The Betrothed

by Kiera Cass

  He reached over, wrapping a strand of my hair around his finger. “I do have some beautiful things, though there is one gem in all of Coroa I am aching to call my own.”

  Tick.

  I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I would go anywhere with you, Your Majesty. Although . . .” I peeked around him at Father. “Father, didn’t you have trouble on the road the last time you went up to Bern?”

  After swallowing his oversized spoonful of food, he answered. “Broke a wheel. Those roads are rough out there.”

  “Are they?” Jameson asked.

  Father nodded gravely, as if everything he spoke of with the king was of utmost importance. “Unfortunately, yes, Majesty. Not enough people out there to keep them up. I’m sure there are plenty more in the same state of disrepair.”

  “Well, that won’t do,” I said. “I wouldn’t want Your Majesty injured. Perhaps another time.”

  Jameson wiggled his finger at me. “Who was it . . . Ah! Lord Seema!” he called. Out of the crowd, Lord Seema lifted his head and rushed forward to bow before the king.

  I sat up straighter as Jameson began.

  “Was it you who was saying something about the roads in Upchurch?”

  Lord Seema flicked his eyes between Jameson and me. “Yes, Your Majesty. They’re in considerable disrepair.”

  Jameson shook his head. “I am thinking of taking the Brites on progress, but I cannot do so if this pearl of a lady might be stranded on the road.”

  “No, Your Majesty. With your permission, I could assemble a committee and survey the roads. Afterward, I could organize a proper budget, if you like. I’m very passionate about all the citizens of Coroa being able to travel easily, wherever they like, and would happily oversee it myself.”

  “Granted,” Jameson replied quickly. “I’ll expect reports.”

  Lord Seema stood there, stunned. “Yes. Yes, of course,” he stuttered as he backed away, mouth still hanging slightly open.

  “What fun!” I sang. “I shall finally see all of our great country.”

  Jameson kissed my hand. “All of Coroa. All of the continent, if you wish.”

  Tick.

  I settled back into my seat, looking over at Delia Grace.

  She lifted her cup as her smile tightened. “Impressive.”

  “Thank you.” I looked out at the mass of people, finding Lord Seema. He tilted his head toward me, and I did the same in reply. Maybe I could do this after all.

  Five

  WITHIN DAYS, MY WORLD CHANGED. Jameson was still sending flowers and trinkets to my room anytime he seemed to see something he thought I’d like, but now nobles left gifts for me as well. With all the new jewelry at my disposal, I truly was as Jameson said: as radiant as the sun. I had two chambermaids assigned to me, and when I walked through the palace, people would smile at me in passing, if sometimes a little tightly. I didn’t know if I had Lord Seema to thank for this or if my new attempts to be as regal and lovely as possible when I was with Jameson were finally being seen, but I certainly didn’t mind the attention. I had thought nothing could be as much fun as winning over the heart of a king, but I was wrong. It was much more thrilling to win over the hearts of countless people at once.

  This thought filled my head as I walked with Delia Grace to the Great Room, graciously acknowledging courtiers and wishing them a good morning. Jameson seemed to have a special sense for when I was entering a room, and he would turn the full force of his attention on me when I came near. I was now greeted with a kiss on the cheek in the full view of the court anytime I joined him. And while I noted some disapproving glances when it happened, I took that as more of a challenge than a disappointment.

  “You got my letter?” he asked.

  “You mean the page of absolute poetry that ended with a request that I meet you this morning? Why, yes, I did.”

  He chuckled. “You bring words out of me that I didn’t know existed,” he confessed, not looking the slightest bit shy about making such a statement with so many people in earshot. “Tell me, is everything well? Your new maids? Do you like your new clothes?”

  I stepped back so he could see the full glory of one of my recent gifts. “They are the most beautiful I’ve ever had. And, yes, my maids are quite helpful, thank you. As always, you are too generous.”

  At that he wiggled his eyebrows. “Those tokens will look like pebbles when—”

  He broke off at the sound of hurried footsteps, and I turned, following his gaze. An older gentleman, one of Jameson’s many advisers, rushed in and bowed his head.

  “Your Majesty, forgive me. There is a family here from Isolte seeking sanctuary. They come to present their case.”

  It was customary among all the kingdoms of the continent to ask a king’s permission before settling in his land. If a family was found without a royal grant, well, on a good day they’d be removed. I’d seen what had happened on bad days, when Jameson’s father, Marcellus, sat on the throne.

  His Majesty sighed, seeming put out to be drawn away from our conversation. “Very well, show them in.” As if the idea had struck him just then, his gaze came back to me. “Lady Hollis, perhaps you’d like to sit for the proceedings?” He waved his hand to the seat beside him. The gentleman in it, Lord Mendel, looked quickly between the two of us.

  “Your Majesty, I—”

  Beside him, Lord Seema gave a discreet nudge to his arm. Lord Mendel sighed but stood, bowing to both the king and me. I gave Lord Seema a grateful nod as I took my place.

  I shot a look at Delia Grace, who was quietly smug on my behalf; she’d always known, hadn’t she? I heard disgruntled murmurs swarming around us—yes, I still had hearts to win over—but I focused my attention on Jameson. This was an opportunity to prove exactly what I was capable of. I could be demure and intelligent if the moment required it.

  I sat up as straight as I could, keeping my chin down and my breathing slow. I wanted everyone to see me as poised, capable. Maybe then Jameson would be ready to make me his queen.

  An older gentleman and his wife entered the room, her hand gracefully perched upon his. Behind them followed their four children, three boys and a girl.

  The children all had pale skin and hair in varying shades of yellow, while their parents were starting to gray. The youngest boy was on edge, clutching his sister’s hand tightly, while she was canvassing the room in a much different way, her eyes suggesting she was looking for something.

  The father knelt, bringing his knee to the floor, before rising and presenting himself to the king. Even if we hadn’t been told they were from Isolte, it would have been obvious. The land was dreadfully windy in the summer, and the winter went on far longer than it did here. I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear they were still seeing light snow, even now. As such, Isoltens spent more time indoors, and the sun-kissed cheeks seen everywhere in Coroa were missing on them.

  “Good morning, sir,” Jameson said, inviting the man to speak.

  “Your Majesty, I pray you will forgive our poor state, but we came straight here,” the father began humbly.

  I would not have called their appearance poor. Velvet draped across every member of the family, with plenty to spare . . . which forced me to press my lips together so I didn’t giggle. Honestly, who in the world designed those sleeves? I could make an extra gown from the yardage draping off their arms. And the hats! For my life, I never understood the fashion from Isolte.

  In truth, I never even understood people from Isolte. The word that came to mind most of the time was unoriginal. Yes, I’d heard of their great findings in astronomy and herbology, and that the medicines discovered by their doctors were yielding great benefits for their people. But the music they made was bland at best, the dances they performed were copied from ours, and most other efforts at art were modified forms of something seen elsewhere. Their fashion seemed to be their best attempt at something no one else laid claim to. And why would they?

  “We come asking for your mercy, to allow us
to settle in your land, offering us sanctuary from our king,” the father continued, his tone carrying an edge of nerves.

  “And where is it that you come from, sir?” Jameson asked, even though he knew the answer.

  “Isolte, Your Majesty.”

  “What is your name, sir?”

  “Lord Dashiell Eastoffe, Your Majesty.”

  Jameson paused. “I know that name,” he murmured, brow creased in thought. Once his memory came back to him, he eyed the visitors with something that looked like a mix of suspicion and pity. “Yes, I can see why you would want to leave Isolte indeed. Oh, Hollis,” he said, turning to me with a playful glint in his eye, “do you ever thank the gods that you have me for a king and not that grouch, King Quinten?”

  “I thank the gods that we have you above any other king, Your Majesty.” I batted my lashes flirtatiously, but I truly had thanked the heavens for him. He was younger and stronger than any king on the continent, much kinder than his father, and far less temperamental than the other leaders I’d heard about.

  He chuckled. “If I were in your position, I, too, might have fled, sir. Many families have chosen to immigrate to Coroa recently.” There was one such family living in the castle, but I never saw them. “It makes me wonder just what dear old King Quinten is up to these days to strike such fear into his subjects.”

  “We also have a gift for Your Majesty,” Lord Eastoffe offered instead of answering the question. He nodded to his oldest son, and the young man moved forward, bowing before the king and holding up a long velvet parcel.

  Jameson walked down the dais steps to the young man and flipped the fabric back. Beneath it was a golden sword with an array of jewels resting in the hilt. As Jameson lifted it, the new spring sun bounced off the blade, temporarily blinding me.

  After inspecting the sword, Jameson pulled out a lock of the young man’s long hair and sliced through it with his gift. Chuckling as it cut away with ease, he held the sword up again. “This is impressive, sir. I’ve never seen its equal.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Lord Eastoffe said gratefully. “Alas, I cannot take credit for it. I was raised a gentleman, but my son has settled upon this craft, choosing to be capable of supporting himself, with or without land.”

  Jameson looked down at the boy whose hair he’d just so graciously trimmed. “You made this?”

  The boy nodded, his eyes downcast.

  “As I said, impressive.”

  “Your Majesty,” Lord Eastoffe began, “we are simple people, without ambition, who have been forced to abandon our estates due to serious threats on our lands and our lives. We ask only to settle here peacefully, and vow to never stir a foot against any natural Coroan, and join in their faithful service of you.”

  Jameson turned away from them, his eyes going from thoughtful to focused as they settled on my face. He grinned, suddenly looking exceptionally pleased with himself. “Lady Hollis, these people have come seeking refuge. What would you say to their plea?”

  Smiling, I looked down at the family. My gaze passed cursorily over the youngest children and their mother, and settled on the eldest son. He was still on his knees, hands clutching the velvet wrap. His eyes locked with mine.

  For a moment, the world stilled. I found myself completely lost in his gaze, unable to look away. His eyes were a shocking blue—a color rare enough in Coroa and completely unique to anything I’d seen before. It wasn’t the shade of the sky or of water. I didn’t have a word for it. And the blue pulled me in, refusing to let me go.

  “Hollis?” Jameson prodded.

  “Yes?” I couldn’t look away.

  “What would you say?”

  “Oh!” My eyelids fluttered as I came back to the present. “Well, they have come in all humility, and they have shown they will contribute to our society through their artisanship. Most important, they have chosen the finest kingdom to settle in, offering their devotion to the goodliest king alive. If it were for me to decide?” I looked at Jameson. “I would let them stay.”

  King Jameson smiled. It seemed I’d passed the test. “Well, there you have it,” he said to the Isoltens. “You may stay.”

  The Eastoffe family looked at one another, embracing joyfully. The young man bowed his head to me, and I did the same in return.

  “A family of your . . . caliber must stay at the castle,” Jameson instructed, his words sounding more like a warning than an invitation, though I didn’t understand why. “At least, for now.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty. And we will be most happy with wherever you choose to keep us,” Lord Eastoffe replied.

  “Take them to the South Wing,” Jameson ordered a guard, giving a flick of his head. The Isoltens bent their heads in acknowledgment before turning and filing out.

  “Hollis,” Jameson whispered beside me, “that was beautifully done. But you must become accustomed to thinking quickly. If I ask you to speak, you need to be ready.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” I replied, fighting a blush.

  He turned to speak with one of his advisers, while I focused my eyes on the back of the hall, watching the Eastoffe family. I still didn’t know the eldest son’s name, but he looked over his shoulder at me, smiling again.

  A quick flutter of whatever had made him hold my gaze before rushed through me, and it felt like a tiny pull in my chest was telling me to follow those eyes. But I dismissed it. If there was anything I knew as a Coroan, it was that Isolten blue was not to be trusted.

  Six

  “NOW THAT THAT’S DONE, I have something to show you,” Jameson whispered in my ear. I turned to look at his devilishly excited eyes, remembering that I’d come in this morning at his invitation. I was thankful to have something—anything—to pull me away from the strange sensation humming through my chest.

  I took his hand gratefully, but as soon as he wove his fingers through mine, he looked troubled. “You’re trembling. Are you unwell?”

  “I don’t know how you handle all those eyes looking at you all the time,” I replied, trying to explain it away. “You have to make so many decisions, and so quickly.”

  His eyes were alight with wisdom as he led me to the edge of the dais. “I was fortunate enough to have an excellent teacher in my father. My bride, whoever she may be, will have to do her best to learn the trade of ruling from me.”

  “That’s no small task, Your Majesty.”

  He smirked. “No. But it does come with some rewards.”

  I waited for him to say more, but he simply stared straight ahead. “Majesty?”

  He kept smiling with his chin up, ignoring me.

  We walked down the steps, and I drew in a breath as he led me to one of the doors at the front of the Great Room. I shared a look with him as the guards let us through; I’d never been here before. The king’s rooms—his private chambers, rooms used for prayer, and the spaces he gave to those working on the privy council—were separated from everyone else by the Great Room. It allowed him to make a rather impressive entrance, and it was easier to keep him secure.

  “Majesty, where are we going?”

  “Nowhere,” he sang coyly.

  “It is decidedly not nowhere,” I insisted, the excitement bubbling up in my stomach.

  “Fine. It’s someplace I’ve been thinking about taking you since the night we truly met.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You mean the moment I made the world’s biggest fool of myself?”

  He laughed. “The moment you became the most charming girl in all of Coroa.”

  “I have to tell you, it’s made me so happy to know I’ve brought any measure of joy to your life,” I admitted. “Not every lady can say she’s made a king himself laugh.”

  “In my case, not a single girl at court can say it. You’re the only one, Hollis. Everyone else? They want something. But you give and give.” He raised my hand to kiss it. “So it delights me to give to you in return.”

  We walked past two more sets of guards before we reached the room Jameson
wanted to show me. Once we were there, one of the guards had to take out a special key and hand us a lantern.

  “There are some lanterns in the room already,” Jameson assured me, “but there are no windows, so any bit of light helps.”

  “Am I being escorted to a dungeon?” I joked, feigning fear.

  He laughed. “Not today. Come. I think this may end up being your favorite room in the castle someday.”

  Tick.

  I hesitantly followed him through the doors, taking a moment to let my eyes adjust and then forgetting completely how to breathe.

  “Some of these are mine,” he began. “I’m sure you recognize the seal I wore on my coronation day. These rings here, I’ve worn many times. And this . . .”

  “The Crown of Estus,” I breathed, completely awestruck. “It’s even more beautiful up close.”

  I stared at the piece for a long time, feeling tears gather at the corners of my eyes. Just over seven generations ago, Coroa was under constant civil wars for leadership. Rulers were made and undone in a handful of years, and it left us at war with ourselves and defenseless against other countries that might take our land. Finally, the Barclay tribe—the very same Barclays who Jameson was descended from—conquered what was left of their enemies, and, though the fighting was brutal, the people were grateful to have one clear leader. The people collected scraps of gold and jewelry, melted them down, and forged them into a crown. A holy man blessed it, and everyone came to watch King Estus Barclay be crowned, the people giving over their rights to his leadership.

  The Crown of Estus was only taken out once a year, on Crowning Day, and only those fortunate enough to be born into a noble family would ever catch a glimpse.

  “Your Majesty, thank you. Your trust in me must be very great to let me so close to something so special, and I am humbled by it.” I could hardly express the awe I was feeling, but I knew how privileged I was in that moment. I turned to face him, tears still blurring my vision.

  He took my hand, kissing it again. “I do trust you, Hollis. It’s like I said: you constantly give. Your time and affection, your laughter and care. You have already given me a thousand gifts in them. Which is why I must tell you that seeing the Crown of Estus is not your gift . . . this is.”