Ginny Hartman (3 page)

On the right of the High King sat his brother, King Lawrence, the lesser king who oversaw the south eastern territory of Darth. His wife, Queen Margaret sat next to him, her back stiff and an apathetic look on her face. On the High King's left sat his second brother, King Eustace, along with his wife Queen Constance. Their daughter was seeking her entrance tonight. Two long tables stretched out from both corners of the King's table, taking up almost the entire length of the room, leaving the center of the floor empty for King Eustace's daughter to perform the Saylatee. Terric sat on the table on the left, almost directly in front of King Eustace and Queen Constance where he could have a clear view of the High King at all times.

As everyone eagerly waited, the minstrel began playing the lute, and all eyes turned towards the double doors at the end of the great hall that were ceremoniously being opened to reveal the young princess. All eyes watched with rapt attention as the princess floated into the room and began her dance.

The dance started slowly but continued on in a slowly elevated measure of excitement and anticipation. Terric had sat through his fair share of entrances, but this one was different. This princess was different. The women dancing before the entire room was confident and elegant, not nervous as most of the girls usually were. She performed each step with grace, and as she moved further into the hall and closer to where he was sitting, he had the chance to behold her exquisite beauty.

Brown, silky hair wove around her bodice as she twirled in time to the music.  He watched mesmerized, as waves of hair curled around her arms and chest, touching her in places that he suddenly wished he could reach out and grasp. Then the music slowed and he watched as her movements slowed with it, grateful that her hair was no longer caressing her body alluringly.  But the relief that he felt was short lived as she began to sway her hips seductively. His mouth went dry as he watched her move with assurance, her arms twisting through the air, her hips continuing that tantalizing sway that was starting to drive him mad.

He reluctantly peeled his eyes away from her long enough to glance at her parents, to see what their reaction was to the little vixen who was seducing the crowd. King Eustace and Queen Constance sat watching with pride gleaming in their eyes, seemingly completely unaware of the effect she was having. He thought about looking around to gauge the reactions of the other guests in attendance, but already his eyes had been off of the princess for too long, and he was loathe to miss another second of her mesmerizing dance.

Focusing his eyes once more on her, his hand clutched his goblet of wine tightly, his whole body fraught with awareness, as he watched her intently. Soon, the young princess turned and looked directly at him, her wide violet eyes piercing his soul. It was the girl he had encountered earlier in the woods! This revelation did nothing to ease his escalating desire as their earlier encounter played out in his mind.

He didn't have long to think back on the earlier events, for her dancing was utterly distracting him. He didn't know if it was his imagination, but he could have sworn he saw recognition flash across her lovely face, as she continued her dance right in front of him. Everything in the room faded but her. He wouldn't even allow himself to blink for fear of missing even the briefest of moments of her dance. She was so close to him now, so close his hands itched to reach out and grab her full hips and pull her down into his lap. He flexed his hands instinctively, wanting nothing more than to touch her, that is, until he looked at her lips. He nearly groaned in agony. Nay, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her.

Long before he wanted it to, the song ended. The room was silent, everyone completely mesmerized by the little enchantress, but nobody more so than him. His breath caught in his chest, as he watched her hands fall to her sides and her eyes fall from his, as she slowly turned towards the High King. The only sound that could be heard in the great hall was the sound of her delicate slippers tapping on the stone floor as she purposefully made her way to the king's table.

As she approached, she bowed herself gracefully before the High King and uttered softly, “I, Rosalind Fiona Mildred Alison Taran Violet Harcourt, humbly bow before you and ask of thee permission this day to enter into womanhood. May my request be granted?”

The room was silent as everyone leaned forward slightly in their chairs, eagerly awaiting the High King's response, but nobody anticipated it more than Terric. His eyes studied King Cedric's face, a face that was as familiar to him as his own, and he knew that he would surely grant her entrance, for nobody had ever danced the Saylatee more perfectly than her. A tremor of jealousy washed over him as he awaited King Cedric's response. For a moment he hoped that he would deny her request, for the thought of any other man seeking her attention made his blood simmer in rage beneath his skin. But on second thought, he wanted nothing more than her entrance to be granted, for her to be officially available. To him.

“Permission granted,” the High King's voice bellowed proudly throughout the great hall.

The princess rose and immediately the crowd began gathering around her, anxious to offer her their congratulations. Terric rose swiftly, making his way out onto the balcony that wasn't far from where he was sitting. His body needed a dose of coldness that only the night's brisk air could provide.

Looking up at the full moon above, Terric ran one hand through his thick, dark locks as he exhaled slowly. He wasn't sure what had come over him as he watched the princess dance, but now was not the time to be distracted by a woman's beauty, the High King's niece no less. Propping one booted foot up on the stone balustrade in front of him, he leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees and closed his eyes. He tried thinking about the latest attack on Brantonwall Castle that had occurred only four days prior to the High King and his party traveling south for Princess Rosalind's entrance, in hopes that it would take his mind off of the princess herself.

It seemed that the formerly infrequent attacks on the High King were becoming increasingly frequent as of late. He had to defend the king’s very life more times in the past several months than he'd had to in the last three years spent as lead defender. This last attack had been the worst yet. Even thinking about the occurrence now caused him to mutter a prayer of gratitude that he had been in the right place at the right time to save the king's life, despite the loss of two of their best defenders. He shuddered to think about what King Cedric's death could have meant for the Kingdom of Darth.

And still the mystery remained. Who was behind these attacks, and would they not cease until King Cedric was dead? Terric knew that the only person who wanted answers more than him was the king himself, for it maddened him enormously to know that there was somebody out there intent on ruining the peace that Darth had fought so hard to gain over the last several decades of ongoing strife with the neighboring kingdom of Moar.

For the second time that night, Terric felt his blood begin to boil, but this time with barely suppressed anger instead of lust. That is, until his thoughts were interrupted by the delicate clearing of an undoubtedly feminine throat. In a casual manner that betrayed his inner feelings, Terric glanced over his shoulder to see who had intruded on his privacy.

Standing several short feet from him was Princess Rosalind. Bathed in the silvery light of the full moon, she was even more beautiful up close than she had been in the dreary cavern of the castle walls. If he had thought her beautiful before, she was absolutely exquisite now. His mouth went dry, and all coherent thought fled from his mind as he stared into her face, trying to memorize every line, every curve of her perfectly formed features.

With careful skill, he was able to compose himself enough to ask casually, “Is King Cedric looking for me?”

“Nay.”

“Then perhaps
you
are looking for me?” he inquired lightly, his voice laced with the faintest trace of hope. When she didn't answer him right away he asked, “How did you manage to slip away?”

Princess Rosalind shrugged as she closed the gap between them. “It's easy to escape when nobody is paying you any attention.”

Terric smiled. “I don't know how you failed to notice, but everybody in that room was very aware of you while you danced.”

“That's the fickle nature of humans; they only remain interested in something until the next greatest thing comes along. As soon as the food began to arrive I was all but forgotten.”

Terric lowered his foot to the ground, straightening before the princess. “I haven't forgotten you,” he whispered huskily.

For a moment they stood in silence, her violet eyes boring into his own. The combination of moonlight, the sweet scent of jasmine drifting up from her hair, and the after effects of her dance, combined to make his skin tingle in awareness. He lowered his gaze from her eyes, focusing on her soft, red lips as he felt his head beginning to lower towards hers.

Just as his eyes were beginning to drift closed, he heard her inhale sharply and felt her step away. “But you, sir, have forgotten about super. I only came to tell you that dinner has begun. The first course is being served now.”

He watched in surprised confusion as she turned and fled into the castle, worried that he had scared her by his almost overwhelming desire to kiss her, the inexpressible need to feel her soft lips on his own. Cursing himself for acting so foolish, he waited until she was out of sight before slowly making his way back into the great hall, vowing to forget about the intoxicating imp that had rattled his brain.

Chapter
4

An Unfortunate Encounter

Rosalind grew more and more impatient as she waited for her chambermaid to finish dressing her hair. She had naively convinced herself that being granted her entrance wouldn't alter her life drastically, but she had been wrong. During the last week she had spent more time grooming than she had spent out in the gardens, and the lack of contact with nature was beginning to wear on her nerves.

Feeling uncharacteristically testy, she found herself snapping at the poor maid when the brush she was using to tame her locks caught on a knot, causing her head to jerk back, as sharp pin-pricks of pain scattered on her scalp. “Brigit, enough! I order you to put that brush down this instant and stop subjecting me to its cruelty.”

Guilt washed over her instantaneously as she turned to watch a stunned Brigit lower the brush cautiously to the table in front of her. “I'm sorry, my lady. Mayhap I was working too vigorously. For that I do apologize.”

Rosalind immediately felt contrite. Reaching forward, she placed one hand on top of Brigit's hand, the hand that still had a tentative hold on her brush. “I'm the one who should be apologizing. I shouldn't have gotten after you like that. I'm having a hard time seeing why all of this is necessary, why everything had to change because the High King saw fit to declare me eligible.”

“You are a woman now, no longer a child.” Brigit stated softly yet firmly.

“But I'm still just me, Rosalind Harcourt, the girl who can't keep her dress clean. I'm not interested in pursuing men now any more than I was before my entrance. Why does it matter what my hair looks like or what clothing I wear?”

“Because Prince Samuel is here to call on you; that's why.” A stern voice bellowed throughout her chambers, causing both Rosalind and Brigit to turn in surprise, as her mother, Queen Constance, strode through the door.

“You can't be serious, mother. I don't even know who Prince Samuel is.”

“Well you will soon enough. I suggest you allow Brigit to finish with your hair and hurry along; the prince is waiting for you in the courtyard.”

Rosalind wanted to groan but refrained herself when she saw the steely look in her mother's eyes. It wouldn't do to try and push her right now, for she was likely to explode. Instead, she solemnly turned and offered her back to Brigit so she could once more resume the task of dressing her hair.

***

“Princess Rosalind, have you heard a word I've said?”

Rosalind startled at the pointed question. She and Prince Samuel, who hailed from the kingdom of Moar, had been strolling leisurely through the pergola on the west side of the castle gardens. The pergola was overgrown with honeysuckle and pink, silky roses, the heavenly aroma wafting around her, making Rosalind feel content for the first time in days. She had been distracted by the various red strawberries on the bushes lining the path, anxious to pick a handful to sample, when Prince Samuel interrupted her thoughts.

Feeling contrite, she turned and looked at the Prince. “Please forgive me, I find it is much too easy for me to become distracted when I'm out in nature. There's so much to see and smell and feel, I find it hard to focus on anything else.”

The prince's smile seemed forced and his answer stilted, when he replied, “You are very interesting, Princess Rosalind.”

Rosalind wasn't sure if he was complimenting or insulting her and decided to ignore his caustic remark altogether. Walking over to the nearest strawberry plant, she bent and retrieved the two largest and most ripe berries before turning and offering one of the beauties to him.

Looking at her outstretched hand as if she held something offensive, Prince Samuel took a sudden step back, shaking his blonde head vigorously. “That could be poisonous.”

Rosalind laughed. “It's a perfectly safe and delicious strawberry.” Then, to prove her point, she sunk her teeth into the succulent fruit, closing her eyes as she chewed, enjoying every moment. She didn't open her eyes until she was done swallowing, and when she did, Prince Samuel was looking at her as if her actions had thoroughly appalled him.

“That was a very unladylike and dangerous thing to do,” he said disgustedly, taking a step back from her as if she had suddenly contracted the plague.

“Dangerous?” she asked, confused by the accusation.

“Yes. You should never eat anything before first having a food-taster test it. I know that I certainly never do.”