It was him–at last! She ran forward. A smile blossomed upon her face as a giddy thought formed. He must have read her mind using his mysterious magick and finally made the long journey to visit her.
The men crowded around as he dismounted, a sure sign of their enthusiasm. Lionel was the first to greet him. Clarysa pushed her way through the press of strong male bodies, eager to be the second.
At first, Stellan’s back was to her. The men plied him with questions about Pestilence. Had he encountered any more victims? Were any people infected? Which kinds of weapons were the most effective against it?
Having a priority of a different sort, Clarysa gestured madly for Lionel’s attention. Ignoring his companions, he guided Stellan around to face her. “Of course, you remember my cousin, Princess Clarysa?”
Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. He looked dark and dangerous despite the bright sun shining down upon them. “Very wonderful to see you again,” she said. She extended her hand, hoping Stellan would kiss it. But he only nodded, and a tight, quick nod at that. Her smile faltered as he looked away. Clarysa frowned. Did I say something wrong?
Lionel appeared confused himself, but covered it with a reassuring smile. “Off you go then, cousin,” he said, turning her around and giving her a light pat on her bottom. The men laughed. “It’s time for the hunt.” He lowered his voice as he escorted her a short distance away. “Get him alone at lunch. You’ll probably have better luck then.”
Clarysa nodded, fighting a lump in her throat. She hoped Lionel’s assessment was correct. She kept glancing over her shoulder as she walked toward the meadow’s edge, watching the men–well, watching Stellan, really–as they mounted and trotted off. His greeting left much to be desired, but she chalked it up to shyness. He lived an isolated life, after all.
Clarysa watched them leave. She strolled to and fro, practically wearing a rut into the hard earth while awaiting his return. Thoughts raced through her mind. What would be the best way to get a conversation going with him? What would he care to discuss? Should she pick a serious topic or light? Serious would show she had brains, but considering the stories she’d heard about his dismal living conditions, perhaps it would be better to start off with something frivolous. But then he might mistake that approach for the way she was all the time! Serious or light? Light or serious?
Finally she decided. Clarysa would start with a topic that was lightly serious. It would have to do. Unless, of course, a seriously light one would be better.
* * * *
Hours passed. The servants laid out a variety of side dishes on several long tables. Two large pits had been dug for the roasts. Meanwhile, the cooks were busy checking the fire’s temperature and adding spices to marinades in their usual persnickety manner.
“Here they come,” said one.
Clarysa hovered excitedly nearby. For once she didn’t care about the size of the game captured.
Shouts and laughter permeated the air as the hunters neared. They dismounted, and some walked into the forest to relieve themselves. Others tended to the horses, and five or six delivered the game to the cooks. Thirsty riders opened jugs of wine and passed them around freely. It had been a good hunt.
Clarysa spotted Stellan tending to his horse. She snagged some carrots from a tray, her heart pounding as she neared his steed. The stallion eyed her but did not protest her presence, especially after she raised one of the carrots to its mouth. Stellan was lost somewhere on the other side of the great beast. The horse’s noisy chewing caught his attention, however, and he suddenly appeared opposite her.
“Your horse is beautiful,” she said, stroking its neck after it had hungrily devoured the food. “What’s his name?”
Stellan rolled his eyes. “What do you think?”
Clarysa shrugged. “I couldn’t possibly guess. What is it?”
Stellan chuckled derisively. “Horse.”
Clarysa admonished him with a look. “Oh, stop teasing!” She narrowed her eyes. “And why the patronizing face?”
“Because I have more important things to do than sit around thinking up silly names for my animals, that’s why.”
His words stung. They really stung. Clarysa paused mid-stroke. She’d only been making conversation. Is this how it is, then? Our dance meant nothing to you? Attempting to quell hurt feelings and suppress the growing knot in her stomach, she forced a polite smile. “Then I won’t bother you further. Everyone who knows me will tell you I can be very silly.” Clarysa spun around, picked up her skirt so as not to trip and look even sillier, and stormed off.
Hastily wiping tears, she dodged horses and servants and other assorted obstacles. Over two months of waiting for his cold shoulder? Isn’t it obvious? He doesn’t care about you. You’re nothing but a foolish little nuisance. Clarysa was beginning to have some insight into how her family viewed her behavior. It was not a pleasant feeling.
Someone called her name, but she refused to acknowledge whoever it was. She kept barreling ahead. But then a shadow passed across her vision, and she had to stop, for Stellan blocked her path.
“Clarysa, please wait,” he said, holding out an arm to prevent her escape.
She pressed her hands against her stomach in an attempt to manage her anxious state. “It was a stupid question, Stellan. I’m so sorry.”
“No, it wasn’t. My answer… It was my answer that was stupid. I…” He paused, absentmindedly rubbing the back of his head and avoiding her gaze.
There he goes again. Clarysa glanced away as well, but his tall, striking figure, emanating warmth and a pleasing masculine scent, was too tempting. Therefore she summoned the courage to look up. When she did, it was straight into his deep green eyes.
“Let’s start over.” He took a deep breath, and this time his voice sounded genuinely friendly. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”
Clarysa curtseyed. “The feeling is mutual.” The ambient noise faded to a murmur as she lost herself in the handsome features before her. His skin appeared very pale, even in the bright sunshine, but it was intriguingly offset by his dark and lustrous hair. He was like an imperious, cold statue waiting for her warm embrace and gentle kisses to awaken him. Those thoughts led to more mischievous ones, and soon Clarysa was breathing much more deeply than usual.
Stellan’s gaze abruptly snapped up and away. The blush spreading across his cheeks hinted at the hills and valley upon which he had just feasted.
Clarysa smiled knowingly, but he was in danger of retreating back into his shell. Perhaps a diversion was in order. She cocked her head toward the buffet. “Shall we find something to eat?”
Stellan nodded. “I’m starving.”
They began to walk, and then Stellan cleared his throat. “So, what do you think is a suitable name?”
“A name for what?”
“My horse.”
“Oh! Well, umm… Let’s see…uh… Yes, that’ll do nicely. How about ‘Midnight’?”
Stellan inclined his head. “It’s…very acceptable.”
Clarysa clapped and grinned. “You know he’s going to sleep much better at night from now on, since he’s got a name.”
Stellan’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t say?”
Clarysa nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes!”
“And if someone should ask my whereabouts while I am grooming him, should that person be told I will be available ‘after Midnight’?”
Clarysa snorted, and then gave him a friendly nudge. “You might want to rethink any career as a traveling jester, in case such a thought had crossed your mind.”
A trace of red heated Stellan’s usually cold face again. “Consider it rethought.”
The two walked on to the camp.
* * * *
Stellan and Clarysa sat on her blanket apart from the camp proper and under the shade of a great oak. Servants kept them supplied with appetizers until the main course was ready. Occasionally, their hands brushed as they reached for the food, prompting exchang
es of shy smiles. Clarysa coaxed him into a steady conversation as they ate, asking him about the hunt and gossiping about various escapades of Lionel and the others.
After they were sated on the last of the wine and dessert, Stellan leaned back against the tree. Clarysa sat by his long, outstretched legs, fingering tufts of grass and thick roots. She used her sudden interest in all things botanical as an excuse to occasionally graze his thigh or knee with an errant hand. Stolen glances informed her the prince didn’t seem to mind. Truth be told, she wanted to dance again, or have some other excuse to be in his arms. The compelling shape of his lips made her wonder about any other talents he possessed, aside from magick. She understood his reticence in kissing her hand before their comrades, but perhaps here, in the bucolic, private setting, he’d feel more comfortable.
Clarysa intended to make him feel as comfortable as possible.
So she chattered on, making lighthearted jokes even as she edged closer, and then closer still. At one point, she leaned forward with a smile, knowing her arms pushed her breasts together and hoping the view pleased him. What a gentleman–he’s not even looking! Clarysa brazenly toyed with the gilded fabric along her neckline, shivering in anticipation as she waited for the searing path his gaze would surely make once he noticed.
Despite the obvious interest he had displayed a few hours before, he still didn’t glance down. Even though they sat so close one of her thighs pressed against his, he seemed distant. Preoccupied. The mystery of him only made her want to know him more.
His clean, earthy scent of sandalwood made her frantic with need. How could she reach him? Naughty ideas filled her mind, like straddling his lap and planting wet kisses all over his face and neck. Though sexually innocent, Clarysa had learned everything she needed to know about pleasing men from conversations with Lionel. Meeting Stellan increased her eagerness to experiment.
In a fit of impulsiveness, she rested a hand on his thigh. It felt muscular and firm. She gave the hard flesh the barest of squeezes.
He grabbed her hand. “What are you doing?” Suspicion laced his tone.
His response flummoxed her. Stellan wasn’t reacting the way most men did to a young maiden’s charms. “Just…I don’t know…exploring?”
Gently, he removed her hand. “This isn’t the time.”
Staring into his troubled, yet mesmerizing eyes, Clarysa searched for any flicker of mutual attraction that would contradict his words. Nothing surfaced–no emotion at all. Had she misjudged? In the garden at the wedding, when they first met, his expression had been so gentle and yearning. It was as though he had wanted to kiss her.
Perhaps she had misremembered. Maybe there wasn’t any attraction on his part. Was she too mundane–too unexceptional–for this dashing sorcerer? Probably.
He glanced away. Clarysa noticed a flush inching up his neck.
Idiot! You’re making him uncomfortable. No wonder he’s not interested. Chagrined, she left his side and poured them both wine. It seemed she would have to settle for conversation, but even that promised intrigue. She posed a question that had burned in her ever since she learned his identity. “Stellan, why is it always snowing in your land?”
The sorcerer looked at her, relief chasing away any lingering discomfort. He folded his hands on his lap. “Ah, the age-old favorite query. It’s an ancient curse, if the rumors are to be believed. I don’t know if it’s entirely true, but I can tell you what I know.”
Clarysa nodded, glad her question had eased the tension.
“As you’re probably aware, snowstorms have plagued the area for several hundred years, almost since the castle first appeared. From what I’ve been told, a powerful king built Vandeborg. I couldn’t tell you his name, however, because there were no records to be found. Stern but fair, he ruled over a fair number of subjects and commanded a moderate army.”
“Was he married?”
“Yes, but he fell in love with a commoner. She was a servant, or a serving girl in a tavern… Something like that. They carried on a torrid affair. Naturally, the Queen discovered the betrayal.”
Clarysa gasped. “What did she do?”
“According to the tale, she sought out a sorcerer–probably one of my ancestors–and ordered a curse put on the King and his lover. I don’t know how the curse affected the woman, but the King was cast into a deep sleep and placed in an unbreakable glass casket. It was placed in the middle of the throne room.”
“How eerie,” she whispered.
“Hmm, yes, I suppose. However, the sorcerer took pity on the King, and included a loophole in the incantation.” Stellan paused and took a draught of wine. “At each full moon, the King’s doppelganger could walk the land for an entire night. It’s rumored he spends the time searching for his lost love, for only her kiss can break the cruel magick.”
“But why is there so much snow?”
Stellan grinned. “The sorcerer’s personal touch. It’s a way to protect the King as he lays in the casket.”
“Oh,” she said, and fell silent for a few moments. “Then how did you know about the casket?”
“I found it.”
Clarysa perked up. “Truly? When?”
“The day I first arrived there.”
She stared at him, openmouthed. “Is it still in the throne room?”
“No. I moved it to a chamber deep within the castle.”
“What do you think happened to his love?”
Stellan shrugged. “The Queen ordered her execution, most likely. If this king does rise up as the legends say, it would be highly unlikely he knows. His spirit will wander the lands forever, searching for someone who is no longer alive.”
“Oh, how awful.”
A slight chill by way of a breeze brought with it a moment of silence.
Clarysa gave him a sympathetic look. “What a desolate and sad place your kingdom is. Why don’t you leave?”
“And go where? I…can’t return to my homeland.”
His sharp tone startled her. She bit her lip. “My apologies. I didn’t know.”
Stellan shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Besides, the location is very strategic for hunting down Pestilence.”
Clarysa tapped Stellan’s boot to get his attention, for he was staring off into space. “I should like to visit your kingdom some time. With your permission, of course!”
“I don’t think it’ll be much to your liking.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
Stellan eyed her for a moment. “You have my permission, but it’s a moot point. Your father would never allow it.”
“Oh dear, you’re right.” Clarysa cocked her head. “I’ll think of something!”
Stellan leaned forward, his expression serious. “Well, if you ever do travel there, you must never take the path through Dungeon Forest. Do you understand me? Never!”
A shiver ran through her. He’s awfully intense about it. “Why not?”
“I know it was originally the quickest route between Aldebaran and Vandeborg, but now it’s dangerously enchanted. There are sabrewolves and other deadly creatures. Few people have passed through that forest and lived.”
“But you have! You’ve made it through.”
Stellan shrugged noncommittally. “Just promise me you’ll never go there.”
Clarysa nodded. “I promise.” Then an idea occurred to her. “I know! Why don’t you come on the next hunt? I’ll…I’ll be hunting, too.”
“That can be arranged,” he murmured.
“Wonderful,” Clarysa breathed.
“Are you two having fun yet? Or should I be asking if you’re both decent?”
They turned to see Lionel strolling toward them. Clarysa jumped up to greet him, only to be met with his arm wrapping loosely about her neck. She shrieked in mock fear.
Lionel easily kept her wriggling form at bay. “Stellan, if this wench gives you any trouble, any at all, you inform me immediately so proper consequences can be meted out!”
Clarysa
giggled and squirmed madly. Stellan looked on with a polite smile. After a few more tortured moments, Lionel released her.
“Anyway, I’ve come to let you know we’re heading back.”
“So soon?” Clarysa asked, staring up in dismay from her glass of wine.
“What do you mean, ‘so soon’? We’ve been here all day.”
“One more hour,” she pleaded.
Lionel rolled his eyes. “Are we back in the nursery now? We’ll be riding home in the dark if we don’t depart in the next half hour.”
Clarysa scowled, and then masked her irritation for fear of appearing unseemly. She cast Stellan a hopeful glance. “So I’ll see you at the next hunt?”
Lionel laughed. “And so you’re inviting yourself along on the rest of them, eh?”
Clarysa crossed her arms. “I can if I want to.”
Stellan stood and donned his cape. “I’ll be there, as long as I’m not needed elsewhere.”
Clarysa could barely contain her squeal. Escorted by Lionel and Stellan, she walked back to the main group as the servants tidied up and loaded the horses. Her heart pounded hard with excitement.
She would see Stellan again, but not for another month! However could she wait that long?
Chapter 8
The sun splashed warm, golden rays over the traveling hunting party. Clarysa sighed contentedly. Everything about the day had been so perfect. She listened as cheerful voices rose in song, servants and royalty alike. The strength of camaraderie coursed strong through the group as it traveled a main road into the heart of Aldebaran. The Belleressort estate lay roughly an hour away.
Lagging on her steed near the tail end of the procession, she pulled her cloak tight against the cool late-afternoon air. Apple, her horse, ambled forward at a casual pace. Occasionally she would glance behind her, hoping Stellan had changed his mind and would appear. Such was not the case, but at least she’d had several precious hours with him.
Clarysa thought him simply extraordinary. She had never met anyone like him, either. Though gruff in manner, he possessed an intriguing vulnerability. The day’s events replayed themselves constantly in her mind. Every time he had spoken, a bracing thrill had run down her spine. Then there was his haunting, handsome face. He could use some fattening up, but his tall frame and piercing green eyes more than made up for it. He also possessed enough mystery for a thousand men! That quality alone was enough to make her melt in rapture.
Lord of Snow and Ice Page 8