by Cara Coe
Amelie turned to him in astonishment. “General Asher?”
“What?” Seth asked, the point of the observation lost on him.
“Those are his lands,” Amelie said. “He made the trip to the palace despite the rumors.” Her face darkened. “I don’t like this.”
Amelie’s gut clenched with a knowing she was all too familiar with as she tried to decipher the actions of guilty men. All the more reason to make haste. She mounted her horse.
Seth’s grip on Swift’s reins tightened as he looked up at her. “I just got you back,” he said. “Do not act rashly in the name of your kingdom. One cannot lead if they are dead.”
“You worry too much.”
“And you do not worry enough!” His voice was rough. He was angry with her. Amelie stiffened in the saddle.
“You wouldn’t know!” she snapped as she felt her defenses rising. “You’ve never had the weight of the kingdom settled on your shoulders. You can speak to me of rashness once you’ve tasted that responsibility.”
“You stubborn woman,” Seth muttered and Amelie nudged her horse into movement. She paused a few yards away, her horse turning in agitated circles.
“You will go?” she called out to him.
Seth glared at her. “You know I will.”
She gave him one last long look before squeezing her horse and flying back in the direction of the palace.
Chapter 37
Amelie
Amelie’s gear came off of her as she walked into her room. Cloak, gloves, her riding tunic.
“Ho there!” she called out for she did not know the chambermaid’s name. She didn’t know half the names of the staff in the palace, so little was she here now or in years past.
“Yes, your Highness?” the chambermaid asked, appearing before her in a small curtsey.
“The finest dress available, please. And hurry. I have a banquet to make an appearance at.”
Another curtsey. “Right away, your Highness.”
Amelie fretted over the time. She had tried to recreate the magic that had swept her to the convent but no matter how she spoke the words, no matter how soft or reverent or forcefully she recited them, Swift remained on their route in human speed.
She would have to make do with a late arrival. And she planned to make quite the entrance. So the cabinet wanted to wrestle away the throne, did they? Amelie intended to look every part the queen as she made her announcement on Candor’s future.
She didn’t have the same distinguished air her mother had carried. Indeed, Amelie tended to expel waves of impatience and fidgeted terribly if she sat still too long. But she would still drape her form in the waves of fabric as her mother once did. She would dress her now shoulder-length hair atop her head in an intricate bun. She would look sternly on all who opposed. The look, at least, was not foreign to her. That she could do.
The chambermaid worked quickly, following Amelie’s instructions on her dress, hair, and rouge and filling in where Amelie faltered.
“Your mother loved the pearls for events such as these,” she supplied gently when Amelie’s hand hesitated over the array of necklaces presented. With water pricking the corner of her eyes, Amelie nodded her acceptance.
When she was finished, Amelie inspected their work in the mirror.
A queen looked back at her.
The notion warmed her chest and Amelie placed a calming hand to her stomach. Her dress was winter blue with lace covering that bore tiny, intricately stitched flowers. A silver sash cinched her middle, matching the ribbons that circled the knot in her hair.
“Beautiful, your Highness,” the chambermaid complimented breathily.
Amelie flicked her eyes from her reflection in the mirror to the maid’s. The maid’s eyes were wide and genuine. This small validation cemented her confidence.
“Thank you…”
The maid smiled as Amelie hesitated on her name. “Gwen.”
Amelie cringed inwardly and then nodded. “Thank you, Gwen.”
“I believe the banquet started almost an hour ago.”
Amelie smoothed the front of her dress and raised her shoulders. “Then let’s not delay my entrance a moment longer.”
* * *
The feast quieted as Amelie entered the hall.
The tables were set up in a square, lining the walls of the room so that the court jests and singers could entertain the guests as the courses progressed. A juggler, seamlessly managing several empty wine bottles, nearly dropped them at her approach. Her quick reflexes caught the last one his full hands failed to grab. She placed it on top of his load and he bowed before backing away to the far wall.
Amelie tried to keep her face from contorting in anger when she glimpsed General Asher in the middle seat of the head table, a space usually reserved for the king. Claudia had allowed herself to be seated to the right with Prince Kernan beside her. The acquisition of the throne was all but complete with this display in front of the nobles.
General Asher raised his eyebrows at her in surprise but the expression was mixed as his smile stretched wide in an irritating gloat. She would take pleasure in removing it from his face.
“My lords. My ladies. Dear council,” Amelie addressed the room. “I am pleased to have you all gathered here tonight for this feast. It shall make my announcement that much swifter.” She paused for effect, letting the shock of her presence recede so they could properly hear her words. Many of them watched her curiously, never actually laying eyes on her face before. Astonished expressions circled the room as whispers furiously passed between the guests, those that knew of the Hidden Princess informing those that didn’t.
“My name is Princess Gabriella Amelie Lamour. I am here to take my rightful place on the throne.”
Gasps punctuated the air in the room. Many of the cabinet members looked thoughtful. Sir Duncan beamed like a proud father. Bastair scowled.
“I have spent several years out of the public eye to aid Candor in secret. My unusual abilities allowed me to coerce would-be spies to speak about their plots. In the eyes of most, our kingdoms have enjoyed peace. But there was always a war being fought behind closed doors.” Amelie gestured to her sister and her new husband. “My sister has taken the first step towards true peace. The kingdoms will never know harmony as long as we exist in isolation. It’s time to form relationships with our neighbors. It’s time to draw out the scoundrels in our kingdoms who would seek more power. It’s time to expose the very people I hunted in secret.”
“You are dead,” Bastair proclaimed, standing from his seat.
“Do you believe in ghosts then?” Amelie said, a mocking current underlying her question. “Clearly, I am not.”
“General Asher is the ideal successor,” Bastair argued. “He is battle ready.”
“General Asher is well prepared to plunge his sword into a training target. He has never seen war. Even now, Grantham troops close in on his lands and he sits here feasting while his people are left defenseless.” Amelie kept her suspicions on the man to herself. She didn’t want to informally try and convict him in front of his peers. There would be time enough to skewer him later if her instinct was correct.
Bastair’s face grew furiously red. "How do we know you are not using your magic on us now?"
"Because your lips would be pressed to my behind," she answered sharply. "Much better occupied there than the useless flapping of them these last few days."
Her quick comment earned her chuckles around the banquet tables, easing some of the tension. Bastair returned to his seat, his skin reddening even more. Amelie turned in a circle to look each in the eye before speaking again. "A few of you know my previous service to this kingdom. Most of you don't. I am half mage. But full Candorian. The accounts you hear of me may form your opinions of my loyalties in one way or another but I'm done with living through the accounts of others."
She strode to where Captain Lucas sat and drew his sword from his scabbard. She held it in front of her, strong an
d determined.
"I will not rise to the throne untested. I will earn your loyalty, not merely inherit it. And I will not rest on the work I performed while hidden. I will stand up for Candor in full view of her people. I will lead the army into battle against Grantham."
Bastair snorted. "Great ambitions, Miss Lamour, but your dresses and finery would get tangled up in the saddle before you made it to the front lines." He lifted his goblet to his mouth and laughed into it before talking a gulp of wine.
In a swift movement, Amelie twisted the sword to hold it blade down, pulled her thin dagger from against her wrist in the sleeve of her dress and threw it towards Bastair. His goblet was promptly knocked from his hand and purple liquid splattered in his face.
"Make no mistake," she sneered. "That underneath all this elegance is a skilled fighter who could disembowel your innards before you took the next bite of your meal." She righted the sword in her hand again and glanced back at him with the hard look of a leader establishing her place. "And you shall address me as your Highness or your lady. Failure to do so in the future will have your cabinet seat relocated to the dungeon.”
She waited a moment while the murmurs quieted before continuing. Claudia’s eyes were shining as she gazed upon her sister. Amelie recognized the look. Respect.
It flowed through Amelie, calming any lingering nerves and shoring her confidence. “It is not the humans who should remain divided,” she continued and her voice carried out louder. Stronger. “I will lead an army to quell Grantham’s threat and then the five kingdoms can move forward together with a new treaty. The friendship between Candor and Draeden needn’t be the last. We can enter a new era.”
“This is all lovely thinking,” another cabinet member said, rising. “But it is much easier to spout these ideals than see them through.”
Amelie bowed her head slightly in respect to his concerns, but her face was determined. “Yes, you are correct. But never is a leader’s job an easy one. General Tatum!”
The general snapped to attention from his position at the end of the table.
“Ready your regiment,” Amelie ordered. “We leave for the north border in the morning.”
Chapter 38
Amelie
Amelie wasn’t used to the extra layers the soldiers were strapping to her chest and thighs. Leather weaves that barely gave enough freedom for the movements she was used to but necessary, she was told, to block a sword tip or slow an arrow. She realized how much she had come to rely on her magic as her armor in fights.
She wriggled to get some room in the armor and General Tatum replied by narrowing his eyes and pulling the straps tighter.
“The people may not remember your face, but I do. I know what you endured for them though the kingdom is blind to it. And I will see you out of this alive. Your Majesty.” Another determined pull on her leathers. “You are smaller than most soldiers, so we need to size your armor. So hold still.”
A small commotion to her left had Amelie disobeying the captain’s command and twisting to see what the ruckus was about. Three horses parted the soldiers on the field, riding a little faster than was safe through a sea of men. The horses reared slightly when they reached her and Seth, Talon, and Derrick dismounted.
“Why, for the love of all the heavens, are we always interrupting your half-crazy, hairbrained escapades?” Talon demanded coming over to shake her shoulders. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Amelie answered him, but her eyes remained locked on Seth who was regarding her with an unreadable expression. “I must do this for Candor. I must be the leader this kingdom needs. I must lead this battle.” She paused to look at Talon briefly before returning her stare to Seth and adding pointedly, “Your Prince is supposed to be in Draeden rallying support for our cause.”
Seth gestured to the tree line on the horizon. “I ran into Draeden reinforcements on their way into Candor as escorts for Prince Kernan and Princess Claudia. My father was thorough. One hundred and fifty men. They’ve been reassigned.”
“Reassigned?”
Seth nodded. “It’s settled. My men fight with Candor and I by your side.” Amelie began to protest, but Seth cut her off by stepping up to her, his face looking down to hers. “If your kingdom is to accept me as your husband, it starts here. At this battle. A united front against Grantham.”
Amelie said nothing. She couldn’t. Her nerves pounded.
“I can think of no greater inducement for King Armiss to throw everything he has at these bastards if it comes to that than having both of his sons’ interests tangled up in the decision.” Seth gave a small, imploring smile. “That is, if you’ll have me, Amelie.”
Wordlessly, Amelie began ripping at her leathers, pulling at the straps. Rolling his eyes affectionately, Talon assisted her, releasing the binds she frantically yanked at.
“I just did those-” the general started but was interrupted by a determined “Shhhh” from Talon.
Free from the constricting chest armor, Amelie threw herself at Seth who enveloped her in a fierce hug.
“Yes,” she said breathlessly. It was the only word she could muster for all her exploding emotions. “Yes. Yes.”
His grip tightened and he kissed her. Hard. In front of the five hundred watching sets of eyes of the Candor army. And Amelie, with nothing left of herself to give this man for he had already possessed her mind, heart, and soul just gave him the word over and over again in between their kisses. “Yes.”
Talon cleared his throat when enough time passed and the kisses grew so deep as to prompt the soldiers to divert their eyes from such a raw, private display of emotion. “Okay, okay. Let’s make royal babies after we knock some Granthamians around a bit, shall we?”
Amelie broke away first to cast him a grin and he fidgeted with his bow and arrow, his eyes misting slightly and his mouth unable to keep from turning upward. Seth pressed his forehead to her ear, heady with the release of his feelings for Amelie and still thirsty for her. With one last kiss pressed to the side of her head, he straightened himself and looked at the captain dead in the eye.
“There’s no stopping her from going into battle,” he said to him.
“Aye,” the general agreed.
“I’ll have your head if any harm befalls her,” Seth threatened.
“And I yours,” was General Tatum’s response. Seth bowed his head to the captain respectfully at his answer.
“If you two are done throwing your man parts about, we have an army to lead,” Amelie said impatiently, picking up her weapons.
“Armor!” the general barked before she could scoot away.
Chapter 39
Amelie
The air was charged with anticipation. Amelie ordered all the soldiers to rest and put a squadron with Derrick at the helm to keep a perimeter watch in case the Granthamians decided to test the waters. Everything settled on tomorrow. How she would ascend the throne - to great support or a carnivorous cabinet - depended on her actions tomorrow. Her worry was evident in her eyes. Seth had searched it out as they walked the grounds earlier.
"Trust yourself," he urged. "It has never led you astray."
"It led me away from you and I cannot think of what could be more astray than that."
Seth squeezed her hand. "It also brought you back. It will turn out all right, Amelie. In the end."
"All these men are counting on a stranger. They don't know me."
"But they will," Seth said softly. "You were hidden and it will take time. But there's something in you that people respond to upon meeting you. The core of you seeps out in small doses. In your words. In your facial expressions. In your actions. You will ensnare your people as you did me at the manor that night. And they will be better for it."
Amelie stopped walking and raised a hand to his cheek. He pressed his face into it and closed his eyes softly. "I love you, Prince," she whispered. His smile brushed her fingers.
When she began walking again, she was yanked slightly backwar
ds. She looked back at their held hands and realized he hadn't begun walking with her. He tossed his head in the direction of the encampment behind them.
"We've come to my troops," he said. "I should bunk here with them for the night."
"Oh." Amelie knew that disappointment shaded her voice. But he was right. His men needed him. Her men needed her. This wasn't just rekindled love, this was the future of her kingdom and Draeden's as well. "Of course. We can meet with General Tatum at dawn, at the gnarled oak in the middle of the encampment."
Seth nodded.
"Until then," Amelie said.
"Until then," Seth repeated. Amelie turned and headed towards her camp. To her back Seth called, "I love you, too." The warm rush that swept through her caused her to pause for a moment. Then she smiled and, without turning around, continued on comforted by the feel of Seth's watchful eyes on her as she walked.
* * *
She had just begun to float into sleep when the heat of him stirred her. She opened her eyes and they instantly locked onto the steel blue of his. Wordlessly, he pulled her blanket from her body. Amelie rolled onto her back and propped herself up on her elbows, her eyes never leaving his stare.
And he stared. So quietly for so long that Amelie began to feel the weight of the silence. She opened her mouth to speak but he shook his head slowly. Then he dipped toward her and put his mouth on hers.
Softly at first. Almost hesitant as if he was rethinking his decision to invade her tent. But the taste of him sent Amelie's body reeling and her hips raised slightly in response. Feeling them brush his own, his body pushed down on hers and her elbows collapsed from under her. Her arms circled his neck and he kissed her hungrily.
She slept in nothing but a shift and she could feel Seth pause as his hand discovered this fact as soon as it slipped under her nightdress. His stuttered breath at this discovery blew across her neck and raised the hairs there in anticipation. His hand smoothed over her thigh and pushed up her shift, exposing her. It then moved to his belt, working the metal clasp until it gave way. With a few soft grunts and a shuffle of his legs, Seth rid himself of his pants.