Chapter 15 #2
“Yes.” But her eyes remained on her feet, and it was a long moment before she went on, her manner embarrassed. “I was confused by what you said before breakfast. I think I understand…that is, I think you misunderstood what you witnessed last night.”
She cast a quick, uneasy look around the deserted corridor before taking a breath and forcing herself to look up at him.
“I wasn’t on the terrace with Lord Bertrand willingly.
He tricked me into going outside, and when I tried to leave, he physically restrained me.
It didn’t occur to me at the time that you didn’t understand that, I thought you were angry with me for allowing it to happen.
But on reflection, I realized that it may not have been obvious from my demeanor that I…
” She trailed off, swallowing before continuing.
“Forgive me, it’s humiliating to confess…
that I was frightened of him in that moment.
I was relieved when you arrived. Relieved and grateful. ”
Frissons of shock were running over Theo, intensifying with every word she spoke. His hand reached out toward her, but he forced it to drop before it reached her.
“Elowen, is this true?” He searched her eyes. He didn’t need an answer—he could read it on her face. It was clear that the confession had cost her some embarrassment. She would never have fabricated it. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Thanks to your intervention.” Her voice was very small.
There was a long silence during which Theo’s earlier conviction that he was more in control now mocked him. He’d never been less in control, but he didn’t intend for Elowen to see that.
“All I can say then,” his voice came out choked, “is that I apologize sincerely for my assumption last night. And my manner toward you.”
She was looking at her slippers again, and he gave in to the impulse this time, letting his hand make it all the way to her chin. Her skin was soft as his fingers gently tilted her face up.
“I mean it, Elowen,” he said, his voice rough with all he was keeping in. “I truly am sorry.”
She seemed to have no words, but her eyes were so expressive she didn’t need them. Theo let his hand drop, moving past her with tense strides.
“Wait.” Elowen’s voice made him turn. “Where are you going?”
“To have a conversation with Lord Bertrand,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even as he said the man’s name.
Elowen hesitated, as if wondering whether to try to stop him, but he was already striding down the corridor.
He walked blindly for several minutes before he was calm enough to ask a guard where Lord Bertrand could be found.
After a few inquiries, he was told that the viscount was at the training yard, in preparation for the day’s event.
Theo directed his steps that way, his strides increasing.
He’d been angry enough at Lord Bertrand over his clandestine moment with Elowen even when he’d thought Elowen had been using the viscount to make a point.
The knowledge that the man had instead been forcing himself on Elowen had fire racing through Theo’s veins.
He was going to kill Bertrand.
His fury wasn’t confined to the viscount, either.
He deserved a beating of his own for his coldness to Elowen the night before.
How could he have assumed so much from her demeanor, without even giving her a chance to explain?
How many other times had he made a similar mistake, assuming from Bertrand’s boldness and her self-conscious reaction that they had some kind of history?
Had all those instances been nothing more than unwanted imposing on Bertrand’s part?
So many interactions took on new meaning, each one fueling Theo’s anger.
He’d thought Bertrand a buffoon, but it seemed the viscount had skillfully manipulated both Elowen and him.
He swept into the training yard without breaking stride, ignoring all the pairs sparring as they got ready for the day’s event.
Bertrand wasn’t difficult to spot. He was standing on the far side of the yard, in conversation with another young nobleman. Judging by their gear, they’d just finished a bout.
Theo retained enough sense to go around the edge of the training yard rather than charging right through it, so he had ample time to hear their conversation as he approached.
“Well, I’d say you’d best win the weapons competition today, Bertrand, because it’s clear you’re not going to win the other one,” the nobleman was saying with a grin.
Bertrand scoffed. “If you’re talking about the princess, I’m not worried.”
“You should be,” the other man said. “General opinion is that she rarely takes her eyes off him. The ladies all say she’s besotted.”
“Hardly.” Bertrand’s tone was contemptuous.
“Prince Theodore is too stiff and polite, he’ll never satisfy the princess.
” He gave an unpleasant laugh. “If they’d sent Xavier, maybe I’d be worried, but not this ice statue.
What women want is mastery, and he’s too polite.
I have the princess right where I want her. ”
Theo had heard enough. He was still in a stiff brocade tunic, but that could be rectified. His strides almost a run now, he started yanking one arm from its sleeve, his hand already balled into a fist.
“Whoa, there, Your Highness.” He collided solidly with a torso that hadn’t been in his path a moment before.
“Get out of my way, Paulson,” he growled.
“And if I obey, what are you going to do, Your Highness?” the guard asked.
“I’m going to kill Bertrand,” Theo told him, perfectly calmly.
“I think I’d best not obey, then,” Paulson said in a mild tone, still blocking Theo’s path with surprising strength. “I never thought I’d see you overreact to an insult to your ego, Your Highness, if I’m not too bold to say it.”
“The insult to me is nothing,” Theo said impatiently. “That contemptible rodent accosted Elowen last night, and now he speaks of her like she’s his possession.”
Paulson made a noise of disgust in his throat, but he stood firm. “Best not to do something you’ll regret, Your Highness. Your time would be better spent hearing my report.”
That pulled Theo up. Breathing hard, most of his mind still roaring at him to pound Bertrand’s face into the dust, he looked at his guard properly for the first time.
“You’re back.”
“Yes, Your Highness. And I have a report for you.”
“Good. You can give it to me after I make him regret ever letting the princess’s name pass his lips in public.”
But when Theo looked up, he saw that Bertrand was leaving, presumably for the tournament. Short of chasing him from the training yard with fists raised, Theo couldn’t confront him right now.
With great effort, he contained his anger and curtly demanded Paulson’s report. He listened with a sinking heart as his guard laid out everything he’d learned. This wasn’t going to be pretty.
“Leave it with me,” he told his guard. “But be ready to report to King Ronan when I call on you.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” The guard looked him over with a critical eye. “Are you well? Have you been safe in my absence?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Theo said impatiently. “I was never in any danger in the first place.” At least not physical danger.
Still coursing with frustrated energy, Theo left for the tournament. All thought of dropping out was gone. It was clear that if he did so, Bertrand would win, because no one was going to challenge him.
No one but Theo, obviously. He may not be able to beat every member of the court, but he could beat Bertrand.
He felt the eyes of the master of events on him when he entered the tournament field, and knew the nobleman expected him to withdraw.
Well, he’d be disappointed. Theo’s gaze found Elowen in the stands, her hands clasped over her heart in a tense gesture he didn’t think she was aware of.
But her posture relaxed when she caught sight of him, and that buoyed Theo up more than any training session could have.
She’d called him her champion once, and that was what he intended to be.
If it was in his power, he would never let any man make her feel fear again.
Feeling reckless and giving in to impulse, he raised his right fist and laid it over his heart.
He thought he caught surprise on her face as he turned away.
Theo’s first two fights were swift and decisive.
The prospect of facing Bertrand was the best motivation he could ask for, and his sword work had never had more force or precision.
He watched critically from the sidelines as Bertrand won the second of his fights as well.
The man he was facing was one of the best Theo had seen in the training yard.
His disappointment at having to throw the match was visible on his face, but Bertrand either couldn’t or wouldn’t see it.
His cocky sneer as he saw Theo watching him acknowledge his victory made Theo wish there wasn’t a scheduled break before their fight.
At least Theo could be sure Bertrand wouldn’t throw their bout. It would be much more satisfying to annihilate him with the knowledge that it had been a genuine match.
Theo was tempted to approach Elowen during the break, but he decided he should keep his mind clear. The memory of her pale face and expressive eyes when she’d confessed to being afraid was already wreaking enough havoc on his mind. Better not to have a close view of those speaking eyes.
When he emerged from the tent ready for his final fight, however, he was confronted with exactly that.
The stands were packed with spectators, but the princess wasn’t among them.
She and the rest of the royal family occupied a small raised dais right next to the narrow strip where Theo and Bertrand were to fight.
Had she been so inclined, she could have leaned over the railing and touched them while they listened to the master of events introduce the final round of weapons combat.
Theo and Bertrand paced away from the center as instructed, turning to face one another as they waited for the bugle blast that would signify the start of the fight.
They each wore light chainmail because it was required by the tournament rules, but Theo would have preferred the agility that came with only his training clothes.
He spun his sword in his hand as the seconds stretched out, neither he nor Bertrand having opted to use a shield.
Bertrand’s face was derisive and arrogant, clearly confident of a win.
Theo’s face showed nothing. The blind fury of the morning was gone, replaced with a calm determination that would likely serve him better.
He was going to punish Bertrand for his treatment of Elowen.
He was going to do it in front of everyone whose opinion Bertrand cared about.
And it was all a sanctioned, civilized activity.
Really, it was quite a windfall.