The Rejected Princess

by Clark, Katie;

  3

  Maids buzzed around Roanna’s room like bees in a hive. “This ribbon will work,” one muttered.

  “This bracelet.”

  “These shoes.”

  The chatter went on and on.

  Roanna moved past her dressing area and into her main bedroom. The bed was simple but elegant. A white wood, polished to a sheen. White comforter, white walls. Pristine was how she liked it. Two small, electric lamps glowed from bedside tables, and other gas lamps were spread around the room.

  Bette, her personal maid, popped into the bedroom. “You will adore your gown for tonight, Miss.” She smiled.

  Roanna nodded and returned the smile. She had resigned herself long ago to letting the maids dress her. Fashion wasn’t one of her talents, as she would take comfort over style any day. Mother had decided the maids could be in charge when it came to Roanna’s wardrobe.

  The only part of her dressing she took care of was the styling of her hair. Occasionally, Bette helped, but she was sworn to secrecy regarding its length.

  Roanna slipped out of her shoes and fell onto her bed. Her day dress spread around her in a wave of pale pink flowers. On a quiet day in the palace, she could usually get away with a more comfortable split skirt, but when they had visitors, the palace was anything but quiet. She rarely cared about the visitors, unless Ben was among them.

  Ben.

  She sighed. She ought to be focusing on Roland Dawson’s proposal and what it could mean for her future. Or perhaps she should consider the strange sensation she’d felt when Roland whispered in her ear. Instead, all she could think about was the longing in her heart when she spent time with Ben. Did she imagine the same longing in his eyes?

  They’d taken every chance to be together over the years, but things had never grown romantic. The distance between them was due to the “royals don’t show their feelings” line of thought. She and Ben always knew there could be no romance between them. Neither had ever pushed the issue because, until now, there had been no threat. Dawson’s Edge had no princess, and Ben was still free.

  But what would happen if they never produced a princess? Would Ben be forced to marry into one of their noble families? Perhaps a part of the royals’ extended family? It wouldn’t be unheard of. After all, Mother had come from within the Loxian nobility when the royal family had no available princess. It was part of the reason Roanna and Ben had become so well acquainted over the years—she and Mother often travelled to Lox in her childhood in order to visit their family.

  And as for Roanna? With tensions brewing between Chester’s Wake and Dawson’s Edge, the stakes were higher. Landowners along the border had been engaging in minor skirmishes for the last year, and the superstitious Dawsonian king believed every rumor of shadows trying to steal his kingdom.

  With a marriage agreement between the countries, Roanna could put an end to the fighting. Roanna had thought the ambassador came only to negotiate a treaty, but was marriage the true reason he had visited? Mother and Father hadn’t mentioned it, but they might have kept it from her intentionally.

  What if she were to accept? She would have to move to Dawson’s Edge and await Ben’s own marriage into that royal family. What would Ben think? How would he feel?

  Her stomach twisted in knots at the thought of letting anyone into her heart. The knots grew more painful with every passing moment.

  “Miss?” Bette’s voice interrupted her daydreaming.

  Roanna focused. “What is it, Bette?”

  “You must dress for supper, Miss.” Bette plucked Roanna’s day shoes from the foot of the bed, and Roanna looked to the window. Was it so late already?

  Rain still pounded against the glass, but the clock on the bedside table read that two hours had passed. “I’ll be a minute.”

  Bette nodded and hurried away, and Roanna reached toward her clock. A small note lay propped against it. She hadn’t noticed it before, and she opened the envelope.

  I hope I didn’t get you into much trouble. And I apologize for not getting you into any mischief. I look forward to seeing you tonight.

  He hadn’t signed it, but she knew from whom it had come.

  Benjamin of Lox.

  Roanna’s heart picked up speed. He had never sent her a note like this before. Why now? She reread the message and smiled, almost hearing the teasing in his tone. What mischief did he hope to find in the dungeon? Maybe he would fill her in tonight, though it was unlikely Mother would let her sit anywhere near him at supper.

  Bette came into the bedroom carrying a black and gray gown with a silky, sleek black top and a billowing striped skirt. A ruffled swath of fabric accented the right hip. It looked heavy, but Roanna kept the thought to herself. Bette often reminded her there was a reason she wasn’t in charge of her own fashion.

  “Would you like to dress in here, Miss?” Bette asked.

  Roanna studied Bette for a moment. Would she be sending Bette’s family to their deaths by refusing to marry into Dawson’s Edge? Could she live with herself for being so selfish?

  “No. I’m coming.” She slipped Ben’s note under her clock and followed Bette out. Another maid stood in the dressing area, and she and Bette helped Roanna into the delicate gown.

  “Time for your hair, Miss,” Bette said with a curt nod of conspiracy.

  Roanna turned to the other maid. “Thank you. You may go now.”

  The maid curtsied and left.

  Roanna moved to her vanity seat. She pulled pins from her hair and let the dark locks fall. “Gregory discovered our secret today. He promised not to tell.”

  “Her Majesty will find out soon enough,” Bette warned. She gently worked her fingers through Roanna’s dark hair, which now fell to her shoulders. Mother preferred it no longer than chin length.

  Roanna watched Bette in the mirror. “Maybe she will,” she said. “But maybe not.” What if she did marry a Dawson? Mother would never need to know about Roanna’s hair until it was no longer a parent’s problem.

  Bette worked through Roanna’s hair with a wide-tooth comb then moved to the dresser. “I have the perfect clip for this gown.”

  Roanna turned her head to study her hair. It was growing nicely. Faster than she’d hoped. She ran a hand over the tresses, and a chilling shiver raced through her.

  Roanna gasped softly. This was the same strange feeling she’d had when Roland whispered in her ear. What could it mean?

  Bette returned and scooped Roanna’s hair into its usual fashion, but Roanna couldn’t forget the feeling.

  “You don’t like the clip?” Bette asked.

  “What?”

  “The clip,” Bette repeated. “You don’t like it? You’re frowning.”

  Roanna checked her image in the mirror. The dainty clip was a brass turtle. Her dark hair was piled and pinned at the back of her scalp, with only a few short, loose ringlets around her face. The new hair clip glimmered all its own. Bette had positioned it prettily in the side of her hair. “I’m sorry, Bette. It’s lovely.”

  With little of her own fashion sense, it always surprised Roanna when she saw her maid’s work in the mirror. “You’re an artist.”

  Bette beamed and curtsied. “Thank you, Miss.” She had been Roanna’s maid for six years now. Roanna needed her. Depended on her.

  “Can I ask you a question?” Roanna asked. “What would you do if I were to marry?” She had never asked before, but it felt right for the moment.

  Her maid shrugged. “If you would have me, I would be happy to follow you anywhere.”

  “Even at the expense of leaving your family behind?”

  Bette smiled and took Roanna’s hand. “I’m proud to serve my princess.”

  Roanna squeezed Bette’s hand. “Thank you, Bette.” She had a feeling she would need the support.

  4

  Once Roanna’s makeup was finished, she made her way to the stairs at the top of the family wing. A small sitting area was situated in an alcove near the stairs, and Gregory sat
in an armchair, dressed in evening wear, reading what looked like some type of report.

  “Has Mother gone down?” She glanced around, hoping to score a few more moments before any type of marriage agreement was sprung upon her.

  “She and Father went down earlier.” Gregory stood. “I’ve been putting supper off as long as I could. Too many hopefuls.”

  “Ah, the girls from Dawson’s Edge?” She offered a sympathetic smile. A year older than she, Gregory wasn’t any more thrilled by the expectations of royal life than she was. Yet, he was gracious and courtly, gentle and kind, firm and authoritative. He would be a good king someday, even if it wasn’t what he wanted out of life.

  At least for now, she wouldn’t have to face Mother and Father—and her fate. With her parents already mingling downstairs, she knew they wouldn’t bring up Ambassador Dawson in front of others.

  “Care for an escort?” Gregory held out his arm, and she smiled and took it.

  “I thank you, Sir.”

  He patted her hand and started down the spiral stairs. Roanna gripped the wrought iron railing as they stepped in sync.

  “We’re a fine lot, the two of us,” Gregory sighed.

  No reason to ask what he meant. They both were barreling toward futures they didn’t necessarily want. At least Roanna had Ben, for now. Their friendship ran deep, and the love she felt for him would never be swayed.

  The thought filled her with angst. She had known her future since she was a child. Only now when faced with reality did she have reason to question it. Ben was her best friend. The first person she wished to speak to when something exciting—or sad or fantastic—happened. He was kind, and he smiled a lot. They had fun together, always. Was that love?

  She and Gregory reached the bottom of the stairs and turned left toward the dining hall, situated at the eastern edge of the palace, facing the Edge River. One wall of the dining hall was made entirely of windows, allowing diners to view the workings of the city along the river.

  Edge River ran through their capital then snaked southwest. Further down, it was the dividing line between Chester’s Wake and Dawson’s Edge, north and south. Lox was to the West, bordering both of their kingdoms.

  Happy chatter rose as they approached the dining room. Gregory glanced at her. “Good luck, sis.”

  She smiled and they stepped into the lion’s den. Chandeliers cast a warm glow over the guests who sat at a long mahogany table. The table could sit up to fifty guests, and tonight it was nearly full. The ambassador had brought along his entourage, including companions and their families. The Loxians, Ben, Queen Frieda, and King Neville, had a few others with them, as well.

  As she’d feared, Ambassador Dawson sat to Father’s right. The next seat over remained empty—saved for Roanna. Before she could be spotted, she glanced around for Ben. He sat beside Queen Frieda, and King Neville sat across from them. They were fair and kind leaders and had always shown great love for Roanna. Queen Frieda spotted her looking and smiled before returning to her conversation with her neighbor.

  Roanna’s gaze moved to Ben. He gave her a small smile and a wink.

  He obviously knew they were being conspired against in their seating arrangements.

  Roanna hid her smile and quickly turned away. No use provoking further ire should Mother or Father catch the exchange. She moved to Ambassador Dawson’s side.

  Roland jumped to his feet with a smile.

  “Princess, how fine you look tonight.” He bowed then pulled out her chair.

  “Thank you, Ambassador.” Why must he call her princess? Why not My Lady, or even Princess Roanna? He was goading her, trying to pull out an invitation to use her given name. Well, he would have to try harder than that.

  A servant boy, only a few years younger than her, poured her drink. He stumbled but did not spill.

  “Careful now.” Roland smiled, but it didn’t show in his eyes.

  The boy’s cheeks reddened. He finished pouring her drink then moved down the table to offer a refill.

  “That gown is very becoming, Princess.” Roland leaned closer, offering her a beguiling smile. He truly was handsome, but his proximity made her uncomfortable.

  “Thank you, again,” she said. Heat rose to her cheeks, and she took a sip of her cool drink. It wasn’t that she’d never been complimented or pursued—she had. But it had always been harmless. Silly flirting that she knew would lead nowhere.

  This was different. Ambassador Dawson had proposed marriage, and he was an acceptable match.

  “Did you enjoy your tour of the palace?” she asked, eager to put those thoughts aside for now.

  “Quite.” He leaned closer still. “Though it was much more enjoyable when you walked with us.”

  A slight shiver hit her.

  Roanna leaned away. “Flattery will get you nowhere, sir.” She smiled to hide the sting in her words, but she hoped he would not notice her strange chills.

  “What did you think of the observatory?” Time to steer the conversation away from herself.

  “Quite modern,” he admitted. “My brother, the king, will be interested to hear the advancements Chester’s Wake has made.”

  “I particularly enjoy the telescope,” she said. “It is the most powerful telescope available of our three neighboring kingdoms, though I believe it is old news across the ocean.” She smiled again, proud of Father’s interests in the sciences. After the gardens, the observatory was her favorite spot in the palace.

  A shadow passed behind Roland’s eyes. Did he not like his kingdom coming in second best?

  “My nephew, Prince Stefan, married Isabella de Paul.”

  His switch in conversation confused Roanna. She blinked. “Yes, Mother and Father attended their wedding.” Stefan was the crown prince of Dawson’s Edge and had been married to a princess from across the ocean not a year before.

  Roland’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Isabella’s father is privy to the most advanced of science technology.”

  Roanna’s smile turned stale. “As I said, our telescope would be old news across the ocean.”

  Was he truly jealous? It had been a time since she’d had any significant interaction with a Dawsonian. How easily she had forgotten their suspicious and sensitive nature.

  A crash drew her attention away. The servant boy from earlier had dropped a platter of vegetables behind Ben and his family.

  “Boy!” King Neville chided as Queen Frieda brushed splatters from her clothes.

  Ben had splatters on his white shirt, but instead of huffing, he flew to the mess the boy had made in the floor. He worked silently with the boy, scooping food back into the dish.

  Roanna’s heart swelled, as no one else around the table would have even thought of helping the boy.

  Jacob, Father’s head butler, rushed to Ben’s side. “Prince Benjamin, you must forgive us. Please, return to your seat and allow us to clean this for you.”

  Ben ignored Jacob and helped until the mess was cleaned.

  “Quite an incompetent little fellow, isn’t he?” Roland drank from his glass as if the boy’s embarrassment was of no consequence.

  Roanna ignored the comment, her eyes glued to Ben as he smiled kindly at the boy and clapped him on the shoulder. He spoke something in the boy’s ear. The boy looked up at Ben with relief written all over his face.

  Jacob offered Ben a towel, and he accepted it. His gaze met Father’s. “Your Highness, if you’ll excuse me I will change into more acceptable attire.”

  Father bowed his head in acceptance, and Ben backed from the room. Chatter resumed within moments, but it was hard to focus on the ambassador’s nonsense. She found it hard to focus on anything except Ben’s return.

  5

  Supper continued uneventfully. Ben returned and ate his fill, laughing with the guests near him, including a few of the ambassador’s companions. One had brought a daughter: Merry. Roanna had met her the day they arrived but spoke to her very little since. The girl had made a kind impression on
her.

  Might Merry end up the future queen of Lox? Ben smiled politely when Merry spoke, but he didn’t fawn over her the way Roland was doing to Roanna.

  Father tossed his napkin on the table, signaling the end of the meal. Roland jumped to his feet and magnanimously attempted to help her rise. She smiled. If she hurried, she might be able to catch Ben.

  “Princess, might we speak alone?”

  Roanna succeeded in holding in her groan. She pasted on her most sincere smile. “Of course, Ambassador.” She led him to the sitting room where most of the other guests now mingled. The room was large and near the center of the palace. The walls were paneled in deep mahogany, and electric chandeliers cast a warm glow around the room. A piano sat in one corner, and groups of chairs and couches dotted the room.

  She ought to lead him to a couch grouping, inviting others to join them. It would serve him right. But he had specified he wished to speak to her alone; and as she did have to marry someone at some point, she might as well get this discussion over with. She led him to a set of two chairs near the fireplace. No fire had been built as it was early summer, but the setting was private.

  “Did you enjoy your meal, Ambassador?”

  “It was a fine meal, but more than the food, I enjoyed the company.”

  She squirmed. The company—being herself—had been forced to stick to small talk because the one attempt she made at real conversation had produced tension.

  “Princess, allow me to be frank.” He leaned across the small space separating them. She could see the few graying hairs growing alongside his full head of black. “I did not come to Chester’s Wake seeking marriage, but when I saw you, my mind changed. I felt an instant pull toward you, such as I have rarely experienced in the past.”

  Oh, merciful heavens.

  “I have sent word to my brother, King Bartholomew Dawson of Dawson’s Edge, asking permission to wed. It would bring peace to our kingdoms, ending this inevitable war on which we find ourselves at the brink.”