Return of the Prince_Medieval Romance

by Elise de Sallier

  “And your ankle’s not bound too tightly? It is sure to have swelled with your foot hanging down. Should I check it before I go?”

  “No, it is fine. I shall have it seen to by the palace physician.”

  “Oh, of course.” Eloise ducked her head against his back, feeling foolish. Destrian didn’t need her, not really. Theirs was a passing fancy, a flame that had burned bright in the darkness of their enforced seclusion but that would have otherwise never even sparked. Removing her arms from around his waist, she prepared to dismount.

  “Wait!” He caught hold of her hand and turned around to face her. “How will I find you?”

  “Find me?”

  “You haven’t told me your family name or where you live. I don’t know where to send word when I have organised a settlement for you.”

  “Oh, I see.” Eloise gave her head a shake, frustrated with how quickly her thoughts had taken a flight of fancy. Tugging free from his grip, she slid from the horse and looked up at Destrian, Prince Destrian. Fully dressed and re-cloaked, he looked every inch the proud and important personage he was. Dressed in her ragged gown and with her threadbare cloak wrapped around her shoulders, she was reminded of her true station and the lot in life to which she was returning.

  “Thank you for your generosity, my lord.” She bobbed a curtsey. “It was my honour to be able to assist you. My family name is Sommerville. If you could send word via the haberdashery in the village of Hallewell, I will make myself available to meet with your emissary.”

  Destrian’s brow creased, but then he nodded slowly and matched her formal tone.

  “Thank you, Miss Sommerville. With the current turmoil, it might be a while before I can arrange for you to be appointed a new guardian. Is there anything I can do to assist you in the meantime, an interim payment perhaps?”

  Touched by his kindness, she swallowed around the lump in her throat. “It is not necessary, and if it was discovered it would be difficult to explain.”

  Bending down to her, Destrian lowered his voice. “I don’t want you to suffer, Eloise, not more than you already have and not because of any association with me.”

  Ignoring their onlookers, she placed her hand on his arm. “It is because of you that I have the chance of a future, Destrian. Be well . . . and happy,” she added on a whisper, before she turned away and began the long walk home.

  “Eloise! How lovely to see you.”

  Ayleth’s greeting was as sunny as her disposition, and Eloise soaked up the warmth of her friend’s embrace. They had only met the winter before, but after so many lonely years Eloise already thought of the buxom red-haired woman as the sister of her heart, unlike her stepsisters who lived only to torment her. A few years Eloise’s senior, but already widowed, Ayleth had arrived in the village with her young daughter in tow intent on opening a store specialising in women’s apparel. Her newcomer status, one that usually took generations to lose, along with the tag of ‘upstart’, had miraculously disappeared when the local ladies discovered what a gifted seamstress was in their midst. Ayleth’s creations were the most sought after in the villages that ringed the palace mountain. Eloise suspected it wouldn’t be long before noblewomen came calling or, rather, requested Ayleth’s attendance in their regal homes.

  “You have perfect timing. The kettle is on, and Megs just baked a tray of scones before heading out to the market.” Ayleth ushered Eloise through to the room at the back of the shop that served as her sewing room-come-kitchen-come-living space. Mary, Ayleth’s four-year-old daughter, sat playing with a doll in the corner and rushed over to climb onto Eloise’s lap when she took a seat at the kitchen table.

  “I missed you Auntie Eloise. You were gone for the longest, long time. Don’t you get scared in the woods?”

  With red curls and big hazel eyes like her mother, Mary was going to be a heartbreaker one day. For now, Eloise was just glad the girl was being allowed a childhood, unlike so many other little ones she knew of.

  “I get a bit scared sometimes,” she admitted, exchanging a rueful glance with Ayleth. “But I enjoy the peace and quiet, and the forest can be very beautiful.”

  “I had hoped it would grant you a reprieve from being run ragged by your beloved step-relations, but I gather you work just as hard when away from your home as in it.” Ayleth reached for Eloise’s hand and tut tutted at the state of her torn nails and blistered palms. “Surely tis not the season for collecting herbs. What were you doing to cause this much damage?”

  “The usual.” Eloise laughed and laid her bag of truffles on the table. “Though it was digging for these, mostly. There aren’t as many as Gloria was expecting, which is why I came to you first. I know it’s a lot to ask, but will you tell her I gathered enough to cover the cost of her outstanding accounts?”

  Ayleth’s gaze shot to Eloise’s face. “Of course. I’ve offered to reduce the amount in the past, anything to help ease the pressure you are under—”

  “But I always decline—”

  “Because you don’t want to be beholden.” Ayleth parroted the words Eloise had used in the past. “What’s changed?”

  Despite the absence of Ayleth’s housekeeper, Megs, and the shop being empty, Eloise leaned in close. “I don’t want to risk Gloria sending me back to the forest. It is not safe anymore, plus I need to be . . . available to receive a message. If all goes well, I should be able to pay you what you are owed before too long.”

  “I see.” Ayleth stared for a moment then stood and served their herbal tea and scones. Once Mary was settled in the corner with her toys and a scone of her own, Ayleth asked in an equally low voice, “What do you mean you will be able to pay me? Did something happen while you were away?”

  “I met someone.”

  Ayleth’s brows formed two perfect arches high on her forehead. Questions lurked in her curious gaze, but Eloise knew her friend wouldn’t press. Ayleth had secrets of her own she hid behind her bright smile . . . or tried to. Her veneer was shaky, at times, but Eloise was willing to wait for Ayleth to open up to her when she was ready. For now, she was only too keen to confide in the one person she trusted not to betray her. By the time Eloise finished her tale, Ayleth’s mouth hung open.

  “Good heavens,” she murmured. “And this prince, Destrian, he has promised to help free you from Gloria’s control?”

  Eloise nodded. “And to loan me the money to set up in business for myself. My medicinal salves sell well at the markets, and I thought I could try my hand at making scented facial creams . . . with your help?”

  “Of course, I’ll help.” Ayleth’s eyes lit up. “You could sell them here in the shop. I have an established clientele of ladies who are always eager to sample the latest fashions . . . or lotions. They’ll beat down the door if they think there’s something to help soften their skin or ease their aches and pains. You’ll come live here, with me, and we shall work together. It will be splendid!”

  Tears filled Eloise’s eyes, and she released a pent-up sob. “I was hoping you would offer, but it seemed too much to ask. Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely!” Ayleth reached to cover her hand. “Are you sure this prince can be trusted to keep his word? Being released from a guardian’s control is no easy feat, especially a relative even if she is only a stepmother.”

  “I know.” Eloise nodded glumly. “When I raised the idea, it was little more than wishful thinking, and Destrian, I mean the Prince, dismissed the notion out of hand.”

  Ayleth cocked her head, her dark curls bouncing at either side of her face. “What changed his mind?”

  Eloise couldn’t control the blush that burned her cheeks. “Gratitude for my saving his life and taking care of him,” she said, rushing to continue when Ayleth opened her mouth. “He said he would find me a guardian with my best interests at heart, one who’d allow me to choose my own path, but you mustn’t breathe a word. If Gloria were to learn of my intentions . . .”

  “She’ll not hear it from me.” Ayleth pursed h
er lips before giving a little squeal. “Oh, this is exciting news and such a relief. I have been so worried for you. Being forced to marry a man you do not care for is a fate I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.”

  It was the closest Ayleth had come to speaking of her past, the bleakness that appeared in her eyes giving Eloise pause. Entwining their fingers, she gave her friend’s hand a squeeze.

  “Just think, Eloise,” Ayleth said. “After all these years, you will get one up on your stepmother and those horrid girls of hers. You should see the gowns Gloria had made for Millicent and Winifred to wear to the coronation. She is insisted on the most elaborate designs, as she has some ridiculous notion her plain as pudding, nobody daughters are going to secure noble husbands for themselves.”

  The possibility did seem slim, but it wasn’t the thought of her stepsisters attending the palace ball that caused Eloise’s smile to fade. It was knowing Destrian’s betrothal to Princess Seraphina would be announced at the same event.

  She suspected Ayleth had guessed, but Eloise didn’t tell her of her feelings for Destrian. There was no point. While she would treasure the memories of the night they had shared together, the sooner she put the interlude—which already seemed more like a dream than reality—behind her, the sooner she could embrace her new and independent future. She just hoped Destrian didn’t take too long to find a way to secure it.

  “Eloise! Come here this instant!”

  Gloria’s screech echoed through the house, and Eloise dropped her scrubbing brush back into the bucket of hot, soapy water with a sigh. The news that her stepmother’s hefty account with her favourite seamstress had been cleared had earned Eloise the barest reprieve, the matter all but forgotten by nightfall. As each long, difficult day passed with no word from Destrian, ten in all since her sojourn in the forest, the knot in Eloise’s stomach tightened. Re-immersed in her role as the lowliest member of the household, it would be easy to dismiss their friendship, and his assurances that he wouldn’t forget her, as a figment of her imagination. But then her lips would tingle, and she would raise her hand to press softly against her mouth, as the memory of kissing him drove doubt from her weary mind.

  She mustn’t lose hope, but for now she had to scurry to do her stepmother’s bidding or reap the invariably unpleasant consequences.

  After drying her hands on her apron and making sure her hair was pinned neatly in place, Eloise hurried to the formal parlour. Pausing and curtseying in the doorway, she flinched upon looking up to see the silhouette of a man blocking the light from the lace covered front window.

  “There you are my dear girl. Do come closer.” Gloria’s simpering tone caused Eloise’s hackles to rise. “Whatever are you doing wearing that old gown and ridiculous pinafore,” her stepmother continued, her smile at odds with the steely look she sent Eloise’s way. “Anyone would think you were a mere drudge not the daughter of a great man.”

  “Stepmother?” Eloise risked a querying tone while glancing to the visitor. A merchant by his dress, the man was a veritable giant. Tall and broad, his heavy brow formed a dark vee above his deep-set eyes. He looked her up and down, taking his time and not bothering to hide the salacious aspect to his interest.

  Eloise gripped her hands together to stop them from shaking.

  “Eloise, this is Mr. Festerly. He is looking to do business between Varianda and the neighbouring kingdoms when peace is restored, trading across borders and what not. He heard rumour that your father once held a place at court and is seeking to benefit from your connections . . . for a generous price, of course.”

  “But that was years ago.” Eloise’s palms began to sweat. “Papa was banished from the court by King Althelos. He was lucky to escape with his life.”

  “Yes, yes. For supporting our new sovereign’s agenda.” Gloria crossed the room and caught hold of Eloise’s arm, giving the tender flesh inside her elbow a sharp pinch in the process. “I am sure King Cedric will be thrilled to make the acquaintance of the daughters of one of his previous supporters . . . and her new husband.”

  “The girl don’t look gentrified to me.” Mr. Festerly’s lip curled in a sneer. “I think the price ye’ve set is too high. What about one of yer own daughters? They might not be as comely to look at, but at least they got some meat on their bones.”

  Gloria’s eyes narrowed, and she tightened her grip on Eloise’s arm. “I have other plans for my girls, but I assure you, my stepdaughter is more than capable of acting the part of a well-bred young lady.” She dragged Eloise forward, practically shoving her under the man’s nose. “Once your business arrangements are secured, if Eloise’s form is not to your liking, you can always put her to work as the drudge she likes to portray—or anything else for that matter. You shall find her quite accommodating. She knows her place and is quick to learn . . . with the right motivation.”

  Mr. Festerly caught hold of Eloise’s chin, forcing her head this way and that. His breath stunk, courtesy of his many missing teeth, and a whimper escaped her mouth.

  “Aye, she’ll do,” he said, releasing with a little shove. “I’ll return after the coronation. I’ve matters to arrange, and there is no getting an audience with anyone of authority before then. Make sure she’s ready.”

  “You heard the man.” Gloria turned on Eloise as soon as their guest had departed. “You will need to wash your hair, though God knows what we shall do about these hands. What have you been doing to get them in such a state?”

  “What have I been doing?” Eloise blurted. “Working my fingers to the bone completing the endless list of chores you assign me day in and day out!”

  Her outburst earned a stinging slap, and Eloise cradled her cheek. Oh, how she wanted to strike back, but she wouldn’t put it past her stepmother to have her thrown in the stocks for a night . . . or two, a recurring threat.

  “How dare you?” Gloria put her nose in Eloise’s face. “You will do exactly as you are bidden, by me and my daughters, while you abide under my roof. And once you are wedded and bedded by the charming man who is paying me an exorbitant sum for the pleasure, you will rue the day you took my hospitality for granted. Now get out of my sight. The idea that I shall have to give you one of my precious girls’ gowns for this farcical role you will be playing sickens me.”

  Eloise didn’t doubt the truth of Gloria’s words, though she couldn’t imagine her stomach was churning as badly as her stepdaughter’s. The all too familiar sound of the key turning in the lock to her basement room that night sent a shiver down her spine, though it was fear of what the future held, not the bitter cold that kept her awake until the early hours. At least the thin, hard cot was hers alone, as was her body to some extent, but that was all about to change if her stepmother had her way.

  Eloise stared into the darkness. She should have begged Destrian to take her with him, regardless of the consequences. Although she was just one person. An inconsequential one at that. What did her fate matter when weighed against the needs of a kingdom?

  Eloise stifled a sob. It meant something to her. Unlike other nights, the memory of being held in Destrian’s arms brought her little comfort, as all she could picture was a hulking figure with dark, hooded eyes who would soon own her, body and soul.

  Minutes dragged like hours until Eloise could make a temporary escape the next afternoon on the pretext of selling her remaining jars of herbal creams. The opportunity to make a few final coins courtesy of her stepdaughter’s labour secured Gloria’s approval.

  “Don’t be long.” Millicent blocked the doorway, one finger idly twirling a greasy blonde curl. “There are some new hair styles I want to try before the ball, but if you burn me with the hot iron, you will be sorry.”

  “Not as sorry as she’s going to be married to that dreadful Mr. Festerly,” Winifred added with a knowing smirk. “Mama says we are going to be able to afford a proper lady’s maid with the price he’s paying, though why anyone would be interested in the likes of this one’s skinny self is beyond me.”r />
  Eloise clenched her fists but remained silent, knowing better than to retaliate. At least she wasn’t expected to force a smile. Her cheek muscles had frozen in what must surely have been more grimace than warm welcome the day the two girls had come to live in her home.

  “Do give them a chance,” her Papa had said, and despite being afraid they would rob her of her father’s affection, she had done her best. She had even offered to lend the two girls her treasured books to read. But the sisters had shown no interest in her library until the day of her father’s funeral when they had claimed it and anything else of value she had once owned.

  “It is all ours, now,” Winifred had said, not bothering to hide her malice. “Maybe if you’d been a little more welcoming, we would have been inclined to share.”

  “But I tried to be friendly.” Eloise’s defence had fallen on deaf ears, the sisters clearly taking delight in her suffering. She had often wondered, if her father had lived, whether he might have tempered Gloria’s cruel example. But with no rebuke ever forthcoming for their spiteful words and actions, the girls had grown into virtual replicas of their mother.

  With her cloak wrapped tightly to try and ward off the wind’s bitter chill, Eloise kept her head down and avoided eye contact on her journey through the village. Ayleth was the only person she wanted to see.

  “Do you have a moment?” She waited until her friend had finished serving her customers to approach.

  “Of course,” Ayleth said. Leaving the ladies to browse, she took Eloise into the back room. “What’s wrong? You look like you have seen a ghost.”

  “More like a devil.” Eloise blinked back stinging tears.

  “Here, sit. I’ll just go finish up out front and put the closed sign on the front door, then you can tell me what’s happened. Megs is watching Mary while she takes a nap, so we shan’t be disturbed.”

  Eloise slumped into a chair. “I don’t suppose you have received a visitor from the palace?” she asked upon Ayleth’s return, a faint but improbable hope keeping her from dropping her head into her hands. “A court official, a surly dark-eyed fellow, a tall, fair-haired baron?”