"Couldn't have picked a better time?"
Prince Rhenan skulked in from the shadows, the brother's harsh features surprisingly placid, surprisingly not that of a ghost. He was adorned just as she'd seen him the last time: royal attire and an unhealthy amount of weaponry to his person.
He sat down casually at the bench Prince Tristian had just finished fondling her against—and looked directly at her. "I suppose I should have known, when my brother said 'I'll speak with her', he actually meant he would make an attempt on her."
Suddenly Astrid felt incredibly sick. Perhaps she would faint? It did not seem like a terribly bad idea if it freed her from the present awkwardness.
She opened her mouth to speak, though a woman's voice cut in first. "Oh you absolute pig!"
A hand went to Tristian's hair and yanked at the curls, pulling his head backwards as she glared at him in utter disgust.
She gasped and felt her head spin. Not only was she discovered in such an undignified state, but there were now witnesses. They could report her. They could put a stop to her plan.
"Please..." The plea was not presented to Tristian but to his brother. "Don't...."
Tristian recoiled back from the woman's grasp, making no attempt to grab or overpower her. In fact, he did not even appear embarrassed about any of it. "Surely you can make your point without violence, Jocelyn."
"Oh, I don't know," his brother said softly, still looking to Astrid with that blank, unreadable expression. Then he drew out a blade. "Tell me why I should not pork you with this the way you intended this little girl?"
Tristian sneered, then appeared... confused. Then back to anger. "Jocelyn, I will snap your fingers if you carry on."
There had been a clear misunderstanding, yet Astrid did not posses the voice to inform them otherwise. If Tristian was 'porked' or stabbed, she could not continue with her plot. It would be in tatters. Her entire life would follow suit.
"You would have the blade through your throat before you even attempted to move," the woman replied. "Rhenan, it's the Misseldon girl. The whoreish one."
"I'm not... I'm not..."
The room was swinging now. Where was A'zur when she needed him?
"Aye, I know who she is. She'll be dealt with later, as this does not excuse our idiot brother." Now the male stood, and though he was a slight inch shorter than his brother, Prince Rhenan saturated the space with deadly intent. "Move away from the girl, Tristian."
The man traded lethal glances between his two siblings, especially the sister, before holding up his hands and stepping away. Only when he was a sizable distance apart in the small chamber, did Rhenan pocket the blade and cross his arms.
"Seriously, Tristian?"
"It's none of your business." The fire was back pinned on Jocelyn and the venom he exuded far excelled that which Ethan had ever regarded her or Eleanor with. "Remove your hand."
After a few seconds hesitation, Princess Jocelyn finally removed her hand from the dark mop. "Pig." She gazed between her brothers with a look of disgust and not once did that gaze fall upon her. "He's made a mess of everything," she said to Prince Rhenan finally.
A mess. This was what this entire thing was. A complete mess.
And yet, a mess signified failure.
She was not in Redthorn to fail.
"My own fault for trusting someone like him alone with one like her," said Rhenan as he took his turn of conveying his disgust. Then he shot her a muted, cool look. "I don't really care what you Lymereans do, but in the event we've misperceived this situation, let me be the first to warn, my brother is no prize to be sought. Whatever side of you he has shown, it is little more than a lie, a face worn by all royals. Not to mention, we do not fondle little children in this land."
How wrong he was. He was exactly that. A prize. The only prize worth winning. And she was not a child!
"Am I in trouble?"
"No."
"Yes."
The brothers spoke at once, then frowned at one another.
Her plan would get her in trouble regardless, but this was the wrong sort of trouble. The trouble that would lead to her shamed and branded a failure by all. Unwanted.
"Don't tell!"
The other female's eyes finally found her. "Oh, the whole world will know about this you silly girl. Your brother. Your father."
"No, they will not, Jocelyn," Tristian spat.
Rhenan moved in closer to the sister, then put a calming hand to her shoulder. "He's right. If this gets out, it's not merely the girl who will suffer the scandal, but what little stability we've managed between the church. She's underage. Not to mention, the Sirista will not take well to rape."
Tristian's head swung around. "What?"
Rape. She did not wish for either of them to get into trouble.
Rhenan flicked a hand at Astrid. "Please cover yourself."
She had forgotten she had her chest exposed, but quickly began the process of concealing her nakedness and lacing her gown, made far more difficult due to her trembling fingers.
"I don't want anyone to get into trouble."
"Too late." Jocelyn's reply was almost instant.
"No, it's not what it looks like."
"That's always the way."
"He has a history," Rhenan interjected sourly. "A reputation of not knowing the difference. And of all places, brother, you take her here. Is this another of your twisted—"
"Not here," Tristian seethed. "The girl..." He looked down at her for the first time, and it looked as though some of the fury ebbed. "She had nothing to do with it. Do you hear that, Jocelyn? Stop trying to make it into something it isn't."
The woman appeared conflicted as she looked at neither brother. She studied the floor and her shoulders slumped as she sighed.
"For the sake of Mama and Papa I will say nothing, though my conscience urges otherwise."
"No one gives a damn about your conscience," Tristian said.
"Perhaps if you gave a damn about something incidents like this would never occur."
"Oh..." Tristian purred, and suddenly he was moving closer to her, a strange shift in his demeanor. "You mean, perhaps if I gave a damn about something other than taking this little Misseldon's innocence right beside the house of our God?"
"Clearly Tristian is out of sorts," Rhenan said quickly, then perked. "Perhaps we ought all return to the gardens? Everyone's been looking for you two."
Of course. The game of hide and seek. Forgotten as she went about playing her own game. There was a world outside and save the presence of her big brother being her sole comfort, she was sure she would have rather remained in the small chamber.
As she straightened her posture and made ready to depart, a smile of cunning graced Jocelyn's features. "Ah yes, this game." The smile grew sweeter when she turned to Prince Rhenan. "What was our prize again, for finding him?"
"Their ribbons. Nothing more, seeing as Beth and Prince A'zur found Mama and Father." Rhenan scowled, then brightened abruptly, grinning. "Of course, I think you and I shall keep our cherished items, for surely Princess Astrid does not want your earrings and certainly she'll convince her brother to leave my horse be."
Despite her panic, Rhenan's remark managed to pique her curiosity. A horse for A'zur? He did not care too much for the beasts, so perhaps it was merely some plan he had devised to cause the prince to lose something he truly cherished.
"My brother will not touch your horse, Prince Rhenan. I promise."
Then the male slung an arm around his sister and whispered something in her ear.
The princess howled with laughter at whatever her brother whispered and nodded.
"Tristian."
The silent spectator bristled at his name on her tongue. "What?"
"I believe I deserve some form of..." She waved her hand in an expression of grandeur as if pondering the correct word to say. "Compensation for my silence."
"Sure thing, sister. Some advice. That colour on you makes you more hideous th
an the previous day. I advise you spend less on hats and perhaps clothing that make you appear less like an avocado."
"Hmph. Catty." Despite the insult, the princess continued to cackle. "A new necklace for myself. I have heard ruby is desired this coming season."
Rhenan whispered in her ear again and Tristian appeared ready to go after the brother.
"And as my son is becoming more proficient in his words each passing day, he informed me today that he wishes to spend time with his Uncle Tristian. That and a rocking horse. A white one."
"Aw, really?" Rhenan said, disgruntled. "I would have gladly gifted him the rocking horse."
Tristian suddenly snagged Astrid's hand. "We're leaving."
But the brother caught the other. "You're not leaving with her."
Tristian gave him a look that said he would gladly tear her in two if that was what it took; Rhenan placed his other hand on the holstered blade.
"I am quite well, thank you..." The lack of strength in her voice grew ever-more apparent when faced with the confidence of the Hansons. "He will do me no harm."
"And I think Beth deserves something too..." Jocelyn was saying. "I know she likes sapphire, so perhaps a new ring. But also our sister and I would like to spend some quality time with our eldest brother." After a quick glance at Rhenan, Jocelyn winked. "And I suppose this one might like to witness the delicate art of braiding a man's hair with bright ribbons."
"I will give neither of you anything!"
On the contrary, you will give them everything." Rhenan let go of her hand with a reluctant frown, glaring at his brother. "For how would dear Constance feel after your union if she were to discover this?"
Union? What union was it he spoke of?
A genuine flash of hurt appeared in Tristian's golden gaze, and she felt a strange urge to see his hurt mended. Not that it mattered, seeing as it was cloaked once more with ire. "You would do such a thing?"
Rhenan did his lips this way and that way in thought, then shrugged. "You've done worse by us."
A moment passed, the crown prince's hand tightening around hers, and she could feel the moment he relaxed into defeat. He pulled her forward again and shot over his shoulder at his siblings, "Fine, write it down and I will see it done when I feel like it."
She tried to imagine her own siblings pulling such a stunt with bribery and all else, yet was met with nothing but fondness for them all, despite their regular quarrels. Never did any of them bother Mother and Father with their problems, regardless of how serious or trivial they might have been.
"You're our slave now and we will never allow you to forget it," Jocelyn jeered, and the echo followed them all the way down the passage.
12
~ TRISTIAN ~
Most would look at him and call it rebellion, and to some degree, that was exactly its shade. Hard, black rebellion. But other colours were thrown in, too: spite, triviality, a splash of lust and deluge of validation needed on his part.
His own brother had accused him of rape. No surprise Jocelyn had latched to whatever negative spoils were put to his name, but rape?
It said one thing about him, which was transversely two things: they assumed he was capable of anything, thereby christening him a strong individual; they assumed he was capable of anything, thereby branding him one not above evil. They truly thought he meant that Misseldon female harm, and if his own family assumed him capable of such atrocity, what of those not of his blood?
In God's name, he was not going to do that much to her.
Except maybe charge into the girl until she cried out his name in pain-swathed pleasure.
But she'd wanted it! Clearly all in attendance to the feast had seen just how enraptured the girl was with him. And here it was he who stood accused. It mattered little that a day had come and passed since the accusation; still Tristian fumed.
He walked the halls of the guest estate with purpose. Spite, triviality, lust, validation. Each door to the private chambers of the nobles was managed by their house's respective guards, all of them appearing less alert, but more worn and bored by a day of overseeing aristocrats celebrating everything under the sun and then that of the moon.
None paid him any mind as his iron-stilted shoes added sound to the sleepy corridor. Just another royal, though he was dressed with considerably less obnoxious veneer. In his casual garment and loose fall of hair, he appeared ready to join the rest of the estate in slumber, even if he intended all but.
When he arrived at the last chamber door on the second level, he knew it belonged to Princess Astrid by the vigilant, brutal faces of the guards posted there. Not only that, but by their black and purple epaulettes and the obsidian chains fashioned in an X across their chest. And there was the manner in which they formed an in-unison barricade upon his approach.
"The princess is sleeping," they informed harshly, formality thrown to the wolves. That musical lilt may as well have been replaced by the growl of toppling boulder rocks.
Tristian crossed his arms, easily of equal height with the men. His stare hardened. He didn't come here to be denied by some winterland guards who already appeared perspired by the late night heat. "I mean only to have a word with her. It's important."
Yes, his pride and his cock, both very important.
"We care little of your word. She's sleeping."
"I wonder how she might feel if when morning comes I informed her of my visit. I, the prince whose presence she relishes, only to be turned away by her lowly guards."
"She'll be thankful for her rest."
"She'll be thankful for me—"
There was a click, then the swift sweep of the door swinging open. There she stood, dressed in her delicate night clothes, a fine cotton shift which cascaded over her form and exposed her lily-pale ankles and feet. By the manner in which the material conically peaked, it was clear she was void of any supportive undergarments. A nightgown patterned with petite wildflowers had been hastily thrown over her shoulders, yet slipped on the left side, revealing more of her creamy skin.
Her hair was in a loose braid and trailed over her right shoulder, while flaxen wisps framed her face, which appeared bright and alert despite the claim she was sleeping.
"This man is Prince Tristian of Redthorn!"
She was tiny between the scowling goons. A rose between two thorns indeed.
"I should have been informed immediately," she sighed, then her eyes lifted to him. Softer and that sweet smile returned, along with a not-too-discreet blush. "It's lovely to see you again, Prince Tristian."
Considering.
He swept into a playful bow and gave her a smile of his own. "And same to you. I know it has been some time."
Three days and three nights, to be exact. The perennial festivities had consisted of distance and his siblings stabbing warning glares between the two of them, but alas, even those scoundrels had to sleep eventually.
His smile turned smug as he looked briefly to the guards, then back to her. "As it doesn't appear you've done much sleeping, perhaps you would like a walk to clear your head?"
A nod was her immediate response, though it seemed she quickly realised she was hardly dressed for it. "Of course, though, perhaps," She took pause to giggle, her usual airy song "I should at least put on some shoes."
"Here I thought I was carrying you."
"I did not want to be the first to bring it up," her laughter continued and she held out her hand. "Really?"
He parted his lips, and out came silence. Then a small laugh. "Afraid that might call more attention to us than we need. Shoes might be for the best. Not to worry, for you will be in nothing more than your nightgown once more later. I promise."
"I would hate to stand on pebbles, but..." She swept her hands down her torso to draw attention to her nightgown, and he caught it in his own, bending to her ear.
"We're not really going for a walk. If you would first call off your hounds."
Her hair brushed against his cheek as she nodded and to
ok a step backwards. Composing herself as a princess should with back straight and hands crossed before her.
"You have been standing here for hours," she said to them. "Prince A'zur has a game of chess planned with a good lord. He will leave here soon and I will be on my walk with the good prince. You should make the most of the time you have. Dismissed..." She gulped, perhaps louder than intended. Uneased by the semblance of authority, she added, "Please."
They exchanged expressionless glances, clearly reluctant, but more so were they reluctant to disobey the direct order.
Their eyes were fire as they looked at him once, then bowed to their princess. Only to comically march four paces over to the door adjacent of hers to stand watch.
Had he remembered they bunked right beside each other, perhaps the need to call them off would have been nonexistent. But then, he was certain they'd have trailed the princess step for step.
He smiled at her again. "Shoes, then?"
~ ASTRID ~
It was just as it had been before. Two steps of her own to his one transpiring to a steady beat of his boots against the flagstones, while her little ivory heels provided a hurried one. From time to time she would fiddle with the belt of her robe, which appeared as a day dress. Any glimpse of the nightgown beneath would rouse suspicion.
As if there was not enough of that already.
And yet, she imagined it to be good, for it would be evidence of what they had done when his seed had quickened within her. When she was swollen with his child there would be witnesses.
She could feel the moment inching closer, and Astrid understood fully that they both had the intention to have sex. They desired each other. She had come to realise that days before when she wanted him as well as the future he could provide her.
So now it toyed with her heart as much as her mind.
And her stomach, which rumbled with furious bees rather than ditsy butterflies.
"I was glad to see you. I am glad to see you." Glad to share your company and take something from you, that will change your life and the course of history. "The other day... I was sad that we were disturbed."
Bonds: A Cursed Six novel (The Cursed Six Book 1) Page 18