by Dawn Cook
I scrunched my face up in rebellion. I’d leave, but how fast I obeyed remained up for interpretation. Hunched with my skirts held tight to me, I studied Prince Garrett.
As promised, he was handsome, making a trim figure beside my squat, dare I say rotund, father. Garrett stood a shade taller than I, I guessed. His hair was straight and fair, cut short about his head. My brow rose in appreciation at his clean-shaven features. I liked a tidy man. Freckles scattered across his narrow nose made him look young.
He reached for a map, the black fabric of his uniform pulling tightly across his shoulders. I felt warm just looking at him. His attire wasn’t flashy, using the cut of the cloth to hint at his wealth instead of distracting medals and jewels. He smiled at something my mother said, and I noticed his teeth were straight and even. My eyes ran down the snugness of his trousers as he turned his back to get a paper resting upon the pond wall, and my lips curved in a sly smile. Heather was right.
I rubbed my finger where the gypsy had pricked it as his pleasant voice joined my mother’s in an easy laugh. It rankled me to be hidden away like a bauble to be brought out for theatrical effect. If I had half the fortitude of my father, I’d force an introduction now. But what I did was sigh and turn to leave. Protocol and diplomacy. They ruled me. Coward.
My foot scraped the slate tiles, and I froze.
“Tess,” my father said as I spun and my mother met my horrified eyes. “What are you doing here?” He stood with a quickness I’d never seen in him before, dismay in his stance.
Garrett smiled as he straightened to his full height. Our eyes met, and my stomach twisted. I was knee-deep in the chu pits now. Trying to force my face into a pleasant expression, I squared my shoulders and came out from behind the sentries.
“Oh, Tess,” my mother said, touching the yards of ribbon binding her yellow hair in its elaborate coiffure. “Why didn’t you wait?” She and my father exchanged unreadable looks, seeming to be at a loss what to do.
Shaking inside, I curtsied low. “Good afternoon, Father, Mother,” I said with a formal stiffness. “I do apologize. I was unaware you were here.” It was an outright, bald-faced lie, and I approached slowly, praying I wouldn’t trip on a slate tile and fall flat on my fundament. That would be about right for my day so far.
My pulse quickened when my father came forward, taking my arm in a show of ceremony. “I told you to leave,” he whispered, looking unusually stately in his best receiving garb.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered back. “I only meant to look.” But my unease sharpened to a fine point when he answered me with silence. Together we halted before Garrett standing beside my seated mother. Her petite, wispy figure was tight with an unusual tension.
“Prince Garrett, second son to King Edmund,” my father said. “This is our daughter, Tess. I apologize for her forwardness, but she has a mind of her own, as you can see.”
A flash of emotion went through me as my father settled my hand into Garrett’s. It was strong and lightly callused, telling me he had much practice with a sword. He held my hand gently, as if he might break it. “A woman who thinks is a boon to her kingdom,” Garrett said, his voice mixing with the birdsong as if it belonged. “I’m pleased to meet you, Your Highness—under any circumstances.”
I flushed, thankful he didn’t seem offended by me pushing up the courting timetable. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, Prince Garrett,” I said formally. “I trust your journey to join us was uneventful.” The expected words flowed from me, a well-practiced litany. His nose was small, and his eyes were a riveting green. Both my parents had blue eyes, and I’d never seen quite their like before. They were beautiful, and I couldn’t look away.
As tradition dictated, Garrett brushed the top of my hand with his lips. I smiled, welcoming the age-old promise behind that simple act and the feeling it pulled through me. “The honor is mine,” he said. His voice was pitched low and his enunciation elegant. “Now that I have found you, the trials of the road have faded to a distant memory. It’s truly a pleasure to see the claims of your beauty have erred on the side of modesty. But why did you have the portrait artist straighten your curls? I think they become you.”
I met his smile with my own, glad to see he had a sense of humor. Straighten my curls, indeed. A flash of emotion went all the way to my toes, raising gooseflesh on the way back. This is to be my husband? Oh, the trials of being a princess . . . “Please call me Tess,” I said, thinking my face must be red. “Life is too short to stand on formality behind palace walls.”
Garrett glanced at my mother for permission before inclining his head in agreement. “Tess, then,” he said. “I’d be pleased if you called me by my given name as well.”
“Garrett,” I repeated. “Of course.” The formalities observed, Garrett escorted my pounding heart and me to the table. The tension eased as our court manners could now be dropped.
I glanced at the game of thieves and kings in progress upon the wall of the pool in passing. My father had finally shifted his pieces, putting one of his knights in danger to lure me into exposing my king. Pulling Garrett to a halt, I accepted the challenge of taking his piece in the hopes I could return my thief to safety before his second knight could make good his threat. My father made a sound of surprise as I set the black knight aside.
“Your princess is threatened,” Garrett murmured as he helped me with my chair.
My hopes soared. He knew how to play thieves and kings! “Yes,” I murmured. “But if he takes her, I will have his king in four moves.”
“Clever,” he breathed into my ear, adding to my fluster. A slow shiver filled me from the inside out. And I rather liked the way his hand lingered on the back of my chair. The mix of possessiveness and protection was something I couldn’t find fault with at the moment. I knew I was behaving worse than a kitchen maid who had caught a nobleman’s eye, but I couldn’t help it. Saint’s bells, but I liked him.
“There,” my father said gruffly as he stood by Garrett. “Isn’t this as nice as a day on the bay in summer?”
An awkward silence threatened, and my mother graciously stepped into the breach. “Tess?” she said, calm and self-possessed despite my social blunder. “We were going over the proposed exchanges. Would you like to see?”
Immediately I shifted my attention from Garrett’s presence behind me to the map on the table. All fluster aside, I was keenly interested in what King Edmund was offering in return for taking their unnecessary, second-born son off their hands and out of their borders.
The map showed much of the lower part of the continent, my mother’s large bays and several of her smaller ones clearly marked. We controlled the usable beaches for hundreds of miles up and down the coast, and thus most of the sea trade came from or through us. The shore we didn’t actively use met the land in jagged cliffs. Farther inland were the hardwood forests where we harvested the timber for our homes and the sturdy, fast ships we were known for. Between the woods and the sea was a distressingly small tract of land fit for farming.
Beyond the forest was Misdev. King Edmund retained a slim portion of the forest we took from them two generations ago. The kingdom was thoroughly landlocked but made up for it by consisting of large tracts of farmland butting against the mountains. It was hoped the union between us would rub out the last of our grudges and increase the quality of food crossing into our borders.
My father leaned over the map and tapped a finger upon a small cove on the outskirts. “See here?” he said, leaning so his bald spot showed. “We would lose one of the minor, shallow harbors. Along with a generous ribbon of land so they can get to it.”
A whisper of unease took me. The proposed section would drive a dangerous-looking wedge between us and our neighbors to the south. They wouldn’t like that at all, and neither did I. “But a good portion of the populace pulls their fishing boats out there,” I said, tugging the map from under my father’s elbow. “I thought we would be returning the forest to them.”
/> My father had a satisfied air about him as he leaned back and beamed, his gaze alternating between Garrett and me. “Didn’t I tell you she was clever?”
Frowning, my mother touched his shoulder. I watched the exchange, not knowing what was being said. A sullen, almost defiant look flashed across my father’s face before he focused on me. “You’re right, Tess,” my father said. “They will lose their homes, but they will be farmers.”
“Where?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice mild and polite. “It takes a generation to turn woods into good farmland. What will they do in the interim?”
“They will farm the land we get in exchange for the harbor and boats,” my father said, clearly pleased.
“Boats!” I cried. I looked at my mother, who nodded almost imperceptibly. A harbor and boats? We controlled the sea. Our armada was the only thing we had to fend off the greed of the surrounding kingdoms. “How many boats?” I asked warily.
“Dear, that’s not polite,” my mother said, and I pulled from her gentling hand.
“Neither is forcing your people to scratch the ground for their sustenance instead of pulling it clean from the ocean as they have for generations,” I said hotly.
“Tess!” my father exclaimed as he flicked a glance over my shoulder to Garrett.
“Forgive me,” I said, my words and tone contrite but my expression grim. I steeled it back to a proper, pleasant demeanor as there was a whisper of linen and the prince moved to the opposite side of the table so he could see me. His shadow fell over me, and I looked up.
“You have no reason to ask for forgiveness,” he said. “You care for your people. I won’t fault you for that. A queen puts her people first.” He straightened, holding my gaze with his. “Your people will be justly rewarded on their first harvest, dear lady. The produce they bring to your markets will not have spent weeks drying on the back of a cart or being bruised in the belly of a ship. It will be fresher and bring a correspondingly higher price.”
“Boats and a harbor?” I questioned my father, ignoring Garrett and his soothing smile.
My question clearly made my father uncomfortable, and his chin bunched behind his beard. He knew as well as I the threat another force on the water, no matter how small, would bring. “Trust, Tess,” he said. “Trust is expensive, especially with the history of—ah—your birth. The tracts of land we will receive will delve deep into Misdev. King Edmund deserves proper compensation.”
Lips tight, I turned to Garrett. “And what will you gain from this, Prince Garrett?”
Garrett, though, didn’t seem disturbed by my obvious ire. He sank down to a crouch before me. “Besides the satisfaction of knowing I’ve won a beautiful lady as my bride instead of an old hag with warts and an ugly nose?” he said as he took my hand. “Nothing. The boats and harbor will be managed by me only until such time as my brother becomes king after my father.”
Beautiful lady? I thought. I was a flat-chested, narrow-hipped woman who looked like she should be tending fires, not lounging before them. His flattery fell flat, pulling me into mistrust. My heart pounded as I caught a dark emotion flickering behind his eyes. Jealousy. Garrett was unsatisfied with being a second son. That was dangerous. No wonder his father was so generous with his land. He wanted Garrett out of his kingdom and safely settled.
Garrett raised my hand to his lips, letting them linger a shade too long upon my fingers. My eyes jerked to his. A chill slid through me, and I struggled to not yank my hand away.
This wasn’t right. None of it. But it wasn’t as if I wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on him. I would be queen after my parents; he would never be more than what he was now. With me, he would have at least the illusion of his own kingdom instead of a castle on the outskirts of his brother’s realm.
I began a steady pull away from him, and annoyance flickered over Garrett as he was forced to let go of me or make it obvious I didn’t like his touch. “Then it’s settled?” he said, his tone light as he rose to stand over me. “Perhaps we can choose the boats tomorrow?” He smiled, but it no longer warmed my soul.
“Tomorrow?” my father said haltingly.
Garrett stood and drew me reluctantly to my feet. He was taller than I by half a head, outweighing me by several stone of sword-worked muscle. My heart gave a thump as I took in the faint scent of horse and leather, the familiar smell having lost all its comforting memories. “Everything is in place,” Garrett said. “I suggest we move the wedding up to circumvent any possible retaliation concerning the Red Moon Prophesy.”
Shocked, my breath caught, and I reddened. How dare he speak so cavalierly of my private heartache? That burning-fool fantasy was the bane of my existence.
“We can be married in place of the betrothal festival,” he continued. “All the important guests will be here.”
“No,” came my mother’s faint protest. She had a peculiar expression, dismay and . . . guilt? “The wedding has been planned for the turning of the year. We have set arrangements for informal parties, teas, and joint excursions to provide time to become better acquainted. That you’re here early does not change our timetable. We have been fighting assassins for years, Prince Garrett. You are safe.”
Garrett seemed unperturbed. “I insist,” he said softly, and I stiffened when his grip on my arm tightened and then relaxed. “I will send my guards with news of the changes. They will be faster on horse than your ships. I’m only thinking of my bride’s safety.”
I stood stiffly beside him, disgusted at his impatience. He was thinking of my father’s ships and harbors, not me. Slowly I tried to pull away. They wouldn’t make me marry him if I didn’t want to, would they? Then our ships and harbors would be safe. But even as I thought it, I knew what I wanted made no difference. It never did.
Brow furrowed, my mother gave my father a sharp look. Seeming reluctant, my father came around the table, taking me from Garrett and pulling me a step away. I went with him willingly, feeling as if I had to wipe my hands free of the Misdev prince.
“I understand your worries, Prince Garrett,” my father said, placing himself between Garrett and me. “But as my wife says, we are skilled at fending off assassins. Having the wedding after the shipping season is to provide protection against a prophesy-induced attack. To have it earlier, even as a surprise, would invite violence. Our agreement remains unchanged. You will have your bride. But there will be no marriage for at least six months.”
Garrett’s stance stiffened as I stood beside my father, relishing his protection for the first time in years. “I believe you are stalling, sir,” Garrett said, a faint flush coming over his pale features. “You have a lovely daughter, and I see no reason to wait for an assassin’s knife when everyone is in agreement.”
My mother sighed at my obvious ire. She gave my father a tight smile. “Dear,” she said to me, patting the chair beside her. “Come sit. Gentlemen? I would speak with my daughter?”
My father slumped, turning from a sovereign to a father struggling to reconcile the will of a kingdom with the will of his daughter. “Leave us,” he said to his guard. Still not looking up, he said tiredly, “Prince Garrett, if you would ask your man to join him?”
Garrett made a quick gesture to his guard, and the two sentries turned smartly and left. The silence was uncomfortable as we waited for the sound of the door. My resolve stiffened. Garrett wanted my father’s ships and harbor. He didn’t care about my safety.
“It’s my responsibility,” my mother said, her eyes sad upon my father. “I’ll explain.”
Explain what? I thought. I already knew I had no say as to whom I married. But I could make things difficult, drag the proceedings out, make sure everyone knew I wasn’t happy. Papers had been signed, but if I set my mind to it, it could be years until the actual wedding took place. Who knew? Maybe if I stalled long enough, he would find a poisoned knife in his ribs.
Nodding with his head lowered, my father gestured to the prince. “Prince Garrett,” he said. “Would you ac
company me on a brief tour of our interior gardens? We can rejoin the women shortly, and all will be explained.”
“Mother?” I demanded, feeling my stomach tense.
Garrett cleared his throat. “It’s all right, Tess, dear. I have a desire to learn the history of that exquisite statue there. I won’t be but a moment.”
I scowled openly at his term of affection. My parents exchanged that same weary look, and my father escorted Garrett out of earshot to the most recent addition of statuary, a young woman in flowing robes. My father moved his hunched figure as if he would rather haul nets out of the bay than tell Garrett of the life-sized statue I pitched cherrystones at when avoiding my lessons. It’s not nice to have a statue prettier than oneself.
Garrett gave me what was probably supposed to be an encouraging smile before he followed my father, standing so I could see him across the short distance. Thinking he was rather vain, I frowned and turned away. My mother took my hand and pulled me down into a chair beside her.
“Tess. Sweetheart,” she said, her eyes showing deep lines at the corners. “I was expecting to have the next few weeks to tell you this. I am so sorry. Garrett arriving early has thrown everything into a quick coming-about, and now your impatience has complicated things beyond belief.”
“You can’t give King Edmund one of our harbors,” I protested in a harsh whisper. “The man is a flop! A carp mouthing the top of the water for scraps. What about the Rathkey’s proposal? They must need something, living way up in the mountains like that. Metal, maybe, or wool. I don’t mind waiting until their son gets a little older.”
“Tess, hush,” my mother pleaded. “This isn’t anything to do with Garrett or the marriage arrangements.”