Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
The celebration feast couldn’t come fast enough for Elowen.
All afternoon she chafed in her rooms as her maids prepared her, her mind full of Theo.
She’d been impressed by his performance throughout the morning’s fights.
And what he’d said to Bertrand when he bested him…
he’d won that fight for her. He didn’t care about the tournament, he never had. But he’d cared about her situation.
Elowen’s mind went back over their encounter that morning, when she’d told him her side of the story regarding the previous night.
She’d been braced for him not to believe her or maybe not even to care whether it was true or not.
But she’d wronged him when she imagined him acting with anything less than total honor.
Her maids commented on her flushed cheeks while they did her hair, and she let them believe it was the excitement of the tournament’s completion and the upcoming feast. Never would she have admitted that her senses were tingling with the memory of the anger and protectiveness Theo hadn’t been able to hide when she told him what had happened.
She’d seen his hand flex as he walked away, and had wondered if he was going to beat Bertrand with his fists.
In fact, she’d been shocked to realize that a part of her wanted him to.
She hardly knew what to feel. She’d dreamed of someone with a romantic manner, and Theo simply didn’t have it, not even in that moment. Even then, he’d been doing all he could to hide his emotions. It was his actions that had spoken.
The readiness with which he acknowledged he’d been wrong in his assumptions and asked her to forgive him.
The way his first thought was whether she was all right.
His single-minded focus as he’d made it his mission to punish Bertrand on her behalf, and to warn him off attempting to impose on her again.
Those actions convinced her that Theo had emotions, strong ones.
She hadn’t expected the reaction from him, and she didn’t deny that it had thrilled her all the way down to her toes.
If anything, his actions were more meaningful to her without the gallant manner, because she knew they were genuine, and not designed to elicit a reaction from her.
Then he’d won, and she’d presented him with his choice.
She’d been alarmed at the prospect of having to bestow a victor’s kiss in front of all those people, but that didn’t stop her traitorous heart from feeling a contradictory trickle of disappointment when he chose the handkerchief.
She no longer knew what she wanted him to do, or how she wanted him to act.
If he was acting according to the direction of her imagination, many things would have gone differently.
But then he wouldn’t be him. And, she realized in a moment of honesty, he wouldn’t have awoken such fascination in her.
There was still so much she didn’t know of him, and she could think of nothing else but learning it.
At the feast, they would formalize their betrothal. The only thing standing between them and marriage would be Elowen herself.
She had taken her place at the banquet table long before Theo finally appeared. When he entered, he walked just behind her father, and his expression was too somber for a tournament victor. Their eyes met across the room, a silent question in Elowen’s gaze.
Theo’s face softened in a subtle way she might once have missed but had now come to recognize. She felt warmth spreading up her neck as he strode to her side, taking his rightful place as champion next to the princess for whom the tournament had been called.
“Your popularity appears to have grown,” she told him, as several admiring cheers greeted his arrival from some of the more excitable of the young courtiers.
“Very gratifying.” Theo’s answering smile had a touch of humor in it, and Elowen chuckled.
“You fought very well today,” Elowen told him. “I was proud to have you as my champion.”
Theo said nothing, his eyes burning into hers with silent intensity. She’d tried to speak lightly, but somehow a hint of her feelings had crept in, and they suddenly seemed to be speaking about more than the tournament.
“Is everything well with you?” Theo asked, the words mild but a deeper sentiment behind them that made Elowen’s heart thud pleasantly.
“Yes, of course,” she assured him. She gave a weak smile. “I think I’ll stay inside the banquet hall this evening, however.”
A tightness appeared behind Theo’s eyes, but after a quick scan of the room, his face relaxed again.
“Have you told your father what happened?”
“I haven’t,” Elowen admitted, fiddling with her spoon to avoid meeting his eyes.
Theo seemed to sense her embarrassment, and the next moment, his hand had slid over hers, stilling its movement.
In fact, Elowen’s whole body went still, unable to pull her gaze from their linked hands.
His skin was rougher than hers, his fingers warm and strong.
She felt enclosed but not trapped. Safe.
“Elowen.”
She forced her eyes up to meet his.
“You’ve done nothing wrong, and you have nothing to be ashamed of.” His voice turned rueful. “I, on the other hand…”
“No, Theo.” Elowen’s voice was a murmur as she spoke over him. “I don’t blame you for the misunderstanding. I’m just glad you forgive me now that you know how it was.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Theo said, his voice harsh. Collecting himself, he softened it immediately. “I don’t wish to interfere, but I think you should tell your father.”
Elowen’s eyes drifted to the man in question, to see that the king was at that moment rising to his feet. The rest of the room followed, her and Theo among them.
“Welcome,” King Ronan said, his voice carrying over the gathered assembly with calm authority.
“I am delighted to celebrate the tournament’s completion with you all.
But first, I have news to share. I know many have been concerned by the recent disasters that have struck various regions of our kingdom. ”
The mood of his listeners shifted, the silence suddenly thick.
“These matters have been under investigation,” King Ronan continued, “and I regret to say that the incidents appear to have been malicious in intent.”
Murmurs spread quickly around the room, everyone assuring their neighbor that they suspected as much all along.
“However.” The king’s voice carried over the hubbub, bringing instant order again.
“I’m pleased to report that we have a perpetrator in custody who has confessed to having caused these disasters with the intent of creating significant Dust. Justice will be done for the damage caused, and there is every reason to hope there will be no more incidents. ”
Applause greeted these words, everyone beginning to speak at once. Elowen saw relief on many faces, all eyes bright with excited speculation.
“This is big news,” she said aloud. “I knew nothing of this development.”
“I believe it’s just happened,” Theo said. Something in his low, gentle voice sent unease over Elowen. His eyes searched her face. “Do you know who the perpetrator is?”
She shook her head, skimming the crowd anxiously. She hadn’t noticed before, but the duke and his family were all conspicuously absent.
“On to the purpose for our celebration,” King Ronan continued, smiling on his subjects’ good cheer. “Patrick?”
“Yes.” Patrick stood, his posture rigid as always as he cast his eyes over the gathered court.
“Last night, we toasted our victors among the nobility in all events but one. It is my honor to officially close the tournament tonight, as we celebrate the victor of the weapons fighting.” He turned to Theo, inclining his head.
“His Highness Prince Theodore, second-born son of King Madoc of Siqual.”
Everyone began to applaud, although Elowen noticed that not every face showed equal excitement. She gave Theo a warm smile.
“And, of course,” King Ronan resumed, “in so celebrating, we formally mark the betrothal of His Highness to our own Princess Elowen.”
At her father’s gesture, Elowen and Theo moved to join him.
Internally, Elowen reflected that her father had worded the declaration very neatly, as though the betrothal really did flow from the tournament victory.
What would he have said if Theo had lost?
The whole thing was as much of a farce as ever, but the betrothal itself was about to become very real.
Nerves jittered over her as two servants moved toward the table, each holding a silver tray with a jewel-encrusted goblet.
One was carried to her father, who lifted it in both hands while Patrick received the other. When both goblets were ready, the king spoke again.
“With this cup, Princess Elowen and Prince Theodore formally accept the proposed alliance between the mighty kingdoms of Torrens and Siqual. And as they drink to seal their betrothal, we all anticipate the wedding to come, and the new era of shared prosperity that will follow.”
Applause once again rang through the space, but again it was muted from certain sections of the tables that lined the walls of the banquet hall.
There were still a significant number among her father’s court who weren’t enthusiastic about the marriage alliance.
Elowen found she didn’t care much. She would be living in Siqual, far away from any need to deal with their disapproval.