by Jill M Beene
“He has been nothing but nice to me, which is something that I cannot say for everyone in this room.”
“Nice isn’t always a good thing,” Artem said, mouth grim. “Nice tells you what you want to hear, instead of telling you the truth.”
“What is your problem with Lord Kinsley, anyways?” She asked, peering up at his face.
“You aren’t the first person he’s used. He uses words well, but when it comes down to it, he will always put himself first,” Artem gritted. “Let’s just leave it at that.”
“He’s not using me. He’s been a friend, offered me some social protection when you demanded I reenter the Chosen fray. Not to mention his other offer.”
Artem’s eyes latched onto hers. “So you’ve agreed, then? You’re going to marry him?”
“I haven’t accepted,” she said, and she could have sworn he relaxed a bit. Then she added, “But we’ve discussed it at length, and I think we may eventually come to an arrangement.”
“An arrangement... this isn’t like negotiating the contract to buy a piece of land,” Artem grumbled.
“Why shouldn’t it be? I was going to marry Kalan, and he couldn’t offer me half of what Lord Kinsley has promised.”
“And what has Lord Kinsley promised you?” Artem asked, his eyes flashing. “I’m sure he has spouted some very pretty ideas to you, romanced you, told you what you wanted to hear, did he?”
“On the contrary. It’s been a very frank discussion of what the future would look like should we come to wed,” Samiris said.
“Tell me.”
“I would continue to live at my family’s estate in Faro, which will be renovated. Lord Kinsley will split time between his numerous estates, and will visit when he can. My time and my freedom would be my own.”
Artem scoffed. “Is that really all you want, or is it about the money, too?”
Samiris stiffened, but said, “I will not lie. To one who has spent almost her entire life hungry, the promise of wealth and security is... attractive. But if Lord Kinsley and I cannot come to an agreement, then I will be forced to return home and marry Kalan. Only I would feel worse about that, because he actually cares for me.”
“You still think he would have you?”
Samiris rolled her eyes in answer.
Artem thought, then said, “You wouldn’t have to marry, you know. You could just let the estate revert to the kingdom. They will give you the living of it, a stipend.”
Samiris laughed. “Yes, because the Crown Prince is doing such a wonderful job of taking care of his citizens. I should trust that he will take care of me, too.”
Artem gritted his teeth, then surveyed the room as he tightly said, “He is trying.”
“I believe he is,” she said, soothingly. Fitzhumphrey brewing the tonic for her sister had changed her opinion of the Crown Prince immensely. “But I think it is still above his abilities.”
Artem sighed. “He wasn’t always like this. I remember a time when people came to the throne room with problems and left with real solutions. The curse has made it all so fuzzy, muddled, but I do remember that we used to do real good here.”
“But not anymore. And I know he was cursed,” Samiris said, squeezing Artem’s shoulder gently until he met her eyes again. “I know that this all isn’t his fault.” She swallowed. “Before I came here, I didn’t believe that, but now I know that I wasn’t being fair. This curse is hurting everyone. But don’t you understand that I can’t wait until the Crown Prince breaks the curse and becomes who he used to be again? I have to live my life under the current circumstances. And Lord Kinsley has offered me a way to deal with those circumstances.”
Artem’s eyes bored into hers. “Then it really is just about the freedom, the ability to retain your estate? You don’t love him?”
Samiris sighed. “The most I feel for Lord Kinsley is friendship, a common need, and... gratitude. I’m grateful that he is willing to make a sacrifice to help me and my family.”
“What do you mean, a sacrifice?” Artem was watching her closely.
Samiris blushed. “You can’t be ignorant of what they say about me, about how this whole court looks at me. I’m the Southern wildebeest, the untamed, uneducated, poorly bred mare in the stable of purebreds. He’s giving up some of his reputation to give me a shot at some freedom.”
“Does he say that?” Artem growled. “Does he make you feel like you are worth less because of where you come from?”
“Not at all. If we’re being honest, I think my pedigree is an added bonus. What better way to anger his parents than by choosing the Southern girl who’s barely a lady?”
“I tried to tell you that, that he was aligning himself with you for shock value.”
“Yes, well,” Samiris said, surprised at the bitterness evident in her voice. “You may be right. However, he’s still my best option.”
“You, by far, are his,” Artem murmured.
Samiris’ brow wrinkled in response. “This will all be a moot point if I can win the last event in the Championship. Did you hear that Lord Kinsley and I are tied for first place?”
“That’s why you are trying to win the Championship?” Artem said, his eyes snapping to hers.
“Of course. You said that the Crown Prince would grant a request to the winner. I want that inheritance law changed. It’s either that, or...”
“Marry,” he finished, looking out over the ballroom. His brow was furrowed, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration.
“Exactly.” Samiris nodded.
“And here I was, thinking that you were just trying to be scandalous.” He smiled down at her.
Samiris frowned. “I don’t like the extra attention. I don’t try to be scandalous. But if scandal in Teymara is the price I have to pay to spend the rest of my life in Faro, free? It will be worth every whisper.”
The song was ending, and there was a tap on Artem’s shoulder. He frowned, but relinquished Samiris to Lord Kinsley with a curt bow, turned, and walked away without another glance.
Hours later, Samiris was again standing at the edge of the activity, watching the swirl of dancers while Kinsley battled his way through the crowd to get them champagne. They had danced four dances in a row together, more as a statement to refute the damned dress she was wearing than anything else.
“I wonder,” Lady Evanora said, sidling up beside Samiris, “how you feel about that.”
She inclined her head toward Narcise and Artem, dancing by. Narcise looked as smug as a favorite dog being given treats, while Artem looked grim, his jaw set, his shoulders slightly tense, and his eyes everywhere but on Narcise.
Samiris grinned as Lady Evanora watched her closely. “That makes me happy.”
“Oh?” Lady Evanora’s mouth pursed in surprise. “I was under the impression that you had an attachment to Captain Trego.”
“Like a dying man has an attachment to the tumor that’s killing him,” Samiris said bluntly. She still hadn’t gotten over the shock of Artem’s high-handed dealing with the rumors surrounding them. “The controlling man won’t leave me alone.”
“And why is that, do you think?” she asked, one eyebrow raised as she watched Artem spin Narcise deftly, her dress billowing out like a tent in the wind.
“He promised my father to look out for me,” Samiris gritted. “I really wish he hadn’t; his misplaced sense of duty is highly irritating.”
Lady Evanora laughed, the lovely sound like the tolling of silver chimes. “Then the wolf pelts, the courtship?”
“A complete farce, and one that I was tricked into,” Samiris said, her eyes narrowing as she kept her eyes on the dance. “He means only to force me into submitting to his rules. He doesn’t think Lord Kinsley is an appropriate choice.”
“That hardly matters,” Lady Evanora cooed, “if you care for Lord Kinsley.”
“I do.”
As a friend, Samiris thought.
“And you mean to marry him after the Choosing is completed?” Lady Evanora asked lightly.
“Absolutely,” Samiris said.
Samiris wasn’t going to explain that she wished not to marry at all, that she hadn’t agreed to anything, that she just wished to be free. If Evanora could dispel some of these rumors, Samiris was happy to lie.
“So you are nothing more than a challenge to Captain Trego,” Evanora mused, the edges of her lovely mouth lilting upward at the thought. “That explains that, then.”
“Yes, eternity must get boring,” Samiris gritted.
Lady Evanora laughed again. “I’m glad we had this talk, Samiris. And I wish you all the luck in your future.”
Samiris blinked in surprise at the genuine sound of Lady Evanora’s words, even as the lady whisked away on light feet. She hoped that Lady Evanora would believe what she had said, would spread the word that Samiris wasn’t interested in being courted by two of the most eligible men in the Empire at once.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Samiris was exhausted when she finally closed the door to her chambers behind her that night. She tossed her fur-lined cloak carelessly onto the settee and kicked off her jeweled slippers. She and Kinsley had danced too much. But nearly every time she said she wanted to stop, Kinsley had thrown a scalding look at Artem and badgered her into just one more dance.
Samiris flopped into her favorite stuffed chair and sighed. She hadn’t even wanted to come to Teymara, and now she felt like the rope in a game of tug-of-war between two of the court’s most eligible noblemen. It was infuriating...infuriating and exhausting.
A small noise alerted her that she was not alone. Gia was standing in the open archway, her back straight and her chin lifted almost defiantly. Samiris felt her temper flare like a freshly-stoked fire. As dismayed as she might be with Artem’s actions that evening, she understood them. But Gia was supposed to be squarely on her side.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she gritted out. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
“You wouldn’t have gone through with it,” Gia said.
“You’re right. So why?” she demanded.
“Everyone was staring at you tonight. You looked beautiful. That dress was some of my very best work.”
“You used me!” Samiris shouted, standing. “I am not a walking mannequin for your dresses! You should have told me what it meant.”
“So it’s alright for you to use people, but no one can use you back? I told you at the beginning that I had goals, that I was going to use you to further my goals.”
“I thought we were friends!” Samiris exclaimed.
“We are. But you will be gone in a few months, back to your comfortable life, richer for this experience, and I? I will go back to emptying chamber pots!” Gia sounded desperate.
Samiris forced herself to unclench her fists and her jaw. She took a deep breath. “How am I supposed to trust you when you do something like this? I had no idea what I was walking into. I was embarrassed. Kinsley was embarrassed.”
Gia rolled her eyes. “Lord Kinsley loves the added attention you bring him, and you know it. He’s no better than I am.”
“He’s never lied to me about his intentions,” Samiris said.
“I haven’t, either,” Gia said, crossing her arms. “You are willing to risk some embarrassment in order to secure your own future. Why is it too high a price to pay for mine?”
Samiris deflated. Gia was right; Samiris was willing to endure the court’s censure for entering the Championship, but was angry about wearing a meaningful dress to the ball.
“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth. “But be honest with me next time. You know I will do everything I can to help your future as a dressmaker.”
“A couturier,” Gia corrected. She rubbed her neck, had the grace to finally look sheepish. “And thank you. I...I won’t ambush you again.”
Samiris couldn’t sleep. The moon was full, the songs of the evening echoed through her mind. So she did what she did anytime she couldn’t sleep: she shucked off her nightgown, pulled on her soft gardening clothes and her coat, and headed outside.
Samiris snuck through the stables on the way to the kitchen, releasing Behemoth from his stall and mounting him bareback. She let him lead the way. This was not the first midnight jaunt they would take together, and it would not be the last.
The gardens were bathed in moonlight, the tops of flowers and leaves tipped in silver, the entire scene washed in a pale grey. It was a magical looking night. The gate to the garden was closed, so Samiris swung down, holding it open for Behemoth, who trotted across the way to his apple tree.
“I wondered if you might come here tonight,” Artem said, stepping out of the darkness.
Samiris yelped.
“Sorry,” he said.
His hair was rumpled, as if he had ran his fingers through it multiple times. He was wearing the clothes he’d worn to the ball, though his cravat was nowhere to be found, and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone.
Samiris shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d let Bemee roam for a little bit.”
“You spoil that animal,” Artem said, smirking as he watched the horse snuffling through his feed box.
“He’s a good boy, and deserves it. Besides, I don’t like being out here at night by myself.”
He snorted. “What’s he going to do to protect you? He’s a horse.”
“He’s a war horse,” Samiris said, propping one fist on her hip. “He killed two Northern wolves all by himself. More than you, if I remember correctly.”
“You got me there.” Artem laughed. “What are you going to work on?”
“Potatoes. It’s about the only thing we can do in the dark.”
“Well, it’s not the only thing,” Artem said suggestively, bumping her arm with his.
Samiris snorted. “Have you been drinking?”
“Yes.” He pulled out a silver flask. “Want some?”
Samiris took the offered flask and took a sip. She winced as the liquid burned down her throat and curled in her belly.
“That’s the spirit. Now you’re ready to work.” Artem clapped her on the back and went to grab potato sacks.
They worked side by side, passing the flask back and forth at the end of every row, until dawn’s fingers streaked the sky in the east with pink.
“I’m jealous, you know,” Artem said, when they finally had the potato sacks full and stacked, and were sitting side by side on a rough wooden bench. “Of Lord Kinsley.”
Samiris frowned, searching his face. His eyes were intense on hers, but the light was too dim to read his expression.
“Why?”
“Lots of reasons, but mainly, he gets to choose. He isn’t stuck here, stuck at a certain age. He’s free to move around, live his life, badger someone better than him into marriage.”
Samiris ignored the barb. “You’re free to do all those things, too.”
“You know anyone who’d marry me, when I haven’t aged in fifteen years?” He took another swig from the flask.
“Ladonna or Narcise would have you in front of a priest before you had the proposal fully spoken,” Samiris grumbled.
“Know anyone worth my time who’d say yes, when at this rate, I could live at this age forever?”
Samiris frowned.
“But maybe I find a wife,” he continued. “Bet she won’t like the fact that she’ll always come second to the Crown Prince.”
“That would be hard to explain,” Samiris said, smiling and leaning back. “Darling, I forgot your birthday because Fitzhumphrey was stuck to his bathroom floor again.”
“It’s not funny,” Artem growled. “I’m serious. You think anything would get done if I didn’t d
o it for him? You think laws would get passed, sentences meted out, anything like that, if it weren’t for me? I’m free to leave, according to the curse, but do you think I really can?”
Samiris considered this, then said, “No.”
“All I want is for this curse to be lifted. I want a life, too, you know. A house of my own, maybe a wife. Children. A dog.”
“Just the one?” Samiris asked.
Artem ran his fingers through his midnight hair again. “I want the same things as you. Freedom. The power to choose.”
Samiris turned to him. “I guess none of us are as free as people think we are. But you aren’t as backed into a corner as you make it sound, either, Artem. You have choices. Options. You have the power to make a real difference. Do you know how long I have wanted that power? The ability to do something to make a difference in the lives of those who are suffering?”
“You make a difference wherever you go, Samiris. You do.” His voice was earnest.
Samiris gave a sad smile. “The best I can do is sneak food out to those who need it. It’s not enough.”
He surprised her by clasping her hands in his large warm ones, his eyes searching hers. “It is enough. And... you... you’ve made a bigger difference than just delivering food. Your words are powerful. The way you defy convention is thought-provoking. You have the courage to ask why. Why are things they way they are? Why can’t they be better? You’ve changed things here, Samiris. You’ve changed me.”
“Have I?” she asked. “You still don’t see that you could have a huge impact on the entire country. You said it yourself, you’re the one running things. So change things. Make things better.”
“I want to,” he said, leaning toward her. “But I want other things, too. Things more dear to me than the kingdom.”
Artem’s breath fanned across her face, his green eyes were gentle on hers, and almost before Samiris knew what was happening, his lips were on hers. They were warm and soft and gentle, and a kaleidoscope of colors slid behind her eyelids at the sensation. He slid his fingers down her cheek, behind her neck, and into her hair. The other hand gripped her waist and pulled her inexorably closer to him.