“I have heard a few rumors, but nothing I should credit, I’m certain.”
Laughing, Mahlia shook her head. “Such diplomacy! I assure you it’s unnecessary. Beland may think he excels at keeping the affairs of his Realm secret, but I’m canny enough to know that secrecy is a rare and precious commodity.”
Jess tensed. “Are you asking for my assistance with your problems with Corland?”
“I am, but perhaps not in the manner you think. I do not wish to wage war with Corland. My only concern is ensuring that my Realm remains my own. Are you aware that, for some time, Beland has been attempting to negotiate marriage with me?”
“Again, I’ve heard rumors. I can’t say it surprises me.”
“Well, when you announced your betrothal to Prince Devaran, Beland was forced to seek other options. Between us, I think he would have preferred a marriage with you. You are quite lovely—and quite formidable.”
“I wouldn’t underestimate myself if I were you. You’re quite lovely and formidable as well, and I have it on good authority that Regent Beland is rather fond of silks and spices.”
Mahlia laughed again. “I doubt there is anything he likes better than having a throne, and his nephew’s becoming a man will be quite a nuisance to him.”
“Perhaps.”
“Indeed. You’ve seen the deplorable brat. Imagine having to swear fealty to him. It almost makes me feel sorry for Beland.”
Jess smiled but kept her opinions to herself. Mahlia’s biting comments were entertaining, Jess had to admit, but she was well aware of Mahlia’s reputation for disarming others, and Jess wasn’t about to let Mahlia get more out of her than she wanted to give. “What is it I can do to help you out of your predicament?”
“It would seem I am in need of a husband, but I suffer from a dearth of candidates. I find the choices within Deshira a bit lacking. I had thought Prince Tanvirous might suit me. He is so handsome, and he appears quite virile, but I fear he might not be as…flexible as I might like.”
The thought of Tanvir marrying Mahlia forced Jess to hold back a bark of laughter. Mahlia would prefer a husband from a Realm other than her own because it would give her something to leverage, should she need assistance from one of the other Realms. A prince would normally be ideal, but Tanvir was too intelligent and independent, had too much of a mind of his own, and Mahlia wasn’t looking for a marriage of equality.
“Ah, I see. You would like a husband who might prove more…amenable?” Jess ventured.
“Precisely.” Mahlia beamed. “I knew we would understand one another.”
“Do you think a suitable candidate could be found in Lyrane?” Jess asked, trying to buy herself some time to think. If she agreed to help Mahlia secure a match with one of her lords, she would bind Lyrane to Deshira—and, by extension, bind Estoria to it as well. She had expected a steep price, but this was a little steeper than she’d anticipated.
Still, she could hardly blame Mahlia. Beland was a man of aspirations, and it wouldn’t surprise Jess if he were to find himself a widower due to a tragic accident befalling his wife. And while the thought of having to deal with Deshiran calls for assistance wasn’t exactly appealing, neither was the thought of a union between Deshira and Corland. Judging by what she’d seen of Toran, he would not improve with age, and if Beland maintained his stranglehold on the throne even when his nephew was of age, the thought of him ruling Corland wasn’t much more reassuring. It might prove to be in Lyrane’s and Estoria’s best interests to have an ally to the north.
“Oh, I have a few in mind.” Mahlia’s tone was casual, but Jess could see the gleam of calculation in her eyes.
“Would you like to share them with me?”
“In due time. For now, I ask for your assurances that such a match would be possible.”
“You must know I don’t have the authority to make such a decision on my own. I will have to petition my father and mother.”
“Yes, of course. But I had hoped that if their agreement is not forthcoming we might reach one on our own.”
Now Jess understood Mahlia’s angle. “It might be some time before I would be able to deliver on any promise to you.”
“I am a patient woman. I can wait, if needs be. As I understand it, it’s Lyranian custom for the king and queen to step aside and assume a more advisory role once their heir reaches the age of twenty-five, is it not?”
“Yes, that is true,” Jess had to admit.
“I know I am asking a large…favor of you, dear Jess,” Mahlia said, taking Jess’s arm. “But I feel you and I could share a very fruitful friendship. After all, you are asking a large favor of me as well.”
“I wasn’t aware that looking out for your own interests was considered a favor to me.”
“I know you believe Ellaria is a threat to all of the Realms, but as I see it, while her taking Prince Devaran points to her desire to strike at Estoria and Lyrane, perhaps she might prefer to make peace with Corland and Deshira. In fact, Regent Beland might prove quite a temptation for a woman of such aspirations as Ellaria.”
Jess hadn’t thought of this, and she couldn’t deny that she was alarmed that she hadn’t. Unfortunately, her alarm must have shown, because Mahlia smiled and gave her a shrewd look.
“So you see, we could be good friends to one another,” Mahlia said. “Forgive me if I’ve made you feel as though I’ve backed you into a corner, but surely you can appreciate my actions. We cannot all be as fortunate as you in our choice of husband, and you must understand that I wish to protect my own Realm just as fervently as you wish to protect yours.”
She was right, though Jess hated to admit it. It left a bad taste in her mouth to agree to such a deal with Mahlia, but what Mahlia had said was true. It was unsettling to realize she hadn’t considered all of the angles, and Jess felt a sense of frustration with herself.
“I would like to take your offer under advisement.”
“Certainly, but I ask the favor of your answer within a day.”
“You’ll have it. If you’ll excuse me, I must ready myself for dinner.”
“It has been a pleasure talking with you, Jess.”
“And you as well.”
Jess strode away, eager to find Tanvir so she could discuss Mahlia’s proposal with him.
Chapter 19
Trying his best not to yawn in boredom, Dev went through the pomp of entering the great hall. He felt like every eye in the Realm was on him, judging him, measuring him up against his brother and finding him wanting. The royal family made their way up the long red carpet toward the throne, and Dev hoped he wouldn’t trip.
Of course, if I do, I can just turn it into a pratfall and they’ll all think, “Oh, that Prince Devaran, he’s always good for a laugh.” He hadn’t missed the mocking whispers referring to him as the queen’s favorite jester.
Still, however much he hated the censure, deep down he had to acknowledge that he deserved it. It was simple for him to dismiss his brother as a sycophant, but he knew it was the ease with which Tanvir conducted himself that provoked his jealousy, and he could hardly blame Tanvir for that.
He scanned the grand staircase, looking for Jess. He had a vague recollection of a lanky, skinny girl, holes in her breeches showcasing knobby, bloodied knees, dark hair hanging in tangled masses, her eyes seeming almost too large for her face. Then the trumpet fanfare began, and he stared at a young woman he would have sworn he’d never before seen. Scrambling to his feet, Dev wiped his sweaty palms against his breeches as the Lyranian royal family approached.
“Dev!” she exclaimed, her face breaking into a broad smile. He was so dazzled he could do nothing but stare stupidly at her.
“Jess?” he managed to ask.
“Don’t tell me you don’t remember your old friend,” she teased.
I remember a scrawny little girl, he almost said, but managed to bite the words back at the last second. He could see glimmers of the Jess he remembered, but she had transformed beyond hi
s wildest imaginings. She was tall, only a few inches shorter than him. Her dark brown hair was a shining mass elaborately arranged on top of her head, a few artful strands brushing her high cheekbones, framing a face that stole his breath. As she looked at him her eyes danced, the light of the candles catching the gold flecks in the brown depths, and he felt like he was sinking into her gaze. Her golden skin glowed as if lit from within, and he wondered if it was as smooth to the touch as it looked. Though he felt like he stared at her for hours, it must not have been an unseemly amount of time because the smile on her sensuous lips never wavered, and her white teeth gleamed as she tilted her head.
“You’re not a little boy anymore,” she said.
“No, I’m not,” he said, wanting to wince at his own lame response. Instead, he smiled at her.
“I still can’t believe I caused that chip,” she groaned, her cheeks flushing, making her look even more stunning.
His hand moved toward his mouth unconsciously, but there was such a fond look in her eyes that he knew she hadn’t meant to insult him. “Would you do me the honor of granting me the first dance?” he asked, his voice far more formal than he’d intended.
Her look was rather arch, and he felt even more foolish. “It would be my honor,” she replied, speaking in a tone of mock gravity.
Before he could say anything to try to repair the damage, she had moved on to greet Tanvir, and Dev caught his mother studying him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. In response to his questioning look, she smiled, and he was forced to turn his attentions to greeting the king and queen of Lyrane.
Time seemed to slow to an unbearable pace as he greeted the nobility. His eyes sought Jess out, frustrated when he couldn’t find her anywhere. Anticipation washed over him when the orchestra finally began to play, and the crowd parted as he moved to take Jess by the hand, hoping she wouldn’t notice how his fingers trembled.
“That’s a, uh, very interesting costume,” she said as he led her through the steps of the dance. He could tell from the merriment in her eyes and the lilt in her tone that she was fighting back laughter, and he tried his best not to grimace.
“Yes, it’s…” He sighed deeply, and she did laugh, though she tried to suppress it. The sight was so comical that he couldn’t help but laugh as well. “It was my mother’s idea,” he confessed.
“Are you certain your mother is to blame for this?” She raised an eyebrow at him.
Heat crept into his cheeks. The brilliant blue velvet doublet and breeches were ridiculous, but even worse was the puffy white linen shirt, the floppy blue velvet cap with its outlandish peacock feather, and the feathered mask his mother had bullied him into wearing. “Are you accusing me of favoring attire like this?”
“I hardly know,” she teased, fighting back laughter once more. “You might have become a man of fashion since I last saw you. How would I know what a young dandy like yourself might prefer?”
“That’s a fine way to speak to a friend,” he grumbled, but something about the way she was looking at him made him think he wouldn’t mind it if she teased him all night long.
“Your mother was trying to prove a point, wasn’t she?”
He almost had to shake himself, to remind himself that this enchanting young woman was the same Jess who’d howled and called him vile names after tripping over a rug and skinning her elbow while chasing him around the castle. She was dressed as a huntress, her gown a long, simple column of white satin with a band of intricate silver embroidery along the hem, a silver cord belt knotted around her slim waist. The small diamonds nestled in her hair threw off sparks of light, and he longed to touch a strand, to feel the texture beneath his fingertips. The heady scent of jasmine wafted his way whenever she turned her head, leaving him dazed.
“Yes, she was,” he admitted, his cheeks flaming. She laughed, throwing her head back and giving him a beautiful view of her smooth skin. He felt an entirely different kind of heat as he imagined brushing his lips over her throat.
“Won’t you ever learn that you can’t win against her?”
“Apparently not.”
She tilted her head and studied him with a mischievous expression. “Bet I could shoot that hat right off your head.” She gestured toward the bow and quiver she wore slung over her back.
“Thanks, but I prefer my head on my shoulders.”
“So do I.”
He was suddenly extremely aware of the warmth of her hand on his shoulder, of the curves of her body, of the roughness of her palm as it rested against his. “What you’re telling me is, I look completely ridiculous.”
“Not as ridiculous as when you took a flying leap from that tree.”
“Hey!” he protested. “You were the one who dared me to do it!”
“You were the one who was stupid enough to do it!”
“You’re trouble, Princess Jessmyn.” He stared into her eyes as he guided her through a turn, pulling her close for a brief second before the dance dictated that he take a few steps back. It was as if they were the magnets his tutor had once shown him, drawn together before pushing away. He wondered if she could feel his pulse, if she knew how hard his heart was hammering.
“That’s nothing you didn’t already know,” she retorted as he lifted her arm and twirled her.
“I’m not sure I ever really understood just how much trouble you are.”
She gave him an enigmatic smile, and the music ended. “Thank you for the dance. I’d best turn you over to your crowd of admirers.”
“Crown seekers, you mean,” he groused, surprised to find himself speaking the words.
The corners of her mouth turned down in false sympathy. “Poor darling. Imagine having to live the privileged life of a prince.” Stung, he looked at her, and his gaze must have been wounded because she instantly looked contrite. “I’m sorry, Dev. You know how my tongue runs away with me at times.”
“And you know how I feel about my privileged life.” He was surprised by the edge in his voice, surprised by the sense of betrayal he felt. Stiffly, he bowed. “Thank you for the pleasure of the dance.”
“Dev—” But before she could say anything more, a young Estorian duke appeared at her side and requested her hand for the next dance. Dev took advantage of the interruption to slip through the crowd, eluding the ladies who were heading toward him, determination in their eyes.
He stepped outside onto the wide terrace, closing the glass door behind him, muting the sound of the orchestra. He knew he ought to go back inside and make nice with the important ladies and their daughters, but he couldn’t bear the thought of it. The terrace was too well lit for comfort, and he hurried across it, his feet crunching on the gravel path as he headed for the rose gardens.
It was quiet there, the strains of music very faint. If he closed his eyes and concentrated on the sound of the wind, he could almost imagine it was a normal night. He could almost pretend he wasn’t supposed to be in the ballroom playing future king, looking for a suitable wife so he could do his duty and produce an heir.
It should have been Tanvir, not me, he thought, but his usual bitterness had an extra edge to it. Dropping onto a bench, he lost track of time, ignoring all thoughts of his mother’s wrath and his father’s disappointment.
“You always did like it out here,” Jess said, her voice low.
“I like being alone out here,” he said pointedly.
“I’m sorry. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said what I did, but you know I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Didn’t you?”
“Dev, you know me. You’ve known me since I was six years old.”
“I’ve known Princess Jessmyn since she was six years old.”
“Is it easier for you, to do that?”
“To do what?” Confused, he looked up and caught her blazing stare.
“To make a joke of everything, to hold everyone at arm’s length?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned away, gazing out at t
he bright moon, the smattering of stars.
“Yes, you do,” she said firmly, sitting on the bench beside him.
“This…this whole ball is just a farce. Everything in my life is a test, and I have to pass judgment with everyone,” he said, the words bursting out of him.
“Do you think I don’t know what that’s like?”
“Well, no. But you fit the part. Me…” He gestured at himself as his voice trailed off.
Turning toward him, Jess took his hand. “You’re meant to be king. I know it’s not an easy burden, but it is what it is, and instead of fighting uselessly against it, you could try to make the most of it.”
“I feel so inept,” he admitted. He’d never before confessed that to anyone.
“You?” She shook her head and smiled. “You’re anything but inept.”
“I don’t want this responsibility,” he said, pulling his hand impatiently from hers. “Maybe you think I’m mad, but I don’t want it.”
“Haven’t you noticed how many people claw their way to the top, greedy for power? That’s the last thing any Realm needs. What the Realms do need are those who feel the weight of their responsibility and take it seriously, rather than thinking it gives them license to behave however they like.”
“Do you really think that?” His eyes roamed her face, searching.
“I do. You know what people say about me? That I’m hot-headed and I’d rather be out brawling than making policy. Even if there’s some truth to that, it doesn’t matter. I’ll be queen someday, and I accept that.”
“It doesn’t bother you, knowing that you have to rule even if you don’t want to? Doesn’t it make you long for freedom?”
“Don’t fool yourself. No one’s truly free. Do you think peasants working in the fields can do whatever they like? We all have things we must do. What makes us who we are is how we go about doing them.”
He rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and thinking about what she’d said. He had to admit she did have a point, however little he wanted to acknowledge it.
[Fairytale 02] - Asleep (2013) Page 11