It’s a hot day, and I perspire under the heavy fabric as I walk. I should have worn something lighter. By the time I reach the castle courtyard, my brow is damp, and I’m sure my face is red. I expect the steward to give me an incredulous look when I introduce myself and tell him I have been requested by the king, but he only nods and motions me to follow him.
I’ve never been past the practice yard. I take it all in, not expecting to see it again soon. Right past the castle doors is another courtyard, this one shaded from the sun with light fabric awnings. Lords and ladies loiter on upholstered benches and chairs. Several pools of water have been built into the stone floor. Large, bright fish swim in a lazy manner, weaving through lily pads and other greenery. A few young children sit at the edge of the water. With curious eyes, they watch the fish while their mothers laugh together in the shade.
I would love to sit with the children and sketch the fish. I’ve never seen anything like them before. Instead, I follow the steward.
As we near the inner chamber, my palms grow sweaty. What could the king possibly want with me? Am I to be punished for Lionel’s outlandish demands?
Once we’re in front of the throne room, two guards swing the doors open, allowing us entrance. It’s an ostentatious display, and it does nothing to soothe my fears. The king sits, waiting for me. I walk down the red runner. Though there is no one in the room but me, the king, and his steward, I feel as if there are hundreds of eyes on me.
I curtsy low, keeping my gaze on the ground. My heart beats rapidly in my chest, my worry growing by the moment. King Brogan motions his steward away. The doors close, and we are alone.
“Do you know why you are here?”
Finding my voice, I say, “I do not, Your Majesty.”
“Let’s not play games. You are Master Rynsten’s assistant, and I doubt he has harbored a fool.”
I steel myself. “Lionel has requested to marry me.”
The words are absurd. Ludicrous.
Lionel’s father drums his fingers on the arm of his throne. “Do you, Grace, think you are worthy of my son?”
“No, Your Majesty,” I whisper.
“But you do think yourself in love with him?”
My eyes meet his. What do I say? I’m not in love with Lionel. I have love for him, yes. Even now, I care for him. But it’s not the same.
Brogan studies me and then tilts his chin up. “Obviously, you are smart enough to know you will never marry Lionel. If I let you, he would resent you for it eventually. You have no ties, no family. You are the daughter of no one.”
I nod and do my best not to cower back.
“You have two courses of action. The first is simple. Once Lionel is married to Philippa, and after a reasonable amount of time has passed, he may take you as his mistress.”
The words shouldn’t surprise me after what Javid said, but I step back, aghast.
The king lets out a mirthless laugh. “You could hardly hope for a more esteemed position. We’re not in Glendon, naive girl. You would be elevated in society—second only to the queen. And you would be a fixture in the castle—that is until Lionel tires of you.”
I square my shoulders. “What is my second option?”
“You leave Vernow.”
“What?” I breathe.
The king’s face hardens. “You can’t stay here. You’re a distraction. If you refuse to accept your position, Lionel will continue to clamor on about making you queen. This means I will find you not only a nuisance, but a dangerous one as well.”
His words are so like Lionel’s, I have no doubt where his son first heard them.
“Where would I go?”
The king sits straighter. “As an orphan, all requests for your hand must come through me. As fortuitous as the timing may be, I have received an offer.”
“Who?” I ask, startled. Then I know. My heart quickens its pace.
“However,” the king continues, ignoring me. “This man’s father would never allow him to marry a girl with no dowry or connections.”
My hopes wither.
“But I am willing to pay to be rid of you.”
My gaze snaps to his. Have I heard him correctly?
The king sits forward, his eyes gleaming with victory. “I will sign an official document, making you my ward, and then I will marry you off to Duke Velara’s son. It’s as nice and tidy a remedy as I can imagine.”
Far too much information has been tossed at me, and I reel. I pick the most pressing to address first. “You would make me your ward? Why?”
The king stands and steps before me, his eyes calculating. “I’m building connections.”
“Duke Velara’s son…Javid?”
“Moving up in the world, aren’t you?”
I need to sit down, but there is nowhere for me.
The king’s eyes are hard. “So which will it be, Grace? Will you become Lionel’s mistress—living in sin for the rest of your life? Or will you make the wise decision to become the future Duchess of Ptarma—a move that will not only greatly benefit yourself, but your present kingdom as well?”
***
Immediately, I walk back to the library, where I go through every hall, wing, and alcove, looking for Javid. He’s not here. I’m about to change into a walking gown when a messenger taps on my chamber door.
“Are you Grace, assistant to Master Rynsten?” The man carries a large wrapped package, which he pushes into my hands when I nod. “You are requested at His Majesty’s table this evening. Be prompt.”
I gape at him, not even remembering to pass him a coin for his trouble. He shakes his head and turns the corner, disappearing from sight.
Remembering the package, I run to my bed and place it atop the blankets. With shaking hands, I pull back the paper, revealing the most exquisite gown I’ve ever touched. It’s emerald green with gold embroidery, and it shimmers in the low light streaming from my window. I run my finger along the silk, marveling at it.
I forgot to ask the messenger who it was from, and I can’t wear it if it’s from Lionel.
I’ve already made my decision, not that it was a difficult one to make. I will accept Javid’s proposal. I will let him take me away. As much as my heart breaks for the Lionel I knew and loved, he is no longer that man. And I will not be his or anyone’s mistress. Not now, not ever.
I pull the gown on my lap. Saying a final goodbye to Lionel will hurt, but we’ve always known we couldn’t be together. He knew it first and tried to pull away. It’s my fault I held him back.
I glance out the window at the setting sun. Somehow, I must find out who sent me the dress before the evening meal. I hang the gown and run my hand over the fabric, reluctant to part with it.
With little time left, I rush down the library steps just as Pippa and Archer start up them.
“Pippa,” I exclaim, relieved to see her.
“We were just looking for you, Grace.” She wears a bright smile. “I have news.”
***
“You’re going to marry Javid!” Pippa says it much too loudly, and several scholars look over and glare at us. She squeezes my hand encouragingly, not caring about the disturbance she’s caused. “I think it’s a wise decision.”
“Lionel will hate me.” I take a deep breath. “But at least my absence will create a chance for the two of you.”
Pippa and Archer exchange a wary glance.
She turns back to me. “You know I can’t marry Lionel. If yoked to him, I will suffocate. I’m sorry—I know he is your friend, but I just can’t.”
“What are you going to do?”
She taps her fingers on a desk, bubbling with excitement. “I’ve asked for a marriage tournament. I’ve just heard word from Father. He’s accepted my request!”
I gape at her. “But there hasn’t been one held in over ten years.”
She nods. “I know, not since the beginning of the Dragon Wars. I read about them in one of your books while I was waiting for you to finish transcribing th
e other day!”
“You actually read a book?” I set my hand over my heart and smirk at her. “I’m so proud of you.”
She laughs and rolls her eyes.
“So Lionel—”
“Will have to compete with the rest,” she finishes. “Isn’t it exciting?” She squeals, completely ignoring the glares from the fusty old men around her. “I’ll have a real chance at love, just like you!”
I glance at Archer. He meets my eyes and gives me a small, tight smile. My heart aches for him. He has hidden his feelings so well, Pippa has no idea.
The princess stands, pulling Archer up by his arm. “Wear your gown—no matter who gave it to you. It’s yours.” She bobs on her toes, too excited to hold still. “I will see you tonight.”
I watch them go. Pippa leads with bright smiles for all, and Archer—quiet, alert, and heartbreakingly devoted—follows behind.
With no time left, I dress. The gown is tricky to cinch myself, and I am forced to call a library maid from her dusting to assist me. Somehow, between the two of us, we manage to tie it.
I have no full-length mirror in my chambers, so I study my reflection in one of the mirrored halls between wings. Layers of gold and deep purple peek out from under the overlay, highlighting the emerald. I look like a peacock—but in the loveliest way.
The gown’s colors are vibrant and flirty. Yet, it’s also princess cut and modest, not dipping too low in the bodice as so many of the noblewomen in Vernow are wearing their gowns these days. I still have no idea who it may be from.
I arrive at the castle right as the bells chime the evening hour. A serving man is leading me to the great hall when Lionel finds me. He shoos the man away and then pulls me into an alcove.
“What are you doing here?” His eyes narrow over my gown. “What are you wearing?”
I squirm under his attention. If nothing else, I now know he was not the one to send it. “Your father requested my attendance for dinner.”
“Why?” For a moment Lionel’s eyes cloud with confusion and his face softens.
“I was summoned earlier for an audience with him. He informed me that you had told him of your plans.”
Some of Lionel’s easiness disappears. “I will not give up. He will come around.”
I hear distant voices from farther down, laughter from couples heading to the great hall. For now, we are alone. It’s time to have a talk that is long overdue.
“I do love you, Lionel,” I whisper. “I’ve never told you before, but I do.”
He catches my hands in his, holding them tight. At the beginning of summer, I wouldn’t have been able to imagine a more perfect moment, but now I see it’s not right. We’re not right.
“But I’m not in love with you, and we can’t be together.” I don’t say it unkindly. The last thing I want is to hurt him, but he stiffens at my words.
“Yes, we can,” he growls. “You’re still angry with me, but I will spend my life making it up to you.”
I shake my head. “You are the Crown-Prince of Vernow. You were right when you said you would marry a princess. Perhaps it will be Pippa; perhaps it will be someone else. But it will be woman of noble breeding with power and gold and beauty. Nothing less is good enough for Vernow.”
“I will figure this out,” he vows, growing desperate. “We will be together.”
I take a breath. “Your father has given me two options. The first is to become your mistress—which I will not do.”
His hands tighten over mine. “What was the second?”
“To leave Vernow.”
He blinks in shock. “Those are the choices you are given, and you would choose to leave me?”
I step back. As I knew he would be, he’s angry. It makes me nervous when he’s like this.
“What does a title matter when we can be together?” he asks. “I’ll marry whomever Father demands, but it will be you I cherish.”
His words are like a knife in my heart. Doesn’t he see how wrong it is?
He glares at me, his face turning red. “You’re going to marry Javid, aren’t you?”
So he knows. The question is, when did he find out? And is Javid’s proposal what prompted his own? Now more than ever, I know my decision is a wise one.
“Yes, I am going to marry Javid.”
“This is Philippa’s doing, isn’t it?”
I shake my head. “Of course it’s not—”
“He’s her relation.” He says it as if it’s the only way to explain Javid’s feelings for me. “And now she’s demanded the ridiculous marriage tournament, thinking she can be rid of her obligation to Vernow!”
It startles me that he already knows what his father does not, but then I’m sure Pippa didn’t keep her news a secret from him. In fact, she most likely flaunted it at the first opportunity—possibly as soon as we parted company earlier.
I set my hand on his arm, trying to calm him. “You should be grateful. Do poorly in the tournament, and you will be free of each other.”
He narrows his eyes. “Why should she get to escape her duty? If I can’t have you, I couldn’t care less about her happiness.”
I step back, startled by the depth of his vehemence. “You would purposely win simply to spite her?”
“Stay with me—don’t marry Javid—and I will lose the tournament.”
I turn away. “Goodbye, Lionel.”
He grabs my shoulder. “You’re making a mistake. I do love you.” Real fear shines from his eyes now. “Please don’t leave me.”
I pull his hands away. “Please don’t ask me to stay.”
CHAPTER SIX
Goodbyes & Beginnings
A serving man leads me to my seat and pulls my chair out. Though I am late, there is enough activity in the hall that no one notices save Javid. He stands as I sit, waiting for me to find my place before he returns to his own seat.
“Thank you for the gown.”
“You are welcome.” His smile has returned, and his eyes are bright as they travel over me. “You are beautiful.”
“You didn’t tell me you are the legitimate son of a Duke—the heir to his title, no less.”
He grins. “There was too much pleasure to be had in letting you think I was the illegitimate son of a guttersnipe.”
I shake my head as I place my napkin over my lap.
He leans close so only I may hear what he whispers. “How does it feel to become the king’s ward?”
I give him a knowing smile. “It’s almost as incredible as finding myself engaged to you.”
He sets his hand over mine. “Does that mean you’ll accept?”
I nod.
“Are you sure?” He looks hesitant—as if he’s nervous I may yet change my mind.
I wrap my fingers around his. “I am sure.”
His smile spreads, slow at first and then wide. It warms me, chases away my lingering anxiousness. I will be happy with Javid, and no matter the outcome of Pippa’s tournament, Lionel will be all right.
Javid nods to the king, who has been watching our discussion. Brogan stands, bringing the dinner to a standstill. “I have an engagement to announce.”
A hush falls over the hall, and I chance a peek at Lionel. He looks murderous. I look away. The king, eager to have this matter settled, waves me and Javid over to him.
Looking out over the crowd, trying to focus on Pippa’s encouraging face, I set my hand over Javid’s. The king ties a ribbon around our wrists, joining us together.
“The promise is binding,” he says.
The hall erupts in applause and cheers. Lionel stands at the back, his muscular arms crossed over his large body. His eyes are cold, dead. My heart breaks for how I have hurt him, but I know this is the only way.
Javid, sensing my distraction, pulls me to a quiet corner. “Where will we marry, Grace? Shall we travel to my home in Ptarma? Say our vows on the coast of Triblue? It must be somewhere beautiful where you may finally find the inspiration to fill your sketchbook.”
“You’ve only known me for a summer,” I whisper.
Javid strokes my arm. “I know enough, and we have the rest of our lives to learn more. I think we should start here.” As gentle as a caress, he presses a kiss to my lips. He smiles when he pulls back. “Perhaps we should elope tonight.”
With his words, the last of my fears fade.
I steal one last glance at Lionel. With his back to me, he strides from the hall. If I have my way, this will be the last we see of each other, but I wish him the best.
I hope life will be kind to him.
Turn the page to read the first chapter of Pippa of Lauramore, the first book in The Eldentimber Series.
CHAPTER ONE
Celebration
Strong and tall, valiant and true—that's what my family sees when they look at Prince Lionel. What I see is a tree-like man with a thick, stubby neck and eyes too small for his wide face.
My forced smile—which is making my cheeks ache because I've held it for so long—falters as I look on the man and realize he looks a bit like an ogre.
I don't mean that in a harsh way. It's simply true.
"Are you listening, Philippa?" Lionel’s too-small eyes narrow.
My eyes drop from his strange, lopsided hairline. I can't tell if it's the way his hair curls over his temple or if his forehead is truly misshaped. His hair is a glorious mass of golden brown curls which fall in lovely ringlets to his ears.
How tragic for that hair to be gifted to a man.
"I'm hanging on your every word," I say. "Please continue."
Percival, my eldest brother and future king of Lauramore, purses his lips and narrows his eyes like Lionel just did. Unlike Lionel, he has very nice eyes, green like our mother's and just the right size.
I flash him a smile—a real smile. The corner of his mouth twitches, but he shakes his head so subtly that Lionel doesn't notice.
"You're eighteen now and my future bride. It's time you start acting like a princess and not an adventure-lusting tavern wench." Lionel spits out the last two words in a sharp staccato.
Grace of Vernow: An Eldentimber Novelette (The Eldentimber Series) Page 5