Seirsha of Errinton

by Shari L. Tapscott

  Bea quickly wipes her hands clean. “I’ll come with you.”

  Waving her away, I say, “No—stay. I’ll be fine. You may come before the meeting and help me dress.”

  ***

  The bell rings, announcing the hour, reminding me I must leave for the council soon. I examine the pendant and turn it over in my hand, admiring the way the light catches the sapphire. It’s so beautiful.

  “Finished.” Bea steps away from my hair, and I turn so she may inspect the front. She fusses with a few strands and then sets her hands on her hips. “You look lovely.”

  “Thank you.” I slip the necklace over my head, careful not to catch the chain on the carefully braided coils.

  Bea frowns. “I wonder if we should have left some of it down. Men usually like it that way.”

  I glance in the mirror. Bea’s reflection smiles back at me as she adjusts the comb. Rella says Bea and I are summer and winter. Bea’s hair is honey, and mine is treacle. She has golden skin with light, pretty freckles, and mine is pale and clear. She is warm. I am cold.

  “It won’t matter, Bea,” I say. “He’ll be too busy discussing politics to notice me.”

  She grins. “Who will, Your Highness?”

  “You know who.” My cheeks flush, and I swat her away. “Now go dote on your niece.”

  “You promise you’ll come meet her soon?”

  I nod. “I’ll try to come tonight. Father finds the meetings taxing, and he will likely have his dinner in his chambers.”

  Bea frowns and crosses her arms. “At least he doesn’t have to stand during them.”

  There’s no reason to argue about something I cannot change.

  A knock at my door surprises us both. Bea’s eyes go wide with terror, and she takes a step back. My heart aches for her. Calden is dead, but the damage he dealt is alive and well.

  Setting my hand on her arm, I say, “It’s all right. I’ll check it.”

  I open the door, expecting a messenger. Instead, I find Rigel.

  The lord’s lips twitch at my surprise. “May I walk you to the council meeting, Your Highness?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I’m so startled to see Rigel here, I don’t answer right away.

  “Walk me to the council meeting?” I finally parrot back like a fool.

  He raises an eyebrow. “Unless you would prefer to walk alone…?”

  Bea gapes at us with her hands clasped together and her expression delighted. I glare at her as I step into the hall. She gives me one last bright smile before I pull the door shut.

  I turn to Rigel. “Of course I would prefer your company. Thank you.”

  Rigel holds out his arm, and I stare at it. He didn’t offer it last night. We walked together, but we didn’t touch. My fingers tremble. I hope he won’t feel the way I shake.

  We walk, and I struggle for something—anything—to speak of.

  “How did you find Lauramore?” I ask, happy to find a safe, neutral subject that isn’t the weather.

  Rigel doesn’t look over, but there is a ghost of a smile on his face. “It was pleasant.”

  I nod.

  Bea can chatter about everything and nothing for hours on end. Why can’t I think of enough words to fill the space of a short walk to the council meeting?

  “You’re wearing the pendant again today,” he says softly.

  His expression is amicable, but there is nothing encouraging there—nothing that hints at more than friendly interest.

  I run my fingers over the sapphire and meet his eyes. “I wear it every day.”

  Rigel’s lips tilt ever so slightly, and he nods. “Wait for me after the council meeting?”

  My heart leaps in my chest, but I keep my face impassive as I agree. We continue the rest of the way to the council room in silence.

  ***

  Father grits his teeth and leans forward. “Great-uncle Norton had a son. Surely there’s a man in that line somewhere. One of them had to survive the wars.”

  My legs ache. I’m exhausted from standing, but women do not sit with the council. Traditionally, besides the king’s queen and daughters, women aren’t allowed in the council at all—not that there’s been many daughters to stand in over a hundred years. The women in our line are born notoriously sickly. Most die at birth. In fact, I’m the first firstborn—or only born, as in my case—to live.

  Rovert—the record keeper, scribe, and sniveling rat who is constantly sniffing at Father’s feet—has our family tree spread in front of him. He shakes his head. “All decedents from that line are deceased, Your Majesty.”

  Father growls.

  My gaze wanders to Rigel. He draws me like a moth to a flame. I’m embarrassingly besotted with him, and I have been for as long as I can remember. He sits with his arms crossed, watching Rovert. He’s said little during the meeting. He is loyal to Father, has done nothing but prove his loyalty, but Father will always resent him and the line he descended from.

  As if sensing my gaze, Rigel’s eyes move to mine. They hold for a moment, and then I look away, unable to bear the weight of his attention. When I glance back, he’s speaking quietly with Lord Archer.

  Lord Fisher leans forward on his elbows. “Your Majesty, have you considered marrying again? You may have an heir still.”

  Father’s eyes snap to the man. “I will not remarry.”

  Duke Everett doesn’t bother to hide his exasperation. “If no heir can be found or produced, Your Majesty, the throne will revert back to King Leonard’s line.”

  Most, including myself, turn toward Rigel, curious what his reaction will be. The lord’s emotions are shielded, and it’s impossible to discern what he may be thinking.

  “There will be an heir,” Father snaps.

  Our attention turns back to Rovert and the family tree. I try not to look at my mother’s name. So many are dead and gone.

  “Perhaps your line could be carried on through Seirsha?” the Marquis of Preywoth asks. “It wouldn’t be the first time an exception has been made to allow a female heir. Once she produces a male child, you would have a direct descendant.”

  Duke Everett snorts. “She would have to find a husband first.”

  A chorus of arguing breaks out, and I study a beam across the room.

  Father rises and presses his palms to the table. “You know where I stand on this subject. Seirsha will be married to a prince. She will remain unmarried until one of the lower kingdoms seeks an alliance.”

  Exasperated, Lord Fishes says, “No one wants an alliance with Errinton.”

  In truth, Father doesn’t care about connections. He wants a stranger to take me away so none of the other Errinton families will have any claim to his throne or power. This is also why he refuses to remarry. Mother was the orphan daughter of a baron. There was no one to benefit from their marriage save Father. It’s not easy to find such a tidy situation.

  “Your Majesty,” Lord Archer says. The room falls quiet, all curious to see what the newcomer has to say. “I beg your pardon if what I say is unreasonable, but what if the Princess and Lord Rigel were to wed? The lines would be united, and the kingdom would stay in your bloodline through your future grandchild.”

  The room is deathly silent. I can’t bear to look at Rigel.

  “No.” Father’s voice is stony.

  “Surely you would rather the kingdom go to your own grandchild than to a distant cousin,” Duke Everett argues. “Lord Archer speaks sense. Name Rigel as your heir and unite the kingdom through the marriage of your daughter.”

  Again, there is chaos. Unable to help myself, I allow my gaze to slide to Rigel. As if he’s been waiting for me to find him, he looks over immediately.

  “What do you have to say on the matter, Rigel?” the Marquis asks.

  Rigel’s attention snaps forward. “I will gladly do whatever my king asks of me.” His eyes flicker to me for a moment before they return to Father. “I am loyal to you, Your Majesty. You know that.”

  Father’s face
smooths, and for a moment I wonder if he’s actually considering it. “Yes, you are.”

  I hold my breath as he stares at Rigel.

  “No,” he finally answers. “Seirsha and Rigel will not marry. Not now, not ever.”

  The words are spoken with such finality that the subject is dropped. Girlish dreams shatter at my feet. Tears sting my eyes, but I won’t let them fall in this company. The humiliation would haunt me forever. I stare again at the beam in the corner, waiting for Father to end the council so I may visit my misery alone.

  The bickering steadily increases. Rovert hints to something he and Father have been discussing as a possible solution, but they do not include the others in their plotting. Finally, with no decisions made, Father ends the meeting.

  I slip away as soon as we are dismissed. I don’t wait for Rigel. By the time I close in on my hall, I am running as fast as my legs will carry me. I throw open the door and lock it behind me. The wood is cold against my back, and I slide down it until I’m sitting on the stone floor. Hot tears stream down my face, blurring my vision. I curl up against my knees and let them fall.

  ***

  A sweet little mouth yawns wide in sleep, and I cuddle the soft baby closer to me. She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.

  Marielle smiles at me from her chair in the corner. “She likes you.”

  “She cries every time I hold her,” Bea pouts.

  Antone pokes his sister, making her laugh. “She’s a smart girl.”

  I love this family so much. I know their life is hard, much harder than mine, but I wish I could stay and be a part of them. A real part—not a princess pretending she belongs with peasants.

  Bea sits next to me and gazes at her niece.

  “Don’t get too close,” I tease. “You’ll make her cry.”

  My friend rolls her eyes and strokes the soft, downy hair away from Kara’s face. “Now will you tell me what happened at the council?”

  She looks at me expectantly.

  I cried myself to sleep on the floor last night. Bea came looking for me when I never came, and I couldn’t tell her what had happened. The pain was too new, too raw.

  “Father announced I will never be married.” I stroke Kara’s cheek and blink when my eyes begin to sting again. “He said the offer must come from a prince or nothing at all.”

  “What does that have to do with finding an heir?” she asks quietly.

  “Lord Archer suggested Father declare Rigel as the next heir, with the agreement that we would marry, and then our children would link the two lines.”

  Bea’s eyes widen. I glance across the little room. Rella, Antone, and Marielle pretend like they’re not hanging on my every word.

  “Father adamantly refused.”

  Rella comes over and kneels before me. “You said he would.”

  “I know.” I nod and try to smile. “Just hearing him actually say it…”

  She stands, pushes her messy blond hair away from her face, and sets her hands on her hips. “Any prince would be lucky to have you.”

  I shake my head. “No one wants an alliance with Errinton.”

  And I don’t want any prince. I want Rigel.

  Kara’s little eyes flutter as she begins to wake. Her face scrunches, and she starts to whimper. Grudgingly, I rise and hand her back to Marielle.

  “When do the nobility leave?” Bea asks.

  “I’ve no idea. Father hasn’t released them yet. I don’t think he will until a resolution has been found.”

  “Why does he need them here?” Rella asks.

  “He only keeps them because he can—just as they are to stay away unless summoned.”

  Rella shakes her head, but I only shrug—I don’t understand it either.

  I look at the baby longingly. “I should go. Bea, will you come with me? Father has announced a formal evening dinner. I’ll need help dressing.”

  Bea laughs. “You are too good to me. I’m your maid; you’re not supposed to ask.”

  I’ve known Bea since we played together under Rella’s feet in the kitchens, and she’s my lady’s maid because it’s the one thing I’ve demanded of Father. She’s far more friend than servant.

  “Will you wear the new gown?” Bea leans forward, her eyes shining with excitement. “The scarlet one?”

  There hasn’t been the right occasion, and Bea has been dying to get me in it. I’ll most likely give in because it will make her happy. Not that I have anyone to wear it for.

  I nod, and she bobs on her toes, excited. Then, with a gleam in her eyes, she asks, “Will you ask your father for your mother’s rubies?”

  Clasping the pendant at my neck, I shake my head. I’m not ready to part with it yet. Bea’s face falls, but she looks as if she understands.

  We walk through the village, and I greet those I see. For the most part, the peasants are kind to me, and I try to return their kindness. Others resent me. I understand how very little they have and try not to let their hostility hurt. I would help them if I could. I don’t know how. I have no resources at my disposal—not even a meager allowance of gold.

  Calden had an allowance. He spent it on alcohol, women, and who-knows-what-else.

  Several knights spar with the visiting lords in the practice yard. Several nod an acknowledgment as I pass. The men are bored, eager to return to their homes and children.

  We near a little girl playing in the street. She has no boots. Her coat is threadbare, and her skirt is too short. But she smiles when she sees me, and then she ducks her head shyly. “Hello, Princess.”

  “Hello.” I kneel down. “What are you drawing?”

  The girl has a stick, and she makes designs in a patch of dirt where the street stones have been pulled up. Little rocks dot the picture.

  “It’s our village,” the girl says, still not quite looking at me. “This is my home.” She points to one of the pebbles, and then she points to a much larger rock. “And this is the castle.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  She gives me a radiant smile. “You want one of my jewels? I keep the pretty ones in a box Father made me.”

  I grin at her. “Are you sure you want to part with one?”

  Nodding with exuberance, she says, “You can have this one.”

  It’s a little piece of plain white quartz—I’m sure one of her prize possessions.

  “Thank you very much.” I accept it from her dirty hand. “What’s your name?”

  “Isla,” she says, once again shy.

  “I’m Seirsha.” I take her hand in mine. “It’s very nice to meet you. I hope to see you again soon.”

  Isla lowers her eyes and smiles. We don’t leave until the little girl goes back to her game.

  We’ve almost reached the castle when Bea says, “He was watching you.”

  I stop, startled. “Who was?”

  “Rigel.” She gives me a sad smile. “He was in the practice yard while you were speaking with the little girl.”

  “Oh?” I pretend not to care even though my heart races. I don’t need this kind of hope. “It doesn’t matter.”

  I step past her, and she rushes to catch up.

  Once we’re in my quarters, Bea pulls the scarlet gown from my wardrobe. I scowl at it. What’s the point? Still, it is beautiful. I run my hand down the shimmering silk. Jewels run from the bodice down the full skirt. The sleeves are nothing more than swaths of fabric.

  I will freeze.

  “This should wait for summer, Bea.”

  She shakes her head. “No, it will be tonight.”

  I don’t fight Bea too much. There are few chances to wear something this lovely. Once she’s finally finished, she turns me toward the mirror. She’s left my hair down, brushed it to a shine, and twisted some of it up with my circlet atop my head. The scarlet dress makes my eyes look bright and very blue.

  Fingering a strand of hair, I ask, “Do you think it’s too much?”

  “No,” Bea says, stubborn as always. She adjusts the sapphire
at my throat.

  I should go down now, but I linger a few minutes longer, hoping there will be a knock on the door. There is none. Finally, I make my way to the great hall alone.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Rigel’s deep in conversation, surrounded by nobility. He’s handsome tonight in a charcoal tunic that’s only a shade darker than his eyes. My gaze follows him through the hall. Not once does he look my way. Feeling foolish for imagining he might still harbor feelings for me, I turn back to my conversation with Pippa.

  She’s a whirlwind. I can barely keep up with her.

  “Do you ride?” she asks.

  I nod.

  “We’ll go tomorrow—if your father doesn’t dismiss us this evening.”

  The great hall is all abuzz. Father promised news, and he’s in a rare jovial mood. He must have found an heir.

  “Perhaps,” I say. “If the weather is clear.”

  The idea of riding with Pippa makes me nervous. I spend very little time in the company of anyone other than Bea’s family and the cantankerous female dragon.

  “I don’t mind snow.” Pippa waves my concern away. “You needn’t worry about me.”

  The meal is finished, and guests have broken off into groups. Fires burn in every one of the stone hearths. Merry light and heat is cast from around the perimeter of the room, and for once the hall is warm.

  With an eager expression, Pippa watches a trio of musicians take their seats in the very corner of the hall. She turns to me, her eyes bright. “Do you think there will be dancing?”

  “I doubt it. The last time we danced was for my eighteenth birthday.”

  A wistful expression crosses her face. “I hope there will be. You do dance, don’t you?”

  I’ve never liked it—I don’t care to be that close to people. Again, my eyes wander to Rigel. “It can be enjoyable, I suppose.”

  A little too observant, Pippa follows my gaze and smirks. “With the right partner.”

  I realize I’ve wrapped my fingers around the pendant, and I lower them to my lap.

  Father stands, and silence blankets the hall. What obscure relative has he found this time?

  “You all must be wondering if I’ve solved my heir dilemma.” He makes it sound as if it’s a trivial problem—a hiccup in his otherwise perfect reign. “I am pleased to announce that I’ve come to a solution.”