Chapter 15
“Tomorrow you will be of marriageable age,” Tyrell’s mother had said on the eve of his sixteenth birthday.
His elder brother, who was sitting across the study at the time, whistled and grinned. Their mother shot him a lethal glare that removed said grin instantaneously.
“Find yourself a great lady, Tyr,” she had continued. “A woman of noble heart whom you would gladly serve, and who would gladly serve you, all the days of your life.”
Tyrell’s cheeks turned scarlet as he instantly thought of one woman in particular. His brother, reading him like a book, called out, “Prrriiinnnccesss Ttaavviia!”
“Perhaps,” their mother answered, rolling her eyes. “But regardless of who you pick, remember this: A great lady puts her subjects first. She serves them with grace and confidence and, when necessary, boldly defends them. She is dignified, without vanity and kind without weakness.”
At the time, Tyrell nodded along. Since he had already selected his bride, he didn’t need a lecture from his mother about who that woman should be.
“A woman with a title who lacks these qualities is not truly a great lady,” his mother concluded. “Do you understand, Tyr?”
Since it was almost supper time, and he was getting hungry, he replied with an enthusiastic nod.
Now, several years later, as he slipped through the garden surrounding Salamar manor, the memory of that conversation returned to him along with a troubling question:
What if a woman had all of the qualities his mother mentioned but lacked the title? Was she still a great lady?
He glanced sideways at Lia, who was walking stooped to stay concealed by the hedge as she scanned the building for a possible entrance.
“She’s very pretty,” Lord Salamar had said and since the moment he mentioned it, Tyrell hadn’t been able to get it out of his head.
Those words had hit him in the stomach like a battering ram and made him come to a shocking realization—he didn’t love Princess Tavia.
He loved the relentlessly loyal woman who served her.
The woman who was not only very pretty, but clever and brave and selfless also.
The woman who had proved herself far more a great lady than the mistress who had been so cruel to her.
This posed a huge problem because, assuming they made it out of this situation alive, Tyrell would need to find a way to convince his parents to let him marry a commoner.
Well, actually, first he would have to convince Lia to defy said social norms which based on their last conversation was probably going to be impossible.
“There,” Lia whispered, pointing to a door that was propped open.
“No,” Tyrell shook his head. “They wouldn’t leave a door propped open like that, unless people were actively going in and out.”
“Exactly,” Lia answered. “We’re people, aren’t we?”
“Not people who belong here,” Tyrell hissed.
“My grandmother used to say,” Lia stated. “Act like you belong, and nobody will believe you don’t.”
“No! No! No, no, no no no,” Tyrell mumbled over and over again. But it was too late. Lia had straightened herself up and was strolling toward the open door like she was the lady of the house.
Stooping briefly, she collected a bouquet of daffodils.
When Tyrell made it beside her, she took his arm with her free hand.
Her touch sent a tingling sensation running up his arm, which could have been love, or maybe terror because they were now passing directly into a busy kitchen.
A dozen servants were running this way and that, chopping vegetables, collecting dishes, tossing wood into the stove.
Tyrell’s heart stopped when he noticed the old maid who had shown Lia out of the lounge earlier that day, staring at the two of them.
“Oh, good, Martha!” Lia smiled. “Where should I put these?” She held the daffodil bouquet aloft.
“I’ll take those, my lady,” Martha said, and stepped toward the other side of the kitchen where she opened a cabinet and withdrew a vase.
Lia didn’t wait for her to complete the arrangement but kept strolling past the servants as if she had specific business to complete. Which, technically, she did.
Tyrell did not release his breath until they stepped into the hall, by which time, he had gone bluer than Julian’s beard.
“Alright, this way,” Lia mumbled, releasing his arm and briskly trotting toward the stairs.
Something odd had gotten into Tyrell. Back in Iseldis, Lia worried he was going to get thrown into prison for chopping Julian’s head off.
Now, he was hesitant even to participate in a little heist. Even if Lia had been a noble instead of a maid, it would be strange for him to put her safety above that of his beloved.
Still, Lia didn’t have much time to dwell on Tyrell’s peculiar behavior. Her princess was in danger. As they approached Tavia’s room, Lia motioned for Tyrell to duck out of sight to the right of the door, while she took the left.
Then, pausing, she listened.
“No good, no good,” came a despondent mumbling from the other side of the door. It was definitely the voice of the princess. A deep sigh followed then, “It’s just no good!”
Was Tavia talking to someone? Lia waited a couple more moments to be sure she couldn’t hear anyone else.
“I’ll go in first,” she whispered to Tyrell.
Tyrell shook his head. “You don’t know what’s in there,” he hissed.
Lia rolled her eyes. “Tavia, obviously!” she hissed back. “And I’ve got to go first to make sure she’s decent, before you come bursting in!.”
“Oh,” Tyrell blushed. “You’re right, I hadn’t thought about that. Go on.”
Lia gently pushed the door handle and peered into the room.
Tavia was sitting at a little table, critiquing the piled mess of braids atop her head in a handmirror.
Dark cedar—that was Tavia’s natural color.
How odd to see her actually wearing it. The gentle waves of brown, braided up beneath a silver circlet set with pearls was lovely.
Exactly how Lia would have styled her if left to her own devices.
The table was covered in vases full of flowers—tulips and daffodils, but also deep crimson roses. It was like someone had ripped out the garden and brought it to her room.
Lia nodded across the doorway to Tyrell, indicating it was alright to proceed. Then, she slipped into the room and slowly approached her former mistress.
“Princess,” Lia stated.
Tavia jumped, dropping the mirror on the table.
“I know I’m the last person in the world you want to see.
” Lia spoke as quickly as she could, so she could get her message through before Tavia had a chance to call the guards.
“I beg of you to do just one thing for me,” she rambled, turning blue as she tried to get all the words out in one breath.
“If you do this, I swear I will leave you forever and never again trouble you about your love of Julian. I—” She couldn’t stop herself from inhaling.
The brief second of silence was all she needed to notice the look of surprise and delight on Princess Tavia’s face.
“Lia!” she cried, throwing her arms out and rushing to embrace her.
Lia stiffened as the princess threw her arms around her neck, dancing up and down on dainty feet.
“Oh, and Lord Tyrell,” the princess continued, noticing him. “Hello!”
Both Lia and Tyrell were too stunned to do or say anything so they just stood there staring in shock as the princess began to ramble.
“Oh, I’ve missed you so much, Lia! My new maid, she’s . . .” Tavia motioned to her hair with a twisted expression of disgust.
Lia glanced at Tyrell, expecting him to look as shocked as she felt.
Instead, his expression was suddenly locked in a deep scowl.
Maybe he had noticed Julian creeping in through a window?
If that was so, a quick glance around the room did not reveal him.
It almost seemed like Tyrell was scowling at Tavia, but of course, that was impossible. He practically worshipped her!
Tavia, meanwhile, was still rambling. “Oh, Lia! Everything is so different here! Julian’s parents are kind, they keep asking me if I’m happy and won’t leave me alone!
And, and Julian is different here somehow too .
. . He’s been so kind and gentle and, and .
. . he sent me all of these!” She gestured to the flowers on the table.
Lia was too confused to know where to begin.
Here Tavia was, looking more beautiful than she had in years, going on and on in a quivering voice about how kind everyone was.
She looked like she was going to burst into tears any moment.
Ah, she must have realized things were too good—suspiciously good.
If that was what made her finally question Julian, Lia wasn’t about to complain.
“It’s, it’s alright, princess,” Lia soothed. “Tyrell and I will take you home now. I don’t know what Julian’s done to you but you have nothing to fear anymore.”
“I can’t go home,” Tavia sniffed. “I love him.”
Lia placed her hands on Tavia’s shoulders and gently squeezed them. “Some men are best loved from a distance.”
That made Tavia bury her head in her hands and sob. “He’s already di-distant!” she cried. “He-he’s been away fo-for days.”
“Well . . .” Lia began. It had only been one day but she was not about to correct her princess.
This was an extremely delicate situation.
For the first time since setting eyes on Julian, Tavia was conflicted.
A right word might convince Tavia to leave willingly.
A wrong word, and she would be doomed to stay with him forever—maybe as a skeleton in his secret wing. Lia shuddered.
“You know, sometimes sailors have to go away for years,” she mentioned. “It’s sort of part of the job.”
Apparently, this was exactly the wrong thing to say. Tavia straightened up, snatched a keyring from the table, and stared toward the ceiling with the expression of a joyful martyr.
“What matters then, is I have the house ready when he returns!” she declared.
Tyrell was rubbing his forehead looking exactly how Lia felt—confused and annoyed.
“Come Lia,” Tavia said, holding up the keyring and heading toward the door. “I was silly to get so emotional. I’ve got to finish preparing the East Wing and I need you to help me.”
“Just a moment!” Tyrell stepped in front of the door, blocking Tavia’s path.
Lia locked gazes with him, raising her brows in alarm. He was scowling at the woman he adored with a scorn that put Julian to shame. It was so completely unlike the Tyrell she knew—something about this place must have been making everyone mad.
Somewhere in the distance, thunder clapped.
“You cast her off so cruelly,” Tyrell seethed. “You haven’t even attempted an apology and you expect her to return to your service just like that?”
What was Tyrell doing? They were finally getting through to the princess and he was demanding an apology on her behalf? Serving the royal family in itself was an honor. Princess Tavia did not owe her anything.
“It’s alright, my lord,” Lia pleaded. “Let’s just go with her and perhaps . . .”
She wasn’t sure what her plan was, she just knew they had to go with the princess and see if they could break through to her somehow.
Tyrell crossed his arms. “The only place we are going is Leviathan hall.”
“Oh,” Tavia breathed, locking an almost admiring gaze onto Tyrell’s face. “We can’t go there. That’s the one place Julian forbid.”
“Which is exactly why we’re going,” Tyrell insisted. “You show us where it is and we’ll find some way of getting in.”
“Oh, I have the key!” Princess Tavia volunteered, holding up the silver and sapphire key Lia noticed her fingering earlier that day.
“He . . . gave you the key?” Tyrell questioned.
“He gave me all the keys,” Tavia shrugged. “He just very specifically told me not to use this one.”
Lia and Tyrell exchanged a glance.
“You don’t find that odd?” Lia asked.
“Well . . . no . . . but . . .” Tavia began aggressively tapping the silver key in her hand. “I’ve kind of been wanting . . .” A troubled look washed over her expression. “No, I can’t betray his trust.”
“Tell him Lord Tyrell made you do it,” Tyrell ordered.
“Hmm . . . yes. That could work.” Tavia smiled. “Alright. This way.”