Chapter 7 #2
Sophia twisted her hands in her skirt, her expression troubled. “I think I’ve been careless in the past,” she confessed. “I’m realizing much later in life than I should have that when I make mistakes, it impacts others as well as myself.”
“What do you mean?” Elowen demanded, sure her friend was speaking of something specific. She took Sophia’s arm and drew her down onto an empty stretch of bench on the bottom row of the stands, thoughts of leaving before the crowd forgotten.
It was evident that Sophia didn’t want to answer, and a moment later her face lit in recognition as she looked over Elowen’s shoulder.
Elowen turned, finding no pleasure at the sight of the young man striding toward them.
Bertrand might be unknowingly rescuing his sister from a conversation she didn’t want to have, but he was never a welcome addition as far as Elowen was concerned.
Instead of sitting next to his sister, he placed himself on the empty bench beside Elowen.
“Do I dare to hope that you beautiful ladies watched my performance in the archery with bated breath?”
“No,” said Elowen petulantly. “I was watching His Highness, actually.”
“Were you?” Bertrand’s carefully raised eyebrow perfectly expressed his contempt. And how did your fair prince perform?”
“Naturally, he won,” said Elowen.
Her words seemed to amuse rather than discourage Bertrand. He laid his arm along the next level of the stands, which served as a backrest for their bench. Elowen inched forward discreetly, not eager to feel his arm against her shoulders. He was sitting much too close.
“Did he indeed?” Bertrand’s gaze was faintly malicious as it slid from Elowen’s face to the field in front of them.
With a jolt, Elowen realized that Theo was coming off the field.
She suddenly understood that Bertrand’s approach, and his overly familiar manner, were strategically planned for the moment when Theo would walk past. The prince’s eyes fell on the three of them, and while he didn’t do anything as unguarded as frown—after all, that would require emotion—Elowen saw the way his brow set as he took in Bertrand’s proximity.
Trying desperately to soften the image, she hailed Theo, so that politeness forced him to stop and join them. He came to a halt just in front of her, his bow still held in his hand.
“You did well,” Elowen said brightly. “Congratulations on your win.”
“Thank you.”
Theo’s voice was deep, and he held the bow slung across his shoulder in a posture that made him look much less scholarly than usual. Elowen was reminded vividly of the strength of his hand when he’d guided Ochre out of the flood and saved her life.
“Yes, I was just hearing how well you did in the novice cohort, Your Highness.” Bertrand’s voice cut across Elowen’s thoughts, the nobleman still maddeningly relaxed as he leaned back against the stands.
Brazenly, he reached forward and twanged Theo’s bowstring.
“Not a bad weapon,” he commented. “It almost looks Torrenese-made.”
“You are mistaken,” Theo said, his voice cool and his eyes disdainful.
“On multiple counts,” Elowen interjected in annoyance. “There’s no novice cohort, everyone was spread evenly across the groups. I saw some of the men in your group unable to get their arrow halfway to the target.”
“I thought you said you weren’t watching my group,” Bertrand said, a lazy smile on his face.
Coloring, Elowen turned away, avoiding Theo’s eyes. Bertrand had no call to be so self-satisfied. Lounging back, idle hands empty, he was cast very much in the shade by Theo’s imposing presence, with his upright posture and his impressive bow.
“Such a shame that we don’t get to learn archery, isn’t it, Sophia?” she said, directing her words to the only safe member of the party. “It looks much more fun than jousting or swordplay.”
“If you’re interested to learn, Princess,” Bertrand interjected, “we employ a private archery instructor. You’d be welcome to join me in my lessons at any time.”
A hot retort burned on Elowen’s tongue, but Sophia intervened first.
“Don’t be foolish, Bertrand,” the other girl said with surprising sternness. “I’m sure Elowen would have no need to look outside the castle if she wished for archery instruction.” She stood. “We’re dining with our parents tonight, remember? We should be going.”
Bertrand stood as well, although he showed no sign of being chastened by his sister’s rebuke. With a lingering glance between Elowen and Theo, he strolled away, leaving awkwardness in his wake, as seemed to be his new skill.
Elowen rose to her feet, folding her hands in her skirts in an attempt to appear natural.
Theo didn’t break the silence, and she forced herself to look up into his face.
He was watching her thoughtfully, maybe even searchingly.
If he wanted to get to know her, she wished he would say so, would ask her something that might give shape to all the unformed questions in her own mind.
Her eyes moved cautiously over him, noting the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead from the sun, and the absence of his usual formal attire.
He was in breeches and a loose shirt—still of excellent quality—and he looked…
different. His grip on the bow was confident, and his muscles stood out where he’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to allow for better movement during the archery.
He would almost be dashing, if not for the politely disapproving expression on his face.
“I apologize for Lord Bertrand’s rudeness,” Elowen blurted out. “I don’t know what’s come over him the last few days.”
Theo cleared his throat. “Perhaps some prejudice remains from the tensions of the past. Now we know that Torrens was never behind the misfortunes that befell the other kingdoms of the Peninsula, I can appreciate that it must have been a cause of resentment for many in Torrens that the kingdom was unfairly suspected of targeting its neighbors.”
“Perhaps,” Elowen said, but she knew the subdued reply wouldn’t fool him.
They were both smart enough to tell that Bertrand’s antagonism was personal.
“I know the viscount’s behavior is over the line.
Even Sophia intervened, and it’s very unusual for her to reprimand her brother in front of other people. ”
She paused, contemplating the rare behavior. Perhaps she should have been kinder when Sophia tried to apologize. Clearly her friend was wrestling with something she hadn’t shared.
“At any rate,” she went on, “the family is unswervingly loyal to my father. Lord Bertrand doesn’t mean any harm.
Everyone knows that our alliance will be to the great benefit of Torrens, and he has no reason to wish harm to his kingdoms’ interests.
” Seeing that Theo didn’t look particularly softened by this assurance, she added, “I will try to speak to him about his behavior, however.”
Theo’s answer was swifter this time. “You will of course do what you think is best, Elowen. But if I have a say, I would prefer you not to discuss me with Lord Bertrand, or any other man.”
With a stiff bow, he excused himself, leaving Elowen more deflated than ever.
As she watched him walk away, the bow and the lithe muscles of his forearms drawing more interest than usual from the various passersby, she felt a pang.
She couldn’t help remembering her foolish daydreams about her betrothed turning out to be romantic and smitten with her, and she was horrified to feel angry tears threatening.
She blinked them back, determined not to outwardly show the anger she felt with herself for indulging even for a moment in such absurdity.
Not to mention her frustration with herself and Theo—and frankly Bertrand, as well—for how poorly things were going so far.
She longed to retreat to her rooms, but she knew she was expected to be present when her father closed the tournament’s first day with an official address.
At the appointed time, she made her way to his side, plastering on a smile as she waved at the crowd.
Some of the more eager among the young noblemen put fists over their hearts in response to this sign from her, their eyes shining with the type of romantic fervor she doubted Theo was capable of feeling.
At least he didn’t embarrass her with overblown attention like some of the young noblemen were in the habit of doing.
When her father had finished his address, he offered her his arm, and they descended the raised stands together, moving slowly through the tournament field amidst a loose ring of his usual guards.
“How did you find the first day of the tournament?” he asked her.
“It was fine, Father,” she said. “The people seemed to enjoy themselves.”
“Did you enjoy yourself?” His gaze was too piercing. “I saw you speaking with Prince Theodore after the archery. He acquitted himself well, don’t you think?”
“He did,” she agreed. “Which is fortunate since it saves us all embarrassment.”
He frowned for a moment over her tone before continuing.
“Elowen, Prince Theodore asked me again about setting the wedding date. I get the sense he’s doubting our commitment to the alliance, and we can’t have that.
Don’t you think it would set his mind at ease—perhaps remove some tension from your own mind—to have a definite wedding date? ”
“I can’t speak to what would set his mind at ease,” Elowen replied frankly. “But my own resolve is unchanged.” Feeling herself on firm ground, she squeezed his arm. “If there’s one thing I know you to be, Father, it’s a man of your word, and you promised me, remember?”
“I know I did,” he said calmly. “But I wish I understood the reasons behind your request.”
“Ah,” Elowen said lightly, “who can understand the mind of a flighty young woman?”
Her father gave her an affectionate smile as he laid a hand over hers where it rested on his arm, returning the pressure. “You may sometimes err in judgment, my dear, but I wouldn’t accuse you of being flighty.”
They were halfway across the tournament area, and the king released her arm, moving forward to meet his approaching head guard.
A happy chaos surrounded Elowen as the day’s events were packed up and preparations began for the following day.
She wandered through the crowd, trailed by a guard of her own, and stopped to survey the lists now posted to a temporary wall.
There were many familiar names in the court lists, Theo’s prominent among the three events he signed up for.
In the commoner’s events, however, Elowen saw very few names she knew.
As Sophia had predicted, Simeon’s name was absent from the craftsmen’s competition.
The commoners’ lists weren’t closed yet, but Sophia had seemed very certain he wouldn’t compete.
Turning away from the wall, her eyes fell on just the man she’d been thinking of.
Simeon himself was passing not far away, carrying the absent Bertrand’s bow and quiver out of the tournament area.
His eyes flicked to her and then away, and she was sure she caught a hint of disappointment in his frame.
Had he hoped to see her accompanied by her friend, as she so often was?
With an uncomfortable pang, Elowen wondered if the servant was mixed up in whatever had Sophia so distressed.
She’d known for a long time that there was something unspoken there, but she’d kept out of it.
Had her forbearance been too passive? If Sophia nursed a hidden fondness for a man she could never be with, who was himself too gentle to ever discourage her impossible daydreams, would she remain stuck in unhappiness forever?
Gathering her courage, Elowen approached Simeon, who stopped respectfully as soon as he realized she wanted to speak with him. He bent in a bow, no sign in his deferential bearing of how casual they’d grown to be with one another in their now-abandoned magic lessons.
“Simeon,” she greeted him. “I don’t see your name on the list for the craftsmen’s competition. Sophia mentioned that you didn’t intend to participate.”
“No, Your Highness,” Simeon agreed, dipping his head again.
“In fact, just the thought of the competitions seemed to distress her,” Elowen pressed, watching his face carefully. “Many things seem to make her anxious at the moment.”
A flicker of something crossed the servant’s face, but it was quickly suppressed.
“I love my friend,” Elowen went on, her voice gentle.
“But sometimes it pains me to see how timid she’s become.
” She cleared her throat, trying to strike the right balance between sounding casual in case her guard was listening but also making it clear to Simeon that she was in earnest. “It’s natural for her to perhaps be drawn to others of a similarly yielding temperament, but I doubt it would serve her well to be surrounded by others with an equal lack of resolution. ”
Simeon gave her a quick look, his eyes sharper than she was used to.
He said nothing, but she knew he understood that she was crossing a new line and making specific reference to him.
Whether he fully took her meaning, and if so how he felt about it, she couldn’t be sure.
He said nothing at all in response, merely bowing respectfully and moving away.
Elowen watched him go, feeling no more at peace than she had before. Neither she nor her friend were on promising paths when it came to matters of the heart.