by Paige Elwood
“I still think we should try it. unless you have a better idea, Henry?”
He paused but then shook his head. “No, your Highness.”
“Then let’s try it. Come on, draw for me what a street light looks like.” Max held out the charcoal stick to Sarah.
“Excuse me, I’m needed to repair some furniture,” Henry said, leaving the room. The two waved, but barely said a word.
“I think we should build the ladder into the structure,” Sarah said, leaning across the paper. Her arm brushed Max's and a shiver ran through her. It was so strange to have someone affect her this way.
When she sat back down, she shifted a little closer, her leg pressed against his. Even through the many layers of clothing, it sent a frisson of excitement through her. Every tiny touch sent sparks through her, and she just craved more and more of them.
“What about a vent in the glass here,” Max said. “To make sure the flame gets enough oxygen to stay alight all night.”
“Where?” Sarah asked, leaning over the workbench for a closer look. She wobbled, and her hand landed on Max’s knee as she sought stability. She turned to apologize and found herself nose-to-nose with him. His warm breath tickled against her cheek and neither of them pulled back. Her eyes locked on his. More than anything, she wanted him to close the distance between them, press his lips to hers. She closed her eyes and felt the soft brush of his lips against hers, as delicate and swift as the beat of a butterfly’s wing against her skin.
Chapter 26
It was over before it began, and she wasn’t sure if she imagined it. She cracked her eyes open to find Max staring at her in wonder, his fingers resting on his lips. Neither of them said a word. She started to speak, her voice catching before she could get any words out.
“Goodness, it’s late,” the Prince said, scratching the back of his neck and looking towards the door. He seemed to be studiously avoiding eye contact. “We should probably get some rest.”
Sarah laughed in response, a high-pitched sound that rang off-key to her ears. “Yes, yes, it’s very late,” she said, moving towards the door and grabbing the candle from the workbench to light the way.
They said a hurried goodnight as they ducked into the hall, and Sarah watched Max’s back as he retreated to his bedchamber. Her mind and her nerves were buzzing, and there was no way she could sleep just yet. She decided to take a walk in the courtyard to seek some solitude and think things over.
She wrestled with her emotions as she walked in the cool night air. She loved to walk alone and usually found it soothing, but tonight she was conflicted, and the solitude brought her no relief. Tiny droplets of rain kissed her cheeks, and the sky was a uniform gray, with no stars in sight. Only the soft light of the moon penetrated the clouds, casting a little light across the courtyard.
What just happened? It felt like everything, and nothing. All her pride and morals, and here she was, practically desperate to be ‘the other woman.’
No, she scolded herself. That’s not true. I don’t want to be his other woman, I refuse to be that. I just want to find a way where we can legitimately be together. It’s not wrong, we both have strong feelings for each other. Neither of us loves another, his betrothal is just a contract of convenience. And it’s a contract I can’t break.
If this marriage went ahead, there would be no future at all for her and Max. But didn’t they both deserve love? If the Princess wanted a political match, could they not match her with someone else? There was no love between them according to Max, and Sarah had never witnessed them be anything but coolly tolerant of each other.
Hope blossomed in her chest. There must be a way to sort this out. Why else would she have ended up here? Surely fate was not so cruel a mistress as to not provide a solution?
She leaned against a tree, looking up at the castle. Most of the windows were dark, except for a few where candles flames danced like glowing orange eyes judging her actions. The night was so still that there was barely a whisper of sound, and she closed her eyes, slowing her breath and clearing her mind of all thoughts.
Her eyes flew open at the rustling of paper to her left. She turned her head slowly and saw the vague shape of a woman sat on a bench on the other side of the courtyard. As her eyes adjusted, Sarah recognized the familiar silhouette of Princess Katherine. Confusion swamped her. Was she dreaming? Was it her guilty conscience playing tricks on her?
A small sob escaped the figure, the shoulders shaking almost imperceptibly in the fuzzy light of the moon. Sarah’s heart sank. Did the princess know? Had someone told her? She forced herself to swallow, to moisten her arid throat. It was impossible, nobody could have seen her and Max, and nothing actually happened, did it?
So what was the princess upset about? As Sarah watched, the figure rose and walked silently back towards the castle. Her flowing skirts gave the disconcerting effect of hiding her feet and made it seem like she was gliding across the floor, like a ghost.
There was a small black book left behind on the seat where the Princess had been sitting. Sarah picked it up. Had the Princess been reading? It seemed particularly out of character given what Sarah knew of her. She turned the book over in her hands, but there was no title on the cover or the spine. It was just a faded black cover.
She opened the book, and a piece of parchment fluttered out from between the pages falling to rest at Sarah's feet. She bent down and picked up the scrap of paper, noticing a scrolling cursive on the page.
You are my hope, my love, my life
Your lips are my breath
I will breathe my first true breath when you are my wife
Your face is only the start of your beauty
Your warm, caring heart
Melts the parts of me frozen by duty
Sarah swallowed, a shock of goosebumps prickling up her arms. The poem was beautiful, and heartfelt. And very obviously addressed to the Princess. It was clear it had been written by somebody with a great depth of feeling for the beautiful Katherine. Sarah sat on the seat, all air deflated out of her. Perhaps her tears had been tears of joy? There was no other reason to cry at being the recipient of a poem like this, surely.
She had never seen Max's handwriting — they had kept their lessons to a series of debate. Max seemed so engaged, and Katherine so disengaged from the lesson. Max had said they didn’t love each other, so she'd assumed that their betrothal was a pure convenience arrangement without any genuine love behind it.
The hope that had blossomed just minutes before turned to ashes in her mouth. She'd known Max was betrothed, she'd known he was out of reach. He could never, ever be hers. She knew that. So why did this feel like a punch in the gut? She read the poem again, embarrassed now at her naivete in believing that the Prince didn't truly love Katherine.
What a fool she was. This poem gave her a stark reality check. She'd been falling for the Prince since the day she'd laid eyes on him. She thought they'd gotten close, and even though she'd known nothing could come of it, she'd still allowed that closeness to happen, convincing herself that it was a friendship and a meeting of minds.
Now that it was revealed for what it truly was, she felt like she'd lost something. She wiped at her face, shocked to find a patch of moisture on her cheek. Stop it, you're being ridiculous, she thought. You knew he couldn't ever be with you. You’re behaving like a spoiled child.
This was the reality check she'd needed. Homesickness crept back up on her, and she couldn't believe that she’d stopped thinking of how to get home. She had friends and family waiting for her back home. That was where she belonged, not in this castle, in this time, with this Prince. She couldn't believe she'd been thinking of showing him the ring and telling him the truth about where she was from. She certainly couldn't now.
She hurried through the castle, her fingers curled tightly around the book, the poem stowed back inside. Her eyes stung, and her throat was tight. She kept her eyes on the ground in front of her and almost bumped straight into Agata, who was rounding a
corner with another maid in tow.
“Sarah?” she asked, concern warming her normally brash tone. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” Sarah said, the words sticking in her mouth like toffee. “Just a touch of hay fever. I shouldn’t have gone for a walk in the garden.”
Agata shrugged. “If you’re sure you’re alright…”
“Actually, you couldn’t help me out, could you?”
“What do you need?”
“I feel dreadful, and I need to get this back to the princess. She left it in the garden.” She thrust the book towards Agata.
“I can do it,” her companion said, stepping forward to take the book. “I’m due to change her chamber pot in the morning, if it can wait till then?”
“I’m sure that’s fine.” Sarah smiled. “Thank you.”
“No problem, Ma’am,” the pretty, plump maid said.
Sarah smiled and bid the two of them goodnight. The book was out of her hands now, but the discovery still weighed heavy on her heart.
Chapter 27
Max was up early, excited to be testing the Onager today. He’d completed his early morning yoga session alone, and it had calmed him somewhat, but the nervous, jittery energy had returned. He’d been disappointed that Sarah wasn’t there, but he’d completed the session without her.
He was pleased with how easily he could hold the poses now, and the additional flexibility in his body from the continued practice evident even after only a week of practice.
“Is everything ready for this afternoon?” he asked Henry.
“Yes, the carriage will be here for just after lunch, and I’ve arranged a brief distraction for the guards.”
“Excellent,” he said, rubbing his hands together.
“Are you sure you want to bring the girl?” Henry said, pursing his mouth into a tight knot.
“Why don’t you like her? She’s got good ideas, and I think she will help.” Max said.
“Women can’t keep secrets,” Henry said. “You should hear the gossiping that goes on among the maids. And I’ve seen that one talking to the maids.”
“I trust her,” Max said, “and she has a name.”
“I don’t think that’s wise. She’s filling your head with all sorts of bizarre ideas.”.
Max sighed. “They’re not bizarre, they’re philosophical. And some of them reflect my own beliefs.” He cocked his head, thinking. “A lot of them reflect my own beliefs.”
“Some of it is heresy,” Henry insisted.
“Now, Henry, I didn’t think you were the pious type. We’re scientific thinkers, you and me. We know that free thinking isn’t against God’ s wishes. Only evil acts are.”
“It’s the little evils that are the worst, eating away at the good in you,” Henry grumbled.
“Henry! I’m sure that’s true in some regards, but I refuse to believe that Sarah’s teachings are bad. And saying they are insults my own intelligence.”
Henry looked down. “I’m just looking out for you.”
“And I appreciate it, I do. But we can trust Sarah, and she’s a good person.”
“What if she’s a spy?”
A cold feeling settled over Max, and an uneasy nausea. This question just kept returning. He did trust her. Yet he knew she was hiding something, he could feel it in his gut.
“She’s not a spy,” Max said. “Who would she be a spy for?”
“You know who. And she knows about the passageways,” Henry stated.
“She’s not a spy! I need to go, but please just trust my judgment. I’ll see you here at noon.”
Katherine had sent her ladies’ maid to let them know that she was unwell again, so Sarah and Max would have the morning to spend together. He was hoping to finish the blueprints for the street lights. Despite Henry’s skepticism, he liked Sarah’s ideas.
When he arrived at the library, Sarah was reading, her head bowed over the book in her hands, her brow furrowed in concentration. He could see her lips moving as she read over the words, and a tendril of hair had slipped loose from her braids and was curling softly next to her face. She blew it out of the way, but it settled back where it had originally been.
She looked like an angel outlined in the soft morning light. Not the cold, impenetrable statue of an angel that Katherine reminded him of, but a soft, warm angel glowing with inner beauty. He pressed his fingers to his lips, almost able to feel the gentle touch of her lips against his own. He’d been so close to wrapping his hands in her hair and pulling her to him yesterday, but fear had stopped him. Fear of the reprisals, and fear of what it might do to Sarah’s reputation.
He thought of Henry’s words. There was no way this woman was a spy. None. She had a secret, though, and Max vowed he would find out what it was. If she was keeping it hidden, then it must be something big. Whatever it was, he wanted to help.
He coughed lightly as he entered, and she looked up from the book. She gave him a watered-down version of her usual smile.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
“No Katherine today?” she responded, brushing his query aside.
“No, she’s unwell again. I thought we might work on those street lights.”
“Do you think if we were staying in the library Katherine might be well enough to join us?” Sarah said, ignoring his statement.
Irritation gripped him, and his response was a little harsh. “I think she’s perfectly well and just doesn’t want to join us.”
“I suppose you would know,” Sarah shrugged, eyes back down at the book in her hands.
He shook his head. What did she mean? Females were so cryptic sometimes. He enjoyed Sarah’s usual no-nonsense approach to everything. He missed that. “Shall we go to the workshop?”
She sighed. “No, I have a lesson planned out.”
“Are you serious?”
“I’m being paid to teach you, not indulge the hobby that your father doesn’t approve of. So I thought we’d have a history lesson of the city.”
“I know the history of the city.”
“Still, it’s my job to teach you.” She picked up the book on the desk.
Max slid into his chair and dutifully folded his hands on his lap. “Then teach.”
She stood, clearing her throat and began to read aloud from the book in her hands. Was she serious? She didn’t even look up, and simply droned on and on from the book. He stood, sending the chair skittering across the stone floor, but she didn’t stop, her eyes still on the book in front of her.
He placed a hand on her arm and the book thudded to the floor. Her eyes met his and she jerked her arm back like he’d struck her. “Has something happened? Has my father said something to you about your lessons?”
“No,” she said. “I just realized I should be focusing on my work. I have a job to do and you have a responsibility to your kingdom, and to your betrothed.”
He wrinkled his nose. “What does Katherine have to do with this?”
“One day you will both rule this kingdom together. My job is to prepare you in part for that. “
“I’m prepared. I’ve been preparing my whole life. What I need your help with is the difficult stuff, like keeping me sane, and helping me with my inventing.”
Her eyes met his, and he caught a flash of… defiance? Contempt? What was that? Something had changed.
“Are you … ok?” he said. “Should we… discuss what happened yesterday?”
He wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, bury it so he didn’t have to think about it, but he couldn’t bear to see Sarah in pain and something was very clearly bothering her.
“Yes, of course, why wouldn’t I be?” She stepped back and putting the book on the desk. “There’s nothing to discuss,” she added, before pinching her lips together.
“You just don’t seem like yourself today. Do you really want to stay in here and read aloud to me from a book I’ve read three times?”
“No,” she said. “But I need to be professional. It’s n
ot… appropriate that we spend so much time together.”
“But we achieve things together. And it’s the test day today for the Onager. Are you really going to miss that?”
“No,” she said, a small smile tilting her lips in an upwards curve. He wanted to kiss the corners of her mouth, but he controlled himself. Just.
“Then let’s finish inventing streetlights,” he laughed, taking her hand and pulling her along. She resisted only for a second before she allowed him to lead her. His ring hummed to life again at the touch of her hand.
Chapter 28
Sarah was still uncharacteristically quiet in the workshop while he built out a wooden prototype.
“The real one will be iron,” he said. “As wood is too flammable, but I don’t have the space to make them from iron in here. I’ll need to get help from a blacksmith.”
Sarah nodded, but her eyes were unfocused, and she seemed lost in her own world. “Penny for your thoughts?” he said.
“I was just thinking it’s unusual to be good with your hands and also good with words,” she said in a tight voice.
“My rhetorical and debating skills are sharp.” Max winked.
“No, I mean creative with words. Like poetry.”
“I’ve never got on with poetry. I find it a little frivolous for my tastes.”
“Then you did an especially good job on the poem you wrote,” Sarah said, with a small, wistful smile that nearly broke his heart.
“What poem?” Max said.
“It’s none of my business really, forget I said anything.”
“I’ve never written a poem in my life,” Max said.
Sarah sighed. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I accidentally found the poem you wrote for Katherine. It’s beautiful. I was just surprised after what you said yesterday.”
“I didn’t write Katherine a poem. I’ve never written a poem, much less one ‘for’ anybody.”
“Then I must have been mistaken,” Sarah said. “Perhaps the book with the poem in was already there when Katherine sat down? Maybe she left it because it isn’t hers, and she didn’t’ forget it?”