Chapter 9
The warmth of Winnie’s understanding was still fresh in my mind come morning.
There was a distinct shift in our companionship throughout the day: small smiles shared over meals, a gentler hand arranging my hair, whispered comments that acknowledged our new alliance.
Now, when privacy allowed us to drop the act of formality, the frigid customs of servant and mistress melted away between us.
Unfortunately, the intrigues of court life had a way of sabotaging my peace of mind. The amiable atmosphere was disturbed that evening as Winnie received word from a page, her smile faltering and expression returning to that of a proper lady-in-waiting.
“Oh, gods, what is it?” I groaned, reconsidering the second serving of wine I’d poured. It was the first time she’d allowed me to do anything for myself since becoming my attendant.
“The prince requests your immediate presence in his private chambers, my lady,” Winnie announced, voice carrying the proper court intonation while her subtle head tilt urged caution.
I set down my goblet with a louder clatter than I’d intended. My trembling hands found safety in the fabric of my skirts. “Did His Highness mention why?”
“I’m afraid not,” Winnie sighed. “Watch your volume. The dog’s already waiting in the corridor with his tail wagging.”
“Of course he is.”
I got up and opened the chamber door, glaring up into the dark eyes of the expectant Lord Quinn. He met the challenge with his usual irreverent smile and a bow. “My lady, I did not expect to see you again today; not once you bade me goodnight with your middle finger.”
“Oh, enough, Lord Navarro,” Winnie grumbled on my behalf. “Do you not exhaust yourself with these antics? Come, let us be swift. The matter seems urgent.”
“Such commanding airs from a newly-minted lady,” Lord Quinn remarked.
Gods, I could hit him.
Winnie and the viscount bickered all the way to the prince’s chambers as if I did not exist in the space between them. Their banter, like a duel of personalities, was oddly entertaining.
If only I had the opportunity to show some wit of my own. I would love to put the man in his place, just once.
They fell silent outside the prince’s door, putting on masks of indifference for one other as they approached the posted guard, a middle-aged man clad in plate mail.
“Lady Alana Chastain, summoned by His Highness,” said Lord Quinn, observing a rare moment of proper etiquette.
The knight turned to the door in a redundant process. How much time could be saved if I had simply come here on my own and knocked? “Your Highness, Lady Alana Chastain awaits your—”
“Yes, yes, send her in,” the prince replied as though equally encumbered by the process, and the knight allowed our entry. Winnie followed behind me, but was stopped at the threshold by the viscount.
Her eyes narrowed. “For propriety’s sake, I must remain with Lady Alana.”
“Damn your propriety. Allow the man some privacy with his intended.” Winnie maintained her scowl, earning an eyeroll from Lord Quinn. “Worry not. She’s safe, and I shall remain posted here. Sieur Eldridge, will you accompany Lady Winnie to retrieve some light refreshments from the kitchen?”
Sieur Eldridge saluted the viscount and offered Winnie an arm.
She took it belligerently.
The door closed behind me.
My eyes fixed on the prince. He had a dangerous air about him lately.
I noticed it most when he thought my attention was elsewhere: a hungry gaze that lingered too long on the curve of my neck or the slope of my shoulder.
He maintained rigid control in my presence, but I could still sense the barely-contained desire beneath his courtly manners, like a predator lying in wait.
His curse-induced infatuation felt more potent with each passing day, yet something in his nature—pride, or calculated patience—held him back from acting on these urges.
I wasn’t much of a believer, but I still praised the gods for those small mercies.
Should he unleash himself upon me, I was certainly not strong enough to fight him off.
Registering the combined feelings of terror and intrigue that often accompanied his presence, I silently chastised myself into a calmer state.
“My lady,” said Prince Nicolas, gesturing from his high-backed armchair. It was richly upholstered and turned away from the fireplace in invitation, the two carved stag heads at the end of each arm staring me down.
I came to him, my motions tracked with his focused attention, and found repose in an adjacent seat. “My prince.”
We hadn’t had a moment alone together since he’d made his intentions for me clear. That made me nervous.
His fingers tightened briefly on the armrests before he mastered himself, resuming his regal composure.
The slight flush at his collar was the only remaining evidence of internal struggle.
“I had a fascinating conversation with Lady Angharad shortly after supper. Confiding in almost anyone here is a bold risk.”
My heart skipped. “F-Forgive me, Your Highness.”
He put up a hand. “Fortunately, the gamble worked in your favor this time. That damned bloodhound sleuthed about and managed to discover exactly who called for your disappearance… It was my cousin, Percy Montfort.”
My lips parted. The relief I felt from Angharad’s success was quickly overshadowed. “A cousin, you say?”
I summoned Percy’s face from the dining hall. He was an impudent fellow on appearances alone, always wearing the smug kind of look that said I know more than all of you. It was typically balanced with an unusual melancholy, but perhaps, given context, that could be attributed to resentment.
“The fact that he hired a Hadrian only furthers my hypothesis; he’d have framed separationists for your abduction.” The prince’s knuckles whitened.
I hardly knew Percy; he was barely a footnote in the list of courtiers I’d been introduced to. Would he really have been so eager to remove me from court?
The prince ran an ungloved hand through his hair, the royal blue sleeve of his robe sliding up his arm. I’d never seen him dressed so casually, but it remained that the silk fabrics around him were likely worth more than the collective lives of a small village.
“Quinn foiled his plans, but it remains that an attempt was made, and that you were hurt in the process. Percy will not go unpunished simply because he is of royal blood. It’s time for you to do your part.”
I swallowed hard. Maybe I’d hoped he would have forgotten that demand by now. “Your Highness, why would your own blood commit such an offense?”
He thumbed over the carved details of the hart ornaments.
“Since the merger with Hadria, there have been unhappy family members either vying for the crown or working to have us killed. My parents both suffered a number of attempts on their lives. There were ploys to have me disposed of, as well. This won’t be your last conspiracy, but we must uproot the weeds of dissent before they spread. ”
“Prince Nicolas.” I summoned all the courage I could. “I’ve never killed anyone. And your bewitchment is not my doing, but a curse that was inflicted upon me. I’m not what you believe me to be.”
Leaning back, the prince gave a knowing grin. “Yes, denial is the common response. Your lies don’t help your case, I’m afraid; not when every word you speak sends my mind to unspeakable places.”
With a dip of his eyes, I knew where those thoughts had traveled. I folded my hands on my lap and watched as the amusement drained from his features.
“Begone, beautiful. Go plot your revenge.”
I rose unsteadily to my feet, knowing better than to argue, then bowed and turned away.
With every step away from him, the weight of his stare changed; there was possession in that look, a silent claim that trailed after me like a shadow.
I opened the door to find Lord Quinn alone. I couldn’t muster my usual indignance in my current state.
His lips parted, a hand slightly raising toward me.
“Quinn,” said the prince from his chair, “it was Percy.”
The viscount blinked. Then his features sharpened. “Percy? I’ll have his head.”
“You’ll do absolutely nothing.” Prince Nicolas’ gaze fell to me, and once more the lust had found its cage. “Executing him will only create a martyr among his supporters. The matter will handle itself shortly. Keep my lady safe until it does.”
Lord Quinn’s brow hiked, the rest of him softening back into a neutral state. Not a word was exchanged between us as we returned to my chambers, though he might have wanted to talk at the door. Instead, I pushed my way in, then buried my face in the nearest pillow and screamed.