Chapter 12 #2
Hopefully it wasn’t too late for Kelverny to make amends and negotiate peace after all her grandfather had made the kingdom do.
“Our hopes rest on you, Your Majesty.” Lord Pellier approached her.
Adeline extended her hand and, when he bowed over it, she found the strength for a small smile. “Thank you for your loyalty, Lord Pellier.”
He was one of the few lords who she had trusted enough to witness her wedding to Lorne. Yet he wasn’t questioning her, now that Lorne had been relegated back to the status of prisoner instead of entering this meeting at her side as she’d originally envisioned.
“It is my pleasure, Your Majesty.” Lord Pellier held his bow for another moment before he straightened and backed away.
Lord Delaney and Lord Harding also bowed over her hand.
Then Lord Sarlon took her hand, squeezing hard enough that it hurt. “You should not go into this meeting alone, Your Majesty. You should take one of us at your side.”
Adeline resisted the urge to yank her hand out of his crushing grip. “The king of Lalsacia is also entering this meeting without his nobles at his side. It is not an insult to my dignity or that of Kelverny.”
Nor would she have taken Lord Sarlon with her, regardless of how much he wanted to wield that influence and power.
Lord Sarlon finally let go of her hand, and it took everything in her not to shake out her fingers, glance at them, or otherwise give away how much his tight grip had unsettled her.
Across the way, the Lalsacian king was already making his way toward the tent, only three guards around him as agreed. The rest of his party waited a hundred yards away from the tent, just as hers did.
Adeline motioned for her personal guards. Once they fell in around her, she strode forward, heading across the grassy field toward the Lalsacian king.
As they neared each other, she took him in as best she could without appearing to stare.
He had a narrow face, his skin the shade or two darker in tone than the paler Kelvernese.
His black hair was threaded with gray at the temples while his crown rested against it with a regal air that she could only hope she somewhat matched.
There was something about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It wasn’t like she’d ever met him before, and yet he seemed familiar.
The two of them halted beside the tent, facing each other.
King Philip of Lalsacia gave her a bow that consisted more of his head and shoulders than his waist. “Your Majesty.”
That was a respectful gesture on his part, acknowledging her first. As the elder royal and the king of the kingdom that had been the most wronged, he’d had every right to stand on his dignity and demand that she bow first.
Adeline gave a returning dip of her head and shoulders, including a slight bob of her knees as well to add an extra level of respect. “Your Majesty.”
“Shall we?” The king gestured to the tent.
Adeline nodded and entered the tent first. As she did, a wave of a strange heat flashed over her, a sense almost like dizziness swirling in her head.
Too much stress and anxiety, most likely. She had to get a hold of herself if she was going to keep her head during these peace talks.
Once inside, she found the nearest chair and sank into it, her legs feeling oddly weak. She didn’t care if the Lalsacian king thought it offensive that she hadn’t stood on ceremony.
King Philip ducked to enter the tent, glanced around, and sat in a chair on the other side of the tent, leaving plenty of space between the two of them.
One of her guards and one of his entered the tent, but the rest remained outside.
King Philip eyed her, the lines around his mouth giving him an even more grim look. Yet his eyes held an almost painful desperation that she didn’t think he realized she could see. “I will not open these negotiations until my envoys are returned.”
“Of course.” That had been his one stipulation. Adeline motioned to her guard. “Please have the Lalsacian envoys brought here.”
“Very well.” The guard stepped to the tent flap and passed the message along to her other guards without fully leaving the tent or letting her out of his sight.
Once he’d done that, he returned to his place, and a heavy silence fell over them. Apparently the Lalsacian king wouldn’t say so much as a word to her until the envoys were returned.
That was just as well. The longer they sat there, the more Adeline’s head swirled and her stomach churned.
She was growing flushed, the tent feeling like it was baking in the sun.
Would it be too much to ask that the tent flap be opened to let in a breeze to cool off the sweltering, stale air here?
She hadn’t thought the summer weather would be this oppressive in the mountains.
The Lalsacian king, too, appeared uncomfortable. He stared at the tent flap, one of his knees bouncing slightly, his fingers tapping on his leg. She didn’t think he even realized he was giving away his tension with those restless gestures.
Many long, tense minutes later, the tent flap opened, and one of her soldiers stepped inside.
King Philip stilled, his entire being riveted on the tent door in a way that didn’t fully make sense. She understood a king being concerned for diplomatic envoys, whom he’d sent into a bad situation. But this level of worry seemed beyond the norm.
Not that she had a lot of energy to process the king’s reactions. Her head was going a bit fuzzy, and she had to blink several times to clear her vision.
Emil strode inside first and bowed to his king. As he straightened, he met the king’s gaze with a speaking look before he stepped to the side to give more room.
Arne, Burchard, Godwin, and Orvyn followed, each of them bowing to their king before walking deeper into the tent. None of them were bound or gagged, so they must not have resisted as much as she feared they would.
Then Lorne stepped into the tent, his gaze snapping to her with a searing look that froze her breath in her chest.
The Lalsacian king was on his feet as soon as the flap closed behind Lorne. He rushed forward and enfolded Lorne in an embrace, his voice choked. “Lorne.”
“Father.” Lorne hugged the king in return, his gaze slipping away from Adeline to focus on the man before him.
Adeline’s head grew even more light.
Father. Lorne had just called the Lalsacian king father.
What had she done. She hadn’t married a mere lord. She’d married a Lalsacian prince. The Lalsacian prince.
Lorne exchanged a few murmurs with his father, the words too low for her to make out past the buzzing in her ears. Then Lorne was pulling away from his father’s embrace and stalking across the tent toward her, something in his gaze intent.
He braced his hands on the armrests on either side of her, pinning her in her seat without so much as touching her. His face was nearly level with hers as he bent over her. “Just what were you thinking back there?”
“I…I…” Between the buzzing from the revelation of his true identity and the gumminess filling her mouth, she struggled to get her tongue to form words.
“My kingdom stole you from your home. I couldn’t steal your future.
I had to let you go. You couldn’t have returned home free of Kelverny if you’d ridden into this meeting at my side.
You didn’t have a choice in that dungeon, so I wanted to give you a choice now. ”
“What were you expecting? That I would just ride away into Lalsacia without a backward glance, glad to have my freedom?” Lorne’s eyes burned into hers. “I married you. And I take my wedding vows very seriously.”
“Married!” King Philip gasped the word from somewhere behind Lorne.
“Such things can be ended. Especially if…because…” She couldn’t manage to get the words out, her whole body flushing hotter.
Lorne lifted one hand to grasp her chin, the gesture firmer than a mere cradling yet still somehow gentle as he continued to hold her gaze. “I made my choice, Adeline. My choice is you.”
She should have been cherishing those words. Maybe even pushed herself out of the chair and flung herself into his arms.
But a wave of heated dizziness crashed over her, stealing the strength from her limbs and catching her breath in her chest in a way that made her struggle to breathe.
Lorne’s gaze narrowed, and his brow furrowed. He shifted his hand from her chin to press his palm to her forehead. “You’re burning up. Are you feeling all right? Adeline?”
“I…I think I’ve been poisoned.” It was the only explanation for how suddenly this sickness had come on. She’d felt fine all day.
Her limbs shook with a sudden, cold tremor that crashed hard on the heels of the flashing heat.
After all their precautions, all their diligence, she was going to die just like her parents had. Killed by a traitor from her own kingdom.