by Kyra Jacobs
Especially one shaped like Addie.
Though uncommon for the king or queen to enter the servants’ quarters or kitchen, their son had been sneaking into the space to escape his father’s watchful eye for years. Of late, often when King Robert was not present, Zayne would wander in seeking conversation or advice. Tonight, she suspected, would be no different. All she had to do now was wait.
Halfway through her first sock, Emeline’s patience paid off. A familiar step sounded in the hall, accompanied by low muttering. In another moment, Prince Zayne stormed in and set at once to pacing the floor. Emeline withdrew the pipe from her lips and placed it upon the hearth.
“Has she gone, sire?”
“No,” he growled, his gaze fixed upon the floor. “I insisted she stay until morning. She is…confused.”
“Oh? About what, exactly?”
“Everything. It seems I gave her quite a fright in the forest. Lass must have hit her head harder than I thought when she stumbled back. Crazed woman tried to escape out the window. I barely caught her in time. That was just before you walked in.”
Emeline worked to keep a smile from her face, not that he would have noticed. The man was burning a hole into the floor with that fiery scowl. Never had she seen him so bothered by a woman, especially one he’d yet to bed.
“You say she tried to jump out the window?” she said. “And here I took you to be the reckless fool of our lot.”
“Bah, she was frightened, is all,” he muttered, then stopped to throw her an accusatory scowl. “Why did you insist on placing the poor girl upstairs and at such risk?”
At that, she stopped rocking. “’Tis my fault the poor girl is acting strangely? And how would you expect her to act after the day she supposedly had? Did you expect her to jump into your arms and at once pledge to you her undying love?”
“Of course not.” He looked away. “And what do you know of love?”
“Far more than you, I am afraid.”
“Regardless, ’tis not love I seek but the loyalty of my men, the trust of our people. The faith of my father.”
“All noble causes, indeed. Though the last one may be a bit more difficult to come by.”
Zayne stopped in his tracks. “Why do you say that?”
“This arrived while you were upstairs, scaring your guest into nearly jumping out a window.” Emeline withdrew a scroll from the folds of her skirt and held it out toward him.
The prince cursed under his breath as he took it, then tore the parchment free from its royal stamp. His brow furrowed deeper with every line read. When at last he’d finished, Zayne dropped into the chair across from her, tipped his head back, and closed his eyes.
Emeline’s heart went out to the lad. If the prince had worn that look of defeat once, he’d worn it a hundred times. “He knows?” she prodded softly.
“Aye,” he said. “It was a sentry who buried the arrow in my side, and made haste in reporting what he saw to King Jarin. Father demands I return home at once to explain my actions and accept punishment.”
“Punishment?” A knitting needle slipped from her hand. “For what?”
“Recklessly pushing his kingdom to the brink of war as I was out whoring my way across the countryside.” He turned his head in her direction and cracked open one eye. “Now I ask you, does that sound like something I would do?”
She cocked one brow in his direction as she collected her dropped needle but remained silent on the matter. They both knew the answer well enough. He sighed and let his eyelid slide shut once more.
“If that were the case,” he mumbled, “it might well be worth it. But my actions of late have been a charade and nothing more.”
Emeline snorted.
“Believe what you want,” he said, his face resigned in the shadows of the fire, “but I speak the truth when I say everything this past year has been but an act.”
“An act? But why, sire? You know how it infuriates your father for you to behave in such a way. And your mother, have you spent not a thought on her? She wishes nothing but happiness for you. Marriage to a fine wife who may one day bear you a son to bounce on your knee.”
“Which is why I have acted as I have,” he said quietly. “If they believe me reckless, intent on sowing my wild oats, they would not dare move the wedding forward. Doing so would bring dishonor to both our kingdoms.”
“Zayne.” Emeline set her knitting aside and leaned forward in her chair. “Your father has chosen you a beautiful bride in Princess Rosalind. Once the two families have united, peace can commence in both our lands. Then no more battles, no more war.”
He snorted softly. “Never will there be an end to those things, I fear, royal marriage of convenience or not.”
“Perhaps, but this is one opportunity you simply cannot afford to deny.”
Zayne opened his eyes and met her gaze. “But I feel no love for her, Emeline. Nor do I particularly like the woman.”
“Sometimes the needs of those around us transcend our own, my lord. As heir to the throne, ’tis your cross to bear.”
It broke her heart to say those words, to espouse the very rules that had kept her from her own true love so long ago. But ’twas a world of responsibility, not fancy, and she’d do him no favors to suggest otherwise. No, the young prince needed to make amends with his parents and proceed with his wedding. Unfortunately, there was one task that yet remained: returning their unexpected guest home.
“Sire, where exactly did you find Addie today?”
His eyes brightened at the mention of the girl’s name. “In the forest at the base of Forath’s foothills. No sooner had I drawn my bow to take down a fine buck when her scream rang out.”
“You were in human form when you found her?”
“Yes.” Zayne clamped his mouth shut then, and Emeline knew it was pointless to ask why he had chosen to hunt there, of all places. His father would drag the answer out of him, one way or another. “And before you ask, I plan to see her returned there tomorrow as an act of good faith to both kings.”
“Do you think her a spy, my lord?”
He barked out a harsh laugh. “No. Though her background is a mystery to me still. I demanded to know from which village she hails, but the names were unfamiliar. Is it possible that King Jarin has been broadening his kingdom without our knowledge?”
“I have heard no such talk, sire.”
“Regardless, the truth shall be revealed tomorrow.”
“Surely you will not accompany her back?”
“And risk further retribution from my father? Do you wish me to be locked in a cell for the next decade, woman?” Zayne’s grin faded as he looked again to the parchment in his hands. “No, the men and I will and ride to our border tomorrow. Once there, I will divide the group. Half shall go and return her to this supposed village of hers, and the other half will accompany me home. If she is a spy, the edict from my father or not, it would endanger you all for me to remain here.”
“Aye.”
The prince stood and tossed the scroll into the fire. “I shall pen a message to my father, advising him of my intentions. It must be sent tonight.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Emeline watched the reflection of flames dance in her ward’s eyes. There was a deep sadness there tonight, one she hadn’t seen before. Did the fair maiden plague his thoughts still?
“You must send her back, sire,” she added after a moment, her voice soft.
“Aye,” he said, confirming her suspicions. “She begs to return. Alas, I cannot escape the feeling that where I found her was not where she should have been.”
Emeline rose and placed a gentle hand upon his shoulder. “Then take her to where she belongs, so you can return to where you are meant to be.”
Chapter Six
Addie woke the next morning to the sound of muffled voices. Groggy and disoriented, she peeked out from beneath her pillow and tried to make sense of the view. Rustic décor, dark fireplace, bearskin rug…
Damn, it hadn’t been a dream.
Last night had been one of the longest of her life. And while hiding beneath the bed’s heavy quilt had brought her little in the way of real security, it had helped to block out the sound of guards, shifting (and later snoring) outside her room. As she lay there, scared and alone, Addie came to the conclusion that wherever she was, it might be safer to do as Prince Zayne asked rather than trying to resist. What was that old saying? It was easier to attract flies with honey than vinegar? So long as no one tried to hurt her or touch her—she’d break someone’s nose if they even thought about it, a swift palm to the schnoz like she’d learned in self-defense class last spring—then what harm could it really do? And maybe, just maybe, it’d get her back to Watford that much faster.
Addie shifted so her head was atop the pillow and yawned. Purple-tinted light cast the room with an eerie, too-early-to-be-awake sort of glow. She lay there, debating whether or not to fall back asleep, until a scraping noise sounded on the other side of her room’s door. In another moment, it swung open and Emeline’s portly body stepped in unannounced.
“High time you woke, Miss Addie. Come now, a big day lies ahead of you.”
The smell of hot tea and warm bread drifted into the room, which distracted Addie from the “Good morning to you too” and “So nice of you to knock” comments on the tip of her tongue.
“Morning, Emeline.” She propped herself up on her elbows. “What time is it?”
“Nearly five o’clock, miss.”
“Five o’clock?” With a groan, Addie slumped back down and considered pulling the pillow back over her head, then stopped. Five o’clock? That meant there would be plenty of time to get her back to her hotel. Heck, she might even have time to squeeze in a quick shower if they hurried.
Addie pushed herself into a sitting position and watched as the older woman set an armful of fluffy blue fabric onto the chaise. “Look, Emeline, I really, really appreciate you guys taking such good care of me yesterday and all, but if I don’t get back to my hotel before nine, I’m going to be in hot water. Do you think Zay—I mean, Prince Zayne will let me leave soon?”
“Aye. His Highness has ordered the horses be readied and asked that I bring you breakfast and proper clothing before you set off. You may thank him for his hospitality then.”
“Horses?” Addie asked.
“Aye.”
“Great.” They really seemed to take this rustic living to the extreme in Edana. Not that she was about to complain—Watford couldn’t be more than a carriage ride away.
Energized by the first good news she’d heard in nearly a full day, Addie threw her covers back and swung both legs over the side of the bed. Lord, she was sore today from all the tumbling and whatever else she’d been through the day before. Biting back a grunt, she slid off the bed and made to set off for the adjoining powder room…and promptly fell into Emeline’s surprised grasp.
“Damn,” she said through gritted teeth. “I must have tweaked my ankle worse than I thought.”
“Shall I tend to it for you, miss?”
As ice-warm as the woman had been to her from the start, did “tend to it” mean she’d be put down like a crippled horse? “You mean…wrap it or something?”
The old woman sighed. “Yes, miss.”
“Oh, sure, that’d be great. Just, uh, let me hit the bathroom first.” She limped gingerly away.
“Be quick about it, miss. The prince has his own travels to attend to and would not appreciate being delayed.”
“He’s not going with me?” Addie asked from the small powder room tucked into the guest suite’s corner. She’d discovered it last night after she eventually picked up an oil lamp and hobbled around her confinement. It was an odd little space, with nothing more than a simplified toilet and raised wash bin for a sink. In place of running water, each was fitted with a hand pump, which supplied water as needed. That wasn’t so bad, but the scratchy, rustic-looking toilet paper sheets sure made her miss the Quilted Northern back home. And light switches. Apparently they didn’t believe in those or electricity in general here, either.
“Merely to the border,” Emeline said. “The prince is not yet welcome on Forathian soil.”
“Oh.”
Addie finished in the powder room and limped back, surprised by how the idea of bossy Zayne not joining her for the whole trip back bothered her. And hadn’t he been all insistent on her proving she was who she said she was last night? Maybe they secretly had Wi-Fi tucked away in another room of this place and he’d looked her up online and discovered the truth behind her story after all.
The smell of fresh bread teased her senses as she drew near the room’s small side table. Tea, fruit, some kind of meat also awaited her. “Wow, thanks so much. This looks wonderful.”
Emeline took her elbow and helped her into the table’s adjacent seat. “Eat, child, so I may get you dressed.” Impatience rang with every word. “We must not keep His Highness waiting.”
Addie didn’t realize how hungry she was until she had the small feast in front of her. Even so, she did her best not to make an absolute pig of herself while Emeline knelt and produced a long narrow strip of linen.
“Do you always carry bandages with you like that?” she asked around a mouthful of warm bread.
“No. But as you could barely hold yourself upright without Prince Zayne’s assistance last night, I thought it best to bring them along. The tea will further your healing as well. I shall not have you throwing yourself at him like that again today.”
“Wait, you think I…?” Addie shook her head and swallowed. “No, you’ve got me all wrong, Em. I most definitely do not want to keep falling into his arms.”
A shiver raced through her at the thought of his warming touch. Those topaz eyes and bronze skin. Zayne was the kind of man who would turn heads anywhere he went. Trouble was, she got the sense he knew it too. Probably had used it to his advantage more than a time or two. Men.
Addie took a drink of tea to wash any lingering lustful thoughts of him away. “In fact, I’d prefer to stay out of his arms entirely from here on out. I don’t have time to date in my line of work. Too much traveling.”
Though the older woman’s gaze remained fixed upon her work, the perma-scowl diminished slightly from her brow. “And what exactly is your trade, may I ask?”
“Photography.”
Emeline pulled tight on the wrap around Addie’s ankle with a grunt. “I have not a clue as to what that is, but so long as it does not involve the prince, I wish you well.”
“You’ve never heard of photography? You know, taking pictures? With cameras?”
“Sorry, miss. Such words are unfamiliar to me.”
That wary feeling she’d had the night before when Zayne acted like he’d never heard of London before returned now, and Addie squirmed in her seat. What was it with everyone around here? Had she stumbled into some kind of cult? A technology-rejecting sect buried in England’s interior? Maybe it would be best to change the subject to something she better understood.
“You seem awfully protective of him.”
Emeline leveled her a stern look. “I have tended to Prince Zayne since he was a lad. He shall one day make a fine king, perhaps the best this land has ever seen. As such, I will not stand by and watch some strange, uninvited maiden distract him from his royal duties.”
“Oh trust me, sister.” Addie popped the last bite of bread into her mouth. “This uninvited maiden plans to do nothing of the sort.”
* * * * *
Zayne stood with his small band of soldiers and their saddled horses beneath the pink glow of dawn. After speaking with Emeline last night, he’d taken her words to heart—she had never steered him wrong before. Today he intended to return Adelaide to her village, then return home himself to make amends with both his father and his betrothed. The decision should have brought him peace, closure. Instead, he was plagued by anxiety each time he envisioned Addie’s departure.
W
hat spell had the nymph cast upon him that caused him such worry?
With a shake of his head, he turned to Brom. “I have notified King Robert of my plans and requested he send a scroll ahead to King Jarin of our intentions. Once you pass through their gate and cross the river, turn north. The clearing where I found her will be a kilometer more. If my memory serves me, a small village lies just beyond there at the base of the foothills. That must be from where she hails.”
Brom made to reply, then stopped as his gaze shifted to something past the prince’s shoulder. Zayne turned to see what had silenced his warrior friend and became dumbstruck as well. Emeline stood atop the manor’s front steps, her drab attire and plump figure a stark contrast to the petite, angelic creature beside her.
Adelaide.
Zayne’s heart stuttered in his chest as he took in the sight. She looked radiant this morning with her golden locks pulled neatly up off her neck and dressed in a gown fit for a princess. Its fabric was the palest of blues and the perfect match to her unusual crystalline eyes. The bodice fit her supple bosom like a glove and wrapped perfectly around her trim waist. Had the skirt not been ridiculously long on her, anyone would have thought the gown had been made with Addie in mind, not his future bride.
It took but a moment for the other men in the yard to stop and stare as well, and jealousy flashed in Zayne’s heart. A jealousy he had no right to harbor, yet one he was helpless to resist. Emeline threw the lot of them a dark look, while Addie fussed with her skirt, seemingly unaware of the attention. After a moment, she started down the steps, a grimace on her face and those odd purple slippers peeking out from under her hem.
“Morning,” she called, sounding happy as a lark. Her gaze remained fixed upon the steps until she reached the courtyard. When she looked up once again and found them all staring at her, Addie’s cheeks flushed a deep scarlet. “Sorry,” she added hastily and attempted another of her untrained curtseys. “Good morning, sire.”