by Elle Clouse
“I thought so. Now, there’ll be at least one tailor in town able to provide us with clothes good enough for a princess’s chaperone, but”—he grinned—“we can do that in the morning. What say we go out and stretch our legs for a bit? Kiera?”
“You go ahead without me.” She couldn’t risk being seen as she was. The feel of this town was completely different from that of the capitol. People greeted one another in the street rather than ignoring one another. It would be hard for them to maintain their anonymity if they stayed here for too long. “And you should start calling me Princess Fedelma. We can’t have any slipups when we get into Cearbhall.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” With a laugh, Brogan motioned Erann and Brigid out the door and shut it behind him.
Alone for the first time in days, Kiera fished through her handbag and retrieved the book of sonnets she had taken from the library. She sat on the bench and opened it to a page at random. When she tried to read, though, she couldn’t concentrate.
Reality was catching up with her. What if she couldn’t play a convincing princess long enough to get through the wedding ceremony? Once the vows were spoken and the union consummated, she would be a rightful princess per Cearbhall’s own law, but until then, everything was uncertain. Even then, her future wasn’t set in stone. The wedding might go through as planned, but what if Ian found out her true identity afterward? It was not unheard of for royalty to divorce or even annual a marriage. What would happen to her then? The situation made her chest tight with worry.
Brogan had become a con artist for the money. He was good at impersonating lords and getting young, wealthy women to fall in love with him. It netted him their fathers’ money and a good night’s rest in their beds, and that was enough for him. Once her marriage to Ian went through, Brogan and his friends would probably just take their money and leave, but this was going to be a lifetime change for her.
She would be a princess. Brigid and Erann thought that meant a life of luxury and ease, but first she would be responsible for an heir. If she could gain Ian’s sincere affections, she might be able to have a voice on policy changes. A voice she could use for the betterment of the educational system, a voice to educate the poor. When researching for Brogan’s cons, she made a point of selecting targets with sordid histories, families that had earned their fortunes through ill means. At least that’s how she justified her role in his operations.
The plan would work. It had to.
The sonnets weren’t holding her attention. She gave up on trying to read and returned the book to her handbag, then began to prepare for bed. The rest of the troupe would be out late partying as usual. By the time they returned, she’d have laid claim to all of the best blankets, and then it would be their loss for staying up half the night carousing.
“WHAT’S HER PROBLEM?” Brigid took a swig of her ale and wriggled in Brogan’s lap in a not-unpleasant fashion. “Little miss prissy britches.”
Brogan chuckled. “That’s my cousin you are talking about, and she’s normally the brains, not the talent. I’d imagine she’s a little overstressed, but the pull from this endeavor will be well worth a little discomfort. Here’s to us!” He raised his mug. “Here’s to retiring young and doing nothing for the rest of our lives.”
Brogan, Brigid, and Erann raised their glasses. Phelan ignored the toast and stared into his own mug, looking miserable.
Brogan took a big gulp of ale. “Stop sulking, Phelan. You know she wouldn’t ever marry you. You aren’t her type.”
“Yeah, you aren’t smart enough.” Erann laughed, and Brigid giggled.
Phelan crossed his arms over his chest and looked away.
“I haven’t known her to be interested in any man,” Brogan added, but Phelan gave no sign that he’d heard.
“Maybe her heart was stolen before I met her,” Phelan said, so softly that only Brogan heard. Brogan frowned. It was an improbable, romantic sentiment, but could there be some truth in it? Kiera had been reluctant to return to her childhood home. She’d put up much more resistance to this scheme than she ever had before. Perhaps she had another reason to avoid Cearbhall aside from the loss of her father.
And then there had been her expression when she found out she wasn’t going to wed Lachlan...
Hastily, Brogan moved on to a new topic. “Well, this just works out best for everyone. We get paid handsomely, and she gets more books than she can read in a lifetime. It’s a win-win situation for everyone involved.”
“But poor Ian!” The ale flushed Brigid’s cheeks. “He’ll be stuck with that sourpuss!”
Even Phelan joined in the laughter this time.
Grinning, Brogan lifted his mug in a second toast. “To Ian! And here’s to hoping he never gets on her bad side. Now come on, we have some celebrating to do.”
KIERA STARED AT HERSELF in the changing area’s mirror. She wore an emerald-green overdress and a cream-colored underdress embroidered with gold thread at the hemline. Under a decorative beaded headdress, her hair coiled into an elaborate braid that had taken her at least twenty minutes to fix into place. She didn’t recognize herself at all.
Maybe that was for the best. She didn’t need anyone to recognize the daughter of the late royal scribe. That would spell disaster for them in a heartbeat.
She fidgeted with her headdress, caught herself, and stopped. With a deep breath she stepped out from behind the changing screen into the main room, where Brogan lounged on a bench, waiting for her and her ladies-in-waiting. She halted at the sight of him and arched an eyebrow. “Is my chaperone really so slack as to be caught idling in such a fashion?”
Brogan’s head snapped around, and his eyes widened. He scrambled to his feet. “You look amazing, Kiera.”
“For the hundredth time, that’s Princess Fedelma,” she said primly. There was another full-length mirror in the main shop. She walked over to it and studied her reflection. It was still hard for her to believe that she and the person in the glass were one and the same. “And you need to refer to me as your highness. If anyone hears you call me by my real name, this will be over before it begins.”
“Yes, Princess.” He grinned and adjusted his own newly acquired jacket. It wasn’t nearly as fine as any they’d been forced to leave behind, but it would work well enough. “Are Brigid and Erann almost ready, or are they still having trouble with all those little hooks?”
As if summoned, Erann stepped from behind a changing divider and stood at Kiera’s side. Her dress was not as detailed or expensive but it was more elaborate than her normal attire. She stared at her own reflection without smiling, her hands at her sides. “I look ridiculous,” she said flatly.
“Oh, don’t say that.” Brigid emerged from the changing area, beaming. She edged in to see herself in the mirror, crowding Kiera out. “Just look at these colors! Brogan, what do you think? Don’t we look lovely?”
Brogan whistled. “Gorgeous.”
Brigid blushed. Kiera took the opportunity to straighten hemlines and tuck in stray strands of hair.
It was her maids’ job to help her dress, but things seemed to be the other way around.
“We look so silly.” Erann fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. Kiera swatted at her to stop, and she settled for smoothing a hand down the front of her dress.
“You look respectable,” Kiera replied. “And if you don’t open your mouth too much, no one will be able to guess where you actually come from.”
“What about me?” Brogan asked.
“You look decent too.” He looked quite handsome, actually. He wore shiny riding boots, and his jacket was completely buttoned. An expertly folded kerchief peeked out of his breast pocket. She didn’t want to inflate his ego, though, so she kept the flattery to herself.
“Just decent?”
“You look fabulous,” Brigid cooed. “Doesn’t he, Erann?”
“Sure thing,” Erann said sarcastically. “Good enough to eat.”
Kiera made a shushing gesture. “Calm
down, ladies. I don’t want any of this kind of talk once we get to Cearbhall. Gods know who might overhear. We don’t want to give the king or the princes any cause for suspicion.”
Brigid peered at herself in the mirror and tugged a curl. “I wonder what they look like. The princes, I mean...”
“I only knew them when they were children, but they were rather charming boys. I heard that the king was good-looking in his day, and I’m sure his sons have inherited his good looks. The Canis men tend to be tall and handsome, with dark hair...”
Brigid and Erann looked at each other and smirked.
Kiera gave them a freezing glare. “Don’t get any ideas. Once my place is secured, you can do what you want, but until then you need to be as straight as an arrow.”
The grins fell from their faces. “Spoilsport,” Erann said sulkily.
Brogan coughed. “I hate to break up the lovely conversation, but we’d best be on our way. If the bar gossip is true, the castle’s preparing for our arrival as we speak. We need to get going so we can arrive in time for the evening meal.” His eyes gleamed in anticipation.
“Don’t gorge yourself,” Kiera warned. “Table manners can give us away too. Especially since our lessons got cut short.”
Brigid giggled.
Brogan took Kiera by the shoulders and made her look at him. “Don’t be so negative. This will work just fine, and we’ll all get what we want.”
She scrunched up her nose. She’d done her best with everything that she had. If Phelan, Brigid, and Erann didn’t remember the etiquette, at least it wouldn’t be because she hadn’t tried. “Let’s get this started, then. The clock ticks toward matrimony.”
She inspected everyone’s attire one more time, then signaled it was time to leave. Brogan remembered to open the door of the shop for her to start the procession into the courtyard where Phelan waited with the carriage.
Phelan opened the carriage door with a bow. Kiera entered first, followed by Brigid and Erann, who managed to seat themselves without wrinkling their dresses. Brogan came in last and shut the door, and the coach began to move. No one spoke. The tension in the cab was thick enough to choke on.
So she entered Cearbhall in a stolen coach, with a group of misfits dressed like nobility and a plan to defraud the royal family.
Kiera stared out the window at the trees rolling by and tried to ignore the churning of her stomach. She’d not seen Cearbhall since she was ten years old. She’d been too young to fully understand, and as time passed she’d been glad to let the memories fade. But now she was returning to her childhood home. Under the influence of familiar sights and sounds, the old memories might resurface in fresh, stinging clarity. The accident that claimed her father’s life, her mother’s sudden decision to leave Cearbhall, her refusal to talk about Tomas Clark’s death.
And Lachlan.
Kiera gripped her skirts. She hadn’t realized until now how much she wanted to see him again. He would be older now, no longer the gangly youth she had known, but she felt sure she would recognize him the instant she laid eyes on him. Now that they were almost there, she could admit to herself that she was looking forward to meeting her childhood friend once more. Even if it was as Princess Fedelma, not as Kiera Clark.
The carriage crested a hill, and the castle came into view, towering over every other building in the surrounding city. The Canis flag flew from the tallest tower, and banners hung from each lesser tower as well. The citizens were awaiting the arrival of their future queen.
Chapter 4
“They’ve arrived.” Ayden gazed out the window overlooking the courtyard. “Such a pity that Ian would put up with this arranged marriage.” Ayden turned and looked at the woman lying on his bed. The sheets were asunder from a moment of passion.
She propped herself up on an elbow. “And that’s why you joined the temple, right?”
Ayden shot her a disgusted look. “That,” he snapped, “is none of your concern. Now get out. I need to think, and I can’t do it with you around.”
The woman frowned but collected her uniform and left. Ayden returned to the window in time to see his brother and Flann emerge from the castle, supporting his aging father between them. The three of them came to a halt in the middle of the courtyard and stood waiting as the Siomha caravan rolled in. If his father were in better health, Ayden would have worried about a reprimand for his absence, but with the king’s continued illness, Ayden knew he had nothing to be concerned about.
He watched intently as the princess stepped out of the weathered carriage and curtsied. She clutched at her skirts at her sides. Ayden watched their lips move, the conversation a dance with specific steps. How was your trip? How are your parents? How is the trade in Siomha? Even from this distance it wasn’t hard to see that the king was already pleased with his future daughter-in-law. His wrinkled face wore a satisfied expression. Ian’s expression, on the other hand, was stiff and placid with concealed unhappiness. The princess looked nervous.
He continued to watch until they entered the castle, then stepped back from the window, frowning. He had hoped that the girl would be anything but lovely, but she was precisely that. Ian’s bride-to-be could rival some of the famed local beauties. The autumn sun reflected the red in her hair exquisitely.
He smiled to himself. Ian wouldn’t be swayed by this little development, but Ayden’s interest was definitely piqued.
THE ROYAL PROCESSION was ushered to their chambers before dinner to freshen up. As they passed through the halls, Kiera had to remind herself constantly not to stare. This was where she had grown up. This was her childhood home. So much of it had remained the same.
On the other hand, the people had changed. She didn’t recognize any of the servants in the halls.
They dropped into bows and curtsies when they saw her, but after she passed them, she could feel their stares boring into her back. It was simple curiosity, but nonetheless she heaved a huge sigh of relief once she had been shown to her room and was safely inside with the door shut and only Erann and Brigid to accompany her.
“Well, we passed the first test,” Erann said, breaking the silence. “What’s next?”
Kiera smiled a little.
“Ian is quite the looker,” she continued. “A little stout, but still well enough. You were right about the Canis good looks, at least for that one.”
“We didn’t get to see much of him, though,” Brigid complained. “The introductions were too short.”
“We’ll see more of them at dinner,” Kiera said. “The other two brothers will be there as well. Remember: don’t speak to them unless they address you directly. We don’t want to give anything away.”
Erann rolled her eyes. “Yes, we know.”
Nothing would come of more lectures right now other than resentment. Kiera dropped the subject and looked about their accommodations. Their suite of rooms was decorated in the regional style of carved wooden furniture, linens spun from the locally grown cotton, and upholstery sewn by town artisans. Kiera had forgotten about the meticulous carvings and rustic details in Cearbhall.
“Hey, Brigid, check this out.” Erann opened a door and motioned.
Curious, Kiera explored yet another one of the rooms just off the sitting room. It was a small sleeping chamber with a bed, side table, dresser, desk, and a small sitting area. A lady-in-waiting’s room.
Kiera returned to the main sitting area. “We each get our own room, it seems.”
Brigid’s eyes gleamed. “I saw. Did you see your bedroom yet? It’s bigger than your loft back in Talesin, and it’s got a four-poster bed big enough for a whole family, all for you. And the bedding! It’s so luxurious.”
“I could get used to this.” Erann walked into the center of the room, hands on her hips. “I think that this might actually be worth it.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You aren’t the sacrificial lamb.”
Brigid smiled. “I don’t think we could do it, anyways. It takes a certain level of ch
arisma to deal with all this courtier stuff. The pain wouldn’t be worth it.”
“Speak for yourself. I could put up with a great deal of crap for this.” Erann ran her hand over one of the window drapes and sighed.
Someone knocked on the door. “Enter,” Kiera said.
It turned out to be the workmen with their trunks. After they were gone, Kiera made Erann and Brigid stop their gleeful inventory of the rooms to hang up their gowns and settle in. They chatted and laughed the whole time, giddy from the richness of their surroundings. Kiera wished she could feel so at ease. Her position wasn’t secure yet, and she couldn’t shake her anxiety that their con would go wrong at any second.
All too soon, a servant came to escort them to dinner. Along the way, Brogan rejoined them. He had been put up in a room just down the hall, and he looked just as excited as Erann and Brigid. “Princess Fedelma,” he began.
Kiera shook her head and he fell silent. She didn’t know who might be listening. It was best not to chance the wrong ears overhearing.
The formal dining hall was as she remembered. Tree trunk columns supported a tall, vaulted ceiling. An antler chandelier hung above a long table that stretched the full length of the room.
The servant directed her to a seat beside the king at the head of the table, directly across from Ian, then led Brogan, Erann, and Brigid away to their seats farther down the table. Kiera’s stomach fluttered. This wasn’t a small, intimate meal. The table was packed with several local lords and ladies had joined them to catch a glimpse of the future queen. The only empty seat was the one beside Ian.
Kiera studied her future husband. He wasn’t looking at her but inspecting the forks of his place setting, his expression as calm and unreadable as it had been in the courtyard. She might have been air for all the attention he paid her. The slight hurt more than she’d thought it would, but she pushed the feeling aside. It’s just a con, she reminded herself. It didn’t matter how much he disliked her as long as he went through with the marriage.