Chapter 17 Isabel
Thorn held a deep bow, waiting to gauge my reaction before rising. He had spent the better part of twenty minutes recounting the events of the evening, starting with a report from the Throne Room guards of the Princess’s departure.
“Your Majesty, the children had clearly met at this location many times. They spoke with familiarity and held each other most of the night, but there was no carnal knowledge. I believe the Princess is still intact.”
My eyes brimmed with fire as I listened.
“Are you sure the boy was the High Sheriff’s son?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. He even spoke of his father as they parted.” He straightened but kept his eyes cast toward the floor in front of me.
I reached up and shook my inky hair from its tightly woven chignon, allowing it to fall freely past my shoulders, then rose and strode to stare into the stone fireplace.
It was past time the girl grew up.
This childish crush had to end.
“Danai, I need to speak with the High Sheriff . . . privately. It is imperative that no one, not even the King, knows we are meeting. I will personally impress upon our Chief Constable the importance of proper succession and the need for alliances above childish love stories.
Sebastiano is a reasonable man, loyal to the Crown; I am certain he will come around and tame that son of his.”
Thorn remained silent a heartbeat too long.
I turned with one brow raised.
When he finally spoke, his voice was an indistinct murmur that carried more than a hint of malice. “Your Majesty, we could go with a more direct—more permanent—solution.”
I tilted my head. “That is an option, but let’s try diplomacy first. I know your skills and am sure you would make it look like an accident, but we cannot risk angering the High Sheriff at this stage in our plans. He is too influential, both at court and across the country.”
“Before the Crown gets involved directly, perhaps I should give diplomacy a try?” Thorn inclined his head.
I gave him a sidelong glare. “Go on.”
“We should save the royal presence as a trump card in case other efforts fail. Allow me to speak with the High Sheriff. We are both members of the Council, and no one will look twice at a meeting between us. It would be difficult to hide a meeting with the Queen.
I think we both know how poorly things might turn if the Crown Princess learned of your . . . involvement . . . in this matter.”
I blinked a few times, wrestling with the days of bitter arguments that would result if Jess learned of any of this.
“Fine. You have one opportunity, but I will handle this my way if you fail, no matter how messy things might get for Her Royal Highness.”
My voice lowered to a near whisper. “Come back tomorrow after the dinner hour and report. I want this tied up quickly. The King intends to put candidates for betrothal before the Princess tomorrow, and we cannot have the Sheriff’s boy spoiling our plans.”
I turned back toward the fire.
Why does everything have to be so hard with that girl?
Why is it always a battle?
I missed the days when Jess looked at me as if there were nothing and no one else in the world, when I was her entire universe.
Spirits, she was so beautiful and fragile.
I smiled at the memory.
But that sweet little girl had grown into a willful, obnoxious, frustratingly cunning young woman.
All I saw in her eyes now was resentment and bitterness.
Deep down, I knew this happened between girls and their mothers everywhere, but it was deeply disturbing when it happened with my own precious baby.
Thorn bowed and slipped out the door, leaving me alone with the flames.
The next morning, the Palace staff ensured the boys were shuffled off to their lessons on time, freeing Alfred and me to manage our daughter and the day’s agenda. Alfred asked Chancellor Thorn to clear the royal calendar, determined that we would finally settle the question of betrothal.
He took my hand. “Issy, she’s only a few minutes late. Take a deep breath.”
I nearly crushed his fingers in a vice-like grip. “You have no idea what I’ve had to do to get all the candidates together on the same day. Duke Parna traveled from the farthest end of the Kingdom. If that ungrateful child so much as whimpers—”
“Deep breath. Please.” He pried his fingers from mine, returning them to the safety of his lap. “Jess understands her duty. She will play her part.”
We had been watching the side door that led to the residence and were surprised when the golden double doors at the end of the chamber swung open. A page in royal livery appeared and bellowed formally, “Her Royal Highness, Crown Princess Jessia Vester.”
When Jess glided through, Alfred stood, his mouth agape.
My eyes narrowed.
What is she up to now?
Jess wore a flowing sky-blue gown trimmed in gold with a silken sash crossing her chest. Her normally ruffled hair was brushed to lustrous perfection and bound behind her neck by a thin silver net that sparkled in the light, and blue and white diamonds glittered from the tiara on her head.
Alfred glanced at me with a boyish grin and practically leaped down the steps.
I followed, gripping his arm. “Not a word out of you until this day is won.”
Jess floated down the center of the chamber, head and shoulders high, every inch a future queen surveying her realm.
When she reached the bottom step of the dais where the King and I now stood, she gave a deep, formal curtsy and held it a moment longer than custom required, a sign of ultimate subservience in the royal court.
“My Lord King Father and Lady Queen Mother, I am here at your command.”
The King peeked at me and raised a brow, one corner of his mouth twisting.
My face was a stone as I stared ice through my suspiciously submissive child.
“Jess, you are absolutely radiant. I have never seen you more—”
I interrupted the King, my voice crisp, “Rise and take your place, daughter. Today we decide the fate of the Kingdom—and our line.”
Jess didn’t flinch or give me a second look. She simply rose and took her place on the right side of her father’s throne, resting one hand on his shoulder. The King smiled and placed his hand over hers.
Believing I couldn’t hear, she leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Father, I will make you proud, but please don’t give me away to some ugly old man. You want handsome grandchildren, don’t you? I love you, Father.”
I ignored the exchange and nodded to the High Chancellor, who appeared out of the shadows. While I wasn’t happy to hear Jess already grumbling, at least the girl had the intelligence to do it quietly this time around.
“Your Majesties, I present you with the list of proposed suitors for the Crown Princess. Members of the Privy Council have reviewed each name, and, after many days of debate, agreed on finalists. We submit them for your review and hope the Princess is well pleased.”
As he said that last part, he stared at Jess, maintaining eye contact throughout the bow that followed.
Thorn turned to the royal page at the door and nodded. The boy vanished, returned a moment later, and announced, “His Excellency, Kinsley Parna, Duke of Huntcliff, Warden of the East.”
A short, balding man whose width nearly outpaced his height waddled into the room.
His tiny brown eyes were so close together I thought they might blend into his pinched, upturned nose.
The Duke’s once black hair swirled on top of his head to form a vortex of failed camouflage for a pale, flaky scalp.
Most of it refused to stay in place and flopped down the front of his face as he walked, forcing him to shove it back every few seconds with an irritated scowl.
The Duke shuffled to the foot of the throne and offered the deepest bow his knees and bloated belly allowed, then turned his gaze toward Jess with a predatory grin.
“Duke Parna, welcome. We are pleased to see you again,” the King said.
“Thank you, Your Majesty. Huntcliff can be so tedious. One welcomes the change,” Parna said in a high-pitched squeal.
A small chortle escaped Jess’s lips, one I silenced quickly with a glare.
“How are the borderlands these days?” I asked.
“My Queen,” Parna began with a flourish.
“One observes trees and mountains. Traders pass through headed to other destinations, rarely stopping in town, and the men and women who live in Huntcliff are as tough as the mountain stones and as friendly as the lions that live in their heights. One does miss the capital.”
I pursed my lips. “We understand too well, but how fares the border with Melucia? Relations with their Rangers?”
“One would never wish to speak with those barbarians, Your Majesty. Filthy ruffians, they are.”
Alfred shifted on his cushion. “Duke Parna, is the border peaceful? Is trade flowing normally through the pass?”
Parna’s eyes darted between Alfred and me before answering. “My King, one has not seen a change in trade in years. One’s patrols report multiple caravans each week and no disturbance within the pass, aside from the occasional wildlife attack one must expect in the wilderness.”
Jess stifled a yawn.
“Duke Parna, you must be exhausted from your travels. The page will show you to your rooms and help with anything you might need. We look forward to spending less formal time together at dinner this evening,” Alfred said, motioning for the page to approach.
The Duke bowed toward Alfred, then me, then seemed to remember Jess and gave her a shallow head bob. “One looks forward to it, Your Majesties, Highness.”
Once the doors closed, Jess turned to her father and pleaded, “Please no. Marry me to a goat, but not that man.”
He took her hand. “Baby girl, please just entertain our guests today with an open heart. Regardless of whom you marry, these are the nobles of our Kingdom, and we need their support and goodwill. You will need them one day . . . as their Queen.”
“Yes, Father,” was all she could say.
As she gathered herself again, the page barked out, “Lord Barnabus Dask, His Majesty’s Crown Treasurer, and Sir Ethan Marks, Lord General of His Majesty’s Armed Forces, Lord Protector of the Realm.”
Despite the introduction, the General entered first, striding forward as one marching toward battle. His erect frame was cloaked in a black shoulder wrap made of thick fur, looking more like something one wore on a hunt or trek over snowy mountains than to meet a potential bride.
In contrast, the man who followed behind resembled a hermit or monastic priest. His simple black robe bore no adornment save the golden collar of his Gift.
Jess smoothed her gown and straightened as the men approached the dais and bowed.
“Gentlemen, rise and be at ease. We are pleased to formally introduce a lady you both know well. I present to you my daughter, the Crown Princess Jessia.” Alfred beamed as he gestured with an open palm.
Both men offered Jess a bow.
General Marks even attempted a smile, a feat indeed for the most stoic man in the Kingdom.
Jess watched the spectacle unfold. She schooled her features and returned her callers’ bows with a graceful curtsy of her own.
“General Marks. Lord Dask.” She nodded to each man in turn.
“Gentlemen, we see no need for a lengthy audience. You are well known to us. We look forward to seeing you both at dinner.” Recognizing the King’s tone of dismissal, the men bowed once more, retreated backward two steps, then turned and exited the chamber.
The doors had barely closed when I shot to my feet and turned to Jess. “Jess, did you see how handsome Ethan is in his furs? And he’s so tall.”
Jess maintained an air of regal superiority, stepping off the dais and arching a brow toward the King. “Father, I believe Mother would like you to match her today. I will gladly give her my betrothal if it pleases the Crown. After all, General Marks is quite tall.”
I bristled and shook an accusing finger toward my ungrateful daughter, but Alfred cut off whatever incitement I was about to hurl. “Listen, you two. Not today. Jess, you’ll learn more about these three at dinner tonight, but we need to discuss one other option that has come to our attention.”
“Please tell me it’s the Sheriff’s son.” It looked as if the plea escaped before Jess could think, as both hands flew to cover her mouth and her eyes widened.
The King’s brows knitted as he shot a questioning glance my way. “Sebastiano’s boy?”
“Your daughter thinks her secret admirer is actually a secret. I imagine she hopes a match with him would appease us since Sheriff Wilfred is so widely respected,” I said, settling back onto my throne. “I suppose it might be worth a discussion.”
Color flooded Jess’s cheeks.
The King laughed, not the good deep belly laugh that meant he loved the idea, more the “you’re absolutely out of your mind” laugh that crushed hopes and dreams.
“Ladies, be serious. Wilfred’s boy is barely seventeen! There’s even a rumor he’s a bastard.”
Jess shot him a mystified look, and he laughed again.
“This decision will shape the reign of Queen Jessia Vester and the future of the Spires. It must be treated with the utmost seriousness. Spirits, the fate of the entire world will be affected by this choice. A boy barely old enough to grow whiskers can hardly guide a queen.”
The pendulum of Jess’s emotions swung from hope to anger, and each pass was visible on her face.
“Guide? You want someone to guide me? Did you seriously just say that?”
“Jess, you know that’s not what I—”
“I see it now. That is exactly what you meant.”
She paced before the thrones, her anger seeming to boil hotter with each step.
“I’ve been guided my entire life. I’ve been told what to wear, how to hold my head, when to speak—which is basically never. I’ve been guided through every detail of every pointless day.
Now you want to arrange a marriage to men more than twice my age because I’m too ignorant or stupid—or too female—to rule on my own?”
Her glare shot from me to her father, clearly struggling to decide which parent deserved it more.
“I stood here all morning as you paraded potential buyers for your prize cow. I am your daughter, heir to your crown, not some mindless beast to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.”
Jess took a breath, but her eyes darkened. “Father, this will be my husband . . . my partner . . . my Kingdom. When I am Queen, I will do the guiding, and I won’t need any man to tell me how to do it.”
She curtsied sharply, wheeled about, and stormed out the side door toward her room, her gown rustling nearly as angrily as her voice had.
The King slumped back into his throne.
He removed his crown and held it in his lap, his thumb drifting across the symbol of his office.
I gave him a wry grin. “That went well, dear. For once, it’s you and not me receiving our baby girl’s ire. I actually pity those poor men coming to dinner tonight.”