by Emily Deady
“Just Onric, m’lady,” he countered, bowing back to her. Her formal behavior sent another dagger through his heart, and he longed to return to that stormy night in the kitchen over the washing. “Please, allow me and Blossom to take you home tonight.”
She searched his face. He was not sure what she was looking for, but he did not know a single other person who waited for so long before they spoke. His brothers and even his sister were far more aggressive with their words, and all the noble ladies he had ever known were quick and confident in their conversation.
He gladly took the opportunity to study her face in return, noting the way her eyebrows furrowed and her soft lips pinched in on the sides, as though she could not decide whether to smile or frown. The brilliant blue of her eyes contrasted with the dark shadows below them. Was it the low light of the surrounding torches, or was she exhausted?
“Is it acceptable to say no to a prince?” she finally voiced.
“Do you have any further work to accomplish tonight?” he replied.
“No . . .” Her answer was slow, and she watched him in confusion.
“Are you secretly a member of the royal family?”
Her lips curled into a small smile at that. “No.”
“Am I a seven-foot giant or a powerful Majis that will devour you in the shadows if you dare to close your eyes?”
Her smile grew. “No, I should hope not.”
“See how easy it is to say ‘no’ to a prince? You really are quite good at it.”
“You know what I mean, my Lord.” Her voice was quiet, but her face was less apprehensive.
Onric had no idea how to make her see that she held all the power here. “Please allow me to take you home. It is acceptable to make any decision that you wish to make, be it a yes or a no. I will abide by it. But I would like to offer you this small service.” He turned to his horse to lighten the mood. “As would Blossom.”
As if on cue, Blossom stepped forward, shouldering him out of the way. The horse dropped its head to the shorter girl, noting her scent with loud snorts before closing his eyes and presenting his forehead to be scratched.
That brought a smile to her face. Uncrossing her arms, she acquiesced with Blossom’s unspoken request. The horse neighed a happy sigh.
Onric hoped he would remember to give the beast an extra apple for playing his part well tonight.
“Your steed’s name is Blossom?” The girl peered around the large horse to catch his eye.
Onric stepped forward so he could see her again, rubbing Blossom’s shoulder as he went. “Aye, he may look powerful, but on the inside he’s more like a puppy. In all seriousness, m’lady, you must feel free to make your own decisions around me. I promise I’ll respect that.”
He looked at her again, his eyes pleading in a way he belatedly realized was also very puppylike.
She stared at him again, her hands still idly rubbing the soft spot on Blossom’s dipped head. He could not tell if she did not believe him or was just considering his request.
“Is there something else that is bothering you?” he inquired.
“I merely wonder at your intentions, my Lord.” Her eyes flicked up to him, as if to gauge his reaction.
“Then let me put your mind at ease.” He tugged on Blossom’s lead, forcing the horse to step out of the way and ignoring the protesting whinny that followed. Onric stepped closer to the woman in front of him and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. “Lift your arms until they are straight out.”
She had tilted her head back to look up at him, and he smiled at her confusion as she followed his directions. “Alright.”
When her arms were horizontal with the ground, he removed his hands from her shoulders. “Now, spin in a circle.”
She laughed a little, but then slowly started to turn her back towards him. As her hand brushed his arm, he stepped backwards so she could complete the motion unhindered.
When she was once again facing him, she dropped her arms, hugging herself lightly in the cold. But a small smile was still on her face as she waited for him to explain himself.
“If you ask me never to step inside the circle you just drew with your fingertips, prince or no, I swear to you that I will respect that.”
Her smile was gone, but it had been replaced by an open thoughtfulness. “Thank you,” she whispered, then shivered.
He resisted the urge to step forward and wrap her in a warm hug after the words he had just uttered about keeping his distance. “Now, if you will allow it, Blossom and I would like to see you safely home.”
She nodded. “Please.”
Without waiting for further encouragement, he stepped forward and dropped his hands to her waist, easily lifting her onto the waiting Blossom. When she was comfortable, he swung himself up behind her.
Grabbing his cloak with his hand, he wrapped his arm around her, safely anchoring her to himself while encircling her with the extra warmth of his cloak.
After a moment, her shoulders relaxed against his touch.
His heart melted. Something told him he would be getting very little sleep if she continued to work the night shift.
Using his knees to gently urge Blossom forward, he tucked his head against the brown kerchief that covered her hair.
Chapter 9
Ashlin did not want to move a single muscle. She was surrounded by warmth and enjoying the old familiar gait of a horse.
Blossom was such a funny name for the large, powerful animal. Though he was slowly and quietly clopping his way through the streets of the town, it was clear the steed was capable of much more.
The prince had rested his cheek against the top of her head. You’re too trusting. Her stepmother’s words rang in her head. She pushed them away. Perhaps Onric hadn’t fully explained himself in the tower room earlier, but he also had not completely deceived her.
Onric.
She rolled the name through her mind. Why was he being so kind? Perhaps she was too trusting. Perhaps she should have refused his offer. Her muscles started to tense as her mind ran away with her thoughts.
“Did you keep searching for interesting treasures for my brother’s ball?” The prince’s voice was quiet, close to her ear, bringing her back to the present.
“Yes, actually.” She turned her head to the side to better direct her voice towards him. “I think I found an old tapestry.”
“Think?”
“It is still buried in a chest and probably weighs as much as Blossom, so I couldn’t quite get it out. I’m excited to see more of it, though. The bit that I could see was beautiful. Intricate stitches. Vibrant colors. And from the looks of it, it is going to be quite large.”
“Do you know much about tapestries?” His voice rumbled in her ear. He actually sounded interested.
She smiled, even though no one could see it in the darkness, and shook her head against his chest. “Not much. My father used to love them . . .” She trailed off, not wanting to reveal too much.
“Was he a merchant?”
In a way, that was true. She nodded. He had loved to find and purchase rare pieces of art, which was kind of what a merchant did. “Do you know about tapestries?” she said, deflecting the conversation back to him.
“A little. We did have to study all the prominent art forms. That was more of interest to my little brother Aden, though, not me.”
“What were you interested in?”
“Stories. Heroes. Tales of adventure.”
Ashlin felt an odd sensation in her chest. He spoke so quickly and confidently, as though he had no problem sharing what was important to him. She wondered what it would feel like to share her own thoughts so openly. His statement made her smile. Heroes and adventure were so straightforward but also endearing. “But tapestries do tell stories, though,” she responded.
“What do you mean?” He readjusted his arms around her as he guided Blossom onto the side street that led to her home.
“The most popular tapestries depict scenes of the sacrifices o
f heroes and the victories of war.”
“It seems you know more on this topic than I do.”
Her face seemed to have taken on a permanent smile. When she realized they were almost home, her smile disappeared. She tensed, twisting her body around to face him more directly. “Stop here. Please.”
“I can take you closer. Blossom is stealthy—we won’t wake anyone.”
She shook her head. The thought of being caught with the prince by her stepmother or stepsister made her stomach turn. “Please. I don’t want to risk it.”
He must have heard the urgency in her voice, for he pulled Blossom to a stop and slipped off the tall horse.
The bitter cold of the night air instantly took his place.
He reached back up to her and placed his hands on her waist. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and she could just make out his face in the starlight. His dark hair flopped to the side.
His smile faltered as he stared up at her. “I’m terribly sorry about being so secretive in the tower room earlier today. I truly was not thinking, and I did not mean to raise my voice at you. Now is not the time, but please allow me to explain my actions in the future.” His expression was earnest.
She nodded. He owed her nothing, but she was touched that he wanted to see her again.
“Thank you.” His eyes brightened, and she placed her hands on his shoulders as he carefully lifted her from the horse.
“Thank you for the ride, my Lord.” She stepped backwards to break their contact as soon as she was safely on the ground.
“Miss . . .?” He paused.
For some reason, she hesitated. She wanted to share her name, but she was also incredibly aware that she was a lord’s daughter working as a servant in the palace. She did not have to share her father’s name, though. Likely nothing would come of it. “Ashlin, my Lord.”
“Ashlin,” he whispered. “Goodnight, Ashlin.”
She dipped her head and all but ran around the house, happiness radiating from her core. She slipped inside the kitchen, where a wall of warmth hit her unexpectedly. The fireplace was still blazing, which was odd as it should have faded down to a few coals by now. Something was wrong.
Her stepmother was sitting at the small kitchen table, tears flowing down her face.
Ashlin froze. All thoughts of the kind prince and his endearing horse left her mind. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know what to do . . .” The broken woman pushed a folded piece of parchment across the table.
Ashlin closed the door behind her and sat down to read the document, expecting the worst.
We greet Lady Cabril and her daughter Lady Ashlin Cabril
with the most humble of felicitations
and wish to invite them to a ball held in honor of
His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Ian Omaris Sirilian.
It is the dearest wish of our hearts that our eldest son be united in marriage
with a noblewoman from Iseldis or beyond.
You are invited to present yourself to His Royal Highness at this ball
on the seventeenth day of Moore at the royal palace.
Our deepest gratitude and felicitations,
His Royal Majesty, Frederich Sirilian
Her Royal Majesty, Cara Mafrenstin
The elaborate parchment was stamped with the seal of the royal family.
Ashlin gently folded it closed. She had been invited to the ball. For a moment, she forgot the fact that her life had changed and they had sold all her fine dresses. She could see herself entering the ballroom, wearing a beautiful blue dress, and bowing to Prince Ian as he greeted every guest that entered the room. He wouldn’t recognize her as the servant girl, of course. He would merely smile at her with that laugh behind his eyes and bow over her hand. She would thank him for the invitation and then sweep into the dazzling ballroom itself. The dance floor would come alive with movement and the air would be filled with the sounds of laughter and conversation, rounded out by the elegant harmonies of the kingdom’s best musicians. Prince Onric would see her from across the room and work his way through the crowd to ask her to dance. “This is wonderful news!”
“Stasiya was not invited . . .” Her stepmother sniffled.
“Because her father was not a nobleman . . .” Ashlin filled in the older woman’s words. “Don’t worry, we will figure something out, I am sure.”
“Instead they wasted an invitation on you,” Lady Cabril continued as though she had not heard Ashlin’s words, “and you can’t even go.”
Before it even had a chance to take root, the small dream in Ashlin’s mind disappeared. She was a maid at the palace. Of course she could not attend the royal ball. If she was lucky, she might catch a glimpse inside the ballroom to see the beautiful gowns. Every dressmaker in the kingdom was probably overflowing with requests. If she had been apprenticed to Mistress Cedrice, she could have created one of the dresses that would be worn to the royal ball. Instead, she would be scrubbing the ballroom floor both before and after the event.
Realizing that she was not the only person grieving in the small kitchen, she looked back across the table. Lady Cabril could barely hold up her head. Ashlin had not seen her stepmother this dejected since those terrible days after the shipwreck.
“I suppose I could try speaking to the steward,” she offered, “to see if there is any way to request an invitation for my sister.”
“But then you would have to reveal your true identity, which we cannot do.”
Ashlin held her breath, hoping her stepmother was too preoccupied to ask whether she had already revealed her identity.
“Unless . . .” Lady Cabril lifted her head, blinking her tear-filled eyes. “This could be an opportunity to overcome your fault of selfishness.”
Ashlin could suddenly feel her heart beating. She swallowed. “In what way?”
“You could let Stasiya go in your stead.”
“What?” Ashlin knew this request would have far-reaching consequences, but for some reason her mind was too tired to decipher what they might be.
“No one of consequence knows that you are Ashlin Cabril, right? Stasiya could come with me instead, and they will announce her name as your own.”
Ashlin’s tongue grew dry. She had just told one of the royal princes her name. “What if . . . what if she attracts the attention of one of the princes?”
“If?” Lady Cabril wiped her eyes and sat up straighter. “Of course she will. She will gather the attention of everyone in the room.”
Ashlin merely nodded. Stasiya’s red hair and fawn-colored skin made her stand out in a delicately beautiful sort of way.
“Good, good. This will make everything right again. Stasiya will finally have the chance she deserves to find a suitable match, which can save us from this miserable life. And you . . .” Her eyes narrowed. “You can become a member of this family again by proving your willingness to be a part of it. Are we clear?”
Ashlin felt as though everything she had was being taken away from her, but everything she wanted was also being offered to her at the same time. Was it worth it?
“Unfortunately, it does not change your current circumstances, as it will be all the more important to separate the servant girl from Lord Cabril’s daughter, but when we can afford to hire staff again, you will have the time and resources to pursue something more suitable. Perhaps an apprenticeship?”
Ashlin nodded, wrapping her mind around this new idea. She could tolerate some difficulty now in order to have a family and pursue her passion. “I’ll do it.”
“I knew you had the strength to grow past your faults. We will have to see about getting Stasiya a dress, though. We will go to Mistress Cedrice tomorrow to buy the fabric.” She stood up, her face completely transformed, as though she had not been in tears moments earlier. “No expense will be spared! Except you can make the dress, of course. That will give us more to spend on fabric, and you can work towards that future apprenticeship.” She swept out of the
small kitchen.
Ashlin was too stunned to move from the table. She wanted to focus on the small hope for her future, but she was too exhausted from the day’s work to fully appreciate it. At least she would get to make a dress for the ball, even if she was giving up her name to do so.
What would happen after Stasiya caught the attention of a rich nobleman? Would she admit her deception and go back to being Stasiya? Surely her stepmother did not mean for Ashlin to permanently switch places with her sister.
Her head ached.
Amidst all her tasks throughout the day, she had not had time to refill the molded hay mattress in her new bedroom. She could solve her problems in the morning. Folding the still-dirty brown wool under her head, she fell asleep by the hearth.
Chapter 10
Onric gritted his teeth behind the trained smile on his face as he bowed to the lady in front of him. He had seen firsthand the poverty that was spreading throughout his kingdom, so he knew he was incredibly lucky to be living in a palace, but it did have its downsides. One of which was being expected to cater to the palace guests.
Invitations had only been sent out yesterday and the event itself was still two weeks away, but the ladies who had been invited to stay at the palace had already started to arrive. Onric and Aden had been frequently summoned to escort and entertain the young women who were trying to garner the attention of their older brother. The entire situation made Onric very uncomfortable. Though he was often jealous of his older brother, he had no desire to take Ian’s place in this forced dance.
Onric straightened his back from the bow he had cordially dipped into and attempted to smile at the woman in front of him. Her dress was the same deep purple his mother and sister preferred, and it was lined with so many furs that the woman looked nearly as wide as she was tall.
“Would you like to see the ballroom?” he inquired. This was the third time he had been asked to accompany a young lady on a tour of the palace. And he had quickly figured out that if he showed her the ballroom first, he could extricate himself from the situation as soon as possible. Well, actually, Aden had come up with the theory, but Onric was happy to adopt it.