Slowly, she placed her ear to the door. “Mother, nothing has happened between us nor will it ever!” Ben sounded irritated and defiant.
“The truth is not what matters when it comes to most peoples’ perceptions. Rather, what appears to be true is what people will believe.” Queen Frieda spoke in her usual calm manner.
The bite of her words burned. Hadn’t Roanna just had the same thoughts about rumors and being caught?
“Why can we not wait until morning,” Ben pleaded. “Why must we leave tonight?”
Leave? The Bellevues were leaving in the middle of the night because no one had been able to find her or Ben, and no one believed their story. Or rather, even if their families believed their stories, no one else would.
Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach.
“We will not hinder the peace between Chester’s Wake and Dawson’s Edge,” Queen Frieda said. “The time has come to put away childish things. You are a man now, and you must take responsibility.”
Something crashed inside the room, and Roanna jumped.
“Benjamin!” King Neville chimed in. “You will control your temper.”
Ben had done that? Roanna took a deep breath and backed away from the Loxians’ suite. First, he had threatened the dungeon guard, and now he was breaking things. This angry Ben didn’t match up with the same loving and kind boy she’d always known. The boy who stooped in front of others to help a servant clean a mess. What had caused the change?
She knew without even forming the entire thought. He’d changed because of her. Because of their friendship—or rather, the end of their friendship.
She hurried back to her room. She would not see Ben again before he left. Tears clogged her throat, but she breathed deeply to keep them at bay. Once inside her suite, Roanna pressed her eyes closed and leaned against the door. Slowly, the urge to cry passed. Her shivers had left her.
Her hand went to her hair. Should she brush it again? Bring back the sensation? But to what end?
No. The shivers were useless unless she knew what they meant. Bypassing the vanity, she moved to her bed and resumed her curled up position under the covers. Try as she might, rest wouldn’t come. Was Ben still here? Or had his family already left? The autos would take them directly to the small royal air station. They would fly out in an airship and be home by morning. Once Ben left, what recourse did she have other than to allow her fate to swallow her? Father didn’t allow frivolous use of the technologies, and any mail between her and Ben would be screened at this point.
Gregory.
He had the same access to resources that Ben had in Lox. Could he pass messages through? Would he?
Gregory would help, she was sure of it. Peace found her at last. She was finally able to relax, and sleep overtook her.
In the morning, weak sunlight peeked through her windows. Someone bumped around from inside her dressing area. Roanna rubbed her gritty eyes, and she moaned because of a headache. She must have cried in her sleep.
“Bette, is that you?”
Bette breezed into the sleeping area. “Good morning, Miss. Did you sleep well?”
“Actually, I have quite the headache. Could you find me something for it?”
“Certainly, Miss.” Bette turned to go.
“Wait.”
Bette stopped and looked to her expectantly.
“Did you return the coat in time?”
Bette bit her lip, a nervous habit she usually hid well. “No, Miss. The Bellevues left early, and I did not have time to deliver it in private. I’ve hidden it in my room.”
Bless Bette. “That’s fine. I had figured as much.” Roanna considered an idea. It was foolish and irresponsible, and she shouldn’t voice it. “Can you bring it to me? Without it being seen? I should like to keep it.”
Bette curtsied. “As you wish, Miss.” She left, and Roanna rolled out of bed. A hot shower would help relax her muscles. She moved to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. Steamy water from thick copper pipes swirled around her, but the heat did little to make her feel better. Her head throbbed, but more than that her heart ached.
When she finished her shower, Bette had returned. She had laid out Roanna’s brown, woolen day dress for breakfast. Roanna dressed but insisted on doing her own hair. It might be time to keep Bette away from it until Roanna could figure out what was going on.
How had a Dawsonian doctor known something would be wrong with Roanna’s hair?
“Good luck with the ambassador today, Miss,” Bette said.
Roanna smiled wearily. “Thank you, Bette.”
They finished Roanna’s wardrobe with a pair of shoes and she headed toward the stairs. She was anything but ready to put on a smiling face for her guests. As she descended the stairs, a manservant approached. Perhaps he was on his way to assist Gregory.
“Princess Roanna.”
She stopped, surprised.
The servant held an envelope toward her. He stepped closer to keep it hidden. “This is for you.”
Roanna looked down. It was a small, white envelope, and her name was written on it in Ben’s handwriting.
12
“Thank you.” She took the envelope.
He bowed slightly and stepped away. What was she to do with it? She had no pockets.
Two of Ambassador Dawson’s companions were coming from the top of the staircase. She must hide the note.
Crushing it in her palm, she turned to them with a smile. “Good morning, gentlemen.”
“Good morning, Princess,” one answered. She recognized him as Merry’s father, Baron Stern. “Can we escort you to breakfast?”
“Thank you, but I was just headed to the chapel for morning prayers.”
“I see. We will meet you in the dining hall later then.”
She smiled, and they parted ways.
Keeping a slow pace to the chapel was torture. The door squealed on its hinges as she pushed through, but the room was blessedly empty. She hurried to the front pew and tore open her note. The paper took a little smoothing out, but Ben’s writing was clear. He gave no salutation.
By now you likely know I have gone home. I would have said good-bye, but I trust you will believe me when I say I had no choice. I will research the doctor from my end. He may still be alive. I do not know when I will see you again. Father will stay on top of the peace treaty progress, and I will glean what I can from him.
There is no time to write more. Father already calls my name, wondering what takes me so long. Please know I will keep you in my nightly prayers and also in my heart. You will remain there always no matter the path our friendship is forced to take.
He left it at that. Roanna’s hands shook as she considered his final sentence. It felt so dramatic, this sudden end of their long friendship. Pressing her eyes closed against the tears, she considered her options. She could burn the note with one of the candles or hide it. Unable to bear the thought of destroying Ben’s last words to her, she chose to hide it. A few small statues sat around the altar. They were fashioned into the likeness of scrolls, each with a different religious quote.
Pray without ceasing.
Love thy neighbor as thyself.
Thou shalt not covet.
Roanna lifted one statue and slid the note underneath. She would retrieve it later when the guests were gone.
She stood. Time to face Father, Ambassador Dawson, and the rest of the breakfast crowd. She hurried from the chapel, past the staircase, down the hall, and into the dining room. It wasn’t nearly as full as it had been the night before. Many of the ladies chose to dine in their rooms. With the Loxian entourage gone, there was only Father and Mother, Ambassador Dawson and his two companions, along with Merry.
Roanna slid into the seat beside Merry, thankful the seats on each side of Ambassador Dawson were taken. “Good morning,” she said with her best smile.
Merry returned her smile, and it put Roanna at ease immediately. “Good morning, Princess Roanna. It’s a much prettier day
today, don’t you think?”
Roanna looked to the huge windows facing the river and the cobbled streets of the city. The waters were calm, and the sky was blue. She hadn’t even noticed the weather before now. “It certainly is.”
A servant appeared with orange juice, and Roanna took a few slices of toast from a platter in the middle of the table.
“I wondered if we might visit the gardens today,” Merry went on. “I haven’t been able to see them yet.”
A pang hit Roanna. She would have done better to have spent the last week with Merry rather than Ben. At least then he would still be in Chester’s Wake.
“That would be lovely. Shall we go after breakfast?” The gardens were by far her favorite place in the palace. The flowers filled her with peace, and she’d had a knack for growing things since childhood.
Merry’s smile brightened. “Yes, let’s!”
Roanna returned the smile then bit into her toast. It would likely serve her well to make a friend who lived in Dawson’s Edge. It would help keep her from loneliness once she was married to Roland.
“It’s too bad King Neville had to leave so soon.” Baron Stern’s voice carried from across the table. He spoke to Father. “What the devil caused him to sneak away in the night?”
Roanna stilled, not looking toward the men but listening all the same.
“Urgent business in Lox,” Father answered. “It’s a pity.”
Roanna took another bite of her toast. She took care to show no emotion over the simple statement.
They finished breakfast, and Roanna had just stood when Ambassador Dawson approached. “Good morning, Princess. Did you sleep well?”
Not exactly. “Yes, thank you. How about you?”
“Quite well. I wondered if we might spend some time together this morning. Perhaps a stroll along the bay.”
Thank heavens for Merry. “I apologize, Ambassador. I just promised to take Merry on a tour of the gardens. Would you like to come?”
He frowned slightly and glanced at Merry. “No, I wouldn’t interrupt your time together. Perhaps this afternoon then, following our luncheon?”
There was no way around it. She smiled and nodded. “I look forward to it.”
His smile returned. “I will wait for the hours to pass then.” He moved away, and Roanna joined Merry.
“We have many beautiful flower species,” Roanna said as they left the dining hall. “I’m sure you will enjoy it.”
“I look forward to it. It’s been quite dreary since we arrived.” Her eyes widened. “Oh! It’s not that we haven’t enjoyed our stay. Your palace is beautiful. In Dawson’s Edge the palace is so secluded. Here, the palace is right in the midst of the capital city. It’s fascinating, in spite of the rain.”
Roanna smiled to accept the compliment, but guilt hit her. She had left royal guests without a companion so she could spend time with Ben. What had Merry been doing while Roanna gallivanted about?
“I trust you’ve seen the observatory?”
“Yes, Prince Gregory has been a most gracious host.”
Ah. Gregory. She had forgotten. She smiled again. “I’m so glad.” She would have to thank him later.
They exited the palace on the western side, and Roanna led her guest into the large garden, bordered on two sides by a tall cobblestone wall. Another side bordered the palace, and one side was open to the river. They moved from bush to bush, smelling the roses, carnations, and morning glories that hadn’t yet closed their blooms to the sun’s heat.
“Do you have different flora in Dawson’s Edge?” Roanna asked as they fingered the silky petals.
“Some different and some the same,” Merry said. “But many flowers don’t grow well in Dawson’s Edge.”
Roanna frowned. “Why so?”
“It’s the heat.” Merry sighed. “Only the rich are able to afford the upkeep of the blossoms that come naturally to our climate. We only have a small garden at the Stern Estate.”
“How disappointing,” Roanna said. “I love flowers.” What sort of garden would Roland have?
“It’s not as if we have no flowers, of course. The royals have more than others, but it is said that it is to aid their conjurers. The conjurers use the flowers’ medicinal properties.” The tone in Merry’s voice piqued Roanna’s interest.
Conjurers? It was rumored that the conjurers were the main reason the Dawsonians did not practice Termination, though Roanna had never heard any proof that the royal sorcerers existed. If it were true, Dawson’s Edge wouldn’t want to kill off those among them who held powerful anomalies.
“You do not agree with these beliefs?” Roanna asked.
Merry frowned slightly, but it didn’t mar her beauty. “I don’t, but what say do I have? Regardless, I will certainly enjoy the flowers you have here.”
Uncertainty filled Roanna. Would Roland keep her from growing flowers in Dawson’s Edge? She pointed to an area of shrubbery and led them to view it next. Like Merry, she would enjoy her palace home as long as she could. And once she was in Dawson’s Edge she would hope for the best.
13
Ben
Ben paced his room, refusing to eat or sleep until he learned Roanna’s fate. A few more minutes and his servant would be finished arranging his closet. Hansen would leave the room, and Ben would be free to find out what was going on with the peace treaty between their neighboring kingdoms. In one hour, Mother and Father would partake in the conference call between nations in order to serve as witnesses, and Ben intended to be present.
Roanna was to be married off to a man old enough to be her father. This might not be uncommon, but he couldn’t stand the thought for Roanna. She was vibrant and young. She deserved better than to be whisked off to the obscurity of Dawson’s Edge, never to be heard from again.
The conference call would begin soon, and he would have to be dead before he’d let them keep him away. He would know Roanna’s fate.
“Will that be all?” Hansen asked. He had been attending Ben since Ben’s childhood. He was tall and lanky, and he wore a tuxedo at all times even though Mother and Father insisted such formalities were long gone. He held that the royal family deserved his very best.
Ben owed him all the respect in the world. “Yes, Hansen. Thank you very much.”
Hansen bowed deeply. “Welcome home, sir.” He left the room and closed the door quietly behind him.
Ben moved to his bed and pulled the file from Chester’s Wake from under his pillow. He locked it in his desk then headed toward the state rooms. Mother and Father would be there, preparing to participate in the conference message. They wouldn’t want him there—didn’t want him to have anything to do with Roanna ever again. But they wouldn’t keep him out, not if he insisted.
It had been reckless to drag Roanna to the dungeon after supper last night. Of course, people would be suspicious. Weren’t they always? But he wouldn’t have been able to get into the dungeon without her. Besides, he didn’t regret it. For those few minutes—those few brief minutes—he’d seen the truth in her face. She didn’t want their friendship to end. She didn’t want to give him up, any more than he wanted to lose her.
For years, he had kept his feelings to himself. Never hinting that he wished their friendship could be more. Maybe he had been irresponsible last night, but why should he care? Hadn’t he played by the rules all these years? What had it garnered him?
Regardless, what were her parents thinking to allow an engagement with Roland Dawson? Would they really subject their only daughter to live in such a dark and unharmonious country?
Ben hurried through the palace, making his way to the state rooms. The glass ceiling in the palace entryway let in rivers of light, and bright, open passageways gave way to various wings of the palace. Lilacs and greenery had been planted throughout the halls, and huge windows bathed the space with bright sunlight. At last, he reached the backside of the palace, where the state rooms were housed. He stomped across the marble floors. From these rooms his
kingdom was ruled. One day, he would be the one doing the ruling.
“Your Highness.” Father’s secretary curtsied to him. “Queen Frieda cannot see you now.”
He breezed past her. “I’m not here to see her. I’m here to join her.”
“Prince Benjamin, wait!” She scurried out from behind her desk, her heels clicking against the marble. “The Queen said you are not to interrupt, no matter what.”
Ben only paused long enough to answer her. “I will tell her I forced my way past you.”
He pushed through the doors to the conference room. A large white screen hung against one wall, with a split down the middle. Two faces appeared on either side: King Bartholomew Dawson on one side, and King Hamilton of Chester’s Wake on the other. Mother and Father sat at the long, cherry wood conference table. King Hamilton’s real-time speech halted from the left of the screen as all eyes turned to Ben.
Even across the miles, the irritation in King Hamilton’s face was evident. He didn’t want to see Ben as part of the conference. Didn’t want him upsetting the possible peace of his kingdom by insisting on staying in contact with his daughter.
Ben sat at the table as Mother and Father glared at him.
“I will speak to you when we finish.” Mother’s words were calm, but her eyes shot fire.
“I will hear the terms of the peace treaty myself. Won’t I be king some day?”
“You are not king now,” Father piped up. “Out.”
Ben turned to King Dawson. “Your Highness, would you turn me away when I am to wed your own daughter some day?” It was a weak excuse, but he had no others. Father and Mother had lied to him, telling him the conference didn’t start for another hour. They knew he would show up, and they hoped to be done with it by then. He should have known better.
To his surprise, Dawson laughed. “Stay if you like, Prince.”
Father pierced him with a glare, but the conference resumed.
King Hamilton cleared his throat. “As I said earlier, the marriage between my daughter and your brother is agreeable to me,” he spoke to King Dawson. “I would have only one other condition, and that would be for your border patrol to stand down. My landowners are frightened to be living under such scrutiny and fear.”
The Rejected Princess Page 5