Betrothed

by Jill Myles

“That is correct.”

  Idalla shook her head. “My lord, they are not here. Princesse Seri has been asking for them for days now, but all we are told is that the vizier will take care of it.”

  Anger, so close to the surface, blistered to the front of Graeme’s mind. “Then find me the vizier.”

  Within minutes, the vizier had been called to the chamber, rubbing his eyes. It was obvious from his wild hair and dressing robe that he’d just been woken from sleep, and he knelt in front of the prince with concern. “You called, my lord?”

  Graeme gestured to Seri’s prone figure in the bed. “My wife calls out for her family. Please explain to me why they have never been brought to the palace as she had instructed?”

  Startled, the vizier looked to the bed, then to Graeme. A nervous laugh erupted from his throat. “I…I am sorry, my lord? I do not understand.”

  “What is it that you do not understand?” Graeme’s eyes narrowed.

  Again, the vizier’s gaze flicked to the sickbed. “My lord… I thought… that is, I did not feel that you would wish more Vidari to be here in the castle.” At the prince’s silence, he blurted, “They do not belong here.”

  Silence fell in the room. For a long moment, neither spoke. At Graeme’s feet, the vizier trembled once.

  When Graeme spoke, his voice was like ice, as cold as the line of kings that had given birth to him. “She is my wife, no matter the blood in her veins. Do you understand me?”

  Jardish nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

  “You are dismissed.”

  Visibly relieved, the vizier stood and bowed to the prince. “If that will be all for the day, my lord, I shall retire back to my rooms—”

  “No,” said Graeme. “You are dismissed. You are to leave Vidara Castle immediately.”

  The man sputtered. “But, my lord…”

  “Immediately.”

  The man’s thin, lined face worked for a moment, then he bowed. “Very well, my lord.”

  Graeme looked back to the unconscious woman in the bed and kissed the back of her hand. “Stay with her,” he commanded the healers, then left the room, motioning for one of the guards to follow him as he did so. The man trotted behind him, armor jingling. “Make sure my vizier is escorted from the grounds tonight,” he instructed the man. “I do not care where he goes, so long as he does not remain here.”

  “I understand, my lord.”

  “Furthermore, I need a retinue of men and my armor readied. I must go down to the Vidari village.”

  The soldier bowed. “At once, my lord.”

  ~~* * * ~~

  The Vidari were a poorer people than he had originally imagined.

  All around him was poverty. The streets were filthy with mud and unpaved, the houses small and little more than hovels. Goats and geese ran through the narrow streets of the village, and brown faces peered out of windows—little more than dug holes—under thatched roofs.

  Graeme wore his battle armor as he rode through the small town. The metal gleamed in the moonlight, and the rustle of his cape in the wind and the clop of the horses’ hooves were the only sounds as they rode through the uneasy village. A full contingent of men accompanied him, though he had originally protested the need. Now he saw the wisdom in his man-at-arm’s insistence.

  The Vidari were not happy to see him.

  All the houses looked the same as well. Piled atop one another, scattered through the farmlands in dirty heaps, there were dozens of them scattered across the acres. It would take him hours to find Seri’s house, and he did not have hours. He wanted to be back at her side for when she awoke—or took the final descent.

  Graeme pulled his horse up in front of one house with a faint light from within. Likely a fire pit, but it didn’t matter. Someone would be inside. He gestured and one of his men dismounted, heading to the door and banging on it.

  No one responded. Embarrassed, the soldier pounded on the door again. “His Highness wants to talk to you lot,” the man barked through the wood. “Come out or I’ll burn it down around you!”

  Well, no wonder his troops were not inspiring much loyalty amongst the Vidari. Graeme raised a hand. “That will be fine, soldier. Let us go to the next house.”

  They went to the next door, the soldiers knocking again. This time, Graeme interrupted before the soldier could threaten again. “I will offer one dru to whoever opens that door,” he said loudly, his voice ringing out through the night.

  Nothing happened for a long moment, then the door inched open. He heard a frightened female sob from inside the house, but the figure that came to the door was small. Female. No more than five annums. She clutched a straw doll to her chest and stared at the soldiers with a mixture of defiance and fright.

  Graeme froze atop his horse. That wide-eyed, defiant look reminded him of Seri, and a sharp needle of distress rode through him when he thought of her in the bed alone, suffering. God’s blood, he thought. I am going soft.

  He dismounted and approached the girl. To his amusement, she did not back away as he approached.

  “Kneel to the prince,” called one of the soldiers gruffly.

  Graeme raised his hand again. “It is against their religion to kneel to another man. Leave it be.” He knelt in front of the girl, the armor making his movements stiff, and withdrew a coin from his belt-pouch, holding it up and smiling at the girl. Her hair was long and red and tangled like it had never seen a brush, but oh, that look in her eyes reminded him of Seri. “Thank you for coming to see me,” Prince Graeme said softly and gave her the coin. “I am looking for someone.”

  The little girl tilted her head and regarded him, then glanced at the soldiers, wary. “Are you the bad man who took Seri away?”

  How to answer that? He glanced inside the hut, but nobody came to the door to stop the child. “The gods asked that I marry Seri, so I have made her a princesse.”

  “But she doesn’t like you.”

  Graeme flinched internally at that. “But I like her very much,” he said softly. “And I hope she will grow to like me.”

  She regarded him, then pocketed the coin. “Your cloak is pretty.”

  He smiled. “I’ll give it to you if you can tell me where Seri lives.”

  “I’m not s’posed to talk to you.” She glanced back inside.

  Graeme leaned forward to try to take the child’s hand in his. As he moved, the startled, gasping cry came from inside the house again and he recoiled. These people were utterly terrified of him. It made him a little sad that there was so much hate and anger between his people and Seri’s. Would she hate him forever like these people did? So instead, Graeme took off his cloak and folded the shining blue fabric, then offered it to the girl. “Please,” he said. “She is sick and asking for her family.”

  The little girl hesitated again, but then a new face came to the door, lined and brown and old before its time with hunger and a hard life. The woman scooped up her little girl and cowered in the doorway, clutching the girl close to her body.

  Graeme stood, offering the cloak to her. “I would appreciate it if you could tell me.”

  The woman glanced at the cloak, then back at Graeme. “Is it true she’s sick?” Her voice was accusing.

  He gave a swift nod. “I would like to return to her as soon as I can.”

  The woman hesitated one more time, then gestured down the road. “Another league down road, around the bend, and you’ll find an old, fallow farm. There won’t be any lights in the window. That’s her home.”

  Graeme thanked her with the cloak and remounted, and they set off back down the road.

  Seri’s house was just as the woman had described it. No faint light came from the windows, and the chimney had no welcoming curl of smoke that spoke of inhabitants. The fields were overgrown, and geese were scattered all over the yard, honking angrily and scattering as they rode up.

  He dismounted quickly, one of the soldiers on his footsteps. A knock at the door produced no response, but Graeme was not about
to give up. Ignoring his men’s protests, he tried the handle of the door and it opened.

  The inside of the small home was just as dark. No fire in the fire pit, no candles to light the darkness. Graeme stepped inside, his hand going to his sword-belt. “Hello?”

  “Rilen?” The voice was small, broken. “Is that you?” A figure stood at the back of the room, but made no effort to move forward.

  It was a pitifully small house, Graeme noticed. One chair, a fireplace, and a battered table were the only furniture in the front room. There was a tattered curtain hung, and beyond that he could see the foot of a small bed. A ladder cut across one side of the room, leading to a loft. The huddled figure of a small woman sat behind the ladder.

  “I am not Rilen,” Graeme said. “But I come on Seri’s behalf. She is ill and asks for her family.”

  The figure stood at that and stepped forward, moonlight from the nearby window bathing her face. The young woman was sick as well, her face hollow, her hair matted and dirty. Her features were wider than Seri’s, but it was obvious they were siblings. Her dress was a filthy rag, and her feet were bare. The way she shuffled toward him, it was obvious she was blind.

  Hope shone in her eyes, and she stepped toward Graeme, her hands outstretched. “Did you… I… do you have anything to eat? To drink?” She ducked her head in a shy manner. “I apologize for asking, but since Seri has left, we have eaten nothing since the supplies ran out. That was days ago.”

  Graeme took her searching hand in his and felt the thin, fragile bones. She did not lie. Anger flared in him, and shame, that he had given no thought to Seri’s family as they sat here in the darkness and starved, unable to fend for themselves.

  And all the while, Seri had begged for her family to come to the keep and he had been too self-absorbed to pay attention.

  No longer.

  “You are Josdi?” He pulled her to his side, noting how her whole body trembled. She looked ready to collapse.

  “I am,” she said. “My father sleeps in the bed in the back. He has the wasting sickness and cannot get out of bed.”

  That would pose a bit of a problem. He turned to one of the soldiers and handed him the few coins he carried with him. “Take this and pay whatever is necessary. Get the nearest wagon you can find, and buy it from the owners. And whatever you do, don’t threaten them. Just give them whatever they ask.”

  The soldier nodded and dashed off, money in hand.

  “Are we going somewhere?” Josdi asked, her sightless eyes scanning the room.

  Graeme smiled faintly. “To the castle. I’ll have my cooks prepare you a feast.”

  “That would be lovely,” Josdi said, her young face shining, her trembling hand clasping his. “And Seri? May I see my sister?”

  “Undoubtedly.” Graeme put her hand on his arm in a courtly manner. “Perhaps your presence will be what she needs to return to us.”

  Had she asked for the rebel leader, he would have brought him at this point. Anything to get her well and assuage this terrible sense of loss and the guilt for bringing her into his world even when she did not want to go.

  ~~* * * ~~

  The first thing Seri felt when she awakened was raw. Her entire body felt exhausted, frail, and it confused her. Her throat hurt, and her head ached, and there was a faint light at the edge of her vision that made her wince. She opened her eyes slowly, squinting.

  Leaning over her like a beautiful god come to life, Graeme brushed a stray strand of hair away from her cheek, his aura pulsing brightly. “You are awake.” The look in his eyes was soft, and his beautiful mouth was pulled into a faint smile that nearly broke her heart with the beauty of it.

  She jerked away from his touch, confused at the feelings that stirred in her at the soft brush. “Don’t.” She was too tired to sort through the uncomfortable, confusing feelings he brought forth. “Please don’t.”

  Just like that, she felt him withdraw from her. His hand pulled away and the reserved mien of the prince returned. “My apologies,” he said softly. “I did not wish to disturb you.” He got up from the bed, his aura flickering darker, and someone else took his place.

  The figure that leaned over the bed was achingly familiar, with bright blue eyes and a too-thin face, but oh, it was wonderful to see Josdi again. Seri felt her eyes well as her sister took her hand. “Josdi? You are here at last?”

  “I am,” she said happily, her hands sliding up Seri’s shoulders to touch her face and cry with relief. “We were all so worried about you.”

  Seri smiled at her sister and allowed her to fluff the pillows behind her head, all the while watching over her shoulder as the aura-covered tall figure of her husband left the room, whispering something to the healers nearby.

  “We were so worried,” Josdi gushed, clasping her sister’s hand again and settling down next to her as Seri sat up in bed and sipped the hot drink the healer pressed on her. “We didn’t know if something terrible had happened in the castle, or if you had abandoned us.” Her small hand shook in Seri’s tired one.

  She frowned at her sister’s words, noting the tired lines in Josdi’s face and the thinness of it again. “You received no word? Nothing? What about Rilen? Did he not come to take care of you?”

  A faint frown crossed Josdi’s face. “Rilen? I have not seen him in months. Was he supposed to come by and visit us?”

  Hard, hot betrayal rushed through Seri. Rilen had never gone to see her family while she was trapped here in the castle? Josdi couldn’t light a fire, and poor Father was confined to the bed. How had they managed to take care of themselves while she was gone? She patted her sister’s hand, forcing her voice to be even. “It’s all right, Josdi. Don’t worry about it.”

  It seemed Josdi had already put it out of her mind. Her young face shone with excitement. “Oh, Seri, this is such a magical place, this palace.”

  That innocent statement brought a wry smile to Seri’s face. “Do you think so?”

  “Oh yes,” Josdi breathed. “And your new husband is so very kind. It was him that rescued us, you know.”

  Seri sat up higher in the bed, surprised. “What?”

  “He came to the farm, asking for us. He bought a wagon from Alaren’s farm nearby so we could bring Father with us—do you know that Alaren asked for six dru for that beat-up old wagon and the prince paid it without a second thought? Imagine!” Her sightless eyes brimmed with mirth. “I imagined poor Alaren falling over at the thought of all that money.”

  Seri shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Prince Graeme explained a little to me as we rode back to the castle,” Josdi said, her cheeks pinking with shyness. “His manners are so beautiful, Seri. I felt like a poor country fool when he helped me onto his horse, but he told me I should be proud as I am the sister of a princesse, and to not worry about what others think.” She leaned in as if sharing a secret. “He told me that he has sent his vizier away because he did not obey his orders.”

  She felt faint. “He said that?”

  “I think he loves you very much, Seri. He stayed by your bedside all while you were sick, and I could tell that he was worried about you.”

  “Don’t be silly, Josdi,” Seri said, her voice tight around the knot in her throat. “Prince Graeme is solicitous, no more.”

  “You’re wrong,” Josdi said, and for a moment she seemed wiser than her seventeen years. “I may be blind, but there are some things even I do not need to see.”

  ~~* * * ~~

  After three more days of rest, Seri was allowed to get out of bed. Josdi was a constant visitor during that time, as well as the healers, who assured her that her father was being well taken care of in a nearby room. Idalla and Vya were in constant attendance, to the point that Seri began to suspect that they had been instructed not to leave her alone at any time.

  Graeme did not come to visit her.

  At least, not during the waking hours. She suspected that while she slept, he came in to watch her. Her dreams
were disturbing and erotic, and sometimes when she awoke her aura pulsed around her like he had been in the room recently.

  It was just as well that he hadn’t visited her. Seri couldn’t think of a single thing to say to him. The last time they had a conversation, she’d slapped him in anger after releasing the prisoners. She expected him to hate her, so his kindness with Josdi and her father was baffling.

  And yet, as soon as they allowed her from her bed, Seri couldn’t stop herself. She went to go find him. Dressed in the thick, heavy ornate clothing of the Athoni women, her body covered head to foot in a pale blue silk brocade that made her coloring seem darker than it was, her hair knotted up in an ornate braid, she paced the endless halls. There was a festival—another one of the endless ones for their wedding feast—going on in the main ballroom, but Graeme was not there. Nor was he closeted with the priests who chanted all night long and nearly fell into fits of ecstasy at the sight of her, the gods-promised betrothed.

  It was when she was about to give up on finding him that she entered a small, book-filled solar and found him there, head in his hands as he studied a massive book open in front of him. Behind him, the window was open and moonlight and a cool breeze poured through the room, making the lanterns on the walls sway. Deep shadows covered his face, and he turned to her as she entered the room, his aura flickering and then flaring with light.

  High One Above, but he looked exhausted. A twinge of guilt shot through her at the sight of his hollow eyes when she was feeling better herself. It was like the more strength she regained, the more he fell.

  “You are feeling better?” Graeme stood, coming around the side of his desk to offer her his arm.

  She ignored it, frustrated with the way he treated her as if she were the most fragile thing in the world. “I’m fine,” she said lightly, stepping into the room and staring at the books. “There’s a celebration going on in the ballroom.” She immediately felt stupid for pointing it out. “Why are you hiding in here?”

  He gestured at the books. “Merely doing a bit of reading on the geography of the region. Nothing important.”