by Vicky Savage
“Eleanor and I were two strong-willed individuals with firmly-held beliefs and ideals. We attempted to reconcile our differences. I swear to you we did. But in the end, compromise was not possible, and in light of your mother’s birthright, the final judgment was hers alone. The only viable solution, as painful as it seemed, was for me to take my leave and attempt to do as much good as possible with the opportunities your mother granted me.”
“You’ve handled it all well, Father. And I want to say how incredibly kind it was of you to invite Charles LeGare to sit with the family today. But I wondered, did you ever feel, you know, jealous of him?”
His eyes soften and he strokes my hair. “Of course. In the beginning it was difficult. But as time passed and the more I saw them together, I realized her love for him was completely unlike the love we once shared. Over the last few years, I’ve come to appreciate LeGare’s devotion to her. I’m truly happy she was able to find rewarding companionship before her premature death.”
“I hate it that you’re alone,” I say.
He pats my hand and smiles. “Sweetheart, do not be distressed for me. I have an enormously full life, what with running a small community and a hospital. And you may not have heard, but my daughter just became queen of Domerica. That has kept me busy recently. I scarcely have time for a woman in my life.”
“I guess you’re right. Anyway, thanks for being here, Father.” I rest my head on his shoulder again.
FORTY-NINE
The palace is nearly deserted when we arrive. Most of the staff is still reveling at the feast. Father escorts me to my room.
“I must return for my conveyance and Professor Ralston. I’m afraid we’ve left him stranded. Will you be all right here alone? Patrick is just outside.”
“I’m fine, Father. Thank you for bringing me home.”
“Shall I prepare tea for you before I go? I’m afraid kitchen help may be scarce.”
“No, thanks. I think I can manage that myself. I’ll probably just go to bed early. Father, if you see Ryder there …” my throat constricts as I grasp for words, “please tell him I need to speak with him.”
“I will. Try to get some rest.”
Once Father leaves, I yank off my crown and pitch it on the bed. Kicking off my shoes, and shedding my dress, I head for the closet. My favorite pink satin underdress is on the hook where I left it. I wriggle into it and shake out my hair.
Making tea is the first order of business, and then I wait. An hour passes … then two. I’m so edgy I could crawl out of my skin. Wandering out onto my balcony, my eyes search the night sky for the moon that isn’t there. The not knowing is making me crazy. My whole world may be crumbling at this very moment. I could be losing him—correction, may have lost him—and not even know it yet.
The lighted front promenade is a changing stream of activity as servants in wagons and on horseback trickle in from the night’s festivities. I watch them from my hidden balcony corner. All at once my eye is caught by the shadow of a lone rider on a giant horse galloping around and through the others. It’s him. Relief and anxiety do a synchronized swim in my stomach.
Dashing to my dressing table, I pull a blue gossamer shawl from the chair and wrap it tightly around my shoulders. After brushing my hair to a sleek sheen, I quickly apply lip gloss. If I’m getting dumped tonight, at least I’m going to look halfway decent.
After several long minutes, the knock I’ve waited for all night echoes through the silent room. Drawing in a long breath, I unlatch the door for Ryder.
He looks a little wrecked—jacket gone, tie loose, wind-whipped hair tousled around his amazing face.
“May I come in?” he asks, quietly. Patrick hovers behind him waiting for a signal from me.
“It’s all right,” I say.
Ryder steps inside and closes the door. Head bowed, he says, “I apologize for my inexcusable behavior in abandoning you this afternoon.” He raises his eyes to mine. “There is something I must tell you, Jaden, and I want you to know I could not feel worse for bringing you this news.”
“What is it, Ryder? I’ve been half-mad wondering what happened to you.”
He tugs the gray tie from his collar and twists it in his hands. “Erica came to see me today at the celebration.”
“I know. I saw her.”
He looks mildly surprised at this. “She had been to see Catherine, and Catherine insisted she speak with me before the wedding. That is why she brought her to the celebration.”
Gotta love Catherine.
“I’m so sorry to tell you this, Jade, but I … we …”
My knees feel unsure of themselves. “Just spit it out, Ryder, please.”
“Erica is pregnant with my child.”
The phrase floats on the air for a second before it registers in my brain. Even then, I’m not certain exactly what it means, but I feel like someone just punched me in the stomach, and I’m about to go down for the count.
“Is it all right if we sit for the rest of this conversation?” I ask.
“Of course,” he says, taking my arm and helping me to a chair. He sits on the edge of the chair opposite mine.
“You’ll have to forgive me,” I say. “I’m not sure what you’re telling me.”
“Erica is with child,” he says. “I am the father.”
“Yeah, I got that part. Does this mean the wedding’s off? Are you going to marry Erica?”
“God, no. I’m honor bound to claim the child and see to its wellbeing. This I will do. But I could not marry Erica. I am betrothed to you. I shall keep my commitments to you, if you still wish to marry me.”
“Whoa, wait a minute. Forget about your commitments to me. What do you want? Under these circumstances do you want to marry Erica? If so, I release you from your contract.”
“Jaden, I love you more than anything on earth. I wish to marry you. I am mortified to have brought this disgrace and embarrassment upon you, and I dare not hope that you would still want me. As queen, you must protect your reputation and standing. You have no need of a husband whom your people view as dishonorable.” He rakes a nervous hand through his hair. “Regardless, Erica is aware that whatever you decide about us, I do not love her, and therefore cannot marry her. She accepts that.”
“But what will happen to her?” I mumble. I have no idea how unmarried mothers are treated in Domerica. The society is backward in many ways.
“She will be well cared for in Unicoi Village. Catherine has invited her to move in with her and Meli after the wedding. The house is large. She and the baby will be comfortable there.”
“And this means Erica will be a part of your life forever. A part of our lives should we marry.” The thought sickens me.
Bowing his head, a dark drape of hair obscures his face from me. “Yes. My desire is to be a part of this child’s life. To be a true father to this child.” He raises his eyes to mine, a fierce light gleaming from within. “But if you would have me choose between you and the child, I choose you. I choose us. Mother and child will be well provided for, but I need never be a part of their lives.”
I shake my head vehemently. “Oh, no. I won’t be cast in that role. I’d never ask you to choose between me and your child.” Raising my eyes to the ceiling, I suck in a deep breath. “This is a lot to digest.”
Ryder anxiously twists his tie in his hands, reminding me of a penitent child. “Geeze, Ryder, didn’t you use any type of birth control?” I say exasperated.
“She told me she had taken care of it. I had no reason to doubt her.”
“Do you think this was deliberate on her part?” It wouldn’t surprise me.
He gives a small shrug. “She says it was accidental. At this point, I’m not certain it matters.”
“Yeah, I guess not. But you’re going to be a father. How does that make you feel?”
He gazes at me, a melancholy sweetness in his face. “Other than my profound regret at the pain it causes you, I feel frightened, happy, in awe.”
>
I love it-hate it that part of him is excited to be a father to Erica’s child. He has a flawless heart, one much purer than my own. I’m not certain I will ever be able to welcome Erica and her child as a large component of our lives going forward. My emotions alternately surge and ebb and vie for dominance. There’s no predicting where they’ll eventually settle.
“It’s been a difficult week, Ryder, and I’m not thinking clearly. I need some time to rest and think about this with a clear mind. I don’t fully comprehend it yet.” Lumbering out of my chair, my knees threaten to buckle beneath me.
Ryder stands, cramming the tie into his pocket.
“I promise I won’t keep you in the dark, the way I did before,” I say, “but I really need a day or two to make some sense out of this.”
“Of course. Take the time you need. I will wait to hear from you.”
Managing a weary half-smile, I bid him goodnight.
He bows and turns for the door.
“Uh, Ryder.”
“Yes?”
“Can I ask you not to see Erica again until we’ve resolved this? I don’t want to have to worry about the two of you together on top of everything else.”
“Certainly. You’ve nothing to worry about as far as Erica is concerned, but I will honor your wishes in that regard, now and always.”
With the click of the closing door, a wave of nausea hits me like a shot. My knees strike the floor and I vomit my tea onto the plush Oriental rug.
FIFTY
Sleep seems like something I used to do before returning to Domerica. Lingering on my balcony, I watch as the last of the revelers stumble in from Mother’s farewell celebration. One mega event out of the way, only the wedding to worry about now—if it actually takes place as planned.
Sifting through my feelings is baffling. I’m angry and sad, but most of all, I’m disappointed. Okay, I’m being childish, I admit it, but I’m completely bummed that my knight in shining armor has been tarnished by something out of a cheesy reality show. I could use a mother’s advice right now. Although I can probably guess that Queen Eleanor would advise me to sever all ties with Ryder, and find a more suitable husband. My Connecticut mom would likely be more understanding, but I suspect modern American views on unmarried parenthood are vastly different than they are here. In the end, it’s solely my decision and, at this moment, I feel desperately alone.
Puttering around my room, I gather my discarded clothing and put it away. Replacing my necklace in the jewelry chest, I happen across a black velvet pouch I remember from last year. Inside is a large golden key with a pentagram-shaped head. Ah, right. This is the key to the mystery door in the attic room above my closet. I haven’t explored it yet and, as they say, there’s no time like the present.
Rolling the ladder to the corner of my closet, I climb to the top and locate the attic door in the ceiling. It takes only a minute for me to scramble inside and push the rack of stored dresses out of the way. Carefully inserting the pentagram key into the hole, I jiggle it a few times but can’t get it to budge. Where’s the WD-40 when you need it? After a few minutes of maneuvering, the bolt slides back, and I tug firmly on the ring handle.
It’s dark inside, and the air is stale. I can just make out a steep staircase directly in front of me. Searching both sides of the wall, I’m unable to locate a light switch. I curse myself for not bringing a lantern along, but there’s no way I’m turning back now. My hand skims along the stone wall as I cautiously feel my way up the steps toward a small patch of dim light at the top. As my head emerges from the opening an involuntary gasp escapes my throat when I realize where I am. It’s the tower—the highest point of the palace, maybe the highest point in Domerica.
Three hundred and sixty degrees of windows greet me as I step into the perfectly round room. A faded, overstuffed chair, a matching foot stool, and a small Bombay chest with a single electric candle on top are the only furnishings. Goose flesh breaks out on my arms when I realize this must have been the princess’s hidden sanctuary. The view is astonishing as I make my way around the sphere of glass. The entire palace grounds are visible. I can even make out the lights of Warrington Village in the distance. The panorama must stretch for miles in the daylight, maybe even to the Enclave.
A small door leads out onto a wooden walkway circling the tower. I open it and take a half-step outside, before my good sense kicks in and tells me this walkway probably isn’t regularly maintained by the grounds crew. It appears no one has been up here for ages. Filling my lungs with the fresh ionized air, I step back inside to do some exploring.
Easing my body into the squishy chair, it seems to hug me in welcome. I prop my feet on the foot stool and switch on the candle. It glows weakly, probably not bright enough be seen from the outside. Sliding open the top drawer of the chest, I examine its contents. A red enameled tea kettle, a flowered mug, a basket of assorted teas, and a single electric burner are stored on one side. A telescope, a folded map, and a pair of opera glasses are on the other.
The second drawer proves slightly more interesting: an ivory hand mirror, a tortoise-shell comb, a folded-up Chinese-looking fan, a bag of polished stones, a few books, and a sketch pad.
I pull out the sketch pad, and hold it on my lap. The first few pages are drawings of flowers and trees. Flipping through the pages beneath, I stop at a sketch of a grand mansion. “Meadowood” is hand-printed at the bottom of the page. This is the princess’s former estate, now belonging to Drew and Adelais. It’s striking, and I’m impressed by the princess’s talent as an artist. She must have gotten an art gene that I didn’t. Behind the estate sketch is a drawing of the pearl necklace from the princess’s hope chest. Apparently she designed it herself.
Turning to the next drawing my heart stumbles over itself. Staring back at me is a young Ryder Blackthorn. The princess flawlessly captured his eyes, high cheekbones, and full sensuous lips. At the bottom of the page is a short poem.
I beheld today with newborn eyes
a love my heart has ever known.
Though far away he sleeps tonight,
my troth to him is set in stone.
Ghost fingers tickle my neck. I’m not sure what troth means, but it’s obvious she fell for him that first day, just the way he did for her. I’m reading a dead girl’s love poem to the man I’m about to marry. An eerie sadness sweeps through me. Respectfully, I close the pad and tuck it safely back inside the chest. Sitting in the princess’s chair, snooping through her things, I suddenly feel like an interloper, a trespasser.
Ralston told me from the beginning that Ryder and Princess Jaden weren’t meant to be together in this lifetime. The princess never got to wear that beautiful necklace, or to feel the heat of Ryder’s kiss. I’m sorry for her. And yet, I am her—in a way I don’t completely understand—and she is me. Except not. What if Ryder was meant to be with someone else in this existence? Even if he wasn’t, do I really want to be living someone else’s life?
My brain is scrambled from grief and lack of sleep; I can’t decipher my real feelings. As the pale light of dawn licks the edges of the tower room windows, I wearily descend the ladder to my room, hoping this new day will bring some clarity of thought.
After I’ve dressed and eaten a light breakfast, I set out in search of Ralston. He may have some words of wisdom that’ll make the jagged edges of my predicament fit into place. I find him sitting alone at a table in the tranquility garden, finishing his breakfast and leafing through a book of poetry.
He smiles when he sees me. “Good morning, Your Majesty.” He doesn’t bother to stand, since no one is around. I wonder why he bothers to eat, but it’s probably rude to ask.
“Hey, Rals. How’s it going?” I say, taking a seat at the table.
“I’m well, my dear. But how are you? You left the feast quite early. Your father said you were not feeling well.”
Sighing, I tell him, “I got some upsetting news last night, Rals. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
Gazing at the small fountain in the center of the garden, the playful cherubs remind me of little babies, and reality kicks in. “Erica’s pregnant. The baby’s Ryder’s,” I blurt out inelegantly.
“Oh my.”
“Yeah. I need your help. Ryder says he’ll provide for her and the baby, but he’s not going to marry her. He still wants us to get married. I love him, Rals. I’m not even sure I can survive without him, but I don’t know if I can handle having Erica as part of our everyday lives. That may be worse still. Plus, what will the people think of us when this information goes public? I mean, they’ll probably think he cheated on me and that I don’t care, or that he’s a scumbag for not marrying her, or that she’s some kind of evil home wrecker. Oh man, it’s such a mess.”