The Eldentimber Series: Books 1 - 3

by Tapscott, Shari L.

  Rigel raises his eyebrows slightly. My heart races like a rabbit’s. My years have taught me to be aloof and distant on the outside. Why can’t I feel that way on the inside as well?

  “What happened to your cheek, Seirsha?”

  Startled, my eyes fly to his. No one has mentioned the bruise—not even when it was grotesque shades of blue and purple. Now that it’s faded to yellow, very few have given me a second glance.

  His eyes search mine, and for a moment I wonder if he will discover the truth in his silent inquisition. I wrench my gaze away.

  “I was careless and hit it on a cupboard door.” I shrug with feigned nonchalance. “It’s fortunate it wasn’t my eye.”

  Rigel’s still watching me, his eyes slightly narrowed. I need to change the subject.

  “You would have won the tournament if Lord Archer’s heritage were not discovered,” I say.

  My stomach knots. It was very close to Pippa being on Rigel’s arm and not Lord Archer’s.

  She’s very beautiful.

  Rigel leans close so he won’t be overheard. There’s nothing romantic in the gesture, but the movement takes my breath away.

  “Would you have wanted that?” he asks.

  His low voice makes me shiver.

  Unable to find my voice, I shrug.

  “I, for one, am relieved Archer won.”

  “Well, then,” I say, uncomfortable. “Congratulations on discovering his lineage.”

  Rigel smiles. Again, I’m held captivated. When we were young, his was a face I knew well, but it’s been so long.

  Still watching me, he rests his elbow on the table. “Archer’s a good man. He will do Errinton credit.”

  Father asks Rigel a question, and the lord turns away. I concentrate on twisting my napkin in my lap. Idly, I listen as they speak of ore and mining.

  My mind wanders to the casket holding my cousin, and familiar panic rises in my chest. I fight it back.

  When the meal is finished, I wait for Father to excuse me. Sometimes he remembers early, but he often forgets until the hour is late. I dare not ask to be excused, so I hide a yawn behind my hand.

  Rigel turns back to me. “This has been a trying day for you. You must be exhausted.”

  “A little,” I admit.

  He turns toward my father. “Your Majesty, may I have your permission to escort Seirsha to her chambers?”

  My jaw goes slack, but I quickly conceal my shock. Father first studies Rigel and then me. Keeping my expression bored and distant, I work to look as if his answer is of no concern to me. He finally agrees, waving us away with his hand.

  Pippa gives me a warm smile. “I hope to see you again.”

  I say my goodbyes, and we leave the table. Hundreds of eyes follow us through the hall, but if Rigel is uncomfortable with the attention, he doesn’t let it show.

  When we pass under the arch and are safely out of sight, I feel as if I can breathe again. But now I’m not sure what to do with my hands, and I can’t think of anything to speak of.

  “It’s been several seasons since you’ve been to the castle,” I blurt out, and then I wish I could take it back.

  He doesn’t need to know how I notice when he’s here and when he’s not.

  “I haven’t been summoned since before the tournament.”

  And if the nobles aren’t summoned, they aren’t welcome.

  We continue to my quarters in near silence, making meaningless small talk here and there. I pause when we reach my door. “Thank you. I rarely have company in the evenings.”

  Rigel crosses his arms and studies me again. “You rarely have company.”

  I fidget under his gaze. Feeling foolish again, I murmur, “I do well enough.”

  He raises an eyebrow and steps forward, moving slowly as if he worries he will spook me, and touches the pendant at my neck. “I remember the day I gave that to you.”

  My heart seizes. It’s not a day I will ever forget.

  Too soon, he steps back, creating a cavern between us. “Goodnight, Seirsha.”

  My door swings open, startling us and Bea, who’s on the other side.

  Her gaze drops to her feet. “Oh, Your Highness, I’m terribly sorry.”

  “I’ll be right in, Bea.”

  My friend steals a glance at Rigel. The lord studies her, and his eyes narrow. I know exactly what he’s thinking. Bea’s bruises are much worse than mine. The dark one along her collar is just fading, but the nasty one remains by her mouth.

  Bea’s eyes flutter down again, and she closes the door, murmuring more apologies. Rigel turns back to me, his gaze piercing.

  Unable to bear the intensity of his stare, I look at the ground. “Goodnight, Lord Rigel.”

  Before he can answer, I slip into the room and close the door softly behind me.

  ***

  “He walked you to your chambers?” Rella asks.

  She hands me a ball of dough, and I accept it, twisting it in my hands. There’s nothing like helping Rella in the kitchens. It’s always warm here, and it smells amazing. If I could do only one thing for the rest of my life, I would bake bread.

  I knead the dough on the flour-covered surface, venting my anxiety on the elastic ball. “He did.”

  “Oh, Mama,” Bea sighs as she rolls up her sleeves. “He’s so handsome. You should have seen them together.”

  Rella smiles, and I ignore the hopeful look that passes between them.

  Pounding the dough against the worktable, I say, “I can’t marry him.”

  Bea looks up from her own dough. “Why?”

  Despite everything she’s been through, she’s still naive. Still hopeful.

  “Father will never join the lines.”

  Rigel’s great-great-grandfather, Leonard III, was King of Errinton, descended from the original family line. My great-great-grandfather usurped him. Grandfather whispered lies, swayed the common people, and gathered an impressive army. Though Rigel’s line was defeated, many are still loyal to him—especially the people who have paid dearly for my grandfather’s deceit.

  “I don’t expect I will have the chance to speak with him again,” I say.

  Rella raises her eyebrows. “You could approach him.”

  “No.”

  Bea and Rella exchange a glance, worrying again. I love them dearly, but I hate how they coddle me. I miss Adrinel. The dragon is irritating, but she doesn’t treat me as if I’m made of glass.

  I give the finished dough a final pat and then place it on the flat stone with the other rising bread. I lean over them, breathing in the yeasty fragrance.

  Father doesn’t know I come down here, which makes this one of my favorite places. Should he ever learn of it, he would be livid to find his daughter baking bread like a common kitchen maid.

  “Will you come see the baby soon?” Rella asks.

  “I’ll try,” I say. “Father has been keeping me close.”

  We’ve spoken little of Calden’s death. Rella’s terrified Bea and Antone are going to be thrown in the dungeons. I can’t bring myself to tell her that if Father found out about their involvement, they wouldn’t find themselves in the dungeons. They would be hanged.

  “Do you think there’s any chance at all you’ll see Lord Rigel again?” Rella asks.

  Out of habit, I reach for the pendant. Just in time, I remember my floury hands, and I stop myself.

  “Father has summoned me to the council this evening,” I say. “I will see Rigel, but I doubt he will speak to me there.”

  Bea looks up from her work. “What’s the council meeting for?”

  “To discuss the situation of an heir.” I brush the floor from my hands.

  Rella’s eyebrows knit. “You have another cousin, don’t you?”

  “Apparently he died in the Dragon Wars.”

  “Is there anyone else?” Bea sets her finished dough on the stone. “Who will be king?”

  I shake my head, already weary. “I don’t know. We will find out this evening.�
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  Council meetings usually linger on for hours, and I’m not looking forward to standing that long. But it’s not anything I haven’t done before.

  “I think I will go rest,” I say.

  Bea quickly wipes her hands clean. “I’ll come with you.”

  Waving her away, I say, “No—stay. I’ll be fine. You may come before the meeting and help me dress.”

  ***

  The bell rings, announcing the hour, reminding me I must leave for the council soon. I examine the pendant and turn it over in my hand, admiring the way the light catches the sapphire. It’s so beautiful.

  “Finished.” Bea steps away from my hair, and I turn so she may inspect the front. She fusses with a few strands and then sets her hands on her hips. “You look lovely.”

  “Thank you.” I slip the necklace over my head, careful not to catch the chain on the carefully braided coils.

  Bea frowns. “I wonder if we should have left some of it down. Men usually like it that way.”

  I glance in the mirror. Bea’s reflection smiles back at me as she adjusts the comb. Rella says Bea and I are summer and winter. Bea’s hair is honey, and mine is treacle. She has golden skin with light, pretty freckles, and mine is pale and clear. She is warm. I am cold.

  “It won’t matter, Bea,” I say. “He’ll be too busy discussing politics to notice me.”

  She grins. “Who will, Your Highness?”

  “You know who.” My cheeks flush, and I swat her away. “Now go dote on your niece.”

  “You promise you’ll come meet her soon?”

  I nod. “I’ll try to come tonight. Father finds the meetings taxing, and he will likely have his dinner in his chambers.”

  Bea frowns and crosses her arms. “At least he doesn’t have to stand during them.”

  There’s no reason to argue about something I cannot change.

  A knock at my door surprises us both. Bea’s eyes go wide with terror, and she takes a step back. My heart aches for her. Calden is dead, but the damage he dealt is alive and well.

  Setting my hand on her arm, I say, “It’s all right. I’ll check it.”

  I open the door, expecting a messenger. Instead, I find Rigel.

  The lord’s lips twitch at my surprise. “May I walk you to the council meeting, Your Highness?”

  Chapter Four

  I’m so startled to see Rigel here, I don’t answer right away.

  “Walk me to the council meeting?” I finally parrot back like a fool.

  He raises an eyebrow. “Unless you would prefer to walk alone…?”

  Bea gapes at us with her hands clasped together and her expression delighted. I glare at her as I step into the hall. She gives me one last bright smile before I pull the door shut.

  I turn to Rigel. “Of course I would prefer your company. Thank you.”

  Rigel holds out his arm, and I stare at it. He didn’t offer it last night. We walked together, but we didn’t touch. My fingers tremble. I hope he won’t feel the way I shake.

  We walk, and I struggle for something—anything—to speak of.

  “How did you find Lauramore?” I ask, happy to find a safe, neutral subject that isn’t the weather.

  Rigel doesn’t look over, but there is a ghost of a smile on his face. “It was pleasant.”

  I nod.

  Bea can chatter about everything and nothing for hours on end. Why can’t I think of enough words to fill the space of a short walk to the council meeting?

  “You’re wearing the pendant again today,” he says softly.

  His expression is amicable, but there is nothing encouraging there—nothing that hints at more than friendly interest.

  I run my fingers over the sapphire and meet his eyes. “I wear it every day.”

  Rigel’s lips tilt ever so slightly, and he nods. “Wait for me after the council meeting?”

  My heart leaps in my chest, but I keep my face impassive as I agree. We continue the rest of the way to the council room in silence.

  ***

  Father grits his teeth and leans forward. “Great-uncle Norton had a son. Surely there’s a man in that line somewhere. One of them had to survive the wars.”

  My legs ache. I’m exhausted from standing, but women do not sit with the council. Traditionally, besides the king’s queen and daughters, women aren’t allowed in the council at all—not that there’s been many daughters to stand in over a hundred years. The women in our line are born notoriously sickly. Most die at birth. In fact, I’m the first firstborn—or only born, as in my case—to live.

  Rovert—the record keeper, scribe, and sniveling rat who is constantly sniffing at Father’s feet—has our family tree spread in front of him. He shakes his head. “All decedents from that line are deceased, Your Majesty.”

  Father growls.

  My gaze wanders to Rigel. He draws me like a moth to a flame. I’m embarrassingly besotted with him, and I have been for as long as I can remember. He sits with his arms crossed, watching Rovert. He’s said little during the meeting. He is loyal to Father, has done nothing but prove his loyalty, but Father will always resent him and the line he descended from.

  As if sensing my gaze, Rigel’s eyes move to mine. They hold for a moment, and then I look away, unable to bear the weight of his attention. When I glance back, he’s speaking quietly with Lord Archer.

  Lord Fisher leans forward on his elbows. “Your Majesty, have you considered marrying again? You may have an heir still.”

  Father’s eyes snap to the man. “I will not remarry.”

  Duke Everett doesn’t bother to hide his exasperation. “If no heir can be found or produced, Your Majesty, the throne will revert back to King Leonard’s line.”

  Most, including myself, turn toward Rigel, curious what his reaction will be. The lord’s emotions are shielded, and it’s impossible to discern what he may be thinking.

  “There will be an heir,” Father snaps.

  Our attention turns back to Rovert and the family tree. I try not to look at my mother’s name. So many are dead and gone.

  “Perhaps your line could be carried on through Seirsha?” the Marquis of Preywoth asks. “It wouldn’t be the first time an exception has been made to allow a female heir. Once she produces a male child, you would have a direct descendant.”

  Duke Everett snorts. “She would have to find a husband first.”

  A chorus of arguing breaks out, and I study a beam across the room.

  Father rises and presses his palms to the table. “You know where I stand on this subject. Seirsha will be married to a prince. She will remain unmarried until one of the lower kingdoms seeks an alliance.”

  Exasperated, Lord Fishes says, “No one wants an alliance with Errinton.”

  In truth, Father doesn’t care about connections. He wants a stranger to take me away so none of the other Errinton families will have any claim to his throne or power. This is also why he refuses to remarry. Mother was the orphan daughter of a baron. There was no one to benefit from their marriage save Father. It’s not easy to find such a tidy situation.

  “Your Majesty,” Lord Archer says. The room falls quiet, all curious to see what the newcomer has to say. “I beg your pardon if what I say is unreasonable, but what if the Princess and Lord Rigel were to wed? The lines would be united, and the kingdom would stay in your bloodline through your future grandchild.”

  The room is deathly silent. I can’t bear to look at Rigel.

  “No.” Father’s voice is stony.

  “Surely you would rather the kingdom go to your own grandchild than to a distant cousin,” Duke Everett argues. “Lord Archer speaks sense. Name Rigel as your heir and unite the kingdom through the marriage of your daughter.”

  Again, there is chaos. Unable to help myself, I allow my gaze to slide to Rigel. As if he’s been waiting for me to find him, he looks over immediately.

  “What do you have to say on the matter, Rigel?” the Marquis asks.

  Rigel’s attentio
n snaps forward. “I will gladly do whatever my king asks of me.” His eyes flicker to me for a moment before they return to Father. “I am loyal to you, Your Majesty. You know that.”

  Father’s face smooths, and for a moment I wonder if he’s actually considering it. “Yes, you are.”

  I hold my breath as he stares at Rigel.

  “No,” he finally answers. “Seirsha and Rigel will not marry. Not now, not ever.”

  The words are spoken with such finality that the subject is dropped. Girlish dreams shatter at my feet. Tears sting my eyes, but I won’t let them fall in this company. The humiliation would haunt me forever. I stare again at the beam in the corner, waiting for Father to end the council so I may visit my misery alone.

  The bickering steadily increases. Rovert hints to something he and Father have been discussing as a possible solution, but they do not include the others in their plotting. Finally, with no decisions made, Father ends the meeting.

  I slip away as soon as we are dismissed. I don’t wait for Rigel. By the time I close in on my hall, I am running as fast as my legs will carry me. I throw open the door and lock it behind me. The wood is cold against my back, and I slide down it until I’m sitting on the stone floor. Hot tears stream down my face, blurring my vision. I curl up against my knees and let them fall.

  ***

  A sweet little mouth yawns wide in sleep, and I cuddle the soft baby closer to me. She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.

  Marielle smiles at me from her chair in the corner. “She likes you.”

  “She cries every time I hold her,” Bea pouts.

  Antone pokes his sister, making her laugh. “She’s a smart girl.”

  I love this family so much. I know their life is hard, much harder than mine, but I wish I could stay and be a part of them. A real part—not a princess pretending she belongs with peasants.

  Bea sits next to me and gazes at her niece.

  “Don’t get too close,” I tease. “You’ll make her cry.”

  My friend rolls her eyes and strokes the soft, downy hair away from Kara’s face. “Now will you tell me what happened at the council?”

  She looks at me expectantly.

  I cried myself to sleep on the floor last night. Bea came looking for me when I never came, and I couldn’t tell her what had happened. The pain was too new, too raw.