The Kingdom Chronicles Box Set 1

by Camille Peters

  Once again I cringed. I struggled to speak past the tears clogging my throat. “I was hoping to see you. I thought we could have breakfast together.”

  He shook his head in a jerky movement. “I’ve already eaten.”

  My heart sank. “Oh.”

  He studied my expression with a thoughtful pucker. “You really thought I’d want to eat breakfast with you?”

  “I just thought…we could at least try to…” I trailed off.

  He folded his arms and surveyed me with a sharp, penetrating look. “This is another example of your behaving entirely out of character. The Lavena I know would be avoiding me as much as I’d be avoiding her. You’re definitely up to something, but I’m on my guard now and won’t fall for it.”

  Panic swelled within me. “You think I’ve been pretending?”

  He smirked. “Surprised? I’m certain you think me gullible enough to fall for your tricks, but I’ve won this round. But don’t fret, you’re still emerging from this confrontation with a prize: congratulations on ruining my morning. I’ll take my leave before you make any more of my day unpleasant.” He performed a stiff, mocking bow and began walking away.

  Desperation caused me to step forward. “When do you take lunch?”

  “I don’t want to eat lunch with you.”

  “Dinner, then?”

  He released a long breath through his teeth and considered. “I expect my parents will want a report on my efforts in this blasted arrangement. Fine, I’ll see you at dinner, though I’m not looking forward to it.”

  He left the garden without another word. My heart twisted as I watched his retreating form. I supposed it’d been unrealistic to expect to erase seven years of animosity between Prince Liam and Princess Lavena so easily, but now I realized it would be far more difficult than I’d anticipated. Not only did I have to pretend to be someone else, but I now had to take responsibility for all the hurt, anger, and hatred that had festered between the prince and princess for years and somehow make up for it.

  The beginnings of a headache pulsed against my temples. The task felt utterly impossible.

  Growing up, whenever I’d imagined marriage, I’d envisioned something beautiful and full of love and happiness like my parents shared, not the torturous experience this was. I actually tried several times to leave, testing the limits of the ring, but each attempt caused immobilizing pain that kept me ensnared.

  The first several days of our marriage were horrible, full of loneliness, tears, and tension, each day nearly impossible to endure. I alternated my time between trying to bridge the vast distance between me and my husband and frantically raiding the library for any information about the contract ring binding me to this union.

  My research proved futile. The books in the summer palace were mostly antiquated, obsolete volumes from when the palace had been the primary residence of the royal family several hundred years ago. Many of the books contained information on the surrounding kingdoms, including Lyceria, as well as details about ancient contracts, but I could find no information on the centuries-old contract ring. Still I forged ahead, spending several hours a day searching for any way to escape my sentence.

  After several days combing the shelves, I finally gave up trying to find a way to overcome the ring’s power and instead spent all my efforts trying to soften my new husband—a quest made more difficult since he didn’t seem bothered by the tense state of our relationship. He couldn’t seem to let go of his assumption that my efforts were insincere and calculated to hurt him. He responded to each of my attempts with coldness, sharp glares, or ignoring me completely.

  Feeling more trapped than ever, I locked myself in my room and wrote a desperate letter to Prince Nolan demanding an explanation for his playing along with the princess’s scheme and requesting his assistance in getting me out of it. I pleaded for him to find Princess Lavena and help us trade places before Prince Liam or anybody else became suspicious. I sent the letter with little hope, but it did ease some of the anxiety tightening my chest to have done something to try and escape my predicament, no matter how small.

  Despite Prince Liam’s continued animosity, my resolve to improve my marriage remained. I woke up early each morning to take breakfast with him. He viewed the gesture as another move in what he considered our cruel game and got up even earlier in order to avoid me. Even on days I managed to eat with him, all my “good mornings” and attempts at conversation were stubbornly unacknowledged.

  Still I pressed forward. I watched him at every opportunity, trying to glean any information about my new husband that I could and showing kindness to him whenever possible. My favorite place to observe him from was the window seat of my bedroom, where I could watch him in the garden below. During those times and while witnessing his interactions with the servants, my earlier conclusions were confirmed—he was a kind, thoughtful man, always ready to offer others an easy smile. He was also full of life and boundless energy, which he tried to expend in his frequent outdoor walks, hours of horseback riding, and restless pacing of the corridors after long periods of sitting.

  These glimpses—as well as my favorable memories of him prior to our marriage when he hadn’t been around Princess Lavena—gave me hope. This was the true Prince Liam, a man I ached to know personally—a wish that would be impossible with his determination to remain distant from me.

  But despite his open disdain, I couldn’t help but admire him. He was a good person trapped in a loveless and forced union, an arrangement likely more suffocating for one who loved life as he did than it was for me. Although he was clearly unhappy about the arrangement, he did offer me occasional moments of softness––respecting me enough to stand when I entered a room, helping me with my chair, and never raising his voice or physically hurting me.

  Yet these few tender mercies didn’t dispel his cold hardness, the hatred filling his eyes, and his mocking smiles whenever he delivered a particularly biting blow with his words. I endured all of this along with silent, tense meals and his continued avoidance. I felt like I was slowly dying from neglect. I couldn’t live like this.

  Eventually, Prince Liam grew tired of the silent treatment and came up with a new game. The evening that marked our week anniversary, I entered the dining room for dinner and discovered parchment, quill, and ink midst the dishes of steaming food.

  “Good evening, Liam,” I said, as usual not expecting a response. To my surprise, I got one in the form of a scornful smile.

  “For once it is a good evening, Lavena, for now it’s my turn for a move.”

  I crinkled my nose. “A move?”

  “Yes, one for this game we’re playing. Have a seat and I’ll explain.”

  Trepidation knotted my stomach as I shakily accepted his invitation. The look in Prince Liam’s eyes was calculating, with no sign of the sweet, jovial man I’d caught glimpses of whenever I spied on him.

  He steepled his fingers and leaned forward. “You’ve tried to best me with your own game of supposed sweetness, but as you are about to find out, I don’t go down without a fight. Thus it’s my turn to play one with you. Seems only fair in this battle of ours, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Please, Liam, I don’t want to play these games with you.” Even in my desperation I managed to remember to omit the prince before his name, hoping doing so would appease him. Unsurprisingly, like all my efforts, this one too proved futile.

  “Come, Lavena, stop pretending. We both know what you’re really doing.”

  “I’m sincere in that I don’t like fighting with you. Really, Liam.”

  He snorted. “You truly think that after seven years I’ll believe you’ve had a sudden change of heart?”

  No, I didn’t, but still I hoped. I didn’t want to be trapped in a loveless union with a man who hated me just for the sport of it. But I was. Everything was such mess.

  I twisted the ring, aching to yank it off. “Things are different now. I want us to work. Please believe me.”

  “I can�
�t. What are your words now compared to your past actions?”

  “But what of my current actions?” I asked. “Do they mean nothing? I’m trying to show you I feel differently, that I’m different. My actions before the wedding don’t matter.”

  “You’re wrong; they do. You see, I remember all of them.” He tapped the side of his head. “Believe me, not a single memory is pleasant. Now, shall we begin?”

  He gestured to the parchment in front of me, which contained a map of the summer palace. Liam twirled his quill between his fingers with another mocking smile that didn’t at all light up his eyes.

  “Before our marriage”—his mouth twisted on the word—“we engaged in a war simply for the pleasure of hurting one another. Now that we’re forcibly attached”—he spat this word like a curse and my heart constricted—“I thought it time we change tactics on how we fight this war of ours.”

  I shook my head. “Please, Liam.”

  As usual he ignored me. He dipped his quill into the inkwell. “I thought we could draw up battle plans. First, let’s select our weapons. Mine up until this point have admittedly been rather weak: silence and avoidance, whereas yours has been fake kindness.” He scribbled these down. “Do you have anything to add, Lavena?”

  I bit the inside of my lip to keep my swelling tears at bay and shook my head.

  “Let’s discuss strategy.” His tone was that of a military general discussing plans for going into battle. “I’ve wielded my weapon of retreating in order to survive, but you seem determined to track me down in my strongholds, obviously luring me into a false sense of security before going in for the kill. You’re a formidable opponent, Lavena, I’ll give you that.”

  My escalating tears clogged in my throat, making it difficult to breath. I bit my lip harder until it bled.

  “Shall we divide our territory?” He snatched the map and began to draw rigid strokes. “I can take the west side of the palace and you can take the east. The only neutral territory is this dining room, where we’re forced to interact at least once a day, but after that, we agree not to cross enemy lines. I’ll draw up a formal contract and we can—Lavena?”

  Liam had been so caught up in his speech that he hadn’t even realized until now that I was crying, having lost the battle against my emotions as Liam discussed the battle plans for our marriage. His quill slipped through his fingers as his gaze followed each tear that trickled down my cheek.

  “Lavena?” He hesitated. “Are these tears real or are you just trying to manipulate me into giving you a bigger area of the palace for your territory—”

  “Are these tears real?” My voice shook. “How can you even ask that?”

  Liam swallowed. “Then they’re—”

  “How can they be anything but real with how you’ve been treating me?” I stuttered. “But you don’t want them to be real; you only want to believe they’re merely a ploy in this ridiculous game you think we’re playing. I can’t live like this anymore. I’ve tried to show you nothing but kindness since our wedding, but you seem determined to make our marriage miserable. Why does it baffle you that I want more than to be enemies with my husband?”

  “Lavena, I—”

  But I couldn’t hear any more of his biting words. I’d finally had enough. I stood, jolting the table and knocking over a pitcher of water, which soaked our battle plans, smearing the ink so that the territory lines began to disappear. He also stood, reaching for me, eyes wide with remorse.

  “Lavena, I’m sorry.”

  I picked up my napkin and flicked it in the air like a white flag. “I surrender. You’ve clearly won the war. I hope you enjoy your prize. I’m not even sure what you were fighting for. Loneliness? Misery? A loveless, tense union? If so, then I’ve clearly won, too, because that’s all this is and apparently all it ever will be.”

  I threw my napkin on the table and strode towards the door.

  “I don’t want this,” Liam called after me. “I’ve never wanted this.”

  I turned to see his wide, glassy eyes, full of vulnerability and his own fierce unhappiness.

  “Neither did I,” I said. “But now that we have this, you don’t seem to want to make it anything different.”

  I left the dining room and pressed myself against the wall near the doorway to take several shuddering breaths, allowing my pain and tears to wash over me. When I finally stirred, I risked a single glance back into the dining room. Liam had sunk into his seat and buried his forehead in his hands, his face twisted in despair. Despite the hurt still encasing my heart, sympathy for him pierced my defenses.

  Chapter 6

  The following morning, I startled when I opened my bedroom door and discovered Liam nervously waiting for me. He blushed the moment he saw me and lowered his eyes.

  “Good morning, Lavena.”

  I stared, trying to discern whether the husband who hated me was really standing here now. When I’d been silent too long, Liam raised his gaze, his own filled with exasperation.

  “The silent treatment again, Lavena?”

  Oops. “I’m sorry, I’m just surprised to see you. Good morning, Liam.”

  He managed a wry smile. “If you think you’re surprised, imagine how I’m feeling.” He glanced uncertainly down the hallway in the direction of the dining room. “I thought perhaps you’d like to have breakfast with me.”

  “Really?”

  Still not looking at me, he nodded.

  Well, this was a surprising turn of events. I took his arm, which he’d extended somewhat reluctantly. Still, it was a start.

  He escorted me in silence, one much different than the kind that had filled our first week of marriage, as this silence was filled with awkwardness rather than tension. He gave me many sideways glances and kept frowning down at our connected arms, as if to discern whether we were really touching.

  “How did you sleep?” I asked when the silence became too much. He startled before relaxing.

  “Well enough, thank you.” We’d turned a corner, walked an entire hallway, and had just begun our descent down the stairs before he added, “I dislike sleeping. Too much else to do.”

  I smiled. As I’d suspected, Liam craved activity. “You must enjoy dreaming, then.”

  He managed a half smile in return. It really was an adorable smile, dimpled and boyish. “That’s true, I do. Dreams allow me to go on adventures even while lying still.”

  We reached the dining room, where he helped me with my seat before taking his own across from me. He picked up his fork and was about to dive into his eggs and bacon when he paused and peeked up at me.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  I hadn’t. I’d spent half the night crying, but I hesitated to tell him that, especially considering he’d been the source of my tears. So I settled for, “Well enough.”

  He nodded, and when he returned to his breakfast, the silence that settled over us was no longer tense but calm and full of promise. Liam cast me several glances, staring longer each time. Conscious of his attention, I tried to eat as daintily as possible, but table manners were difficult to maintain while being analyzed.

  So it was no surprise when I tipped over the jar of marmalade. “I beg your pardon.”

  Liam picked it up. “There’s no harm done, unless the marmalade is offended.” He gave it a friendly look. “Will you forgive Lavena for knocking you over?” He raised it to his ear and “listened” with the utmost concentration, as if the marmalade was truly speaking. Liam’s eyes met mine as he lowered the jar. “Good news: it’s not upset. Looks like you’re forgiven.”

  For a moment I simply stared at him, Princess Lavena’s assessment of Liam swirling in my mind: immature. Certainly if she were here, she’d roll her eyes at his antics, but that was the last thing I felt inclined to do. I fought to keep my threatening smile at bay.

  Liam hesitated then tentatively pressed his finger against the corner of my mouth. “I see that smile you’re trying to hide. Won’t you give it to me?”

>   I did. “I didn’t want you to think I was laughing at you.”

  He wound his fingers together and rested his chin on top of them. “I’d thoroughly deserve it.”

  “Perhaps, but I couldn’t offend the marmalade; after all, I was seeking its forgiveness.”

  His grin widened and my stomach flip-flopped. Goodness, he really had an adorable smile. My gaze caressed his face and my cheeks warmed. He was adorable.

  “Why are you blushing?”

  I became preoccupied searching for my knife and for something else, forgetting in my flustered state what it was…until Liam calmly handed me the marmalade. My cheeks warmed further.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “You’re welcome, Lavena.”

  I flinched at the name. Would I ever get used to hearing it addressed to me? Doubtful. As I spread marmalade on my toast, I silently chanted my own name to myself. Anwen, Anwen, Anwen…

  “Are you alright?”

  I jolted. “Of course.”

  “You shouldn’t be.” Whatever good humor had settled over him slipped away. He leaned back in his seat with a heavy sigh. “My behavior this past week has been inexcusable. I sincerely apologize.”

  “I don’t hold it against you,” I said.

  His brow furrowed. “You don’t? How can you not?”

  “Because I understand your reasons for it.”

  He tilted his head. “Nolan was right—you’re really quite different now that we’re married. I never would have believed it.”

  I stiffened. I was doing a terrible job playing the part I was expected to. “Before the wedding there was still a chance we could avoid this arrangement. Now that it’s done I want to make it work. Can we at least be friends?”

  He studied me for a long time, his gaze penetrating. “Friends…” He seemed to be testing the word to see whether or not he liked it. By his smile, it seemed that he did. “I’d like that. I can’t live like this anymore. Being enemies is torture.”

  “It is,” I said. “I don’t want to be enemies with you.”