by L. Danvers
She wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but she didn’t like it. The nervous way in which he spoke made her uncomfortable.
He took her hands in his and gave them a gentle, though unwelcome, squeeze. “Daphne, my princess, I admit that I have loved you for quite some time. I’m drawn to the warmth in your eyes. And though I have tried to conceal it over the years, I daresay the truth is that even on the darkest of days, that light in you can soften the hardest of hearts. Even mine. There is no doubt that you deserve better than me, but I can only hope that you return my affection.”
She took her hands from his and backed away. She looked at him, the man she had pined after as a young girl. The man who was declaring his love for her. The strange thing was that it sounded sincere. She wasn’t sure what to say to him. It was one thing to reject someone who she thought saw her as nothing more than a stepping stone to the throne. It was another thing to reject someone who had just opened his heart to her.
But she was in love with someone else.
“Please, my princess. Say something.”
She didn’t.
Sadness overtook his face. He stared at the ground for some time, then he squared his shoulders back and changed the course of the conversation entirely. “Tell me about your travels. It must have been a frightening journey for a woman like yourself.”
She ignored the insinuation. “Actually, it was wonderful. Scary, at times, but wonderful.”
She told him about the silver forest—about how they had fought the atrocitas and escaped from a band of brutes. She told him about the rough days sailing across the Acerbus Sea, how they had barely escaped from the giants’ lair and how Phillip had saved her life in the Perdeus Ruins.
“I know it was wrong of me to leave,” Daphne said, “but I had to—to protect my brother. You can understand that, can’t you? I’d be lying if I said I regretted it. He’s alive, and he’s home. Nothing else matters.”
“You always have been one to live on your own terms. You’ve rebelled against authority and traditions since I can remember. It’s a trait that’s gotten you in trouble more than once.”
“We all have our demons, I suppose.”
“I wouldn’t call it a demon. But yes, we all have demons we’d like to bury.”
He again offered her his arm, and together she and Sir Hartley walked through the courtyard. Days ago, she had been trudging through snow, running for her life, and here she was now, strolling through a garden. Her travels, her freedom, were but a distant memory.
They came upon a bench, and Sir Hartley asked if she would like to sit. He pulled a deck of cards from his pocket and invited her to play. She had played cards with him a number of times, but this was a new game she was unfamiliar with. He offered to teach her the rules, and after a brief explanation, they played a few practice rounds. She was pleasantly surprised to win a time or two, but the final round left her stumped.
“I’m not sure what to do now,” she confessed. “What do you do when you don’t have any good cards left?”
“You fold.”
“Oh.” She placed the cards face up on the stone, and as soon as she did, she regretted it. “I just thought of a hand I could have played. Is it too late?”
He nodded. “You’ve already shown your cards, my princess.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
She had to see him. One more time.
Daphne paced in the dark, damp storeroom hidden below the castle. Scattered light shone through cracks in the stone above. She had spent many hours here over the years, practicing swordplay with Phillip under their mother’s careful watch. It was a secret place known to few. The last time she had been down here was the night before the tournament. The prince and princess had spent hours upon hours practicing. Phillip fought well that night, and even better in the tournament the next day. Daphne remembered how Lillian had fretted over the bruises she had gotten from practicing with him. Daphne didn’t think she’d ever give bruises a second thought again.
Phillip was upstairs, busy shaking hands and greeting guests as King Edgar had instructed him to do. So after Daphne’s time with Sir Hartley was finished, she asked Lillian to help arrange a meeting with Gregory. The storeroom was the most private place in all of the castle, a place where they could have some time alone. That was all she wanted. Just a couple of minutes together in private, where they didn’t have to pretend that they were nothing more than acquaintances. She needed a moment to say a proper goodbye.
Her heart skipped at the creak of the door. She blushed at the sight of him. She had never seen a young man look so uncomfortable in his clothes. He tugged at the hem of his sleeves and adjusted the black and gold tunic Phillip had let him borrow.
Lillian shut the door behind him when he passed the threshold. Being the wonderful friend she was, she had promised to keep watch for them.
His gaze met Daphne’s, and his blue eyes brightened at the sight of her. He put his hand over his heart and said, “You look beautiful.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself.”
He fiddled with the belt tied tight around his waist. “I look ridiculous.”
“Not at all. You’re just not used to looking... clean.”
They both laughed, and he drew her in close and kissed her. The distant sounds of minstrels practicing their tunes and busy feet scurrying overhead faded away. There was only the two of them. His lips were warm and soft, and she couldn’t stop tears from racing down her cheek at the thought of never kissing them again. Her tears met his hands, and he pulled back, which was the last thing she had wanted him to do. He swept his sturdy fingers across her cheek. She couldn’t find the words to say. She wanted to tell him how much their time together meant to her. She wanted to tell him she appreciated all that he, Thomas and Merek had done to help her. She wanted to tell him that she would miss him. That she would never love anyone the way she loved him.
But as silly as it was, she wanted him to say it first.
If Gregory had just told her he loved her, she would have given up everything for him. If there was ever a time to tell her how he felt, to put it in words, it was now. Before the banquet. Before she chose a suitor. Before she was married and shipped off to some foreign land.
She couldn’t understand why he wasn’t saying anything. Maybe he had known from the beginning that they could never be together. That despite them being drawn to each other, they would always be worlds apart.
She was trying to muster up the courage to broach the subject when trumpets blared throughout the castle. Lillian gave the door a couple of bangs. Daphne’s heart sank. They were out of time.
The three of them hurried upstairs. Daphne wiped her cheeks dry as she and the others climbed up the steps. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart beat with such speed she feared it would give out on her. The banquet was about to start. She was going to have to choose a suitor. Sir Hartley was out of the question, which left her with Sir Rowan and Lord Favian to choose from, both of whom had returned to the castle for the festivities. Was she to resign herself to a life of suffering from listening Sir Rowan’s stories, which dragged on for hours? Or was she to choose Lord Favian, a man with an accent so thick she couldn’t understand a word he said? It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t her father see that it wasn’t fair? She had accomplished a quest just like Phillip had. He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her. Phillip didn’t have to choose a wife, so why did she have to choose a husband? And why did it have to be a choice of three men she had no interest in when she loved someone else?
They slipped out from the shadows of the stairwell, turned the corner and marched for the banquet hall. Guests were lined up by the door, waiting to be granted entrance. Every woman in attendance was competing to have the fanciest hairdo. A couple of them wore their hair down, but most had their locks knotted into tight braids and stuffed with beads and feathers. Daphne adjusted her emerald and gold circlet as she passed them. As much as Lillian tried keeping them in place, Daphne’s
crowns had a knack for slipping. The guards let the three of them through the entryway, and Daphne heard Gregory whisper Wow! at the sight of the hall.
It was a grander sight than she had ever seen—an extra special occasion to mark the victorious return of the prince of Vires. Each table, even the one for the servants, was draped in purple velvet and topped with a layer of gold fabric, the tassels of which dripped with crystals. Arrangements of fresh-picked peonies sat on top of the tables surrounded by flickering candles. Meanwhile, the minstrel’s busy fingers strummed pleasant melodies, and servants carried overflowing trays of food. A couple of them eyed Lillian, who stood beside the princess, wearing her pink dress. Lillian had expected to receive judgment from them, but instead, the corners of their eyes crinkled and smiles spread across their faces upon realizing it was her. The three of them were halfway across the room when Lillian came to a stop. Her cheeks turned as pink as the gown she was wearing. Hadrien was across the room.
“Go talk to him,” Daphne said, nudging her with her elbow.
“I don’t know...”
“Lillian, the boy’s jaw is practically touching the floor at the sight of you. Go talk to him.”
She looked to Daphne and Gregory, and they both nodded in encouragement. She drew a long breath, raised her head and headed in Hadrien’s direction.
“Daphne!” Phillip called from the other side of the room. He was sitting at the banquet table, craning his head to look at her past the towering platters of food that were spread before him. He waved his sister over and said, “It’s almost time. Come, sit with me.”
Gregory and Daphne parted ways. She wished he could have sat beside her. She took her seat next to her brother. She had hardly sat when her father stood on the other side of Phillip and clanked his jeweled chalice with his fork. The minstrel stopped playing at once, and the chatter of the guests who now filled the room fell silent. Chairs scraped against the stone as people turned to hear what the king had to say.
King Edgar held out open arms in that signature king-like way of his and addressed the room. “My dearest subjects, it is with great pleasure that I announced the return of my children, Prince Phillip and Princess Daphne of Vires.”
The applause and cheers from the room were so powerful they made the hanging tapestries sway. Phillip pushed his chair back and stood, and he took his sister’s hand so she would stand beside him. Their fingers interlocked, and he raised their hands high in the air. The cheers grew louder. Their father waved his squire over, who carried with him a fluffed pillow, on top of which sat the treasures Phillip had retrieved on his quest.
King Edgar motioned toward the pillow and said, “As you enjoy the feast for your bellies, so enjoy the feast for your eyes. We have in our presence proof of the fulfillment of my son’s quest. Not only did he secure the ruby lost by my grandfather at the Battle of Gargantem, but he also managed to find this.” The king held up the piece of the amethyst-colored dragon scale. Guests scrunched their eyebrows and whispered to one another, trying to figure out what the object was. The king smiled and said, “My son brought back a piece of a dragon scale that hung around the neck of the so-called king of the giants. The scale and the ruby will be on display for you tonight. After this evening, they will be moved to the throne room to join our collection of treasures, so that all who enter may see the fruit of my son’s bravery.”
Phillip squeezed his sister’s hand and winked, and she knew that meant thank you. She squeezed his hand back, and they sat down and enjoyed the merriment together. The music began playing once again, and they chased down the plethora of food before them with barrel-aged wine. While they and the guests were busy eating, actors took to the open floor, reenacting Phillip’s quest. There was no mention of Daphne or Lillian. Nor of Gregory, Thomas nor Merek for that matter. That was to be expected. It would be considered an embarrassment if people knew Phillip had been rescued by a girl, even a princess. Phillip and Daphne did their best to contain their laughter at their father’s ridiculous version of events. It was so far from the truth it was comical. Daphne wondered if his version would be what was recorded. She shook her head at the thought, and she questioned how many of the other recorded stories had been altered and embellished. What good was history if it was made up?
By the time the reenactment was over, their cups were empty and their bellies were full. Guests took to the dance floor, the hems of women’s dresses fanning out like rose petals as they twirled. In the sea of colors, a glimpse of pink caught Daphne’s eye. She looked closer and saw Lillian dancing with Hadrien. Lillian had never looked happier.
King Edgar turned to the prince and princess and said, “It is good to have my children back. That friend of yours... Gregory, was it? Good fellow. He didn’t even accept the reward.”
“Excuse me?” Daphne said.
Her father shrugged. “He said seeing you two reunited and home was all the reward he needed.”
The room was spinning. It felt like all of the air in Daphne’s lungs had been sucked out of her. She had prayed for a sign, and here it was. Gregory hadn’t told her he loved her, but declining the reward showed it. That was all she needed. To know, with certainty, how he felt.
She dug her heels into the floor and pushed back her chair. Phillip and the king both asked where she was going, but she paid them no attention. She knew what she had to do. She had to talk to him. To thank him for what he had done and be honest with him about how she felt. She went over what she wanted to say in her head as she swept past tipsy guests on the dance floor. Her mouth felt dry, and she wished she had downed another chalice of wine to settle her nerves.
Gregory sat at a table, alone in a corner. The plates belonging to the guests that had surrounded him were filled with bones and scraps. When he saw her approaching, he set down his fork and wiped the corners of his mouth with a cloth napkin.
“Daphne,” he said, straightening his tunic as he stood. “I’m sorry, I mean, Princess Daphne.”
“Please. Just Daphne.”
He nodded. It was sort of cute how uncomfortable he looked. He bit his lip and asked, “Would you, um...”
“Like to dance? I’d love to.”
At that, he was more at ease. More like the Gregory she knew. He took her hand and led her to the dance floor. They didn’t pay any attention to the guests who had stopped dancing to watch them. As far as they were concerned, it was just the two of them. Together again.
He pulled her in close, lacing his fingers with hers and resting his other hand on the small of her back. She thought back to when they first met, how he had broken the compass given to her by the soothsayer. She recalled the words the wiry-haired had said to her when she first gave her the compass. It will lead you to what your heart desires most. It was him. It was always him.
“Father told me what you did.”
“What I did?”
“You didn’t accept the reward. Why?”
“I have all I need right now.”
Daphne shook her head and smiled. “What an unlikely pair we are. The princess, and the thief who stole her heart.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
They were dancing when she felt a cold touch on her shoulder. Daphne turned and saw Sir Hartley standing there. His hand was resting on her, but he was looking past her. His teeth were clenched tight, and the vein in his neck was prominent.
“What’s this?” Sir Hartley sneered. There was hatred in his voice, though the princess didn’t understand why. “No warm greeting for your brother?”
Daphne’s mouth fell open. Before she had a chance to let his words sink in, before she had a chance to question Gregory, her father clinked his fork against his chalice. “My dear daughter,” he bellowed. “Come, stand beside me. You, too, Sir Hartley.”
Sir Hartley’s cold fingers wrapped around the princess’s wrist and dragged her along with him. Each time she turned to look back at Gregory, Sir Hartley gave her wrist a jerk. Though he was doing his best to keep a straight face,
Daphne could tell the king’s chief advisor was fuming. It couldn’t be easy to see the woman he had declared his love for just hours ago dancing with his brother. But that didn’t justify him taking his anger out on her, on her poor wrist. Having had enough, she wriggled out of his grasp and looked to her father, who had a peculiar smile plastered across his face. He motioned for them to hurry and stand beside him, and when they did, he cleared his throat and said, “I have an announcement to make.”
Daphne’s thoughts raced faster than she could sort them. She wondered why Gregory hadn’t mentioned his brother was Sir Hartley. She thought of all he had told her about his family, about how manipulative and power-hungry they were. So much of the darkness she’d seen in Sir Hartley made sense now. It made her sick knowing her assumptions about him had been right. She thought of all of the times he’d whispered into her father’s ear, using him as a puppet to gain control over the realm. And here he stood beside her, trying to look composed, but radiating anger. Those demons he’d spoken of, the ones he talked of burying, were creeping their way to the surface.
When the guests quieted down, the king continued with his announcement. “Due to my daughter’s recent absence, I have made a decision on her behalf.” She was terrified of what was coming. It wouldn’t be good. A lump formed in her throat, and try as she might, she couldn’t swallow it down. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying he wasn’t going to say what she feared he would. He continued, “I am thrilled to announce I have promised her hand to my very own chief advisor, Sir Hartley.”
It felt like Daphne had been punched in the gut. She leaned forward, grabbing hold of the back of the upholstered chair to keep from fainting.
How could he do this to her?