Betrothed (11 page)

“Let them dress you up,” Rilen said, lifting her hand to kiss it fervently, as if he could convince her with a few frantic gestures. “Let them pretend that you are their chosen princesse. Let him try to woo you with pretty words and pretty clothing and their good food. Let them do their ceremony to bind you to their prince.”

“But, Rilen—”

“And when they have finished their ceremony, you will smile in that pretty, soft way of yours and let him lead you to bed, and you shall offer him a cup of wine. And you shall poison him.” Rilen’s smile was fearsome. “And he shall die in his own vomit before he touches you.”

Chapter Five

“Murder him?” Seri’s voice was a harsh whisper, fright modulating her voice and stealing the force out of it. “You want me to murder their prince before the eyes of all?” Oh, One Above, how could she possibly do it? How could she kill a man? Her own life would surely be forfeit.

But Rilen only grinned and lifted a finger in the air, indicating she should wait. He dashed to the back of the barn and began to lift great tufts of hay out of the bottom of a nearby stall. Curious and full of dread, she followed him.

Once the hay was pushed aside, a hidden door was revealed and in there, a tiny room full of swords, knives, and armor. Things that were outlawed to Vidari, outlawed long ago when they’d lost the war and the Athonites took over their lands. “Rilen!” She gasped in fear as he pulled forth a gleaming dagger. “They will kill you if they ever find out what you have,” she said, fear trembling in her voice, and anger. She was to marry this reckless fool, to bring Josdi and her father under his roof and have him care for them. He would put them all in danger. “Rilen, no.”

But he only pulled out a small dagger and an even smaller leather pouch and handed both to her. “This is for you.” The bag he pressed into her hand was feather-light. “There are herbs in there that will cause his body to lock up with one taste and will destroy his lungs and innards as he waits in bed. Have him drink this on your wedding night, and you can escape as he waits for death, unable to call for help.”

It sounded horrible. “But how will I escape? There will be guards outside our door. There are always guards.” Her voice was desperate.

He grinned, the fiery light in his eyes blazing. Even though she might be quaking with doubt, he loved this. Oh, he loved this. “Hang a red banner from your window when you get back to the palace. I will look for it in the morning, and in three days’ time, I will wait below the window that night to rescue you.” He dug around in the room and lifted a rope ladder, handing it to her. “Let me handle the rest of the details.”

A rope, poison, and a dagger. Seri handled the last with unbridled dismay. “What am I to do with this?”

He leaned in and kissed her forehead again. “That is for you, in case anything should happen.”

She stared at him in shock. “I’m not going to kill myself.”

He raised an eyebrow. “There are some fates that are worse than death, dear Seri. I’m merely giving you an out.”

~~* * * ~~

An hour later, Seri’s tears were dried, her breath calm, and her fate decided. The ominous luggage bestowed on her by Rilen was tucked into a leather bag strapped to her back with the reassurance that “No one would bother to search the betrothed of the Prince.”

She stood at the head of the path leading to the village. Down in the valley below she could see the twinkling lights in the houses as dusk grew into dark, and far far beyond the outskirts of the village, her own huddled farm, where Josdi and Father waited for her to come home. There was no welcoming light—Josdi was afraid of the fire. Guilt flashed through her that she had not made it to see them, that she had let Rilen distract her and send her back.

She turned to him. “You promise that you will see to my father and Josdi? Tonight? You’ll let them know that I am well?”

A light flash of a grin, and Rilen nodded. “Of course. And you yourself will see them in three days hence when I rescue you.”

Her hands clasped his desperately. “And then we’ll run away from here? With my family and yours? We’ll head to the woods to the east and wait for things to die down before we return?”

Another strong nod, and he turned her back up the path. “Go now, Seri. You cannot let them see you with me. I’ll come for you in three days, just like we planned. Remember the red cloth.”

She hesitated on the path a moment more. “I’ll remember.”

He pressed a brief kiss to her mouth and then dashed down the path, back down into the valley and away from her, leaving her to fight her demons all alone. Seri wasn’t surprised to see him head not to her cottage, but to the home of Laren, his closest friend and coconspirator.

Seri sighed, the leather satchel weighing heavily on her back. It seemed she always had to carry her burdens alone, no matter what the task was.

No more than a few lengths up the dark road back to the castle, she ran into a patrol of guards. Instead of the leering looks she had received before, the captain of the small troop gave her a look of unabashed relief. “My lady,” he said, reaching for her arm in a courtly gesture.

She slapped his hand away, nervous and afraid he would look into her bag and see the dagger and the rope and know what she was up to. “Do not touch me!” Her voice was hard and sharp.

To her surprise, he backed away, then touched his forehead and bowed in a gesture of respect. “Of course. If you will please follow me, we shall escort you back to the castle.” The other guards kept a respectful distance from her.

Seri hesitated a moment, then stepped to the front, next to the commander. The other troops fell in place behind them with a whistle, and a runner left to tell the other regiments that she had been found. She did not look back at the village below, or the valley that had been her home.

She had a bigger task in front of her, one that would require her heart and soul. Tears streamed down her face, silent and unnoticed in the darkness, but her hands were clenched into fists, and she walked back to her prison with resolve.

She would do this for Rilen, and Josdi, and Father. She’d do this terrible thing for her people.

No matter the cost to herself.

~~* * * ~~

They did not take her directly to her rooms, but instead led her back to the main hall, even though it was late at night. The floors buzzed with the nobility, and all seemed to have eyes for her, watching with curiosity as she strolled through the palace in her dusty, stolen servant garb. Seri kept her head high, her eyes unfocused and unseeing, ignoring the sneering looks around her as they escorted her into the throne room.

The prince awaited her there with her punishment.

Inside, the room was a beautiful one. Colorful tapestries decorated in reds and blues and greens hung from the walls, and servants stood at the corners of the room, waving feathered fans over the throng to keep the air moving. The ladies of the court were here, waiting, scattered about the room on ornate stools, seated like pretty figurines, dressed in ornate gowns that cost more than she’d ever see in her entire life as a Vidari farmer and goosegirl.

At the front of the room sat the prince himself, his long legs stretched out before his throne. Near him sat the glorious Lady Aynee, resplendent in a gown of silver that highlighted her pale coloring and fall of blond hair. The way her stool was poised, she sat nearly at Prince Graeme’s feet, a sight which made Seri sneer in disgust.

She would never be his lapdog.

At the sight of her in the main drawing room, Prince Graeme straightened on his throne, his conversation with Aynee halting. The familiar nimbus began to surround him at the sight of her, and Seri felt her own skin flush with life and knew that same traitorous glow surrounded her.

The lady at Prince Graeme’s feet flashed Seri an interested look, fluttering a fan ever-so-gracefully near her face. The look on Graeme’s face was inscrutable, unreadable as it so often was. Seri could not tell if he had decided to order her death or if he’d simply flog her for her disobedience.

“Leave us,” the prince said. As one, the colorful throng rose to their feet and headed for the door, taking their turns and bowing to the prince.

Seri’s heart thudded in her breast and she kept her chin proudly raised, eyes averted as the nobles filed past her, whispering with curiosity. The satchel on her back burned like a brand, reminding her of the contraband that would condemn her if they searched her.

Soon the room was emptied of all except Lady Aynee, Prince Graeme, and the guards posted at the doors. No one said a thing, and Seri remained standing where she was.

Prince Graeme stood, the rich cut of his clothing falling into place. The tunic he wore was a deep, midnight blue that made his eyes seem brighter than before. A dark red mantle curled over his shoulders, and he wore rich leggings lined with fur and gold. His expression did not change, though he turned to Lady Aynee and offered her his hand. “My dear,” he said, his whisper carrying across the room. “I must speak to my betrothed in private.”

A startled flick of expression crossed Lady Aynee’s pretty face, but she concealed it with a flutter of her fan and graciously took Graeme’s hand. “Of course, my lord,” she said, her voice sweet. Her skirts rustled as she gathered them and gave him a meaningful look. “I shall see you later this evening, then.” She tilted her neck as if inviting him, and Seri flushed in embarrassment and outrage. So he would see Lady Aynee despite their very public betrothal? Athoni dog.

He did not respond to her invitation, simply nodded at the guards that came to escort her out, and the Athoni noblewoman swept past Seri in a rustle of silvery skirts.

She was alone with the prince. Seri wondered if he’d beat her with his own hands or call his guards back so he wouldn’t have to do the deed himself.

But he did nothing, simply turned back to her and paced around her, hands clasped behind his back, his pale skin and dark hair drawing her gaze. After a long, tense pause, he spoke. “You are very proud of your people, aren’t you?”

There was no condemnation in his voice, or anger, only puzzlement. “Of course,” Seri said, defensive. “If you were surrounded by the enemy, you would not seek to change yourself in the space of a few afternoons simply because they decree it so.”

He thought about this for a moment, then nodded. “Just so.” A pause, then, “You will have to pardon my words earlier this afternoon.” It came slow and halting, as if he were not used to apologizing.

Seri wanted to gape in surprise, but pride locked her jaw shut, and she forced herself to listen quietly as he continued speaking.

“It is a difficult adjustment for me to think of you—my betrothed—as one of the Vidari. I hope you shall correct me in the future if I insult you.”

Seri found her voice and cleared her throat. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Good.” The prince nodded, leaning close to her with an intense look on his face, nostrils flaring. Uncomfortable, Seri leaned away.

As if catching himself, Prince Graeme stiffened again, then sat back down on his throne. “Very good. The first part of the wedding is three days hence. With luck, we shall manage to be civil to each other until then.” He gave her a dismissive look. “You may go.”

That was it? No anger that she had slapped him? No jealousy that she’d run away? No questions as to why she’d returned? Nothing at all? No emotion whatsoever?

“Don’t you want to know why I came back?” Seri’s voice sounded broken, soft. She felt like a fool. Would it have mattered if she had returned? Had she thrown herself to the sacrifice for nothing? “Aren’t you curious?”

Prince Graeme looked at her with those cold, cultured eyes. “Not in the slightest.”

~~* * * ~~

Seri could hear the nobles of Castle Vidara laughing and dancing well until the early hours of morning. She lay in her beautiful bed in her massive prison, the red banner flapping from the window nearby. The backpack was carefully stashed under the mattress, its contents hidden in a lump under the rise of her pillows. The gown she slept in was silky and cool against her skin, but she couldn’t sleep. Thoughts circled in her mind endlessly.

She had made a mistake.

Turning in the bed, she jammed one of the feathered pillows under her cheek and flipped her body, trying to get comfortable. In her head, over and over again, she saw the prince’s blue eyes, saw the utter lack of emotion in them. She could feel him in the room below, sensed his presence like a tangible thing. She had not mentioned that detail to Rilen. Would the sensation go away after she killed the Athonite, she wondered, and tears leaked from her eyes onto the soft casing of the pillow.

Beneath her cheek, her hand began to glow, and her whole body infused with the faint glimmer of light that told her the prince was nearby, even as she heard the faint click of the door that signaled that someone had entered her room. Scarcely able to breathe out of nervousness, Seri closed her eyes, feigning sleep and forcing her breath to slow and relax.

The faint sound of hard soles—they must be Athoni, for Vidari wore soft leather shoes—thumped as he crossed the floor, and the glow of her skin grew so bright that she could almost see it through the darkness of her eyelids. She wished she’d thought to cover her body with the downy quilts stacked at the foot of the bed, to hide it from his gaze, for she was dressed in nothing more than a filmy sleeping gown the maid had pressed on her. But she didn’t move, simply waited. What would he do?

In the end, he did nothing. She felt his eyes on her—just as she felt his presence whenever he was near—but he simply watched her for long minutes before turning to leave the room again.

Confusion tumbled through her mind, and she sat up after he’d left and the glow had faded from her skin, wondering what he’d seen as he’d observed her.

She didn’t fall asleep until dawn crested on the horizon and a maid came and drew the heavy drapery shut. She clucked at the sight of the red gown flapping from the window and moved to take it away.