Chapter 14 #2
“Your steps aren’t as light as usual tonight, Princess,” he said shortly, as Elowen moved correctly but not very gracefully through the opening motions of the dance.
She didn’t reply. It was a different type of dance, one which had them cycling through many different partners and didn’t allow for much private speech.
Bertrand’s irritation was evident every time she swirled away from him, but to Elowen, it was a relief.
Her eyes kept drifting to Theo, who wasn’t taking part in the dance.
He was brooding by a refreshments table, looking anywhere but at her.
The dance felt interminable, but finally the instruments slowed.
“Thank you,” she said coolly to Bertrand.
“You look tired,” Bertrand said. “I imagine you’ll want refreshments.”
“I—yes, all right, a drink would be welcome,” Elowen said, hoping he would go to get it and leave her in peace.
Instead, he kept hold of her arm as he steered her across the room.
“An excellent innovation of Her Majesty’s,” he said pleasantly. “Having a refreshments table with cool drinks in the garden. When so many young ladies get overheated from dancing, a chance to cool down out of the heat of the ballroom is perfect.”
As he spoke, he moved steadily toward the far end of the room, where a few floor-to-ceiling windows showed glimpses of the gardens beyond, illuminated by softly glowing lanterns. The two outside windows had glass doors in their lower sections.
“Drinks in the garden?” Elowen repeated, bewildered. “We’ve never done that before. I don’t think that’s the case.”
“Of course it is,” Bertrand said smoothly, opening one of the glass doors and ushering her outside. “Come and see for yourself.”
Elowen glanced back, but she couldn’t see Theo anymore. She couldn’t really see anyone of note, her view blocked by the many couples still crowding the dancing space.
Her skirts swished their way through the narrow door, and she took a few paces onto the stone platform beyond, frowning around it. The area was empty of either ball-goers or tables, the smooth stone giving way to shallow steps down into an open garden.
“As I said.” She turned to Bertrand, who’d appeared at her side. “No refreshments.”
He laughed, putting a guiding hand on the small of her back. Elowen stepped away in annoyance, retreating down a few steps to get out of his reach.
“Of course not, Princess,” Bertrand said. “It was just an excuse to get you alone.”
A rush of anger went over Elowen. “You’re over the line, Bertrand,” she said hotly.
The infuriating viscount laughed again, his tone still indulgent. “No need for the act, Princess. I heard what you said to Sophia earlier, about wanting to be pursued.”
There was a glint in his eye that Elowen didn’t like, and her heart gave an uncomfortable lurch.
She cast a surreptitious look around, realizing that he’d been strategic in every movement.
Without her realizing it, he’d herded her down the steps in a direction that meant they were no longer in clear view of the window into the ballroom.
She knew there were guards posted at the outside entrances to the garden, but none were positioned just outside the ballroom. Had anyone noticed her going outside?
Bertrand advanced down the steps toward her, and she took another step back.
She was a princess, used to living under the care of guards, protected by her rank from impertinence.
Never in her life had she been in a situation like this.
She didn’t know what to do other than the instinct that told her to tread warily.
“I don’t like whatever game you’re playing, Bertrand,” she said carefully. “I’m going to return to the ballroom now.”
“I see clearly now,” Bertrand went on, ignoring her words completely, “that I’ve been too gentle, too forbearing.”
Gentle and forbearing? Is that how he saw himself? Elowen could only stare at him in stupefaction.
“I should have taken charge from the start,” Bertrand said, his eyes overly bright. “Then you wouldn’t be tangled in this mess with the Siqualian ice sculpture.”
Those words drove away some of whatever was causing Elowen’s mind to freeze, and she drew herself up with a haughty gesture.
“My betrothal is none of your affair, Lord Bertrand,” she said coldly.
She moved forward with purpose, intending to brush past him. As highly charged as her instincts were, she was still completely shocked at Bertrand’s sudden movement. She could hardly comprehend what was happening as he shifted smoothly, but the next moment she found herself pinned to the wall.
“In fact, it’s exactly my affair,” he breathed into her shocked face. “And I intend to make it even more so. The Siqualian will never pursue you like you need. I know what you really want is mastery, and clearly it’s past time for me to take control of the situation.”
Elowen’s heart was in her throat, fear paralyzing her mind as it tried to assess her options.
Should she scream, and make a scene? By every standard she’d ever been taught, it was unthinkable conduct from her.
But his grip was too strong to just break away from.
Could she generate movement and use Dust to get free of him?
She was scared of the consequences, and she couldn’t recall any of her lessons with her mind in this state.
All of this passed through her thoughts in the blink of an eye, before she fell back on what she’d always been taught. Diplomacy.
“Bertrand,” she tried, hoping desperately he’d be reasonable. His flushed face and the triumph in his eyes that told her he was enjoying her consternation weren’t promising. “I—”
Her placating words were cut off as a figure loomed into sight on the steps above them. Bertrand whipped around, hot with anger, but the only emotion flooding Elowen at sight of Theo was relief. If Theo was here, she was safe. She had never, could never, feel in danger from him.
The realization rushed over her, stilling her fears completely and filling her with gratitude that her parents had chosen an alliance with Siqual over the perfectly likely alternative of arranging a marriage between her and the son of their most influential duke.
The thought of marrying Bertrand, never appealing, was now absolutely repulsive.
As for Theo…there was no comparison. No matter how icy or aloof he might be, he would never push himself on her, never hurt her, never try to control her. And more immediately, he wouldn’t let Bertrand touch her.
“You’re interrupting, Your Highness,” Bertrand said through gritted teeth, his fingers flexing as though itching to reach for his sword.
“Evidently.”
If Bertrand’s anger was fiery, Theo’s was solid ice.
For a long moment, the two men stood chest to chest, neither backing down.
Theo seemed to have left the door to the ballroom open, because the sound of another song striking up reached Elowen’s ears where she still hovered against the wall.
Bertrand seemed to hear it, too, because he abruptly stepped back, then, with one angry glance in Elowen’s direction, strode around the corner and out of sight.
As soon as he was gone, Elowen turned to her rescuer.
“Thank you.” Her voice was breathless and her eyes full of her emotions as she looked up into Theo’s face.
He didn’t even meet her eye. He gestured toward the ballroom and, in a frosty and painfully polite voice, he said, “Perhaps we should return to the gala.”
Crestfallen and clinging to what dignity she could muster, Elowen moved forward.
Her limbs were shaking in an echo of the fear she’d felt before Theo arrived, and she folded her hands in her skirts to hide the tremors.
For a moment, she hoped that Theo was just being circumspect in returning to a populated area before speaking to her, but as soon as they entered the ballroom, he strode away, leaving her to move alone across the room in a numb haze.
“Elowen?”
Elowen turned stupidly to see Sophia approaching, her kind features crinkled in concern.
“What’s going on? Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you.”
Elowen just shook her head, unable to bring herself to talk about it. If it had been anyone but Bertrand, she would have confided in her friend immediately. But she was horribly afraid Sophia would try to justify her brother’s behavior, and she couldn’t bear that.
“I…I think Theo is upset with me,” was all she managed.
Sophia made a sympathetic noise, steering her toward an upholstered bench placed along one wall.
“Elowen…is the betrothal really so set?”
Elowen stared at her friend, stunned. “Of course it is. What do you mean?”
“Wouldn’t you prefer to marry within Torrens?” Sophia pressed.
“Marry who within Torrens?” Elowen asked stupidly.
“Well…” Sophia gave a laugh that was more pained than humorous. “Bertrand, of course.”
“Of course?” The words were ripped from Elowen, revulsion washing over her at the thought. “What do you mean, of course? Sophia, why are you always trying to push me toward Bertrand?”
“Because I want you as a sister,” Sophia said. “And...” She swallowed, then said in a rush, “And because I don’t want to marry Patrick.”
“What are you talking about?” Elowen demanded, glad to feel her mind emerging from the fog somewhat.
Sophia twisted her hands together in her lap, not meeting her friend’s eye.
“I’m not supposed to say this, but my parents have been urging us to make one of those matches happen for as long as I can remember.
I always thought it would be you and Bertrand, so I never worried too much.
But then this betrothal alliance changed everything. ”
Elowen sat in stunned silence for a moment, fighting a feeling of betrayal.
But why should she feel surprised? Of course the duke and duchess would wish for one of their children to marry into the royal family.
And Sophia had never seemed to understand about Bertrand.
She probably really did hope for Elowen as a sister.
“As far as Bertrand and I are concerned, the betrothal alliance changed nothing,” she told her friend firmly.
“There was never any thought of my marrying him, and if he believes we were somehow intended for one another before the alliance was proposed, he’s out of his mind.
” Her voice hardened. “If your parents covet a crown, you’ll have to marry Patrick. ”
“It’s not like that,” Sophia protested, her face pale. “Please don’t be angry, Elowen. My parents meant no harm, they just…” She trailed off, and when she spoke again, her voice was more determined. “And please don’t be offended, but I don’t want to marry Patrick.”
“My sweet Sophia, of course I’m not offended,” Elowen said in incredulous impatience. “But surely I can expect the same consideration when I tell you that I have no desire at all to marry Bertrand.”
Sophia made a noise in her throat. “I know you find his manner of teasing tiresome at times, but he would settle down once he was sure of you,” she assured Elowen. “Don’t you think you’d be happy as his wife, staying here in Torrens?”
“No, I don’t.” The words came out with too much force. “I think I’d be miserable!” She studied her friend’s earnest face. “Sophia, I’m sorry to speak bluntly and cause you pain, but I don’t know how else to make you understand. Bertrand is not a good man.”
“How can you say—”
Elowen cut off the protest she was sure came from pure force of habit. “You see the way he treats Simeon.”
Distress crossed Sophia’s face. “Yes,” she said softly. “And I hate it. I can acknowledge Bertrand has a blind spot when it comes to Simeon. I think he’s a little jealous, because he was never allowed to study magic. But—”
“No, Sophia.” Elowen cut her friend off again. “It’s you who have a blind spot when it comes to Bertrand. The way he treats Simeon is perfectly in keeping with everything else he does.”
Elowen’s emotions were threatening to ride her once again, the relief of finally saying all these things to her friend vying with the near-hysteria that threatened to rise whenever she remembered the way Bertrand had pinned her against the wall.
“That’s not fair, Elowen,” Sophia said. “He’s always been so attentive to you, his preference for you has always been made clear.”
“Yes,” Elowen agreed, frustrated at the overwhelmed tears stinging the corners of her eyes. “And my repeated attempts to show that I don’t welcome his attention have made no difference. That’s not honorable behavior, Sophia.”
“Elowen, I—you don’t understand—the thing is, Bertrand…” Sophia’s weak words trailed off as Elowen rose.
“I don’t feel well,” she said, not caring that her words were abrupt. “I’m going to retire to bed.” Not looking back at her friend, and avoiding both searching the room for Theo and her mother’s attempts to catch her attention, Elowen strode from the room.