by Cara Coe
She was always there. By her side when her missions became thick with danger. Keeping her secrets with the tip of Draeden’s knives at her throat. Silently comforting her in her solitude from the world. From their first encounter, Millie had always been there for her.
She was now as Amelie dismounted from her horse and collapsed into the girl’s arms. They sat huddled in front of the convent, Amelie crying soundlessly for all that she’d endured and all that Millie did and didn’t know. Millie didn’t ask, just stroked her friend’s hair.
“I was worried,” she whispered. “You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met, but I was worried I wouldn’t see you again.”
Hot tea, silent nuns, and a little time soothed Amelie into a troubled quiet. She stared into the firelight flickering in her room. Sister Yona did not ask her to resume her duties even though there was enough daylight left for plenty of work.
“So there is a treaty?” Millie asked quietly.
“There is.” Amelie had given her friend more information than she’d divulged to her father but not by much. There was no need to stew in her feelings by talking about them. The inevitable was upon her and wishing for anything else would be like cutting out a part of her that couldn’t be shut out. Henna was right. The sooner she embraced who she was, the sooner she could harden herself to these disappointments.
“And nothing has changed for us,” Millie concluded.
“Nothing. Except we serve two kingdoms now.”
“The Prince…he took great pains to see to your welfare.”
“Only fitting since I used my body to prevent his death.” Amelie noted the bitterness in her tone. So did Millie.
“Before, you would get angry at these missions. Angry at the king. You never voiced it, but the hostility covered your body. Now, you sit before me like an empty husk. Something has drained you. It’s not just anger anymore. It’s worse.”
Amelie rubbed her cheeks as if to rub the life back into her. She felt cold in this room despite the fire and afternoon sun streaming in. She hugged her shawl closer to her body and moved her rubbing to her arms.
“Nothing has changed, Millie.” Her voice was wooden and Millie looked skeptical but she refused to relinquish those words. “Nothing has changed.”
Chapter 38
Seth
Seth spent the weeks in Candor exploring the immediate lands around the palace. Talon was like a child on the eve St. Angel’s excitedly chattering about herbs – some he could only find in scarce amounts in Draeden, some he read about, and some he learned from Amelie. The only thing that could tamp down his excitement was his error in bringing up her name.
“Sorry, friend,” he said wincing, clutching a spiny green sprig. Seth couldn’t remember what he’d just called it as he waved one of Amelie’s descriptions in the air at him.
“It is all right,” he assured him. “We can’t continue on as if she doesn’t exist. She’s to be my sister.” The words felt rotten on his tongue. All wrong.
In truth, he considered heading back to Draeden. He’d seen the home he was to move to after the wedding. He’d met his bride. All their discussions and walks and meals shared gave him insight into her personality and interests but he felt no closer to her than to Ronald, his personal butler who turned his sheets down each night. He’d met and been congratulated by several of the nearest lords, noting their suspicion and surprise at the new alliance.
When the caravan of Amelie’s supporters returns from Draeden, he decided. Seth was anxious to pack up their horses and ride out. He planned to leave after the first formal dinner in which he could relay his account on escorting Amelie back to Candor to the queen and the king’s advisor. He felt that should suffice in propriety before he crossed back into his kingdom. He would of course be giving them a clipped version.
On the eve of the caravan’s return, King Byron summoned him to the royal study.
“Prince Seth,” he said, coming around the desk to stand before him. The man was large in height and presence. Seth couldn’t quite yet decide on his opinion of him. The fact that he let himself get attached to his stepdaughter ruffled him but his own father had fallen to her magic. What of that? Does that fact erase all the esteem Seth held for his king? He wasn’t sure.
He looked King Byron squarely in the eye, stiffening his posture to stand equal to him.
“If it is all right with you, I’d like to saddle the horses tomorrow and ride with you to the convent where Amelie resides,” King Byron continued. “The treaty requires that this information be known to Draeden’s royalty. I think it wise to share it with you and you can relay the information to your father. To have a prince cross the border has stirred up much interest. To have a king cross will no doubt cause a lot of unescapable attention.”
Seth struggled to keep his face neutral at this sudden request. “What of the arriving party tomorrow?” he asked. But in his mind he thought, Damn the arriving party. Seth merely asked because it would be expected he’d inquire. He wanted to make sure he gave nothing away.
“I can wait for Sir Duncan’s update until my return. My wife does not need our reception. She is her own woman, she makes that clear. We will not be gone long, it is but a day’s ride.”
Seth nodded. “Then I’ll be ready at the break of day.”
His voice was all business. He hoped his demeanor was as well.
Chapter 39
Amelie
They arrived late afternoon. Sister Minerva saw them first and came rustling into the garden where Amelie was digging her fingers in deeper than necessary to pull out the weeds surrounding the cabbage heads. The dirt underneath was cool on her fingers.
“The king,” Sister Minerva gasped out. “The king approaches.” Sister Minerva was the youngest of the nuns and whenever the king or queen made one of their rare appearances, it still rattled her. Amelie used her work apron to wipe her hands.
“The parlor if you please, Sister Minerva. Light the incense.”
Amelie picked up her tools and stowed them away into the garden shed. If Millie saw them laying about, she’d take over where Amelie left off. She’d been doing that these past two weeks. When Amelie’s arms stilled in thought and sadness paralyzed her for a moment, she came out of it to realize Millie was moving around her doing the work in the same moment Amelie had stopped. Her friend served her tirelessly and she didn’t want it. In fact, she didn’t want Millie waiting for her anymore. She’d been brought to the convent as a companion but Amelie was starting to see it was servitude in disguise. Millie was older than she and had entertained no suitors, learned no economic trade. She had all the makings and training of a noblewoman but attended no functions in which to reap those benefits.
Walking through the dark hallways, Amelie tugged the tie out of her hair releasing her short ponytail and letting her hair brush her cheeks. If she did not, the king had a spine shuddering habit of doing it himself and letting his fingers linger.
She entered the parlor as she shook out her hair and stopped short suddenly.
King Byron stood near the window with Prince Seth near the mantle a few feet away. Both men held serious expressions on their faces.
Amelie gulped and chastised herself inwardly for being caught off guard and letting the prince glimpse the start he gave her. She bowed slightly.
“Your majesty. Prince Seth. To what do I owe this visit?”
“Not a mission, Amelie, be at ease. I am here on the business of the treaty. The Draedens must know the location of your dwelling in Candor. I insisted on showing it to Prince Seth so that we may satisfy that area of the treaty.”
“I will inform my father,” the prince put in. “My word should be enough. We have no need to bother you here, Princess. This trip shall be a solitary one, we’ve no wish to intrude.”
“Amelie will have similar provisions in Draeden, I insist,” King Byron directed at Prince Seth. “She cannot be exposed to men for long periods of time and her existence must remain unknown to th
e general population.”
“Of course,” Prince Seth agreed.
A general silence fell over the three. King Byron studied Amelie from the window and Amelie felt uneasy. With the prince in the room, he would refrain from coming near her but the way his eyes roved over her body made it feel like his hands were down her bodice at this instance.
Could the prince tell? The peek she snuck at him didn’t say much. He was indifferent, studying the stonework above the mantle with idle interest. She felt a pang. Has he forgotten her already?
She started speaking to break the silence. “I was finishing up my garden chores-“
“Leave them.” King Byron interrupted her in exasperation.
Amelie’s irritation made her hot. “Pardon me, your majesty, but I am a guest here and I will perform the duties assigned to me in return for the nuns’ hospitality.”
“They are my subjects and do the will of the king and my will is that they house the princess of Candor.”
“Here I am no princess,” Amelie argued.
“You are a princess no matter where you live or the state of your clothing. You keep forgetting.”
“No, sir. I remember. You recently stripped me of my inheritance to ensure that I do not ever fill the role of a princess.”
Prince Seth turned to them looking bored. “I assume we’re to be quartered here for the night,” he said as if the current disagreement between King Byron and Amelie weren’t happening. “It was a day’s ride,” he continued when they stared at him in silent shock. “Surely you don’t mean for us to return to the palace now. A room, if you’d be so kind.”
Amelie’s words stammered from her throat. “Of-of course. Your arrival was unexpected but we have plenty of room. I’ll see to it. If you’ll excuse me.”
Upon exiting, Amelie bumped into Millie who was surreptitiously listening outside the door.
Amelie cocked her head at Millie who guiltily shrugged. “Fantastic. You can help me set up their rooms.”
* * *
Dinner was no special affair with the new guests. Sister Patrice felt no need to alter the menu of potato stew and bread even with the two new additions at the table. The king had never spent the night at the convent, preferring to travel home in the night. He looked uncomfortable at the small wooden table.
The prince on the other hand took heaping bites of stew, smiled often, and complimented Sister Patrice on a well-run convent.
“You have quite a variety of vegetables in that garden of yours,” he praised. “An incredible use of space.”
“You saw the gardens?” Amelie asked, perplexed.
Seth finished his bite before answering, sighing as if it were a chore to do so. “I took a turn on the grounds while my room was prepared.”
It was a simple enough response but the coldness he put behind it was a slap in the face and she returned to her stew with a sudden interest in its contents. Millie looked between them. King Byron did as well.
“Thank you,” Sister Patrice answered. "We pride ourselves on needing little assistance from the local villages. Our governing lords are willing, but we find we can manage without."
"Too bad we don't have longer. I should like to pitch in and learn your efficient ways."
"The convent is no place for men. We would not cast you out tonight, as the Angels would surely frown on that, but you'll stay no longer."
Seth's grin was broad and genuine. "Of course, Sister. We will be gone by first light, I assure you." He paused a moment before adding, "I have the information I came for. There is nothing left for me here."
Chapter 40
Amelie
Amelie angrily scrubbed her face in the wash basin. Supper had ended uneventfully and everyone retired to their rooms. Now she paced her own, too wound up to sleep. Her routine at the convent was interrupted. The safe mindless motion routine she'd employed to get from hour to hour. He was here. Her place of normalcy was upheaved. She looked at the added additions to her room since returning. The journal of herbs Talon had written for her. The riding clothes she'd kept from Draeden. Even the chain she had worn around her ankle for much of the journey was there. Derrick still kept it on his tack with his other tools while traveling and Amelie had been soothed by the light clanking noise it made he rode. She'd asked for it when she left for the convent late that night after the ball and Derrick, in his sleepy haze threw her a curious look but gave it to her wordlessly. Talon had taken that opportunity to slip her the journal while Derrick fetched it.
"Because I knew you'd slip out of here and I don't know when we'll see each other again," he'd said as he placed it in her sack.
These additions to her room at the convent kept a piece of the last couple of months with her and she knew there was no giving it up entirely. But to have him here, in the flesh, in front of her once again. This taunting was becoming madness.
The knock on the door was soft and Amelie’s heart leapt in response. She opened the thick slab of oak. When she saw King Byron on the other side, her stomach dropped heavily and she stood aside to let him in.
“Your Highness.” She spoke quietly, giving a small curtsey. King Byron’s eyes were enraged.
“Explain to me,” he said evenly with only a slight tremor in his voice giving away his struggle to conceal his anger. “How it is that Prince Seth watches your every step, angles his body in relation to your movements, covets you with his eyes if he is immune to your magic?”
“You are in the wrong room, my Lord,” Amelie answered just as evenly. “You should ask the prince as I cannot possibly read what passes through his mind.”
“No, I am in the correct room. You think I don’t see but you look at him when you think he isn’t watching. Just as he does you. What happened while you were in his kingdom?”
“I awaited your direction. You executed a treaty with King Armiss. This was all disclosed to you in the report I delivered written by Sir Duncan.”
King Byron swung an arm at Amelie’s water pitcher sending it crashing against the wall. The mess streamed tiny rivers down the stone and onto the wooden floor. “What happened?” he yelled, the anger finally ripping his seams of control apart. “You are not to look at him that way! He is your sister’s betrothed. Your own flesh and blood expects him and soon he will be your brother!”
“And you are married to my mother which makes you worse!” Amelie spat. His widened stare did not slow her down, only fueled her as her own seams tore open. “You look at me. You’ve desired me for years. I am your daughter by marriage and I can barely stand to have you in the same room with me!”
“I have never touched you.”
“Oh, but you breathe down my neck, your hands hover at my waist, you mumble your desires in my ear and I can say nothing because you are my King and my guardian and I must obey. And I do obey. I carry out every mission you assign me. I tolerate every look you give me. And I swallow my lethal training when you get close to me and vow never to harm you until the day. The day one of your rotten little fingers crosses the line. Then I will slit your throat so quickly, your soul will scream from suddenly being ripped from your body.”
They stood several feet apart, squared off and staring at each other. Amelie was panting as if she’s just run the length of a river and her eyes were alight with fire. Her fingers twitched ready to seize the first weapon.
“I…I know.” King Byron suddenly crumpled to the bench at the foot of her bed and rested his forehead on an open palm. “I’m sorry, Amelie.”
Amelie’s panting began to slow and the fire cooled in her veins as she saw she would not need to defend herself.
“I love you. I love you the way a father should not. I can’t stop it. I told myself I would never touch you. But I knew my desires were obvious.” He shuddered and rubbed his head. “You’re in my mind always. I want to say it’s the curse, but it runs deep into my heart. I don’t eat or sleep when you’re on a mission. I desire no other women, not even the queen. I don’t know what to do.�
�
Tears slipped down Amelie’s cheeks silently. “Let me go.” Her voice was soft plea. “If you love me, let me go. Let me marry Prince Seth and restore my right as first born to the throne. Then our kingdoms can have peace and my heart, which I thought would always be shriveled, can be rich again. Please. I’ve lost so much.”
The quiet was long and laced with tension. King Byron studied her, really looked at her. In his eyes pooled a sad understanding. He opened his mouth to respond but in that instant, a boot cracked the wooden door and a large man with black curly hair covering much of his face exploded into the room, clubbing the king over the head with his staff in one swift movement. His steely eyes found Amelie and a sick grin slid over his face, white teeth gleaming from thick of knots in his beard.
Even though she’d never met him, Amelie knew without question who the intruder was. "Rankor."
His smile grew. "Pleased to meet you, Princess."
Chapter 41
Seth
Seth chased sleep in the form of picking out shapes in the wood grain patterns in a flat carving of an angel hung over his bed. The convent was sparse and he and King Byron had traveled here with the lightest of loads so he had no books to pour over or parchment for writing. He didn't dare wake a nun for these provisions. It was obvious they didn't put themselves out for royalty and he could see why Amelie loved it here.
Besides, he had no one to write to. He'd spent the first few days in Candor scribbling madly to his brother and father about his quick departure, his time in this kingdom, and his opinions on King Byron and Princess Claudia. Despite the furious pace at which he wrote, the resulting letters were bland and filled with pages and pages of stoic observations. The real feelings - the frustration, anger, passion - that, he kept off the parchment. That, he locked away deep inside. That, he planned to smother until all that was left was the pawn in the treaty his father wished him to be and he decided if nothing else, he wouldn't fail on carrying out his duty. Not when his duty cost him dearly.