A Royal Engagement: The Young Royals Book 1 (16 page)

I took a moment to bite back my angry retort and said instead, "What is it you have against Lieutenant Wicks?"

He clenched his jaw and his eyes glittered hard and cold and for a moment I didn't think he would reply.
 
"I have a problem with duplicity, Your Highness."

"I have noticed that," I replied, "You do tend to run hot and cold Lord Darkly."

His eyebrows lowered and his face became like a thundercloud, "It is not my duplicity that concerns me," he hissed before turning and walking away.

I watched him go, wondering what he meant.
 
Was he implying that Jordan was the one with the duplicitous nature?
 
I hadn't seen it, myself.
 
Jordan had been the most consistent of the two of them since I had returned to Merveille.
 
Each encounter with Will had left me feeling adrift in a leaky boat, whereas Jordan made me feel safe.

My attention was drawn to a round of loud laughter.
 
A rather large group of men had gathered around The General and he seemed to be holding court.
 
Frederic was right, nature abhors a vacuum and in the absence of a leader, these men seemed to be gravitating toward the very authoritative Major General.

Making a split second decision, I wandered over to join the group, interested to hear what they were saying.
 
As I approached, the conversation died and an uncomfortable silence was left.

"I hope you're finding the brandy and cigars to your liking, gentleman," I said.

"Your father always did have impeccable taste when it came to the little luxuries," The General replied.

"How is the leg, General Wicks?" I asked referring to the injury he sustained when my father was killed.

"Much better, Your Highness," he replied, "The surgeons did a remarkable job to save my leg."

"And no doubt, your life," I added.

"And my life," he conceded.

"It was a tragedy, what happened that day," another of the gathered lords said and their was a murmur of agreement from the group.

"Your father was a great man," another said.

"He will be sorely missed," The General said, "Merveille has lost something great."

My father was a great man, but I couldn't help but feel like these men were trying to subtly imply that I could never fill his shoes, and that worried me greatly.
 
If they wouldn't support me, then who would.

"King Edward will indeed be sorely missed," Lord Bingham said from beside me, "But he left a wonderful legacy in Princess Alyssabeth."

I inclined my head in acknowledgment of his support.
 
If anyone held more sway over the assembled men than The General, it was Charles Bingham.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening," I said, suddenly tired and wanting to be as far away from this room as I could possibly get, "If you will excuse me, I think I will retire for the evening.
 
It has been a rather eventful day."

The men bowed as I turned to walk away.
 
I didn't look back as I strode across the floor with more confidence than I felt, realising for the first time, just how much of a mountain I was going to have to climb to win their favour.

I made it through the church service without falling asleep and embarrassing myself, for which I am sure both Priscilla and Jeanette were thankful.
 
Savannah had dressed me in a lovely pale pink dress and matching hat paired with nude pumps.
 
I felt pretty and feminine and ever so much grown up.

The service was boring and the Bishop droned on in his awful croaky voice, but to amuse myself I people watched.
 
This was greatly facilitated by the fact that we were seated in a royal box above the rest of the congregation and it gave me a rather good view of everybody in attendance.

The front rows were filled with the who's who of nobility and money, but the rows further towards the back were filled, somewhat sparingly, by the everyday people of Calanais.
 
It was like an ombré effect; the closest to the front wore the most expensive clothes, hats, jewellery and shoes and each row backward the quality and cost of the outfits diminished.
 
Not that the people in the back were wearing rags, by any stretch of the imagination.
 
Merveille was a wealthy country with a good employment rate and very low numbers of people on the poverty line.
 
But it was interesting to note the way the citizens arranged themselves.
 
Merveille was very traditional and there was very little mixing between the classes.
 
Wealth, power and title were the benchmarks and the higher you scored in each, the higher up the food chain you were.

There were some noticeable absences, Will and his sister Georgina being two of them.
 
It didn't surprise me, really.
 
Will didn't strike me as a man that was all too concerned about appearances, and let's be honest, the only reason these people came to church was to be seen.
 
Also, if what Jordan had said about his father's fall from grace was true, I doubt he would want to be in close company with some these congregational members.
 
Being at a formal gathering was a different kettle of fish, those were for political manoeuvring.
 
Being in church meant opening yourself up to a more personal inspection.
 
These people were very much concerned with your soul, even more so than their own.

At the conclusion of the service, I did the bare minimum of socialising that Priscilla demanded and then I made my escape.
 
I'd had quite enough of being surrounded by people who I didn't know if they were enemies or allies and I really needed some time on my own.
 
Spending a couple of hours in my father's study seemed like just the place to escape to, despite the onslaught of memories that were bound to assault me.

I listened to my entourage discuss the fashions and the attitudes of the congregation. They were universally agreed on who they liked and who they didn't.
 
I kept out of it, preferring to keep my own council about such things, but happy to listen in on their thoughts.

When we arrived back at the Palace, I practically ran to my room, causing Jamie to chuckle as he kept up with me, and dug through my hidden treasures to find my Levi's.
 
I changed into them and a sloppy t-shirt, grateful to be rid of the haute couture for the time being.
 
My next destination was my father's study and blessed solitude.
 
I figured I could get a couple of hours work done before my picnic lunch with Jordan.

But my plans were derailed when Alex knocked on the door to inform me that I had a visitor and they wished me to meet them in the stables.
 
Deeming that my jeans and t-shirt were suitable enough, I pulled on my riding boots and headed out.

A commotion
 
in the stable yard had me coming to a halt.
 
A grey stallion reared on it's hind legs, screaming in indignation.
 
Jamie placed a hand on my shoulder, keeping me from moving towards the melee and I was happy to oblige.
 
I had complete confidence in my stable hands and Master of Horse to corral the unhappy animal.

"Alyssa!"
 
Jordan's happy greeting had me turning towards him with a smile.
 
"Do you like your gift?"

"My gift?" I asked, confused.

He nodded in the direction of the horse, "Mistborn.
 
Magnificent isn't he?"

I looked towards the distressed horse.
 
He was no longer rearing, but his ears were flattened and his eyes were wild.

"You bought him for me?" I asked.

"It's my coronation gift to you," he said.

"It's still three months until my coronation," I replied.

"So?
 
You're going to be receiving a lot of gifts over the next three months and I wanted to be the first."

"I don't know what to say," I said to him, my eyes taking in the dapple grey Arabian.
 
"He is beautiful."
 
And he was.
 
Dark mane and tail and a gorgeous grey and white dappled coat.
 
But he also had a look about him that I didn't like.
 
I was an experienced rider, I'd learned when I was just a toddler, but I wasn't a horse whisperer.
 
I liked my mounts to be well behaved and calm, not feisty.

"I bought him from a Sheik friend of mine.
 
He has a royal bloodline and is a much sought after breeding stallion."

"What say Cliff?" I called to the Master of Horse.

Cliff spat in the dust, his eyes not leaving the stallion who danced and huffed his annoyance.

"He's gonna be a pain in my backside," Cliff grouched, "But he sure is pretty."

Chapter Eleven

"What were you thinking buying a horse like that for me?" I asked Jordan, "You know I'll never ride him."

We were sitting on a grassy knoll near the stable yards eating an early picnic lunch and watching Jed work Mistborn.
 
Jed was one of our best trainers, despite his young age, and he carried an authority about him that I could see Mistborn already respected.
 
Not that that horse was giving an inch.

Jed was tall and wide at the shoulders, a big man with large capable hands and a steady stance.
 
He was soft spoken and his silken Texas drawl seemed to comfort animals and people alike.
 
Not native to Merveille, Cliff had lured him away from his beloved America with the promise of stellar horse flesh and a chance to work as head trainer.
 
I hadn't met him before coming back to Merveille myself, he was only a recent transplant, but I liked what I'd seen so far and he had an undeniable gift with the horses.

He lunged Mistborn in a wide circle and the sight was mesmerising.
 
It had taken a while for Mistborn to settle and he'd had a good go at biting anyone who got too close, but Jed now had him moving like a dream.
 
His head was lifted and proud, his steps high and his tail held aloft arrogantly.
 
I knew he was going to be a lot of work, horses like Mistborn would not be content to graze in the pasture, he would need to run and run hard.
 
But for now, he and Jed had reached some sort of agreement and I could see what an amazing horse he was.

"I don't think he's that bad," Jordan said as he chewed on his panini, "He was just unsettled by the long trip.
 
Once he gets used to you all, he'll be a dream."

"Jordan, it took four experienced stable hands to get him out of the float and one of them nearly had a finger bitten off."

Jordan laughed, "You worry too much," he said, "Look at him, he moves like silk.
 
You will look spectacular on him."

I shook my head but didn't respond.
 
If Jordan thought I was ever going to climb up onto that beast, then he didn't know me at all.

Jordan leaned back on his elbows and cast a long look over at me.
 
"So what are you up to this afternoon?" he asked.

I sighed and reclined next to him, "Going through my father's study," I replied.

"Oh, that's right," he replied, "You told me that.
 
Don't you have staff to do that though?"

"Yeah, I do," I said, "But I'd really like to get a feel for the way my father worked.
 
I want to see where his heart was."

Jordan nodded in understanding, "You've got your Parliamentary meeting this week."

I exhaled harshly, "Yep." I popped the 'p', communicating my apprehension.

He chuckled, "They're all just big teddy bears," he said, "They'll bluster and carry on for a bit, but they'll come around.
 
Nobody wants to see anyone but a St Benét on the throne."

"Maybe," I conceded, "But they're not going to make it easy on me."

He reached over and threaded his fingers through mine, "If you need help with anything, you know I'm here for you, right?"

I smiled up at him, wishing we were alone so I could kiss him again.
 
"Yes," I said.

His eyes darkened as they roamed over me and I felt heat flush through me under his gaze.

"Feel like going for a walk?" he asked, his voice gruff.

I wet my suddenly dry lips, running my tongue along the bottom and then the top, Jordan's eyes followed it's path.

"Sure," I said, my voice breathy.

He stood to his feet and held out his hand to me.
 
I took it and he pulled me to my feet and into him, our bodies brushing briefly, causing my breath to hitch.
 
He kept hold of my hand and we wandered away from the stables, my security detail following at a discreet distance.