Princess Avenger - Brightcastle Saga Book 1 (3 page)

What if the
captain deduced her identity? If he were canny enough to divine
Hetty’s true self it would take great care on Alecia’s part to stay
out of his clutches. She had one advantage: she knew him now, and
that would make it easier to avoid him. His eyes again came to mind
and her spark of optimism died. She suspected he wouldn’t rest
until he solved the puzzle of the youth who had attacked the
mercenary and dumped the chamber pot on his head.

Alecia studied her reflection in the huge gilded
mirror outside the dining room. Strings of pearls were intertwined
around loops of her long blonde hair and piled high in the latest
Kingdom style. A marquise diamond, suspended from a gold chain,
rested like a glistening tear upon her forehead. The lavender silk
of the gown left her milky shoulders bare while the fitted bodice
emphasized her full bosom, displaying an almost indecent amount of
cleavage. Silver beading on the bodice and skirt caught the light,
and full lace sleeves almost hid her hands. She wore no jewellery
other than the diamond on her brow.

She examined
her left eye. A few deft touches with powder and kohl liner
concealed the faint traces of her fight this morning. Her father
would never notice. She smiled at the junior page who waited to
admit her and he pulled open the door. Alecia stepped over the
threshold.

Shadows danced
in the flickering light of the three tall candles on the long
dining table. As usual, Alecia’s eye was drawn to the tapestries
and paintings depicting Zialni ancestors in various scenes of
battle and ceremony. A portrait of the King, her father’s older
brother, hung above the fireplace. Alecia’s father, Prince Jiseve
Zialni, sat at the far end of the table below the portrait. There
was a close resemblance in the sharp blue eyes and strong jaw,
however King Beniel’s hair and beard were golden while the prince’s
almost black. She frowned as she stared at the painting of her
uncle, with his open countenance and ready smile. It was in stark
contrast to her father, who had become withdrawn and secretive in
the four years following her mother’s death.

The prince’s
head tilted towards his advisor, Lord Giornan Finus, who sat at his
right hand. Alecia allowed her eyes to rest on the elderly lord for
a moment. Since Finus’ arrival in the realm, her father had become
brutally obsessed with the trappings of wealth, to the detriment of
his people. If not for Finus, Prince Zialni would still be a
benevolent monarch. Instead, the prince collected exorbitant taxes
from the populace in a constant quest to maintain his lifestyle.
Alecia abhorred Finus and his influence, spending much of her free
time trying to restore the balance of justice as she saw it. She
was losing the battle.

Feeling
eyes upon her, Alecia glanced at the seat to her father’s left and
the breath caught in her throat. The piercing gaze of her dark
rescuer trapped her. Why was he here, in her home, at her table, on
the very day she had slipped his grasp and vowed to avoid him? This
could be no coincidence.
My secret is out!
The room lurched and Alecia staggered towards the
nearest chair. The captain was on his feet and at her side as if by
magic, his palm cupping her elbow and his other hand at her
waist.

Twice in the
one day he had laid hands upon her and now his heat seared through
the flimsy fabric of her gown. He was so hot! Alecia did not look
at his face, desperate to delay the moment when her deception, her
crime, would be exposed. She took a deep breath and squared her
shoulders. The prince’s expression had moved from one of pride in
his daughter to distaste.

“I am sorry,
Father,” Alecia said, her voice breathy without her even trying to
make it so. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast and felt
light-headed.” She turned to the captain and stared into the
buttons on his chest. “Thank you. I am now recovered.”

“Vard Anton at
your service, Your Highness,” he said, his voice rumbling through
her core. “Allow me.” He pulled the nearest chair from the table
and seated her before bowing and returning to his seat.

“
I hope
you are well, Princess Alecia,” Lord Finus said. The advisor’s
smile didn’t quite reach his cold dark eyes.
He
hadn’t moved a muscle when she had
stumbled.

Alecia
nodded at the despicable man and returned her attention to her
father.
No
need to panic.

Prince Zialni
stared at Alecia and for a moment she thought her carefully wrought
schemes would come crashing down, but then he smiled. “Our guest
tonight, Alecia, is Captain Vard Anton, recently come into my
service as captain of my guard. Your cousin Piotr recommended
him.”

Yes, but why
is he here? Alecia thought.

“
It’s an
honor to make your acquaintance, Princess.” Captain Anton’s black
hair brushed the collar of his dark gray uniform and his eyes
glowed faintly. The room was quite dim. If she stayed far enough
away, he might not recognize her. Her heart fell at the stupidity
of her thoughts.
He knows, he has to.

Alecia nodded,
keeping her eyes downcast. “Thank you again for your help,
Captain.”

“Let us enjoy
our meal and afterwards, Anton, you and I will talk,” Prince Zialni
said.

Alecia
let out her breath then began to worry about the subject of her
father’s conversation.
Please, Goddess, let it just be
business
. She shook her
head and glanced up to find the captain’s eyes upon her.

The meal
arrived at that moment: warm crusty bread with spicy vegetable
soup, roast pheasant and boiled potatoes. Alecia had started on her
soup before her father cleared his throat.

“Captain Anton
will think us uncouth if we do not give thanks, Daughter,” he said,
his brows drawn in disapproval. “If you would be so kind,
Alecia.”

Her face grew
hot. How could she be such a ninny as to draw further attention to
herself? She crossed her arms over her chest, hands on shoulders,
and bowed her head. “May the Mother who shelters all continue to
bestow her benevolence upon us, Praise her Holy Name.”

The men echoed
her words. “Praise her Holy Name.”

Alecia shot a
glance at her father and saw speculation in his eyes. He would
wonder at her odd behaviour. She lowered her head to the meal and
didn’t raise it until the servant came to clear the dishes. Dried
and sweetened fruit with thick custard completed the meal.

“Take care,
Daughter,” the prince said. “A healthy appetite is frowned upon in
a good wife; it spoils the figure. One day soon we shall have to
find a husband for you and I would not wish you to make the task
more difficult.”

This
time the heat in Alecia’s skin was generated from anger as much as
embarrassment.
How dare he mock me?

The captain
sat, his posture stiff, an unreadable expression on his face. “I
don’t believe it will be difficult to find a husband for a daughter
with such obvious charms,” he said, his eyes lifting to hers.

Alecia flashed
Captain Anton a smile at the compliment but gratitude was soon
replaced by irritation. They discussed her as though she were a
prize cow. She cleared her throat, intent on forestalling the
subject of her betrothal. Her father spoke first.

“Perhaps you
can help me in that task, Captain,” the prince said.

Alecia
choked on her wine, appalled at the turn of the conversation. She
looked at the captain. If he was stiff before, he now appeared
ready to fight
-- was it
attack or defence he anticipated?

“I don’t
understand, Your Highness,” Vard Anton said.

“Be at ease,”
Prince Zialni said. “I refer to the reason I have asked you here
tonight. I have cause to fear for the safety of my daughter, and
the incident in the market square this morning only heightens my
anxiety. It is indeed fortunate that you were present to aid the
luckless citizen after he was attacked. I cannot believe
Brightcastle houses such ruffians that would assault an unarmed
lad.”

Alecia
gasped. Relief that her secret appeared safe was swamped by the
fear that Captain Anton might readily link the lad and the princess
if the incident were discussed in her presence. If that happened,
would he expose her now or confront her later? The captain had not
reported the true facts of the incident.
Why?

“Alecia, dear,
I know this news must come as a shock, but there is no need to
fear.” Prince Zialni turned to the captain. “The princess is my
only child. She must live to marry and produce a son who might one
day be king. I wish for you to accept the charge of keeping her
safe, whatever that entails.”

Alecia
muffled a second gasp, her eyes wide as she waited for the
captain’s response. Vard Anton sat stock still, his knuckles white
on the spoon that was raised halfway to his mouth. A small muscle
at his jaw tightened as he lifted his eyes to the prince. Alecia
could not spare a thought for the captain’s discomfiture when she
faced the prospect of the coming days in his company.
How am I to avoid
him now?

Prince Zialni
frowned, spinning the goblet in his hand. “I am waiting.”

Still the
captain remained silent and Prince Zialni slowly stood. Alecia held
her breath, sure that one of her father’s famous rages threatened.
Why did the captain not speak?

At last, Vard
Anton seemed to come out of his trance and looked at the prince.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I’ll be honored to see to the safety of
the princess, should you wish it.”

Prince
Zialni’s frown deepened as he seated himself. “We shall adjourn to
the smoking room. There is no need for Alecia to be concerned with
the arrangements. It will suffice for her to know she is
protected.”

Alecia rose
from the table. The captain stood while Lord Finus and the prince
remained seated. “Please excuse me, gentlemen,” Alecia said. “I
will retire.”

“Until we meet
again, Princess,” Captain Anton said, bowing. “Sweet dreams.”

There were
murmurs from the prince and his advisor but she had no ears for
them. All Alecia could concentrate on was leaving the room without
falling over her skirts. She swept past the page without her
customary goodnight and fled up the central staircase to her
room.

Vard stalked back
to his quarters in the guard barracks, hand grasping the smooth
stone at his neck, his mind in turmoil. He liked having the element
of surprise on his side, not used against him and he could well do
without minding a spoiled prince’s daughter, no matter how
appealing. And she
had
been
tempting in the lavender silk and lace that emphasized her tiny
waist and revealed an expanse of generous bosom. She was perhaps a
little thinner than he generally liked, but that stunning smile
transformed her; made him forget her imperfections.

She had
seemed discomforted at his presence, which puzzled him. Perhaps she
was embarrassed that he had seen her stumble. She had barely raised
her eyes all night. He usually had the opposite effect on women.
They were drawn to him like moths to a flame
-- and his flame was just as likely to
burn. That was why he kept his distance. Involvement with Vard
Anton could only lead to harm. Therein lay the danger of this
latest task, but if he could protect the princess while remaining
aloof, she’d be safe from him and from whomever sought to harm
her.

Vard frowned.
He was fooling himself. It wouldn’t be easy, perhaps not even
possible to walk the fine line between protecting the princess and
placing her at risk; already her smile danced in his memory. He
recalled the sway of Alecia’s hips when she left the dining hall.
There was something familiar about her that eluded him. The nagging
feeling that he had met her before wouldn’t go away, but that was
absurd. He’d only been in Brightcastle for a week and had certainly
had no opportunity to see the princess, let alone meet her.

He
grunted at the track his thoughts had taken. His job was to protect
Alecia Zialni. While he kept her safe, he could gather information
for the mission that had really brought him to Brightcastle: the
assassination of the prince. The truth of his task made him pause.
Yes, it met his Defender goals
-- to protect the innocent from harm by whatever means
necessary -- but who was the faceless man who had hired him? Was it
perhaps Zialni’s nephew Piotr? It made sense that Piotr, next in
line to the throne, might want Zialni dead, but would the death of
the prince bring even greater danger to Princess Alecia? How could
Vard accomplish his task and extract himself while ensuring the
princess was safe?

Vard
rubbed the short hairs across the back of his neck. The zigzag of
his thoughts unnerved him. Disaster would surely find him if he
couldn’t keep his thoughts where they needed to be. Rigid
discipline had served him well in the past
-- allowing emotions to dominate his
actions could only lead to ruin. He’d fought too hard to lose
himself now.

He pulled his
saddlebags from under the cot and packed his clothes for the move
into the castle. Vard called his lieutenant in to inform him he’d
be taking over leadership of the Zialni Royal Guard, then stepped
into the night. As he re-entered the palace grounds, he glanced up
to the windows on the second floor of the west wing where the royal
family had their suites. Only one room showed a dim light.

Vard entered
via the servants’ access, left his saddlebags and boots in the
utility hall and slipped through the darkened passageways to the
main staircase. Phasing partially to exploit the heightened senses
of the wolf, his nose led him to the prince’s quarters at the end
of the west wing on the second floor. The heavy wooden door swung
on silent hinges and he pulled it closed behind him, pausing to get
his bearings in the near dark. No noise came from the parlor or the
bedchamber beyond. Vard memorized the position of each piece of
furniture, searching for weapons in both rooms. A short bow hung
from a hook beside the armchair in the parlor and he discovered a
sword resting against the wall behind the bed.