Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
Theo looked up at the castle towering ahead.
It was a beautiful building, he noted with approval.
Solid but elegant. The capital through which they’d just traveled seemed well-maintained and prosperous, and everything about the castle proclaimed strength, from the broad moat to the battlements above.
His eyes lingered on a tall, narrow tower of a type he hadn’t seen before, curious as to its purpose.
He didn’t think Siqual would have reason to regret the planned alliance with Torrens. It was time to put the tension of the past few years to rest and move forward.
As for whether he’d have reason to regret the alliance…well, he didn’t let himself consider that question, because there was little point.
He directed his horse across the drawbridge behind the escort of the Torrenese guards who’d accompanied them through the city.
The courtyard within the castle gates was large and busy, although all activity paused as Theo dismounted and handed his horse off to a groom.
Within minutes, he was being led up the castle steps and into a large, open entranceway.
He paused, allowing his eyes to adjust to the lower light. It had been hot under the late afternoon sun, and the cool of the castle was a welcome change. A group was waiting for him, the four members of the Torrenese royal family unmistakable at its front.
Curiosity flared within Theo at the knowledge that he was, for the first time, in the same room as his future wife. But politeness kept his gaze fixed calmly on the king and queen as they greeted him.
“Your Majesties.” He executed a quick bow. “Thank you for your welcome. I’m delighted to be your guest.”
“I trust your journey was smooth,” Queen Lisbeth said graciously. Her smile was very regal. “We know it was at least efficient.”
Theo inclined his head. “I must apologize for the inconvenience of my early arrival.”
“Not at all,” King Ronan said. “It’s our gain to welcome you sooner. Allow me to introduce to you my son and heir, Patrick.”
Theo greeted the prince, his mind still fighting with the constant pull on his gaze that was the princess on the queen’s other side.
Crown Prince Patrick was tall and upright, his features stern beneath his ash-blond hair.
Nothing like Siqual’s crown prince, Theo reflected, sparing a rueful thought for his often-outrageous older brother.
“And of course, my daughter, Elowen.”
At last, Theo allowed his eyes to follow their desired course. He turned to greet the princess, a little shocked by how much he struggled to keep his expression steady as his gaze fell on her face.
“Princess.” He took her offered hand, bowing over it before returning his eyes to her face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.”
He kept his voice even and formal, as was appropriate. But his thoughts were much more animated.
Princess Elowen was beautiful. Stunningly beautiful.
She was, he acknowledged frankly in the privacy of his mind, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Her features were delicate and her frame willowy, but she didn’t project fragility.
Her bearing was confident, and her eyes—a clear blue—were sharp with intelligence.
Pale, silky hair was piled atop her head in elegant braids, and her gown was fit for the royalty she was.
Warm satisfaction flooded Theo, and he scolded himself for caring so much about something so superficial. He hadn’t thought Princess Elowen’s appearance mattered to him, but his own reaction proved him wrong.
He didn’t show that he was starstruck, of course. There was the honor of Siqual to be upheld, and he maintained a calm front.
“I’m pleased to meet you as well,” Princess Elowen said calmly. “I hope you’ll feel at home here.”
Impossible not to wonder about her thoughts. Was she pleasantly surprised, like him? Or disappointed with what she saw? He suddenly realized he was still holding her hand, and lowered it at once.
“The arrangements are all made for the betrothal celebrations to begin in two days’ time,” Queen Lisbeth said. “I regret that your family are unable to attend.”
“As do they,” Theo said politely. “But they’ll come for the wedding, so they won’t have long to wait.”
“We can discuss a date for the wedding at a later time,” interjected King Ronan. “In the meantime, I’m sure you’ll wish for the chance to change from travel before dinner.”
Theo looked from the queen to the king. “Yes,” he said carefully. “That would be welcome.”
There was something strange about the king’s dismissal of his mention of the impending wedding, but he didn’t know his host well enough to assess what it was. Surely the Torrenese weren’t going to pull out of the agreement?
He exercised his iron self-control to stop his eyes from straying back to the princess as a servant led him toward his rooms. He was disappointed with himself for losing his head over her beauty.
As he changed his clothes in preparation for dinner, Theo’s mind was on the king’s strange manner regarding the wedding date. He knew he hadn’t imagined it. A lifetime of learning to suppress his own reactions had made him good at reading those of others.
When he emerged from his room a short time later, a servant was waiting to show him to the dining hall. They made their way down a wide and pleasant corridor, lined with portraits of austere-looking individuals in the fashions of bygone times.
Theo felt a tiny surge of disappointment, swiftly pushed down, when the servant ushered him into a large and elaborately presented dining hall.
Not that there was anything wrong with the space—the enormous wooden table, polished until it gleamed like marble—was imposing, and the spread laid out upon it even more so.
Elegant crystal chandeliers bathed the room in soft light, and two large fireplaces kept the chill of the early evening at bay.
No, his disappointment was at the number of people in the room.
Some thirty people stood as he entered—it was a court event, then, not the private meal with the royal family that he’d hoped for.
He should have guessed as much. He knew from his training with a cultural advisor before he left Siqual how elaborate Torrenese royal betrothal ceremonies were.
He’d caught a glimpse of the preparations just outside the city as he’d approached.
Most of the court would gather for it, and much of the city’s population would crowd in to watch what they could.
It wasn’t the form he would choose for his betrothal, but he’d been thoroughly prepared, and understood his role in it all.
He was to carry Princess Elowen off to Siqual once they were married, after all.
It wasn’t so much to ask that before she embraced the ways of his own kingdom for the rest of her life, he submit to the traditions of hers in the betrothal process.
The king and queen were absent from the dining hall, but their places were easily located, the king’s at the head of the long table, and the queen’s to his left.
Prince Patrick occupied the seat to his absent father’s right hand.
Theo’s eyes scanned the rest of the group, pausing on the golden-haired figure seated beside the queen’s empty chair.
He was heartened by the vacant seat on Elowen’s other side.
At least he would be able to talk to her.
There was another empty seat on Prince Patrick’s other side, but as Theo had hoped, the servant directed him to sit beside the princess. He strode down the room, perfectly composed as he felt the gaze of many pairs of eyes.
“It seems rumor didn’t lie on this occasion, Princess. Stiff was the word, wasn’t it?”
By no flicker of his expression did Theo betray that he’d heard the carrying whisper from the young man seated on the other side of the empty chair beside Prince Patrick. But Princess Elowen wasn’t similarly successful in hiding her reaction. Color flooded her cheeks, and Theo’s heart sank.
He reached his chair, and with a rustle of fabrics, the other guests resumed their seats as well.
There was no time for greetings, however, because a moment later, they were all rising again as King Ronan and Queen Lisbeth were announced.
Another middle-aged man in an immaculately tailored jacket walked alongside the king.
Watching the trio, Theo saw at a glance that this was someone important, who enjoyed the confidence of the monarchs.
The man was introduced as the Duke of Nirocha, supporting Theo’s assessment.
By the time the necessary formalities were complete, and the servants began ladling soup into everyone’s bowls, Princess Elowen’s flush from the earlier whisper had long subsided.
But she still seemed hesitant to meet Theo’s eye.
Theo felt his frustration rise. This wasn’t the beginning he wanted with his future wife. He wanted her to like him. He wanted to make a good impression.
It doesn’t matter what I want. The rebuke came swiftly to his mind.
It wasn’t his desires that mattered, but his duty, and duty required him to show a strong and confident front.
It was Siqual’s honor on the line, so he would ignore both the insult from the young nobleman, and the implication that Theo’s betrothed had discussed him—evidently negatively—with another man.
What had he expected, after all? He knew his reputation for being stiff and uninteresting. It would be childish to let it trouble him. The opinions of idle gossipers didn’t matter. He knew the truth—that unemotional steadiness was better for a kingdom than volatile charm.
Marriage alliances with powerful neighbors were also good for kingdoms, so there he was. His eyes strayed to Princess Elowen, his thoughts wandering for a moment as he took in the graceful line of her neck where she bent her head toward her mother, listening to a quiet comment from the queen.