by Cayla Kluver
“To my uncle’s country estate. The land is beautiful, plus no one dares trespass on the captain’s land, so it’s perfect from my mother’s point of view. She doesn’t want anyone to see me out riding.”
Traveling in such pleasant company made our journey pass quickly, and we arrived in what felt like very little time. Shaselle opened the door of the carriage and jumped to the ground without waiting for assistance, and then hurried to untie the horses. I removed my skirt so that I wore only the breeches and my blouse, and was helped to the ground by Baelic.
Cannan’s country estate was breathtaking, even in its current deserted and unkempt state. It was located by the bend in the river, where the Recorah altered its southerly flow to turn west, thus forming two borders of our kingdom, a scenic location farther from the threat of Cokyri than was Koranis’s. The two-story stone manor house that sat among towering oak trees was large and sprawling, and vines covered its northern wall. In addition to the main house, there was a stone guesthouse, wood-framed housing for servants, and a large stable with several fenced pastures.
Baelic unhitched the carriage horses, letting them loose in a small corral, then the four of us mounted our steeds. He led the way across an open field at a slow trot, probably trying to determine my skill as a horsewoman, but Alcander was very obedient. After we had ridden for about fifteen minutes, he dropped back next to me, and we urged the horses into an easy canter, Shaselle and Celdrid winging out to our sides.
It wasn’t until Baelic held up his hand to indicate we should rein the horses down into a walk that it occurred to me I had been on this property before. As I scanned the vast fields, I felt certain that the ill-fated picnic of a year ago with Steldor, Miranna and Temerson had taken place somewhere on this land. After all, my father had taken great care in choosing the location, and where better to send the princesses and their escorts than to a beautiful property Steldor knew like the back of his hand?
Most of the morning passed, to my amusement, with Baelic sharing tales of Steldor’s childhood misadventures. While the stories elicited much laughter, I hoped that, if someday I did have children by my husband, they would take after me, for Steldor had truly been a rambunctious child. As Baelic talked about his nephew, the affection he held for him was readily apparent; so was a healthy measure of pride.
We rode for an hour and a half longer, then returned to the manor house to wash and picnic in the shade of one of the oak trees. When the sun began its descent toward the western horizon, we gathered our things for the journey home, and I again put my skirt on over my breeches.
Upon our return to the palace estate in the late afternoon, Baelic offered to escort me up the path through the Central Courtyard, but I declined, still not wanting to be seen with him. Normally I would have had contact with my uncle only through Steldor, and I did not want questions to arise as to our relationship, especially since my husband would not approve of my new pastime. I stepped through the palace’s double entry doors, tired but happy, and was just about to tread on the Grand Staircase when Steldor emerged from the antechamber. He studied me for a moment, then made an observation that would have been rude but for the fact that it was true.
“I do believe you smell like a horse.”
“Just a new perfume,” I tossed back, quickly moving up a few steps, hoping he was not downwind.
“I think I prefer the smell of soap.”
“I usually smell of soap?” I asked, not sure whether I should feel insulted.
“There’s nothing wrong with the smell of soap,” he said. “It’s a nice, clean smell. But if this is your idea of perfume, I’m going to have to make choices for you in this area, as well.”
With one last puzzled look my way, he walked out the front doors, joined by a pair of Elite Guards, and I continued on to our quarters. I would have been angry at his presumptuous conclusion that he could do a better job than I of choosing perfume, but was instead grateful that he had dropped the subject. With a grin, I vowed to myself that from now on I would spend more time washing before we began the journey home.
The next few weeks passed pleasantly enough, as I resumed my daily routine and gradually learned more about Steldor’s. He would rise early and meet first thing with Cannan to discuss scouting reports, security issues and defense of the kingdom. He would then spend the rest of the morning meeting with other advisers and overseeing the day-to-day business of the palace. After lunch, he would conduct audiences and hear petitions from the citizenry, then meet with the scribes to issue any necessary letters, dispatches or decrees. Often in the late afternoons, he would ride out of the city on his gray stallion, generally accompanied by Galen and always with a contingency of Elite Guards. He would view the royal family’s holdings, inspect the Military Complex or the troops and on occasion go hunting, although I suspected some of these activities were just an excuse to get away from the demands of being King. He had been a very active military man and no doubt felt confined by all the meetings he had to attend and the administrative matters with which he had to deal. He generally returned to the palace midevening, dining after my family and I had finished, then coming to our quarters to change and depart. In truth, I did not see very much of him, but for the time being, that seemed to suit us both.
Despite the hot weather, I went riding with Baelic twice more during the month of July, again with Shaselle and Celdrid. We continued to make use of Cannan’s property, and I came to feel that I was getting to know my husband more through Baelic’s stories than through time spent with the actual man. Surprisingly, my greatest worry was that Steldor and I would cross paths someday. I could imagine my husband riding out for the afternoon and meeting up with us as we were returning. I tried to picture how that encounter would go but always came back to the conclusion that if anyone could handle Steldor in such a situation, it would be Baelic. In any case, I enjoyed the stolen pleasure of riding too much to give it up, despite the risk of being discovered. And I derived more satisfaction than I should have from the thought that I was engaged in something of which my husband would not approve.
CHAPTER 9
A PINK ROSE
“ALERA!”
An eager voice halted me as I was about to enter my parlor and I turned to see Miranna standing at the corner just outside her quarters, motioning for me to join her. I walked down the lengthy corridor, beginning to feel stiff and thinking longingly of a nice warm bath after my first August afternoon of riding with Baelic. I nodded to Halias, who stood in the hall, then let my sister pull me through the doorway, her rosy cheeks indicating her level of excitement.
“You’re certainly lively today,” I remarked as she bounded to the sofa, dragging me along with her.
“I’m so utterly, desperately, unbelievably thrilled!” she breathed when we both were sitting, clutching my hands and bouncing up and down.
“I can see that.” I laughed. “Would you like to share the reason?”
“I so badly want to, but I’m not supposed to say anything to anyone. If I tell you, you must promise not to repeat my words to another living soul!”
“I promise. Now what is it?”
“It’s Temerson! He wants to meet me tonight in the Royal Chapel. I think he might propose marriage!”
I gasped, more because she would be expecting such a reaction than out of true shock, and she clapped her hands together joyfully.
“I’m to meet him right after dark. And he wants me to come alone, which is just too romantic. Oh, Alera, I’ve had the feeling since my birthday that he wants to ask me something, and tonight I’ll find out what it is!”
I smiled, for her excitement was contagious. Then a possible obstacle came to mind.
“But what about Halias? He won’t let you go by yourself.”
“I have to go without him. Temerson would never be able to speak of something so important and personal around Halias!”
“That’s true enough,” I agreed, trying to picture the shy young man stuttering out a p
roposal in front of an Elite Guard. “But how will you elude him? And even if you do, one of the Palace Guards on night patrol will insist on accompanying you.”
“I have a plan,” she said with a devious smile. “I’ll simply tell Halias that I am retiring early and dismiss him before the night guards come on duty, then go to the chapel and await my dearest.” She sighed, then laid her hands over her heart, her expression dreamy. “Did I tell you he sent a pink rose along with the note Ryla delivered? He knows pink roses are my favorite. He’s so sweet, don’t you think?”
“That he is,” I concurred, then couldn’t resist teasing her. “And have you given thought as to what your answer will be?”
“I will say yes, of course!” she exclaimed in a near squeal.
“Then I’ll stay up late tonight. You must come to my quarters, quietly, the moment you’ve left Temerson’s side and tell me all the details.”
She nodded her head eagerly. “I will, and then we can begin to discuss wedding plans!”
While it was easy to get swept along in her enthusiasm, something else occurred to me as I looked at her beaming countenance.
“Mira…don’t be too disappointed if he doesn’t propose to you. Perhaps he merely wishes to give you a gift.”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” she replied, reaching to give my hands a reassuring squeeze. “He gave me an absolutely beautiful locket for my birthday, filled with forget-me-nots, so there is no need for a gift.” She sprang to her feet, eyes dancing. “Besides, if he doesn’t, I shall simply propose to him!”
We burst into laughter at the idea, although I wasn’t entirely certain Miranna was joking.
That evening, after I had bathed and changed clothes, I sat fidgeting in an armchair in my parlor. Had Miranna’s plan to evade the guards gone smoothly? Had Temerson arrived? And what might they be discussing?
Steldor was out, and I did not expect him to return anytime soon. I became certain that he would spend the entire night away with the appearance of stars in the darkening sky, which suited me perfectly. I paced the room, a queasy sensation of nervous exhilaration making it hard to sit still. Temerson must have proposed or she would be back by now. I considered revisiting Steldor’s bedroom to divert my attention, curious as to what else it might reveal about my husband, and stopped before it at my third pass around the room’s perimeter. Someone opened the parlor door at that moment, and I swiveled toward it.
“Mira—”
But it wasn’t Miranna standing just over the threshold, and I clamped my mouth shut, feeling my face flame.
“What are you doing?” Steldor asked, his eyes narrowing at the sight of where I was standing.
“I was pacing,” I said, knowing that would be a satisfactory reason for me to be so close to his bedroom door.
“I see.”
He took off his sword belt, hanging his weapons in their customary place by the hearth. Glancing at me suspiciously, he stripped off his jerkin and tossed it across an armchair.
“Why are you still up? It’s close to midnight.”
“I suppose I’m just not sleepy yet,” I replied, fingering the folds of my skirt. “In any case, I do believe the parlor belongs to the both of us, so I ought to be free to make use of it, no matter the hour.”
“True enough. Perhaps I’ll stay up with you.”
I cringed, for I should have anticipated this problem. If Miranna returned while Steldor was awake, he would know I had not been forthcoming with him. His comment in the aftermath of my first visit to Baelic’s, that I tried to conceal things from him, rang in my head, and I knew he would add this to the reasons he should not trust me. Yet I did not want to tell him. If Halias or my father found out what my sister had done, it would cause her strife.
“You’ve surely had a long day, my lord,” I suggested. “There is no need to keep me company.”
Steldor sat on the sofa, placing his feet on the low table.
“No need, to be sure. But you are rarely up when I return, and I don’t want to miss the opportunity to enjoy your company.”
I bit my lip, trying to think of a way out of this, and the silence between us lengthened.
“Given the lateness of the hour,” I finally responded, aware that his dark eyes were continuing to dissect me, “I believe I will retire after all. I bid you good-night.”
I walked into my bedroom, hoping he would likewise retreat into his. I was confident that he had only been staying up to irritate me, as he did seem rather weary. I closed the door and waited, listening until I heard him walk toward his room. After a few more minutes, I slowly opened the door to scan the seating area. Seeing no one, I crept toward the sofa.
“Does this sort of ploy work on other people?”
I jumped and wheeled about, then spied Steldor leaning against the wall to my right. This time, my entire body burned with embarrassment, both because I had thought I’d successfully fooled him and because I’d been so startled by his voice.
He came toward me and tapped me under the chin with his index finger, forcing me to meet his patronizing gaze.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on.”
Annoyed by his lofty manner, I pulled away and took a few steps back.
“I’m waiting for Miranna,” I admitted, moving to a cream brocade armchair near the sofa, all the while shooting him daggers with my gaze.
He followed, coming to lean against the back of the chair, where he began to play with the hair that tumbled down my back.
“And why are you waiting for her?”
I let out a frustrated breath and stood, pulling my hair out of his grasp. “She was meeting Temerson in the chapel.”
He looked at me expectantly, enjoying our exchange, his hands resting on the high back of the chair. “And she was meeting him because…?”
“He sent a note through her maid asking to see her tonight. It was all very romantic and mysterious—she thought he might propose marriage.”
Though I would have liked to have told him this was none of his business, I hoped that if I simply confessed, he might leave me in peace. Instead, his aspect changed, becoming less smug and more intense.
He pushed off the chair back and observed me critically. “How was Temerson going to get into the palace?”
“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about that. He must have found some way, though.”
“Is Halias with her?” Steldor demanded, and I frowned, unable to understand his interest.
“No, Temerson said she should come alone. Please don’t tell Halias. Miranna only wanted to give him—”
“The chapel, you said?” The urgency in his voice alarmed me, and I nodded, suddenly fearful, although about what I did not know.
Steldor snatched up his sword and dagger, strapping the weapons belt around his hips as he strode to the parlor door to fling it open.
“Guards!” he shouted, breaking into a run down the corridor toward the Grand Staircase.
I rushed after him, jostled about by the four or five men who had answered his call. I came to the forefront of the group as Steldor stepped off the final stair tread into the Grand Entry below me.
“Wait!” I cried, hurrying after him. He stopped by the guardroom that led to Cannan’s office to summon more soldiers, and I caught his arm.
“Where are you going?” I tried again, a note of desperation in my voice.
He pulled away from me, not offering an answer, then continued into the East Wing, toward the double wooden doors of the Royal Chapel at the end of the corridor. A few Elite Guards, awakened by the commotion, hurried into our midst from the northern corridor that led to their living quarters. Among them was Destari, who pushed his way toward me.
Steldor stopped before the doors and drew his sword, nodding to those gathered around him. They likewise drew weapons, and he tried the latch, pushing against the wood with his shoulder, but it would not yield.
“Barred from the inside,” a guard muttered, and he began to organize
men to break it down.
The sound of splintering wood rent the air as a savage kick from the King knocked the door inward, snapping the wooden bar that had held it closed. The chapel lay before us in near darkness, forbidding. Miranna could not be here, nor could Temerson, not without light from a lantern or candle. Nausea crawled through my stomach, tempered by reason. Perhaps they had been and gone; perhaps they were taking a stroll in the moonlight. The entrance to the East Courtyard was nearby—they might have decided to appreciate the refreshing evening air.
I moved closer to Steldor, who stood on the threshold awaiting a torch, wanting him to tell me not to worry. I stopped short, however, as a heavy metallic smell assaulted me, and I covered my nose and mouth with my hand.
“What is that?” I muttered, squinting into the darkness, nausea hitting full-force.
Before Steldor could answer, a cloud outside shifted, giving the moon freedom to gleam through the stained-glass windows and lend pale, colored light to the scene. Sprawled facedown in the aisle between the pews, amid a dark pool that spread across the blue-gray stone like a predator creeping forth, lay a person, limbs too awkwardly positioned for sleep, body too still for life.
A painful scream tore from my throat, and the image before me grew hazy, as though mist were obscuring my eyes. My knees gave out, but Steldor’s strong arm wrapped about my waist, shoring me up. The room again came into focus, and I saw that the wooden altar had been ripped apart, pieces of wood widely flung, the cross, now broken, upon the floor. My eyes dropped once more to the stone, taking in the thick texture of the blood, the odd angle of the neck from which it had poured, the frozen quality of death.
“Miranna…” I croaked.
“Take her,” Steldor said to someone, but I struggled against my husband, wanting to go to my sister, refusing to let him brush me aside.
“Look at me,” he said, turning me away from the scene. “That is not your sister. Now you must move out of the way.”