Just Ella

by Annette K. Larsen

  “I do wish you the very best, my Ariella.”

  I smiled to myself. “I’m still me.”

  He pulled back to look at me. “I know,” he said, and I knew he meant it. “Now, go marry that man of yours.” He ran the back of his finger over my cheek before giving me one of his rare smiles.

  When the ceremony began, Gavin and I entered separately, as was tradition. The doors on each side of the chapel were thrown open at once. Gavin came in from one side, my father escorted me from the other, and we walked toward each other until we met in front of the clergyman. I’d never before wished for a moment to hurry up, yet at the same time want it to last forever. Walking toward Gavin felt so entirely right, I could barely remember to breathe. When we met in the middle, my father could have simply stepped back after placing my hand in Gavin’s. Instead, he looked Gavin in the eye and grasped his hand in acceptance before stepping away.

  We said our vows—simple, but more meaningful than any other words I’d spoken. The atmosphere was hushed, as though every person in the room breathed in unison with the two of us. Then as he leaned in to kiss me, the crowd erupted, all shouting and most jumping to their feet. We left the church through the throng of people, making our way into the wide-open marketplace. It had been emptied of its usual stalls and decorated for a celebration befitting a royally common wedding. A group of musicians, the same that played during the common dances, sat at one end.

  We reached the middle of the marketplace and Gavin spun me once before bringing me close and whispering in my ear, “I have something for you.”

  I pulled back to look at him, intrigued. He reached behind his back and from out of nowhere pulled a beautiful scarf into view. I was so stunned and so elated that I had to fight down tears. I grabbed it, winding it around my wrists and unable to hold back a delighted laugh. I had wanted a scarf like this for so long that it felt almost surreal holding it in my hands. I never wanted to let it go.

  I quickly looped it around the back of Gavin’s neck, took the ends in each of my hands and held them behind my back, binding us together. “I’ve wanted one of these for a very long time.”

  “I know,” he said, lightly kissing my lips.

  “How did you know?”

  He shrugged one shoulder and gave me a crooked smile. “I know you.”

  I rose up on my toes, smiling. “Yes, you do.” I kissed him once more, and he spun me into a dance.

  About the Author

  I WAS BORN in Utah, but grew up in Flagstaff, Arizona and St. Louis, Missouri, the fifth of seven children. I attended Southern Virginia University and Brigham Young University, where I studied English and Theater. I now live in Idaho with my husband and four children.

  I have Charlotte Brontë to thank for the courage to write novels. After being bombarded with assigned reading about women who justified abandoning either their families or their principles in the name of love, I had the great fortune of reading Jane Eyre. And that was it: finally, a heroine who understood that being moral and making the right choice was hard, and sometimes it hurt, but it was still worth it. After rereading it several years later, I realized that if I wanted more books to exist with the kinds of heroines I admired, then I might as well write a few myself. My books are about women who face hard choices, who face pain and rejection and often have to face the reality of sacrificing what they want for what is right. The consequences are often difficult or unpleasant, but in the end, doing what’s right will always be worth it.

  I believe there is no substitute for good writing or good chocolate. Fortunately, one often leads to the other.

  A big THANK YOU to all my family for being amazingly supportive. And a special thank you to my husband, Cameron, who always acted as though my success was inevitable. I love you all.

  A scene from Gavin's Point of View

  INDOORS

  I WALKED to the servants’ entrance of the kitchen and stepped inside. I had been here only a few times before, preferring to walk home for a good meal rather than eat in the clamoring kitchens of the palace.

  I caught the eye of one of the cooks and raised the flowers I was holding. “I’m supposed to give these to the house mistress.”

  The cook pointed with the knife she was holding, indicating a door across the room. “Through there.”

  I crossed the room, dodging servants carrying steaming pots and silver trays laden with dishes before pushing the door open with my shoulder.

  The house mistress looked up from where she seemed to be scolding a lad. “Mr. Gavin. Very good. Bring them here.”

  I handed over the bundle when she reached for them. She set them in a vase, already filled with water, and fussed with their position.

  “Will that be all, Missus?”

  She made another adjustment before answering. “Now you can just take them up,” she said, thrusting the vase into my hands.

  “You wish me to go above stairs?”

  “Of course. Joseph always does, you know. Likes to deliver them himself.”

  But I wasn’t Joseph. “I’ve never been above stairs, Madame.”

  “Oh. Well, follow me.” She brushed past and I had to rush after her. She led me up the steps and through the palace as I cast my eyes about, trying to keep track of where I was going, while at the same time trying to keep my eyes down out of respect.

  She stopped at the bottom of another staircase. “Her room is just up there, third door on the right.” She turned around and I realized she meant to leave me to my own devices.

  “Should I really be interrupting—”

  “The princesses are busy with their studies, young man. You needn’t worry about that. Now, off you go. I trust you can find a suitable place for them, and be quick about it.”

  “Yes, Madame,” I mumbled as she headed back to the kitchen. I forced my feet to move up the stairs, baffled that she had left me alone to find the bedchamber of one of the princesses.

  I found the door and breathed a breath of courage as I pushed it open, hoping she had been right in assuming all the royal misses were busy with their studies. No one was inside and breathed a sigh of relief. Looking around, I noted the mantle over the fireplace, as well as a writing table, both good spots for the vase I carried. Though perhaps a less obvious spot would be better, maybe the little table beside the bed or the low one in front of the fireplace. How many tables did one princess need? I was turning slowly, taking in the entire room when the door burst open. Ella’s hair flew out around her as she spun to close the door, then leaned against it, as if she were relieved to have arrived.

  I was not relieved. She wasn’t supposed to be here. The house mistress had said she wouldn’t be here. This was bad, very bad. I couldn’t be here with her. It was inappropriate and wrong, and her hair was down. Why was her hair down?

  She pushed away from the door and walked toward her dressing table without seeing me. The clink of hair pins scattering across the table’s surface reached my ears as she thrust both hands into her hair and shook it. I swallowed, unable to speak as the image of her wheat-colored hair held me transfixed. After she was finished brandishing her hair at me, she tossed it over her shoulder and then looked up into the mirror before her. That’s when she saw me.

  She gave a startled yelp and spun around, one hand pressed to her heart while the other clung to the table. I was stuck in the same position I had been in when she entered the room, my body stiff as I tried to contain the feeling of panic caused by the realization that this creature whom I had spent day after day with out in the wilds of the garden had never looked more like a nymph than she did now, her eyes bright, her hair tumbling around her. I pulled my focus back to her eyes and realized she was waiting for me to speak, to offer some sort of reasonable explanation for my standing in her room.

  “I—” was all I managed before my nerves choked me and I had to start over, the words spilling out, tumbling over one another in my rush to explain. “I was told that one of the princesses wanted an arrangem
ent of flowers, so I took the liberty of arranging one and when I brought it to the house mistress, she showed me to this room and told me that all the highnesses were doing their studies and I should just place them where I thought best, so I….”

  Her hair fell into her eyes and my thoughts scattered. If she would just put it up where it belonged, I was sure I would be able to maintain my train of thought. She pushed the curls out of her eyes, a mystified “Oh,” being her only response.

  I needed to give a better explanation. “I would have been gone before now, but I couldn’t decide where they looked best and I had no idea of anyone returning any time soon.” Otherwise I never would have entered in the first place. “I certainly didn’t know it had been you who requested them, though I suppose I should have guessed.” Why hadn’t I guessed? The girl was obsessed with every plant she encountered.

  She didn’t respond, just looked at me, her eyes still wide, tempting me to kiss her surprised mouth.

  It was time to leave. I was a servant, she was royalty, and I had no right thinking about kissing her just because she had befriended me. What had she been thinking? “I should go,” I tried to say it in an offhand way, and headed toward the door. I needed to get out, back into the real world, the world where I belonged.

  “Gavin.”

  Did she have to say my name like that? I stopped, turning to face her. I tried to look at her eyes, but her blasted hair kept distracting me. I looked away.

  “The vase,” she said and I looked down to realize I still held her flowers. “On the table would be fine.”

  I hurried to the table, my toe catching on the rug as I went. I set the vase down, not paying attention to where on the table would have been best, and fled toward the door once more, avoiding looking at her and barely remembering to give a bungled bow as I yanked the door open and made my escape. A delicate “Thank you” followed me from the room.

  I walked, practically ran, down the corridor and was grateful to find my way back to the kitchens and out into the fresh air. I scrubbed my hand over my face, inhaling. The wind and the smell of dirt were right and normal. Not like the barely perfumed scent of the room I had just escaped, the room where Ella slept, no doubt with her curls splayed out on her pillow.

  So much for friendship. It felt like I was falling off a cliff.

  I was terrified.

  Chapter One of Lylin's Story

  MISSING LILY

  I pulled my horse to an abrupt halt. A sound—or a lack of sound—made my limbs freeze up. My guard said nothing, but stopped and listened as well. What was it? My horse, Willow, pranced in agitation as I strove to keep my wits about me.

  The road curved just ahead, and beyond that, we would come out of the trees and cross the river before entering the village. I tugged my hood up over my head, seeking the anonymity it provided, and continued to listen while my eyes cast about for anything unusual. The dimming light was turning everything to shadow.

  A branch snapped.

  “Hear that?” Nathaniel whispered.

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  He gestured for me to follow, and we moved our horses into the trees. There, Nathaniel dismounted with care. “Stay here, Milady. Keep the horses quiet.”

  “Don’t leave me,” I whispered frantically.

  He hesitated before gesturing for me to follow. I slid from the saddle in an awkward attempt to keep silent, and stayed behind him as we walked. We hugged the side of the road and crept forward until the trees opened. We crouched there and watched.

  I saw nothing out of the ordinary, but we remained still, sensing something beyond our vision. The unnatural stillness continued to pulse beneath my feet. Nathaniel gestured for me to stay, then started to rise. I latched onto his arm, but before I could plead with him to stay with me, I heard a rustle in the trees and movement caught my eye. Two hulking figures stepped into the road in front of us, a mere twenty paces away. My breath hissed as I sucked in and we watched both men unsheathe their large swords.

  “Princess Lylin,” Nathaniel said quietly as he drew his own sword with precision. “Get on your horse and ride.”

  “Nathaniel—”

  He thrust me away as a third man charged from his right. “GO!” he screamed and lunged forward, his sword raised.

  I stumbled, barely able to maintain my balance, then turned and ran flat out, driven by unconstrained fear. Willow sidled as I skidded to a halt and crammed my foot into the stirrup.

  Through the clash of swords, I heard someone yell, “Go after her!”

  I pulled myself into the saddle and fumbled for the reins. I yanked on them to pull Willow around before digging my heels into her sides. “Go! Go!” I sobbed, urging her into a trot. Only when she was at a full gallop did I glance back. The clash of swords rang through the night, but beyond that there was only blackness, so I looked ahead and rode. I had to get back to Ella’s house; there was nowhere else to go.

  Riding across the open countryside, I glanced behind me and my heart lodged in my throat. A rider followed a good distance behind.

  I pulled my horse in a different direction, refusing to lead danger to my sister’s doorstep. I urged Willow to go faster, my harried flight across the uneven ground made nearly unseating me. Moving past Ella’s estate, I looked back to see the rider closer than before. Willow could not keep this pace for long, and he was already closing in on me.

  Rain spattered my face. My early departure from Ella’s house had been useless. If I had just stayed put, I would not have been forced to hatch the reckless plan that entered my mind. The path I followed entered a grove of trees ahead. My pursuer would lose sight of me for at least a few moments once I was among the trees. It was my only chance, so I pushed Willow toward it.

  The sheeting rain blurred my vision as I entered the copse of trees, but I was determined. I pulled my right foot from the stirrup and swung my leg over. Just before the path opened to another field, I slapped Willow’s hindquarters and threw myself to the ground. My left side slammed onto the ground, scraping across the rough terrain before I skidded to a stop. Gasping for breath, I dragged myself on hands and knees away from the trail. I flattened myself to the ground and watched Willow continue to gallop. She disappeared into the rain without slowing. A second later, my pursuer galloped past at full tilt, his black cloak whipping behind him.

  There was no time to waste. I had to move before the rider discovered my deception and turned back to look for me.

  I rose to my feet, wincing in pain, and leaned against a tree, preparing myself for movement. Pain pulsed through my body with every step I took. My left shoulder was bruised and bleeding from hitting the ground, and pain radiated from my hip where I had slammed into a jagged rock. But I stood and found my ankles to be blessedly stable. I staggered off into the drenched night, putting as much distance between myself and my pursuer as possible. Every step hurt, but I clenched my teeth and kept up a lurching run until the stitch in my side forced me to stop. My wheezing breath sounded in my ears as I struggled for air. I tried slowing to a walk, but had to stop altogether to cure the stitch in my side. The wind tried to pull my cloak from shoulders. My face stung with every raindrop that pelted my face. Once able to take in a full breath, I continued on. I tried to run but didn’t have the energy, so I put my head down and trudged forward, watching as the water dipped from my hair. I could hear nothing but the roaring storm.

  I walked without direction, my legs aching as I slogged through the relentless downpour and the muddy ground for what must have been hours. I had never been so alone, so entirely dependent on myself, and everything inside of me seized with anxiety at the thought.

  As I continued placing one foot in front of the other, Lorraina’s words of warning rang through my head.

  “It’s not safe, Lylin.” She stood in my doorway, her posture rigid as always and her arms crossed in certainty. At twenty-one, Lorraina was three years my senior, and obsessed with appearances.

  I sighed, tired of t
he same argument. “I can’t stay here in the castle every hour of every day. It’s healthy for me to leave.” I returned to searching for a trinket to bring Ella’s two-year-old, Guinevere.

  “What’s so wrong with being at home?” Her tone indicated that I had offended her, but I refused to rise to the bait.

  “Nothing is wrong with it. I like being at home.”

  “Then why are you always running off to Ella’s house?”

  “Because I miss my sisters. I’m so grateful that you’re still here, but we had five sisters leave in barely more than five years. I love visiting Ella and she’s close enough that I can.” I crossed the room to add the little bracelet to the trunk that Missy had already packed for me.

  Lorraina shook her head. “I don’t understand the appeal.”

  “I know you don’t, which I assume is why you don’t accept her invitations. And that’s fine, but it doesn’t mean that my going is wrong.”

  “I didn’t say it was wrong.”

  “But that’s what you meant.” I closed the lid.

  “I said it isn’t safe. You have one guard, and you insist on riding, which means you don’t even have a carriage to protect you.”

  I stood up and turned to face her. “Nothing is completely safe. That doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”

  At the moment, it certainly didn’t feel worth it, but all I could do was continue forward and try to trust in my own capabilities. I trudged on, determined to arrive somewhere, and my persistence paid off. The rain was so heavy, that when I saw a light, I was practically on top of the manor house already. My heart pounded, ecstatic about the prospect of shelter, but terrified of the unknown. The house was surrounded by a wall, only as tall as my waist. I circled carefully until I found the stables, then pulled myself over the rough stones. I cracked the door open just enough to creep inside, overwhelmed by relief as I stepped out of the storm.