The Reign of Trees

by Folkman, Lori

  However, it was not the king who came to the hallway to speak with her. “Prince Henrick,” she said, trying to expel the repugnant taste she had in her mouth. “I asked to speak with the king.”

  “He is occupied with leading the affairs of our kingdom. What is it that you need?”

  The prince looked tense and impatient. The way he stared at her with cold, indifferent eyes made her shiver. It was as if speaking to Illianah was more vile than wading through a castle’s putrid mote.

  “My father is preparing to attack Deltegra, just like I had warned. You were foolish to think that capturing me would do anything but bring calamity. Your kingdom will suffer greatly.”

  Unexpectedly, Prince Henrick laughed. It was not a deep, chesty laugh, but instead a laugh that sounded like he had tried to smother but had failed. “Princess, you certainly think highly of yourself to believe that you are the cause of all this. This was at play with your father long before you stepped into Montague’s path. You are the one who is foolish.”

  Illianah felt like her heart had taken a step backwards. Her father had vowed retribution against King Henrick for her capture. “I do not know what you mean; I only know that my father said he is preparing to wage an unrelenting war against you for this injustice. You would be wise to release me now, before he brings destruction upon your people.”

  “Exactly, Illianah,” he said. When he addressed her like that—so informally—it reminded her of when he used to say her name, frequently, and with the familiarity of a man who loved her. She winced and straightened her back, feeling like she had just taken a lashing across her back. “You know nothing of this matter. You are merely a pawn. We thought you would offer us protection, but it would seem that nothing can deter your father from his objective: not even the love of his own daughter.”

  It was as if Prince Henrick had again taken up his whip and brought it across the opposite side of her back, as his words felt equally as admonishing. Her mouth fell open while her mind searched for the words to discount his claims. But all she was able to say was, “Are you implying that if my father only loved me more, he would have met your demands?”

  “What I am saying is: if your father loved power and debauchery less, he would have done anything to get you back.”

  She stepped closer to Prince Henrick. He was no taller than she. She had once loved how she did not have to look up to him, nor he down at her. She looked hard into his eyes and saw nothing but bitterness there. “You are cold, and heartless, and …” she stammered as she tried to find the right word, “and ill-informed.”

  A smile lit upon his lips—his perfectly-shaped, full lips—and then his eyes beamed as well, giving way to playful wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Ill-informed? That is quite the insult, Princess. Might I be so bold as to counter your accusation? You do not even know the meaning of this conflict. I would say you are the one who is ‘ill-informed.’”

  Prince Henrick turned to leave, but Illianah was not done. “Then what will you do with me? If I am entirely useless to you, to keep me only proves you to be coldblooded.”

  “We will keep you until you prove your worth. As difficult as it may be for both of us, we need to acknowledge that your presence here is not temporary.”

  “I hate you,” she spat. “I hate you more than any other man on earth.”

  Again, this did not gain her the desired result. He smiled so wide that his mouth opened up like a treasure chest, blinding her with its gleaming contents. Illianah wanted to grab hold of her heart to prevent it from defecting, once again. That rare smile, reserved for only his happiest of moments, was one of the reasons Illianah had fallen for Prince Henrick all those years ago. It made him seem so genuine. So unassuming.

  “Why are you smiling?” she asked, again feeling like she was spitting bitterness with her words.

  “That is quite the compliment, coming from you.”

  “What?” This man was more than just ill-informed. He was nonsensical—nothing more than a lunatic.

  But before she could say any of those insults, he said, “You cannot hate without first … loving.”

  He smiled again, but this time, his lips were closed. His eyes danced with mockery.

  Illianah’s chest felt as if it had caught fire; the heat quickly rose to her face. She turned and ran to her bedchamber in the tower, much like a child fleeing the teasing of an older sibling. Then she felt all the more foolish for running away from his mockery. He knew he had gotten under her skin. And worse than just getting under her skin: he knew he once had passage to her heart. She had hoped he never knew of her deep penchant for him.

  At the call for supper, Illianah considered refusing to dine with the king and his son, but then she realized if she sequestered herself, Prince Henrick would be all the more flattered. When she entered the great hall, she found that neither father nor son would dine with her that evening. They were taking their meal in the privy chambers while continuing meetings with their counsel.

  That night, as she sat in the darkness brushing through her hair, she was startled by a knock upon the door. It was her lady’s maid, carrying a large stack of parchment. “It is from Prince Henrick,” the servant explained.

  Illianah grabbed a note from the top of the stack.

  Since you will be here for some time, I hope you will feel free to write your family and friends in Burchess. Isolation does weigh down the heart. Might I suggest you write to your husband quickly? He must feel great guilt over your capture, especially considering how he left you to your own devices instead of staying to protect you. I cannot imagine his desertion sitting well with your father. You must let Prince Harrington know that you are quite well, and in good, safe hands.

  Prince Henrick.

  Illianah wadded up this letter, just like she had done with the one from her father, but this letter could not be crumpled enough. She longed for a fire so she could watch the letter burn while envisioning Prince Henrick’s soul being attached to that letter.

  “Fine,” she said to herself. She would play whatever game it was that Henrick wanted to play.

  She wrote to Leif:

  My love,

  Why didst thou abandon me? I wish you would have allowed me to ride with you, then we would still be together. Instead, I am lost in this Godforsaken land. To be apart from you, my new husband, is pain enough. But the pain does not stop there. If only you knew what it is like for me here in Deltegra. If only you could see the evidence of their cruelty. Then would you come to me? I have pled with my father to do whatever is necessary to gain my freedom, but he is unable to swiftly rescue me. You are brave, my love. You are powerful. You are fearless. Rescue me, I plead, most earnestly. I will forever be indebted to you. I will be yours, in every sense, all the days of my life.

  Yours,

  Illianah

  ***

  The next morning, Illianah spent considerable time in front of the mirror. Her lady’s maid brushed through Illianah’s chestnut hair until it looked as smooth as molasses in a pot. While she wished to wear her hear down—knowing that she looked very becoming with her light-brown hair cascading down her back—Illianah did not want to look too impudent. She had the lady’s maid put a small braid across the crown of Illianah’s head, that way no one would accuse her of being provocative.

  Illianah then selected the prettiest gown in the wardrobe. It was not the prettiest gown she had seen, but it was the best of the scarce collection at the capital city of Andoradda. It was part of the curse of Deltegra—their cloths and linens were plain and dull. Deltegra was landlocked and the cost of importing finery from across the Deep Sea was obviously looked upon as frivolous. Illianah longed for the fine gowns she had back in St. Moraine. Nothing could compare with the thrill of feeling new silk against her skin.

  For the first time since her arrival, she got rid of her partlet. She had, in fact, made several more with the nightgowns she had been given to wear. Goose bumps pricked across her skin as she saw he
r bare shoulders and neck exposed for all to see. She had grown much accustomed to the warmth the partlet provided in the chilly mountain climate.

  The gown she was wearing was crimson, trimmed with gold. It looked regal and stark against her paleness. She asked for some powder, at which the lady’s maid hesitated. “You have some, I presume?” Illianah asked.

  “Of course, but it is reserved for balls and other fine occasions.”

  “I will wear it this morning.”

  Momentarily left alone in her room, Illianah pressed her eyelashes against her eyelids for several minutes on each side, causing them to curl upward. She blinked at her reflection in the mirror. Her wide eyes looked even more alluring with her eyelashes curling up in such a sweetly innocent manner. Already, without the powder, Illianah would dare say she looked beguiling.

  When she entered the castle’s solar, she sought out Prince Henrick. He blinked twice when she entered the room, and then he quickly focused on his papers again. She had hoped that he would watch her walk across the room, as she was intentionally swinging her hips with honed skill. She set her letters down in front of him. “I thank you for the parchment. I trust that you will see that these letters make it to their post.”

  “But of course,” he said, looking satisfied as he read the name on the outside of the first letter: Prince Harrington of Burchess. Again, Prince Henrick looked pleased when he saw the second letter, addressed to King Gregory. The third letter, however, made Henrick’s brow crease. “Madame Partlet? Is she a relation?”

  “No. She is my dressmaker.”

  Prince Henrick laughed. “You are given parchment to write to your loved ones and you write to your dressmaker?”

  “She is like a sister. And since this castle is entirely devoid of female counterparts, I desire to contact her.”

  “Yes, you must forgive us for being so inconsiderate for allowing Queen Sophie and Princess Katherine to pass on.”

  Illianah must have looked like a fish out of water, as her mouth moved involuntarily without producing a sound. Grief passed through Henrick’s eyes. “I did not mean …” she stopped and took a deep breath. She felt like a fool and wanted to change the subject. “I want to make some dresses. If I am going to be here indefinitely, I desire not to look like a Deltegran pauper. I am requesting dress designs from Madame Partlet.”

  “A pauper? Yes, that is exactly what I thought when you walked in the room.”

  “This is the best gown in your castle. If this gown was in Burchess, it would be on my lady-in-waiting.”

  “And I am sure she would look only half as alluring as you.” Henrick gave her a smug smile and then said, “But certainly, even you must admit that this gown is a great improvement over that nightgown you have been wearing.”

  “It is not a nightgown ….” she began.

  “That is right; it is a frock of modesty. We men have an intolerably small understanding of fashion.”

  Now Illianah felt foolish for shedding her partlet. Was it obvious what she was trying to do? “It is a beautiful day and I wish to take a turn about the courtyard.”

  “I agree with you on the first part, but the later, I must deny you.”

  “You must deny me sunlight and fresh air? I have not been outside in nearly two fortnights.”

  “I’m afraid your voyage into the great wild must wait for another day. I have too many troops in the courtyard today.”

  “I will pay them no notice.”

  “That is not what I worry about.”

  “What then?”

  “I worry they will notice you.” Henrick lifted the corner of his mouth in an almost-apologetic smile. “Perhaps if you were to don your nightgown, I might consider letting you be seen amongst men. What would your husband think if he knew a hundred Deltegran captains had caught sight of your delicate … neck?” Henrick said with a hint of laughter. It was almost as if he was implying that too much of her décolletage was showing.

  “You are insufferable.”

  “Thank you.” Henrick stood and crossed the room, walking past her without so much as another glance. “General Montague,” she heard Henrick say from the hallway, “Will you see to it that Princess Illianah is taken out for a walk today?”

  Chapter Four

  Illianah hated how Prince Henrick had referred to her like she was an animal that needed tending to. But he had relented and she did get her walk; her objective seemed like it would be easily obtained. Henrick was in the courtyard with his hundred captains. First, she walked through the market in hopes that her intentions would not be obvious. Then, she began to make slow passes through the inner courtyard. She felt eyes on her frequently, but it was not Henrick who was looking at her. It was the captains, like Henrick had predicted. He kept his focus on the leaders of the Deltegran army. The more Henrick ignored her, the more fascinated she became with him. She had never taken him for a man of war, yet here he was commanding countless men. More than just taking his role seriously, he seemed to have this fierceness upon his face. He had yelled at his troops several times, and each time it would cause Illianah to jump. How he got such volume out of his small frame seemed to be a contradiction of character. In fact, after Henrick had left Burchess two years ago, carrying with him a remnant of Illianah’s heart, her father had declared that Henrick was not man enough to ever be a king. King Gregory called Henrick delicate and feminine. She wondered if that was why her father had gone so far in the opposite direction and chosen the region’s most strapping prince for her husband.

  It was said that Leif’s physique made women across the land swoon. He was, certainly, dashing. But he knew it. Illianah had always thought that the biggest part of Leif was his ego, causing his other features to diminish in size. Leif may have been the ideal prince for thousands of other women, but not Illianah. She preferred men who were more understated. Like Prince Henrick.

  Back when her father had taken to constantly berating Prince Henrick, Illianah had felt King Gregory was judging harshly. Henrick was only sixteen then, and she felt that in time, he would grow in stature. He had not. He was shorter than most of the men in his regiment, and shorter than Capitan Montague by a foot. It almost made her laugh to think of how small Henrick would look next to Leif, but she hoped that would never happen. To have those two men at the same place, at the same time, could only result in disaster. And the disaster would likely befall Henrick.

  That thought brought pain to her heart. She took a deep breath and returned her gaze to Henrick. Why did he captivate her so? So much more than her own husband? She felt shame in that private acknowledgement. But what was it about Henrick? His face?

  Yes, she quickly determined. He was beautiful. Enchanting. She understood why her father had said that Henrick was too feminine, as he had features that often graced the most comely women’s faces: his face was narrow, his cheekbones high. There was nothing really remarkable about the shape of his eyes: it was the color that transfixed her. His eyes were so black that it was hard to distinguish his pupil from his iris. It made him look like he was constantly deep in thought, like there was nothing that passed through his vision without first becoming engraved in his mind.

  And his chin: Illianah had to look away before her cheeks flushed from thinking of her fondness for his chin. The dimple on his chin signified that he was, indeed, masculine. His skin had been bare the last time they had met and she had found herself all too often staring at that deep, distinguished ridge. Thankfully, his beard now covered the dimple somewhat, but that beard added another troublesome feature. He looked older. More poised. Commanding. That was something she never would have imagined adding to his allure, yet it did.

  She reached the corner exactly diagonal from his position, and she found herself staring at him, yet again. This time he caught her gaze. His dark eyes locked with hers. Her cheeks grew warm, but she would not give him the satisfaction of looking away. There was no crime in letting her eyes fall where they may. She tilted her head back, just sligh
tly, and drew in a deep breath. She intended to hold her breath, making her waist smaller and her chest larger, but he would not look away. He kept his eyes on her, looking at her inquisitively, yet almost critically. She had to exhale before she turned blue and fell to the ground—although she did wonder: if she were to faint, how quickly would Henrick come to her aid? She might have to consider using that ploy another time.

  Since she was getting nowhere in her attempts to gain Henrick’s favor, she climbed the stairs to the castle’s curtain wall. Her maids stayed close by, though Illianah wished she could be entirely alone. She went to edge of the wall and leaned against the merlon. Instantly, a breeze hit her face and swept her hair behind her. With the breeze came a gasp from within her chest. Green—as far as the eye could see. She had heard tales of the great forests of Deltegra, but she had never imagined the vast expanse of trees. A rugged blue mountain range loomed in the distance. It was no wonder the Deltegrans valued their land more than any other treasure: its beauty was unrivaled.

  “I’m glad you found something else to cast your keen eyes upon. You were making my captains nervous,” a voice said from behind. She turned and found Prince Henrick standing just feet behind her. Her maids had stepped back several yards, leaving her alone. With the prince. Her heart felt as if she had just leapt off the castle wall.

  “Making them nervous? Me?” Illianah acted as if this were entirely preposterous.

  “Yes. They thought you were … spying.” Henrick did not look severe as he said this: he looked amused.

  “Spying?” she asked, now offended. “I would not know the first thing about spying.”

  “Tell me; when they march out with their troops tomorrow to give support to our border, which direction will they be going?”

  “I assume the border you speak of would be the border you share with the great kingdom of Burchess.” Illianah meant this as an attempt to prove her inattentiveness, although she was fully aware of which border the troops needed to defend.