominated by a fireplace, a low fire crackling inside the hearth and lanterns glowing along the walls. A settee and some arm chairs gathered around a low table, creating a cozy center for the room. Flower arrangements and small sculptures artfully dotted the space and fine rugs spread over the stone floor in shades of blue and cream. There were five doors that led to other chambers but only one was open, allowing a glimpse into the bedroom.

  Clare realized Cardon was watching her. His eyes and hair were deep brown and his smile caused the pale pink scar on his cheek to wrinkle at the corner. “It’s good to see you again, Miss Ellington. I wanted to thank you for saving the princess’s life last night. It was very brave of you.”

  It had been the stupidest thing she’d ever done, but she didn’t tell him that.

  Cardon bid her goodnight, assuring her he’d be in the hall if she needed anything. She knew he was really there to make sure she didn’t leave.

  Once he was gone, Vera—the kind maid from before—stepped out from the bedroom. She offered Clare a short curtsy. “Miss Ellington.”

  “Please. Call me Clare.”

  The girl nodded and clasped her hands in front of her. “Since the princess can’t spare another maid, I’m afraid you’re left with only me.”

  It was Clare’s first bit of fortune. Out of any of the maids, Vera was the nicest. “I’m relieved to hear it,” she admitted.

  Vera smiled, color brushing her cheeks. She helped Clare out of the heavy gown and gently removed the cosmetics from her skin before leading her into the princess’s bedroom. It was large and decorated in silver, cream, and varying shades of purple. The space was scented with lilacs and undeniably beautiful, but when Clare climbed under the covers she struggled to find sleep.

  Every nicety in the castle could never soothe the pang of homesickness in her chest.

  Chapter 8

  Clare

  Clare unfolded the sheet of paper carrying the day’s itinerary while Vera twisted her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck. Vera’s hands were gentle, but it felt strange having someone else do her hair. Still, the seventeen-year-old maid had looked mildly offended when Clare suggested she do it on her own, so she tried to relax under the girl’s ministrations.

  They were in the princess’s dressing room, one of the five rooms that broke off from the main sitting room. There was the princess’s bedroom and a room for the maids, which would only house Vera for the foreseeable future. Another room was a private washroom with a large brass tub and rows upon rows of soaps, lotions, and perfumes. The final room remained closed and locked, and Vera revealed it was the princess’s private study. The locked door wasn’t exactly welcoming, so it matched the princess perfectly.

  Clare lifted her itinerary and bit back a groan. “I have to have breakfast with the princess.”

  Vera peeked at her in the mirror. “Perhaps it won’t be so bad. She can be quite pleasant, sometimes.”

  Clare grunted. She hadn’t known what to expect from the princess, but she had assumed Serene would be at least mildly grateful—if not for Clare saving her life the other night, then at least for sacrificing her safety to be Serene’s decoy. Instead, the princess had been hostile.

  Clare cleared her throat and continued reading. “After breakfast I have a meeting with the royal librarian to evaluate my studies.” The prospect was intimidating, but it would probably be a relief after spending time with Serene.

  The next appointment made her stomach drop: Defense training with Captain Bennick Markam.

  The fates hated her. That was the only explanation for her life.

  She must have grimaced, because Vera’s fingers gentled in her hair. “Oh no,” Vera said suddenly, reading over Clare’s shoulder. “Mistress Henley is going to teach you etiquette? She’s awful.”

  If Vera thought the princess could be quite pleasant but Mistress Henley was awful, Clare hated to think how terrible her etiquette teacher would be.

  The rest of the day didn’t look much better. After lunch she’d have her first riding lesson, and if she wasn’t thrown or trampled, she got to suffer a dress fitting with Bridget. The only part of the agenda that looked appealing was a quiet dinner here in the room.

  Vera had just finished pinning Clare’s hair when there was a knock on the main apartment door. They left the dressing room together, Vera hurrying ahead to open the suite door. She immediately dipped into a low curtsy. “Your Highness.”

  Prince Grandeur wore a green tunic and his smile was warm as he faced Clare. “Miss Ellington, I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  “No,” she managed to speak past her surprise. “Not at all.”

  He waved back two bodyguards who attempted to follow him into the room. “I hoped to catch you before you left,” he told her.

  “Oh?” Her palms were suddenly sweating. How was she supposed to act around the crown prince? Vera stood near the door with her head bowed respectfully, so Clare lowered her head, but Grandeur immediately lifted a hand. “Please, there’s no need for that. You’re practically part of the family now.” He came to a stop a couple paces away, hands clasped behind his back. “Your resemblance to my sister is truly remarkable. Although I must say you seem far too pleasant to be her.”

  Clare’s mouth twitched, but it didn’t seem right to actually agree with him.

  The prince glanced around the room. “You’re settling in all right?”

  She nodded, then dared ask, “Is there something you needed, Your Highness?”

  “I merely wanted to wish you luck on your first day of lessons. What’s your first appointment?”

  “Breakfast with Serene.” The words tasted sour.

  “Ah.” He winced. “I truly wish you luck, then. And every blessing the fates can spare.”

  She once again found herself fighting a smile. “Thank you.”

  The prince’s expression grew more serious. “Please le
t me know if she creates any trouble for you.”

  Clare doubted she’d ever feel comfortable searching out the crown prince of Devendra, especially to complain about his sister. Even so, she inclined her head. At least one royal showed her kindness.

  When Grandeur bid her farewell and left, another man entered the suite. He wore the blue uniform of the castle guard and he was young, probably only a year or so older than Clare. His skin was dark brown, similar to Prince Grandeur’s, making Clare confident one of his parents was Zennorian. His features were angular, his face smooth and attractive. His long black hair was tied at the nape of his neck and his brown eyes shone brightly. “Good morning, Miss Ellington.” His heels clicked together as he came to attention. “Venn Grannard, royal bodyguard, at your service.”

  The familiar name slapped her. No wonder the lying Captain Bennick Markam had been able to find his fake name so easily; it belonged to one of his men.

  The real Venn’s smile was sincere and charming, and it wasn’t his fault his captain was a snake. Clare met Venn’s smile with her own. “Sir Grannard, it’s a pleasure.”

  “Please, call me Venn.”

  “Then I insist you call me Clare.”

  “Happily, Clare.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ve been assigned to escort you this morning.”

  “I didn’t realize I’d need a guard when going out as a maid.” Unless the king was that worried she’d run. Perhaps he didn’t realize how effectively he had her trapped. Trying to run yesterday might have been her best chance of escape, but in the light of day she knew it had been foolish to think she could truly leave. Taking her family and running would have upended their lives, and if they’d been caught? The king wouldn’t have shown mercy. Clare needed to protect her brothers, no matter what. They were the reason she’d labored in the castle kitchen for more than half her life and she wasn’t about to stop sacrificing for them now. Even though being the princess’s decoy terrified her, she knew she couldn’t turn back on her oath. Not when her family was being provided for.