The prayer was so spontaneous that for a moment, he didn’t even realize he was praying. How long had it been since he had truly prayed anything more than a short request or complaint?
I don’t deserve anything you’ve given me. And I truly don’t deserve her. But, Maker . . . she makes me want to be better, to do what’s right. Please don’t take that away from me. Let her be my anchor in the dark.
After the ceremony had finished and the time to return to the ballroom and mingle with guests and nibble on light refreshments had begun, he and Elaina said little. The change between them was palpable, and Nicholas was nearly afraid to know exactly what that change was, except for the fact that she seemed to stand closer to his side as they greeted other guests, and she glanced up at him more than he could remember her ever doing before.
He reached into his pocket and fingered the silver band. Of course, it wouldn’t be prudent to propose in the middle of his sister’s big day. But sometime during the course of the celebration, he would get her alone. Then he would ask what someone like him had no right to ask, in the hope that he could be given what he could never in his lifetime deserve.
He felt somewhat lightheaded at the thought of it.
“Nicholas, come here!”
Nicholas turned and couldn’t help the small groan that escaped him. Elaina glanced up at him in surprise, but said nothing as he led her over to his father. Pasting a false smile on his face, he bowed to his father, then inclined his head to the man beside him. He had forgotten all about his father’s assignment.
“This is—”
“King Quinton.” Nicholas bowed his head again. “It is an honor to see you again.” He gently nudged Elaina forward. “Let me introduce you to Lady Elaina Starke.”
The king bowed, but Nicholas didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on her figure for a moment longer than they should have. It took every ounce of self-control not to grab the tomato-faced, oversized king by the collar and teach him a lesson.
King Quinton didn’t seem to notice Nicholas’s glare, however, for he only laughed and turned back to Nicholas’s father. “Took us longer to get here than usual, what with your little war going on and all. How is it that you haven’t been able to extinguish the rebellion yet?”
“As you can see, my daughter has kept me fairly busy,” Xander said dryly, gesturing to the festivities around them.
“That I understand. Speaking of daughters, Monique. Come here. Nicholas, you will remember my daughter, Monique.”
Nicholas certainly remembered Princess Monique. She had been one of the few young girls Nicholas had never even contemplated chasing, for not even adolescent Nicholas could imagine spending time with her wheedling laugh or constant whining. If there was one woman in the world he could trust himself not to flirt with, it was Monique.
But as a young lady pulled herself from a gathering of women nearby, Nicholas felt his confidence crumble and his blood run hotter. I told you I’m trying to change. Are you determined to make me fail? he pleaded silently to the Maker.
Princess Monique wore the same petulant pout that she had the last time they’d met, but that was really the only thing about her that remained the same. Dressed in the most provocative gown he had ever seen on a noble lady, her bodice was cut so low that it barely managed to cover any part of her ample chest. The dress lines alone were enough to distract nearly every male in the room, but as if its design wasn’t enough, her dress had been sewn far too tight. Where Elaina’s gown draped down over her gentle, petite curves like feathers on a sleek little bird, Monique’s gown gave her curves their own curves.
“Princess Monique.” Elaina dropped into a graceful curtsy.
Nicholas was immensely grateful for the interruption to his thoughts.
“I don’t know if you remember,” Elaina continued in her smooth, confident voice, “but we met a few years back when my father’s ship docked in your royal city. It is good to see you again.”
“Of course,” Monique muttered, hardly sparing Elaina a glance. How was it possible for a beautiful, voluptuous woman to so greatly resemble a hyena stalking its prey, smiling at them all the while?
“Nicholas, why don’t you take the princess for a stroll in the rose garden?” His father turned to him.
Nicholas clutched Elaina’s arm closer, as though she would protect him from his father’s schemes. “It would be my honor,” he managed to choke out, “but Lady Elaina is my partner for the day, Father.”
“Fah! Lady Elaina can stay here and entertain two old men. I believe King Quinton here was a great admirer of her father. She can regale us with old sailing stories for a few moments while you show Monique around.”
Nicholas and his father shared a very long look. He did not wish to take Monique off alone, and he wanted to leave Elaina with Monique’s father even less. But at least they were in public, so hopefully her father would behave with some decorum. That, and Nicholas knew that not even he could challenge his father in public and hope to come away unscathed. There were limits, even for the crown prince.
Finally, he broke off the look with his father and turned to Elaina, trying to apologize with his eyes. She gave him a slight nod. But there was a tightness in her eyes that betrayed her look of serenity.
Swallowing hard, he let her arm fall from his and then held it out to Monique, who accepted it and immediately pulled herself closer to him than Elaina ever had.
Standing as straight as he could, keeping his body rigid, Nicholas walked woodenly toward the open ballroom doors. One quick turn around the path of roses. That was all he would do. Then they were coming directly back into the ballroom. Surely he could keep his eyes away from her for that long.
They left the ballroom and started down the path of roses without saying much. Nicholas pointed out the different colors in what he hoped was the most boring tour she had ever been given. After rounding a few bends, however, the pressure of her arm disappeared. Looking back, he barely had time to see her disappear.
Nicholas started after her, not sure what to make of her odd behavior, when he was yanked backward and shoved against a thick hedge. Before he knew what was happening, warm lips were pressed against his.
* * *
Everything in him shouted for him to get away, but he couldn’t concentrate as she pressed herself against him. Escape was necessary, but his body wouldn’t respond to his mind’s desperate commands.
Finally, he was able to free himself from her grasp. He stumbled sideways, panting, staring at her in horror and backing away until he was at the other side of the hedge.
Too many girls. Over the years, Nicholas had kissed too many girls. And because of it, his reaction to Monique had been exactly that . . . a reaction. He hadn’t meant to kiss her back. But she’d taken him by surprise, and all the years he’d spent giving and receiving simple pecks and then slightly longer sentiments in secret had taught his body to never say no or even to protest.
And now that lifetime of indulgence had betrayed not only him but also the beautiful girl whose hand he had pleaded with the Maker for just an hour before.
Nicholas swallowed hard and fumbled to straighten his coat, as though fixing his appearance would wipe away what he had just done. “We . . . we need to return.” His voice squeaked like a youth’s. “We’re not yet betrothed and shouldn’t be found in such a situation.”
She arched one perfect black eyebrow haughtily. “It would only make our own vows faster for fear of scandal.” Then she laughed. “Come, Nicholas! When did you become such a killjoy?”
He held his arm out as far as it would go.
Rolling her eyes, she took it but pouted the entire way back.
When they arrived, Elaina was still with his father and the other king. She said something Nicholas couldn’t hear, and both men burst out laughing. Elaina herself smiled, looking as though she entertained kings every day.
“There you two are. That was a fast walk. Did you have fun, my darling?” King Quinton asked Monique.
>
“I don’t find Prince Nicholas at all eager to join in any sort of negotiations, Father.” Then she sniffed before returning to the group of girls she’d been standing with earlier.
Nicholas thought he would feel better after she left, but the nausea didn’t leave. It only grew worse as Elaina took his arm again.
He and Elaina took their seats soon after, when toasts were made, but none of the merrymaking was enjoyable. The food was dry and tasteless. The choir that sang the blessing over his sister and her husband was off-key, and he had no desire to address the well-wishes of the hundreds of guests who came to his table to greet him.
As usual, Elaina came to his rescue, but he could feel a new hesitance in her glances and in the way she moved. It wasn’t until the ballroom floor was opened for dancing, however, that they had any chance to speak privately.
He placed his hands on her hand and waist as he had so many times during practice. The way her small fingers fit into his had seemed so natural before this, so right. But now they burned feverishly against his skin.
“How did negotiations with the kingdom of Ombrin fare?” she asked as the first slow dance began.
It was all he could do to give her the slightest shake of his head.
“I see.” She pursed her lips together and took a deep breath. “May I ask who attempted negotiations first?”
He could only stare at her miserably, barely managing to complete the turn the dance required.
“Then I suppose,” she said, her voice husky, “I don’t need to ask what that red lip powder is doing on your face.”
Without thinking, Nicholas let go of her hand and reached up to touch the edge of his mouth. When he looked at his fingers, they were tinged with a hint of rouge. It was the same shade of red the princess was wearing.
Nicholas steeled himself for the biting lecture he knew he deserved. The knowing glare that said she had been right about him all along. The silent treatment she had been so good at doling out when they had first met.
But nothing prepared him for the single tear that rolled slowly down her face.
Self-loathing devoured him as he realized he had broken the heart of the girl who refused to be broken.
Her remaining hand loosed itself from his shoulder, and though the dance wasn’t done, she stepped back.
“Please, Elaina. I . . . I’m sorry. I never meant to—”
“Lydia was right,” she whimpered before turning and walking away.
Nicholas followed her as she pulled her shawl from the chair where she had left it and headed for the door.
“She pushed herself upon me!” he called out as they left the ballroom and headed down the main hall.
Elaina walked faster.
Nicholas ran until he caught her on the palace steps. There were a few people milling about the entrance and the guards near the door, but Nicholas didn’t care who heard him. He would get down on his belly and grovel if that’s what it took for her to forgive him. “Please!” He stood in front of her, hands raised cautiously. “You have every right to hate me, but at least hear what I have to say!”
“Fine.” She sniffled, crossing her arms and setting her little chin stubbornly. “I will give you one chance to answer my question truthfully. Suppose she did set herself upon you. Did you resist? Or did you kiss her back?”
Nicholas wanted with all of his heart to say he had resisted. But it wouldn’t be the truth.
“I’m not a plaything, Nicholas.” She turned to stare out at the sea, swiping at her cheek with the back of her hand. “For one brief, glorious moment, I thought you had changed.” She turned back to him. “But for one brief, glorious moment, I was a fool.” She stepped around him and began again to descend the steps.
“Where are you going?” he called out. “You arrived with your family.”
“I am walking.”
“At least let me walk you home!” He began to run after her again. “It’s not safe—”
She whirled around, fists clenched at her sides. “Then get me a guard!”
All Nicholas could do was to nod and stumble back up the steps.
28
The Accused
“Lady Elaina!”
Oh, so it was Lady Elaina now, was it? She kept walking.
“Lady Elaina, wait!”
Elaina nearly ignored the command until she realized that it wasn’t Nicholas calling after her at all.
She looked up from the ground to glare at the four guards hurrying to her side. “Oh good, you’re here.” The words tasted bitter as she spoke them. “You will escort me straight home. Once we’re there, I will hear no missives from the prince, understand?”
“We’re not here to escort you home,” the guard standing closest to her said, hand on the hilt of his sword.
Elaina frowned at that hand. “Then why are you here? Because if you’re here on the prince’s behalf, you can just go back to the palace and tell the prince that if he’s man enough to—”
“We are not here on behalf of the prince,” another burly guard cut in.
“You’re not?”
“His Royal Majesty King Xander Whealdmar has summoned you.”
Elaina looked back at the palace. She hadn’t even left the palace grounds yet. Why would the king be summoning her? There was no way he could know what had transpired between her and Nicholas in such a short period of time. When she looked beyond the guards, Nicholas was standing in the same place she’d left him, looking just as confused as she felt.
She turned back to the guard. “Has the king told you why he wants me?” Had there been a sighting of her father, perhaps?
“Yes, my lady. On charges of high treason to the crown.”
* * *
Elaina’s knees were numb from kneeling and her wrists sore from the shackles by the time the charges were read.
How long had it been since she was publicly humiliated, arrested right on the palace steps? It felt like days, but judging by the sun outside the window, it could only have been an hour or two. In that time, it seemed the entire kingdom had managed to squeeze itself into the throne room to witness the proceedings. Elaina wouldn’t have supposed anything could have pulled people away from the wedding festivities, but apparently arresting one of the court’s highest ladies could do just that. Elaina could hear her aunt weeping from somewhere in the back, but she kept her eyes focused on the small square of blue tile in front of her. It kept her from looking up at the man standing beside his father’s throne.
This was a nightmare. It had to be.
“The charges against Lady Elaina Starke of Ashland are these: conspiring against the crown by fraternizing with hostile kingdoms, divulging secrets to foreign interests who would see Ashland fall in its civil war, and receiving payment for such fraternizations.”
“And who is my accuser?” Elaina glared up at Alastair after he finished reading the charges.
Alastair nearly dropped his scroll, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Whispers went up all around, but Elaina gave him her fiercest look. “It is my right by law to know who has accused me of such rubbish.”
The king nodded and waved his hand, though it was without his usual pomp. “Tell her.” His voice sounded ancient.
“Will Conrad Fuller and Miss Lydia Tifft step forward?” the man called.
Conrad stepped to the front of the dais from the shadows. His round, chalky face betrayed no remorse or regret. Lydia, however, cried piteously as she walked to the front of the room, tripping several times along her way.
Elaina couldn’t breathe. She had known Lydia was jealous. They hadn’t been close since their argument about Alastair. But Elaina had never dreamed her animosity could reach this extent.
Alastair cleared his throat. He had dark circles beneath his eyes, and he moved as though he were seventy instead of forty. His eyes were rimmed red, as though tears might start rolling from them at any second, and he avoided Elaina’s gaze. Looking back down at the parchment in his hands, he took
a deep breath, briefly closed his eyes, and then began to read.
“Elaina Hope Starke, Marchioness of Rosington Manor and all its corresponding grounds, is hereby accused of accepting payment from the Tumenian government in exchange for secrets stolen from the crown—”
“Tumen! I would like to see what proof there is to sustain such charges!” Elaina forced her voice not to crack.
Alastair gave her a sad look before nodding at someone to his left. “Bring it in.”
A soldier entered the room, carrying her sea chest. Elaina looked back at Lydia, pleading for some sort of explanation, but Lydia only cried harder. Her mumbled words were difficult to understand, but Elaina could gather something about her not meaning it, and misunderstandings. As if apologies would help now.
“If you would be so kind as to open it, Lady Starke.”
Elaina hobbled to her feet and walked forward, her chains scraping the ground. Pulling the key from a hidden pocket in her dress, she opened the chest, only to feel her heart sink like a rock. Inside lay not only her glass slippers, the gifts from the Adroit’s crew, and a few other baubles, but a purple velvet bag as well.
Alastair stepped forward and lifted the bag, holding it up for everyone to see. As he did, the distinct clink of coins could be heard.
“I have never seen that bag before in my life!” Elaina cried, but for the first time, a man who stood near to the king called out,
“Silence!”
It only took her a moment to recognize Lord Benedict from the secret meeting. The other men standing around him, Elaina realized, were other magistrates, most of whom she didn’t recognize.
Alastair bent down again and picked up a parchment that had fallen to the floor when he’d taken the bag. It was closed with a bright yellow wax seal.
“Your Majesty,” Alastair held up the parchment and turned back to the king where he sat on his throne. “It’s a Tumenian seal.”
Gasps went up from the crowd, but Elaina could only hear the stars’ words in her head.
Beware of the planted yellow seal.
Cinders, Stars, and Glass Slippers: A Retelling of Cinderella Page 21