Chapter 12 #2
The girl gave her an indulgent smile, sympathetic to the cause of avoiding the formality that would inevitably attend a princess’s visit to the home of a duke and duchess.
With a grateful smile, Elowen hurried toward the wing of the manor where the family’s private rooms were located.
She knew the house well, and knew that Sophia would probably be in the parlor they used when not entertaining.
If she was unlucky, Bertrand might be with her, but the duchess was on the country estate, helping with the aftermath of the dam failure, and the duke was very unlikely to be relaxing with his family at this time of the day.
She’d almost reached the parlor when this confidence was shattered by the sound of a raised voice.
Elowen’s steps faltered, discomfort washing over her.
She should have let the maid announce her.
She’d never heard the duke so angry, and she knew he wouldn’t wish a member of the royal family to witness it.
“You will not argue with me, Bertrand, your behavior has been ridiculous and ill-mannered. Your open hostility to Prince Theodore is the subject of gossip in every circle of the castle household. You are bringing shame to me and your mother.”
Elowen flinched at the sharp words, even as she cheered internally to know that someone was doing what she couldn’t, and reprimanding Bertrand for the trouble he was causing in her life.
“Your notions are archaic.” Bertrand’s answering voice shocked Elowen with its snide unconcern. “You must be the only one in our court who thinks there’s any shame in treating a Siqualian however we might wish. You know as well as I do what filth they are.”
Elowen put a hand to her mouth, stifling the gasp that had almost escaped.
She knew many in Torrens still held some resentment against Siqual and Carrack, but it shocked her to hear it acknowledged so openly and forcefully.
Besides which, she could hardly believe the lack of respect Bertrand showed his father.
He didn’t seem to care at all about the stinging rebuke the older man had given him.
“Your words are as dangerous as they are foolish,” the duke snapped back now. “You are clearly too young and hotheaded to understand these matters. What do you hope to achieve by publicly alienating the Siqualian prince? No good can come of that.”
“We’ll have to disagree on that matter,” Bertrand said, his unconcerned tone sounding arrogant even without the benefit of his expression. “I know exactly what I’m doing, and I won’t fail to achieve what I want.”
“And what exactly are you doing?” The duke’s voice was more dangerous now, and Elowen found herself edging backward. “A straight answer, Bertrand.”
“I don’t think you’d like it if I obeyed that instruction.”
Bertrand still spoke dismissively, and there was a moment of painful silence. Elowen thought the duke would surely force his son to answer, so the change in topic surprised her.
“Clearly you shouldn’t attend tonight’s event,” the duke said crisply. “If you can’t be trusted to conduct yourself with the dignity due your position, you cannot expect to enjoy the benefits.”
Bertrand began a hot retort, but Elowen didn’t stay to hear it.
A door opening somewhere nearby made her jump, and she scurried back toward the manor’s front door, afraid of being caught eavesdropping.
She was just hesitating inside the door, unsure what to do, when footsteps brought her gaze up to the corridor she’d just fled down.
Sophia appeared, her steps heavy for such a slight frame, and her eyes a little red. She started when she saw Elowen, who tried to make her smile natural.
“Sophia. There you are.”
“Elowen! I’m sorry if you’ve been waiting, I didn’t know you were here.”
“No, I dropped by unannounced, quite rudely,” Elowen said lightly.
“Never mind that. Did you come to tell me about the ball tonight? We’ve already heard.”
“No,” said Elowen, tongue-tied as the comment reminded her of the conversation she’d just overheard. “But I’m sure it will be an…exciting event.”
Unlike her own, Sophia’s manner was becoming more natural, and she looked almost hopeful as she asked, “Did you come because you want to leave for the tournament fields now?”
“Yes, let’s go,” Elowen said emphatically.
Sophia was quick to agree, and soon the pair of them were leaving the manor.
When they reached the tournament fields, they sent their horses back with a groom, strolling into the bustling area on foot.
They had plenty of time before the second round of the weapons combat began, and they spent it wandering between the stalls that had popped up around the fields, buying fruit skewered on sticks, and sticky pastries to enjoy as they explored.
“This is the only time in my entire life I will ever be allowed to eat while walking,” Elowen said through a mouthful of sweet, jam-filled pastry. “Or in public. I need to make the most of it.”
“Don’t hold back on my account,” Sophia laughed. For a moment Elowen caught sight of the friend who’d been her companion through years of escapades. Then the cloud descended again, and Elowen’s heart ached.
“What’s wrong, Sophia?” she asked abruptly. “And don’t say nothing, because you’re not yourself. You haven’t been for weeks and weeks.”
Sophia’s eyes darted around anxiously, the little shake of her head seeming unconscious. “I…I don’t think I can explain it.”
“Is it because your father and brother are fighting?” Elowen suggested.
Sophia’s eyes were startled as they flew to her friend’s face.
Elowen shrugged. “I overheard them arguing when I went to collect you just now. They both sounded…agitated.”
Embarrassment flashed over Sophia’s face, then, with a sigh of surrender, she let her shoulders slump. “They have been fighting a lot lately, and I hate it.”
“But that’s not what’s been causing you so much distress,” Elowen prodded gently.
Sophia said nothing, but the truth of Elowen’s words was clear on her face.
“Sophia, is it because Simeon is in some kind of trouble?”
Sophia couldn’t stifle her quick intake of breath. Elowen was sure she was onto something, and she stopped walking, turning to face her friend.
“Sophia, talk to me.”
Sophia bit her lip, her eyes troubled as they finally met Elowen’s.
“I can’t talk to you, because he won’t talk to me. I think something’s seriously wrong, but he won’t acknowledge it. He barely speaks to me anymore. And he’s…different.”
“Different how?” Elowen pressed.
“Well…” Sophia’s eyes drifted over the nearby jousting field, glazed and unseeing. “He always used to be so gentle, you know how he is.”
Elowen nodded. “One of the most patient and forbearing people I know.”
“But now every time I see him, he seems tense and almost…angry,” Sophia said.
“I’ve never seen him like that before.” She hesitated, guilt crossing her face.
“Bertrand has been giving him a hard time. Simeon’s always been so respectful to Bertrand, as he should be,” she added hurriedly.
“But more recently, sometimes I see something on his face. Like he’s… ”
Her voice faded, but Elowen finished the thought in her mind. Like he’s reached his limit.
“I have this fear,” Sophia went on, her voice constricted. “That Simeon is going to do something rash. Something he can’t take back.”
Elowen had no words of comfort for her friend. She was feeling her own trickle of fear that maybe Simeon already had done something he couldn’t take back. Theo’s words came back to her, as well as the altered manner she’d noticed herself in Simeon.
Surely Simeon wouldn’t, couldn’t cause these accidents. He was skilled in magic craft, yes, but he’d never use it for destruction. The dam failure especially had hurt his own region, the duke’s region, sorely. And the tower had almost fallen on Sophia, whom she knew he’d never want to hurt.
But Sophia hadn’t been near it when it started to collapse, had she? Only Bertrand had been. Discomfort swirled within Elowen. If anyone had reason to be tempted to hurt Bertrand, to hurt the interests of the duke and by extension his son, wasn’t it Simeon?
No. Simeon wasn’t like that. Elowen tried to shake the thought from her mind, but both girls were subdued as they watched the next round of the weapons combat from the stands.
There were two pools of fighters, competing in fields side by side, and Elowen’s seat was right in the middle, where she could watch both.
Theo was in the one on the left, and she watched rapt as he progressed. He was really very good. She was impressed. His general manner was more that of a scholar or diplomat than a fighter. She wouldn’t have guessed he had such wiry strength hidden beneath his somber demeanor.
Much as she admired his sword work, she gradually realized as she watched the two fields simultaneously that he wasn’t being matched against the best fighters.
He was facing new opponents, but the two top favorites from the previous round of that group seemed to have dropped out altogether.
It was surprising. Elowen hadn’t watched their whole round, but she didn’t think anyone in it would have defeated either of them.
Sophia’s attention was less focused on Theo, and she kept commenting on the progress of her brother in the field on the right.
Elowen didn’t feel much interest in Bertrand’s prowess with a sword, but she listened as graciously as she could to Sophia’s celebration of his victories.
They were barely able to stay until the end of the round, the last-minute gala requiring them to retire early to prepare.
But they saw the listings, and that both Theo and Bertrand were in the top five of their groups and would progress to the final round.
Elowen dressed for the feast with her thoughts far away.
She hoped nothing too tedious would be expected of her with the visiting dignitaries.
Between the mess that was her betrothal and whatever was happening with Simeon, she had enough on her mind.
Her mother had selected her gown for her, which a maid had laid over her bed.
It was a full-skirted gown of a dusky pink silk, and the lacing at the back took her maid fifteen full minutes to complete to her satisfaction.
Elowen’s hair took much longer, and she sat patiently as two assistants intricately braided it, then wrapped it in a complex crown around her head.
The result was good, she acknowledged to herself, as she studied the effect in her looking glass. The bodice of the dress was snug, its long lace sleeves tailored perfectly to her arms, and the expansive skirts swished pleasingly as she turned this way and that.
Surely Theo had to admire the effect. She tried to tell herself it was vanity to worry about that, but the question persisted.
She’d been summoned to attend the banquet hall early, to meet the visitors before the guests were invited to arrive, and she dutifully made her way through the castle as the sun was starting to set.
When she entered the room, it was to find no visitors, but her family and Theo all gathered.
Theo’s eyes flew to her at once, and she tried to keep her expression steady.
That was admiration. He’d tried to hide it—why had he tried to hide it?—but she knew it too well to mistake it. A flush of pleasure buoyed her up as she sailed across the room, and she greeted her family more warmly than usual.
“Who are these important guests?” she asked lightly. “Some stuffy old earl, or an opinionated diplomat?”
“Elowen,” Patrick said with a frown. “The prince and princess will be here any minute, watch your words.”
“Prince and princess?” she repeated, looking to her mother.
Queen Lisbeth nodded. “Crown Prince Cassius and his wife, Princess Flora, have just returned from a visit to Pulau. They informed us of their desire to cross Torrens on their way back to Carrack, so naturally we invited them to break their journey here.”