Nicholas had pulled one knee up and was resting an arm on top of it as he stared up at the palace. His position made Elaina’s heart twist in an odd way. It made him look vulnerable. There was no swagger, no bravado, and she had the sudden urge to brush the rebellious hair out of his face so she could read it more clearly.
“I don’t want to be my father.” His blue eyes grew wide. “But I’m afraid that’s the very man I’m turning out to be.”
“You won’t be.”
He gave her a hard look. “You accused me the other day—”
“I didn’t mean—”
“And you were right.”
Elaina could only stare at him miserably. Yet, somehow, she heard herself whisper, “But you won’t be.”
“How do you know that?”
She paused. How did she know that? She had accused him, it was true. But now that she was beginning to see the man beneath the mask, she didn’t need the stars to tell her what she was beginning to see for herself.
“Because you care.”
His eyes softened and his jaw unclenched. Just then, the clouds parted enough for a thick ray of late afternoon sun to burst through, making the towering clouds above and around them look darker than ever before. But there in the sunlight, with eyes the color of an azurite stone, he stared back at her, and for the first time, Elaina saw neither a prince nor a boy who played foolish games. He wasn’t a spy, nor was he a scholar.
He was just Nicholas.
“I think we had probably better get back to the tea,” Elaina mumbled, pulling her slippers back on and tying them carelessly. “They’ll be looking for us.”
She heard him get to his feet. “We can return through the gardens. That way it looks as though we’ve just been strolling.” He got out of the boat and began trudging back up the lawn, his shoulders still slumped, but Elaina stayed put. After a few strides, he turned back. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Aren’t you going to be a proper gentleman and offer to escort me?”
The sorrow didn’t leave his face, but a hint of a smile touched his mouth as he returned and held out his arm, which Elaina took with dramatic solemnity.
“I’ve enjoyed this afternoon immensely,” he whispered in a sardonic tone, “but don’t think this means I’ve forgotten our deal. You still owe me my sister’s wedding.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She elbowed him slightly. “Someone has to keep you in line.”
21
Confidences Shaken
Nicholas had to plant his feet firmly to keep from pacing as he waited in the entryway of Elaina’s manor. He’d been here before, of course, though that hadn’t been since he was courting . . . His heart dropped a bit when Lydia walked into the room.
Nicholas bowed, and she curtsied, but the air instantly thickened. Ever since Elaina had laid his philandering out plainly so he could see himself for the dolt that he was, Nicholas had been followed by the anxious, longing eyes of girls everywhere, it seemed. How many women had he truly encouraged?
Why didn’t you show me this earlier? He asked the Maker. But he already knew the answer. It had been there all along. He had just refused to see the pain he was leaving in his wake.
Just like his father.
“How do you do, sire?” Lydia asked. Her words were polite enough, if stilted.
“I’ve been better. Thank you for asking, though. And you?”
Before she could answer, footsteps sounded on the stone floor above them. When Nicholas looked up, he felt as though the air had become breathable again.
Far from the ethereal green gown she’d worn the day before, the one that made her look like a fairy, Elaina now wore a practical dark red wool dress. The shape, with its long, thick sleeves and the way the skirt gently curved off her hips, was modest but comely as it flattered her petite form. The color brought out a few of the strawberry highlights in her honey-colored hair. It also made her freckles stand out even more than usual. Nicholas recalled his sisters going on once about freckles being unattractive on a woman, but he couldn’t understand such talk. Elaina’s freckles were adorable.
When she reached the bottom of the steps, she turned and bade her aunt and cousin goodbye, as though she were merely going for a stroll along the lane rather than attending a secret meeting with a spy, the king, and the king’s most important military advisers.
They walked to the carriage in silence. What was she thinking? Her face was once again that cool mask of resolve and daring, the one he could read the least.
Even if he couldn’t read her, she could probably read him like a book. Shame and gratitude rolled in as he recalled what she had witnessed the day before. Her gentleness had confused him, and her choice to call him by his given name only muddled his heart more. There was no way this young woman could have really meant all that she’d said. She was too good, and she knew his fickle ways better than anyone.
It wasn’t until they were out of her house and into the carriage with the window shades drawn shut that she finally let out a breath and turned to face him directly.
“So where is this meeting?” Her blue-green eyes lit up like waves shimmering in the sunlight. “I have it from a good source that a few of my old friends will be there.”
“This source wouldn’t happen to live up in the sky, would it?”
Elaina just wrinkled her nose enchantingly.
What he wouldn’t give to have this girl with him all the time.
What he wouldn’t do to miss this meeting completely.
“Elaina,” he began, already regretting what he was about to say, “I want to apologize ahead of time for some of my father’s colleagues. There will be some present that you recognize, but . . . unfortunately, some of my father’s magistrates are required to be in attendance as well.”
“I know many of the magistrates are also of noble blood,” Elaina said. “But what exactly is their purpose in such meetings?”
“Magistrate is a title chosen by the people in local districts, though I’m afraid it’s often bought in coin and favors, mostly by lords or earls who can afford it. They usually meet with my father to report the needs of those they represent, and they act as mediators between the crown and the people of their districts.
“Their purpose in this particular setting, however, is to balance the king’s power in matters of war so that it’s impossible for him to declare war without their express consent.” He leaned back and rubbed his eyes with one hand. “Official law requires there shall be no meeting of the king and his military advisers without at least three magistrates present. Unfortunately for us, today we get the grand privilege of hosting five.”
“Five? Isn’t that a bit excessive?”
“Any magistrates who find out about the meeting and wish to attend are allowed, and as the magistrates play politics harder than anyone else in my father’s court, they tell only the colleagues they like.”
“Which means?”
“There will only be one magistrate in attendance tonight that I don’t want to strangle on a regular basis.”
“Ah.” Elaina nodded politely, but her eyes were wide.
“But please,” he hurried on, “I don’t wish for you to be intimidated by them. They will do their best to make you feel out of place. They do it to all the additions to our parties that they didn’t personally appoint. They even tried it on me once, though their efforts were not nearly as impressive with my father there as they might have been otherwise.” Just thinking of the men made him want to punch something. He studied her. “But you’re still nervous, aren’t you?”
Elaina looked at her hands as she spoke. “My title is my own. My land is my own . . . or will be in a few years. But I have never represented myself in a meeting. It was always in my father’s name and with his blessing. This is the first time I’ve ever come as . . . myself.”
“Marchioness is a grand title. You’ll technically be higher in rank than a number of the magistrates who will be present.”
&
nbsp; “I know that.” Then she took a deep breath and drew herself up to her full height, which was not very impressive but quite dignified. “Title or no title, however, I have negotiated with kings and ambassadors, and I have seen monsters the average man wouldn’t dream exist.” She jutted her chin out. “I do not plan on being intimidated.”
Nicholas nodded and grinned, but the shadow of doubt that remained in her eyes concerned him. He found himself hoping she’d seen snakes before, the scaled kind with fangs. Because if she had, she would be much better prepared for the men they were about to face.
* * *
Nicholas paused once more in front of the doors. Torchlight flickered on Elaina’s face, and despite her bravado in the carriage, she suddenly looked young and vulnerable.
“I’m not going to offer you my arm this time,” he bent down and said in a low voice. “I don’t want them to see you as my companion. I want them to see you walking in on your own two feet as a respected confidante and reliable adviser.”
She stared thoughtfully up at him and shook her head just a little.
“What?”
“You are probably the most confusing person I’ve ever met. One moment, you’re requiring my presence as a dance partner at your sister’s wedding, but the next you’re treating me like a respected peer.” She smiled a little and shook her head again. “I don’t understand you, Nicholas Whealdmar.”
“That makes two of us,” he muttered, nodding at the servant. “Alright. Let’s go.”
She stood at his side as the servant opened the door, but as they entered, she fell back a step, the closest to hiding that he’d ever seen in her.
The chatter that echoed through the cavernous room fell to near silence as everyone stared. In the dim light of the many torches, most of the admirals seemed impressed and pleasantly surprised. Several of the magistrates openly scowled. The king barely gave her a glance and a nod before turning back to the man he was speaking with.
Nicholas looked back at Elaina. Her eyes were wide, and the expression on her face made him want to wrap her in his arms and run back out the door with her. But that would benefit neither of them. So instead he strode over to a chair at the large stone table and pulled it out for her to sit on.
“My prince. Lady Elaina.” Alastair hurried over and gave them both a quick bow. “I am glad to see you here. We can begin now that everyone has arrived.” He shuffled to the front of the room and thumbed through the stack of parchments he was carrying. Finally, he pulled out what looked like a map and laid it on the table. Before he could say anything, however, a fat man reclining on the other side of the table spoke.
“I see our prince now needs a companion wherever he goes.” His eyes moved down Elaina’s figure slowly, hungrily. “At least she’s decently appealing.”
Elaina’s face seemed to drain of color.
One of the naval officers, a burly man with a single gray streak through his dark hair, jumped to his feet. “You’ll have some respect—”
“I find it a bit disconcerting, Lord Benedict,” Nicholas cut in with a smooth voice, “that my father’s top advisers have so little confidence in their own abilities as to be shaken when joined by a woman.”
The admiral met Nicholas’s eye. Nicholas wished he could express to the officer how much he would enjoy seeing the impertinent magistrate pummeled, but that wouldn’t help Elaina in the slightest. Finally, the admiral gave Nicholas a small nod and sat back down, but not without knocking into Lord Benedict’s chair with a loud thump.
“For those of you who are not familiar with Marchioness Elaina Starke,” Nicholas announced, putting his hand on her shoulder, “Lady Starke has recently inherited her mother’s title and is the daughter of our distinguished admiral Baxter Starke, High Commander of the Royal Navy. Though he was recently reported as missing in action, Maker carry his soul, we are privileged to have Lady Elaina’s experience and advice here today. She has sailed with her father and assisted in his negotiations and ambassadorial efforts for the last twelve years.” He bent his head toward her. “Lady Elaina, I don’t suppose you need introductions to the admirals, but let me introduce you to the magistrates attending us today. Lord Stiles.” He gestured to the bony, sniveling man in the corner. “Lord Hampton, Harvey Monger, and Lord Greyson.”
Elaina nodded to each, receiving a smile only from the elderly Lord Greyson in return.
“And Lord Benedict.” Nicholas fixed his eyes on the fat magistrate and imagined them boring a hole through Benedict’s head. “You will treat her with respect.”
“Tell me then, Lady Elaina.” Lord Benedict leaned back and scratched his chest with a meaty hand. Nicholas resisted the urge to slap the leer from his puffy red face. “If you’re so experienced in politics, which of the duchesses of Pembrose bore an illegitimate child in order to retain her family’s lands after her husband died and left her childless?”
Elaina raised one brow delicately, suddenly looking quite dangerous for being such a small woman. “Lord Benedict, you live in Solwhind, do you not?”
The magistrate frowned. “How do you know that?”
“I’ve seen you before.”
“I don’t recall that.”
“You don’t recall much, I’m sure. No, we’ve never met, but I saw you once at a meeting of the magistrates in Trent. My father was attending as a special guest.”
“You’re stalling. I don’t see what this has to do with my question about the duchesses of Pembrose.”
She smiled like a wolf moving in for the kill. “I find your question ironic, particularly considering what happened at Trent.”
Lord Benedict was not a man of particular health, and Nicholas wondered if he might die of heart failure now in his chair. Even in the firelight, his face turned the color of a tomato, and he gasped for breath. One of his friends slapped him on the back, but all the admirals looked quite smug. Elaina merely smoothed her gown out and politely folded her hands on the table. Nicholas bit back a laugh.
“I think we’ve established Lady Elaina’s qualifications to contribute,” Nicholas’s father finally snapped, glaring at Lord Benedict. “Let’s get on with the meeting.”
“Quite so, sire,” Alastair said, fumbling with more maps. “Conrad, the sea one.”
His assistant appeared from the shadows and flipped through the uneven stack of parchments until he found one, pulled it out, and then disappeared into the corner once again.
Alastair pushed the parchment to the center of the table. “I have been observing in Solwhind since before the rebellion, over five years now. From what I’ve gathered, the main group behind our rebellion is made up of the followers of a man who calls himself the Shadow.”
“That’s original,” one of the admirals muttered.
Alastair glared at him for a moment then went on. “From what we can tell, from the very start the Shadow has been encouraging behaviors that the crown has long declared illegal. If it produces gain in Solwhind, it’s lauded.” Alastair thumbed some more through the pile in his arms. As he did, a few parchments floated to the table.
Nicholas and Elaina leaned forward to see them better. Each parchment had a drawing of some sort along with little notes scribbled in all the margins. The ones closest to them had pictures of plants.
“Extortion, blackmail, and all sorts of illegal items are being traded and imported by his followers,” Alastair said, holding up a single parchment triumphantly before passing it to the admiral sitting to his left, “which is no small number of merchants and peddlers, among others, mind you. Most importantly, however, is the herb lithorium.”
Nicholas heard Elaina suck in a breath.
“Pray tell, what is lithorium?” Lord Greyson asked, holding his monocle up to peer more closely at the paper.
“A deadly toxin that makes the mind weak and the body useless. But it’s addictive and enjoyable when taken in all forms of the plant. Usually dried and crushed like tea. The plant comes from the far east before it’s made int
o a purple powder. It’s often sold to youths who don’t know any better.”
“It’s expensive, isn’t it?” one of the admirals asked.
Alastair nodded rapidly. “Oh yes! Highly! But it makes the dealers a lot of money. Many are selling everything they own to get their hands on it.”
“What about people?”
Everyone turned to look at Elaina.
“I beg your pardon?” Alastair pushed his spectacles farther up his nose.
“Has there been a slave trade established in Solwhind as well? Perhaps one that’s still mostly hidden from the public?”
“And how would this slave trade be carried out?” Lord Stiles asked, sniveling and dabbing his constantly running nose with a handkerchief. “Cargo is inspected before it is allowed to enter port.”
“Precisely!” Lord Benedict slammed his fist on the table. “Lithorium is small enough that it’s easy to smuggle in and out. It can be carried in a pocket or reticule. But humans?” He snorted.
“But the last time I was there—”
“I’m sure you found some lovely ribbons for your hair.” Lord Benedict rolled his eyes.
For one brief moment, Nicholas wondered if Elaina was capable of leaping over the table and wrapping her tiny hands around his fat throat. It would serve the horrid magistrate right if she did.
“Benedict,” Xander said in a warning voice.
“If you believe there is evidence to support such a claim, my lady,” Alastair said in a rush, “then I will certainly do my best to look into it.”
Elaina nodded back, still looking put out but somewhat mollified.
“Unfortunately, Lord Stiles,” Alastair said, “the bailiffs are having a difficult time quelling the illegal activities, even at border searches. The Shadow has too many followers now, so many that it is difficult to know whom to trust. Some of the bailiffs have even been attacked. Others have joined the rebellion.”
Cinders, Stars, and Glass Slippers: A Retelling of Cinderella Page 15