The Eldentimber Series: Books 1 - 3

by Tapscott, Shari L.

  There’s a catch in my throat, and I don’t really know why.

  Rigel sets his hands on my shoulders. “Did you see how grateful they were? How much the meat meant to them? I wish I had thought of it sooner.” He looks up, watching the lazy clouds pass across the sky. “It’s humbling to see how thankful they are for such an insignificant creature—something I had thought so below me, I never even bothered to notice.”

  I nod, unable to find my voice.

  “Penrith could easily take down a few a day and distribute them amongst the villages. We’ll keep it quiet, of course—he’ll hang if your father finds out.

  Rigel pauses, thinking.

  “We’ve thousands upon thousands of the beasts in Errinton. The herds won’t suffer,” he continues and then nods, as if the idea is solidifying in his head and he likes the direction it’s taking. “It’s a start even if it’s only a temporary solution. Soon, after the armor begins to sell, I can open more mines. I will reestablish the armorsmith guilds—” He stops, startled. “Seirsha, why are you crying?”

  Rigel’s voice is soft and warm, and it makes the tears come faster. He wraps his arms around me and draws me close. I cling to him, and the smell of summer envelopes us. I blink back the tears.

  Rigel looks back at me, and he appears both confused and a little helpless.

  I let out a shaky breath and laugh at the expression on his face. “This must be what hope feels like.”

  He laughs with me and holds me tighter.

  A month ago I was in love with the memory of Rigel. Today, I know without doubt, I am in love with the man of present. I pull away so I can look up at him.

  He gives me a hesitant half-smile as he wipes away the last of the tears from my cheeks.

  “I can’t read the look in your eyes,” he says.

  I take his chin and tilt his head down. “I am in love with you, Lord Rigel.”

  I’ve startled him, and he blinks his mesmerizing gray eyes.

  Then I whisper, “I just thought you should know.”

  He takes my face in his hands, searching my eyes with his. I let the shield drop. Let him see what he will. I’m as vulnerable in this moment as I’ll ever be, and I don’t care.

  “Marry me, Seirsha,” he breathes. “I know we can’t now. Just give the promise that someday you’ll be mine.”

  I clasp my hands on his arms to steady myself. His hands drift from my face down my arms, and then they find my hands. I close my eyes and let the words soak in as I commit this moment to memory. When I open them, I find Rigel waiting. His expression is guarded but hopeful.

  With all my heart, I want to say yes. There are so few nobles who choose who they marry—so few are able to marry for affection. And none but Father would doubt the wisdom of the alliance.

  “Yes.” I laugh out loud. “Yes,” I say again, marveling at the word.

  Rigel’s grin is fast and bright, and it makes my heart stutter. He pulls me toward him, and, with the sunshine warm on our shoulders and birds singing from the budding trees, he kisses me. Just as the winter has made way for summer, I feel we’re on the precipice of something new and warm and beautiful.

  “When?” I ask.

  He strokes my hair. “Your father won’t agree yet. I swear to you, I’ll find a way, but it will take time.”

  I shake my head. “Father will never agree.”

  I set my head on his shoulder and close my eyes, drinking the sensation of him in.

  “We could elope,” I murmur, but even as I say the words, I know he will never desert Errinton, even if for only a short time.

  He shakes his head. “We won’t run away.”

  Suddenly I realize how hopeless this is. It’s a beautiful thought but an impossible reality. Still, we can pretend for a few more moments. Reality can wait.

  I bite my lip and then whisper the last hope in my heart, “We could marry quietly, keep it to ourselves.”

  “In secret?” A spark flickers across his face, but immediately resignation taking the place of hope. “No. You deserve more than that.”

  “All I want is to be yours,” I say. “I don’t care about the ceremony or the gown. Truly, I feel it would be too much of an extravagance when our people are starving.”

  “Say we even find a bishop that would agree to marry us without your father’s consent, who knows how long it will be before we can truly be together?” He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against mine. “I would give you the world, but stolen moments are all I have to offer.”

  “I would treasure each and every one of them.”

  I kiss him softly, coaxing him to look at me. He studies me before he wraps his arms around my waist and sets his head against my hair. He’s thinking, deciding. I hold my breath, hoping he’ll make the decision my heart desperately desires.

  “I’ll see if I can find a bishop,” he finally says. “But do not get your hopes up, Seirsha. Few will be willing to defy the king.”

  Elated, I give him a cheeky smile. “That’s why none will refuse you.”

  He turns stern. “We must be careful who we put our trust in.”

  Again, I lay my head on his shoulder. “I trust you.”

  ***

  I’m expecting the knock at my door, but I still start when I hear it. Pippa and Bea look up from their needlework, expectant looks on their faces. Pippa sets aside the tiny gown she’s stitching for her brother’s new daughter. For all the princess’s whining about domestic pastimes, her embroidery is exquisite.

  “He’s back!” Bea’s face lights up. “Open it!”

  Two weeks earlier, Rigel wrote a letter to Prince Galinor in Glendon asking for his assistance. News returned four days ago that Galinor is in Triblue with his new bride. Teagan, the Crown Prince of Glendon, responded in his place. Rigel rode to meet him immediately. Leaving the castle for an extended time is a risk; Father would be furious to know he’s left without permission.

  Fortunately, Father is still mad with plans and calculations for obtaining his forbidden sculpture. I haven’t even seen him for weeks.

  My hand trembles, and I attempt to compose myself. I swing the door open, a smile already on my face.

  “Argus.” I conceal my shock. “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s nice to see you as well, Princess,” the knight says wryly. “King Bowen has summoned a council meeting this evening. You are expected to attend.”

  Fear strikes me, cold and quick. “What time?”

  “Eight o’clock.”

  I begin to shut the door, but Argus catches it with a firm hand.

  “None can find Lord Rigel,” he says. “His Majesty believes you know where he may be. Pass the message to him, will you?”

  I nod, hoping my eyes won’t betray my anxiousness.

  Argus smiles a mirthless smirk and makes a show of removing his hand from the door. He turns on his heel and stalks down the hall, calling behind him, “Pleasant afternoon, Your Highness.”

  My hand stays on the door even after I shut it. One breath, two—I gulp in air, but even though my eyes are closed, vertigo threatens to take me.

  Bea sets her hand on my shoulder. “Rigel’s supposed to return today.” She gives me a reassuring look. “And he will.”

  I turn and lean against the door. “But what if he doesn’t?”

  Father would be all too eager to use Rigel as an example. What will he do to him?

  Pippa picks up her embroidery again and waves the whole thing in the air. With a calm I can’t imagine, she says, “Tell them he’s eaten something off and is desperately ill. Make it repulsive enough, and none will care to check for themselves.”

  For a moment, I almost forget my panic. I stare at her, my mouth open in surprise.

  She looks up when I don’t answer. The princess shrugs, giving me a wicked grin. “It’s worked before.”

  I shake my head, trying to think. When nothing comes to me, I join the girls. Bea takes up her darning again, and I pick up my discarded s
quare just to set it on my lap. Instead of working on it, I run my fingers over my pendant. It’s more than a gift now; it symbolizes a promise.

  Though Rigel doesn’t like it, he understands why I refused a ring. Father would notice it immediately.

  It seems like hours before there’s another knock at the door. I freeze, and the girls turn hopeful eyes on me. I open it. Again, it’s not Rigel. Disappointment washes over me.

  The messenger bows and holds out a folded piece of parchment. “Your Highness.”

  I take it from him, casually flipping it to check the seal. It is intact, and I dismiss him. “Thank you.”

  Fingers trembling, I break the wax and scan the short note. All is well. Wait for me after the council meeting.

  “He’s back.” I sigh with relief and clutch the parchment to my chest. “And he’s already been informed of the meeting.”

  Bea smiles. “I knew it would work out.”

  “Did he say whether or not he returned with a bishop?” Pippa asks.

  “He didn’t. He wouldn’t dare put it in writing anyhow.”

  Pippa nods, her expression saying she believes that’s wise.

  “I don’t understand why it must be a bishop from Glendon.” Bea rethreads her needle. “Surely he could find someone in Errinton.”

  I shake my head. “It would put them at too much risk.”

  And us.

  Pippa crosses her arms and lounges back in her chair. “What will be discussed at the council?”

  “Argus didn’t say.”

  She lets out an irritated sigh. “Do you think your father will let us go home?”

  “I doubt it.”

  She rolls her eyes but doesn’t look terribly surprised. “Archer’s steward may once again forget that it is Archer who is lord of our lands and not he.”

  From what she has told me, the transfer to Archer was less than smooth. Normally I would sympathize with Pippa’s irritation, but right now all I can think of is Rigel. Did a bishop agree to cross the boundary and enter our forsaken kingdom? Would a prince of Glendon aid a lord of Errinton he’s never met?

  We are not on good terms with Glendon. We are not on good terms with anyone—but especially not the kingdom directly under us. Too many of our people have fled our lands and entered into theirs, robbing and pillaging as they go.

  But for every dark-hearted Errintonian, there are five that proudly stay and attempt to eke out an honest living. The majority of our subjects are steadfast and loyal. I wish there were some way to show the lower kingdoms.

  ***

  I walk into the council room. The tension I’ve carried in my shoulders lifts when I see Rigel. He stands by the display of armor in the corner, speaking with Archer. His eyes brighten when he sees me. A small smile tips his lips. I drink him in and try not to grin like a fool.

  I take my place next to the head of the table. Father’s chair remains empty, but Rovert has stretched out a map on the table in front of his chair. Rigel wanders to it and leans over the parchment as if he’s inspecting it. Around us, men cluster in small groups, discussing what the meeting could possibly be about.

  “I didn’t come back alone,” Rigel says, still looking at the map. He doesn’t whisper the words, but his voice is quiet. If someone were to look over, they would think he has asked some trivial question. He glances up, his eyes meeting mine. “We will meet at dawn.”

  My heart soars. He has done it; he has brought a bishop with him. Tomorrow morning, we will wed.

  Father sweeps in the room. Rigel straightens and moves away from the map.

  “Ah, Lord Rigel,” Father says, eying him. “I’m glad to see you’ve taken an interest in the search.”

  Rigel bows his head. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

  Father looks at me, raising an eyebrow. “Loyalty is such a rare virtue, isn’t it, Seirsha? We are gratified by Lord Rigel’s.”

  I meet the challenge and stare back. “Yes, Father.”

  The room is at attention now, all waiting for the king to sit so the men may take their own seats. Father makes them wait a moment longer, and then he grandly drops to his chair. Rigel finds his spot. Our eyes linger on each other for longer than is safe, but I don’t care.

  At this one moment—no matter what ridiculous, dangerous, mad thing Father says—I am happy.

  The council begins. Now, more than ever, I am eager for it to end so we can be away. I listen with more attention than usual, hoping Father is no closer in his search than he was weeks ago. His mood is high, however. It’s a dangerous sign.

  The marquis leans forward. “You’ve pinpointed its exact location?” Doubt laces his voice.

  In the last few years, the man’s blond hair has gone almost gray. His lands border Glendon, and he deals with more of our treacherous, deserting thieves than any of the other nobles.

  Father’s face is bright with eager excitement. The look terrifies me.

  “I have,” he says. The room is quiet, waiting for Father to continue. “We are ready to assemble our search party.”

  A small bead of ice works into my heart, and then its chill slowly spreads through my veins. Father scans the room, his eyes pausing over each man. Some are better at masking their dread than others, but none manage to conceal their relief when the king’s eyes pass them.

  Father’s gaze settles. “Lord Rigel, I have chosen you for the honor of leading the party.”

  No.

  The room begins to swirl around me. The deeper the words sink in, the dizzier I become. Father is sending Rigel to his death. He will either die in the icy wasteland, or he will return without completing his task, and Father will hang him for deserting his mission.

  Either way it’s a death sentence.

  My throat closes. All eyes are on Rigel. He won’t look at me—he mustn’t lest the men follow his gaze. Instead, it’s Archer’s calm eyes that catch mine. He gives me a look, reminding me to breathe. I take a long, slow breath, and he nods subtly, approving. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, Archer walks me down from my ledge of panic.

  It will be all right, Archer’s expression says. Rigel is resourceful, he says.

  And I will marry Rigel come the morning. Father may think he is clever, but we are a step ahead of him. No matter what happens—no matter how short the time we’re given—I will be Rigel’s.

  “I have assembled your party,” Father says.

  Rigel nods. “There are a few men I wish to take with me. With your permission, I will return to my lands and gather them.”

  Father laughs, bestowing Rigel with a mock-benevolent smile. “There is no time for that. You will leave at the conclusion of the meeting.”

  Rigel’s face doesn’t betray his surprise, but his eyes flicker with disbelief. He quickly hides the emotion. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

  I close my eyes, trying to block out the events around me. This isn’t happening. Rigel and I are going to be married in the morning. He’s brought a bishop all the way from Glendon.

  We were going to be married.

  The familiar cloak of hopelessness settles over my shoulders. I open my eyes and stare at the beam. Did Father know? Did he somehow find out? I glance at him. His eyes are filled with visions of glory, a sheen of madness marring their ice-blue sharpness.

  For once, I think it was a coincidence, bad timing that fit his plan more perfectly than he could have ever guessed. The extra sting in the already mortal wound would delight him, and I’m glad he won’t have the satisfaction of knowing.

  I listen with veiled horror as Father speaks of the expedition into the wastelands. After what seems like hours, we are dismissed. At least there will be a few moments to steal before Rigel leaves.

  Father stands. “Rigel, you will join me in my quarters for the evening meal, and we will further discuss the arrangements.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek hard when I feel the icy fingers of panic threaten to take me again.

  “May I escort you to your chambers, Princess
?”

  It’s Archer. I accept his arm, grateful for his presence but wishing with all my being that he were the dark-haired lord who stole my heart so many years ago. I glance over my shoulder. Rigel watches me. I drink in his stormy eyes, memorizing the way he looks at me. He stands as a man ready for battle…strong, resigned. Arms crossed, he listens to my father and Rovert, but his attention is on me.

  Most of the nobles have left, and the few that remain, as always, pay me no attention. Father and Rovert are distracted with their mad schemes. I raise my hand to my mouth, kiss my palm, and then extend it to him in a goodbye. A muscle in his jaw jumps. He raises a fist to his heart and dips his head to me.

  For one last lingering moment, I watch him, and then I turn away, wondering if I will see him again.

  Chapter Eleven

  I lie in bed. Bea will be here soon. She’ll come eventually.

  All night, I listened for a quiet knock at my door, hoping Rigel would find a way to say goodbye. The night blackened, the moon made its journey through the sky, and the horizon turned pink.

  He never came.

  Finally, exhausted and weary from crying, I dozed in the early hours only to be awakened by the morning bells. Several have passed now, but no one has come to collect me for breakfast. They either haven’t noticed my absence, or they don’t care.

  I wrap the blankets and furs around my body, twist to the side, and stare at the cold, black fire. Bea usually lights it in the morning. No, not usually; she always does. I sit up suddenly.

  Where is she?

  I dress quickly and pull on a gown that’s easy to fasten myself. Then I run a brush through my hair, not bothering to care that it’s falling down my back. With my cloak around my shoulders, I step from my chambers into the silent hall.

  Bea and Rella are not in the kitchens, and the girls say they haven’t seen them all morning. Antone isn’t chopping wood near the stables. That only leaves one place they may be.

  Anxiety stiffens my muscles, and it seems like forever before someone answers my knock.

  Bea sucks in a sob and pulls me inside the cottage. Her face is red with tears, and she looks as if she hasn’t slept all night.