Authors: Bernadette Rowley
The Lady's Choice
Dedicated to my mother, Patricia Garton, my first teacher.
Benae smiled to herself as her maid fussed with the tiara that adorned her dark hair. Finally something in her life was going to plan. In moments, she would descend the grand central staircase to meet her host, Prince Jiseve Zialni, next in line to the throne of Thorius, Lord and Master of Brightcastle. If her scheme worked, she need not be all alone in the world. Being solely responsible for her people wore her down. Just like her maid Merel, the five hundred citizens of her estate relied on Benae for their jobs and security. Despite being surrounded by people, with her parents and brother gone, hers was a solitary existence.
She shook her head and dragged her thoughts back to the present. Now was not the time to be dwelling on difficulties. Her project was well in hand. Tonight at dinner, she would shine in comparison to the other ladies, the princesses. She did not deceive herself that her task to win the hand of the prince would be simple. The princesses had arrived some time ago while Benae had been delayed by the myriad problems that accompanied the running of her estate. But now she was in residence and determined to make it impossible for Prince Jiseve Zialni to resist her. Benae met Merel's eyes in the mirror.
âYou look lovelier than I've ever seen you before, my lady,' Merel said. âThat emerald silk makes you look a princess. His Highness won't be able to take his eyes from you.'
âYou are kind to say so.'
âEveryone agrees you're the greatest beauty in all the land. Now that I've travelled outside Tylevia, I think they must be right. I've seen no other to rival you.'
âIt is said that the prince is rather vain so I am hoping he prizes beauty over royalty,' Benae said, spraying jasmine perfume on her neck and wrists. âI have no title or fortune to offer as the other ladies have, but I can give him what he desperately seeks and that is a son.' She smiled at Merel. âI must go. Do not wait up for me.'
Merel bobbed a curtsey and withdrew. Benae checked her reflection one last time, sending a silent plea to the Goddess to watch over her that evening. She gathered her skirts and was preparing to leave the chamber when a commotion drew her to the window.
Below, in the castle forecourt, two men were arguing. She recognised the lieutenant who had welcomed her on her arrival earlier. Vorasava was tall, thin and dark with tilted eyes in a rakish face, but it was the other man who held her attention. He was immaculately turned out, his dark blue tunic snug across shoulders and hips, his cream breeches accentuating the powerful muscles of his backside and thighs. Long blond hair was tied at his nape and he had an air of calm control. As he stabbed his hand towards the stables, the blond god's blue, blue eyes found Benae's and her heart stuttered.
Oh my!
Whatever he had been saying was lost, for the lieutenant also turned her way. Vorasava snapped a comment and strode off through the front gates.
The blond man broke eye contact and headed towards the castle entry. It was only then that Benae noticed the sword at his hip and the cat-like grace with which he walked. He was soon gone from view but it took Benae's heart much longer to cease its pounding. There was something about the man that resonated with her, drew her, compelled her. He looked to be about her age or perhaps a little younger and he obviously held an important position. She could not wait to make his acquaintance. Oh yes, this visit was turning out to be more than just a chance to claim the prince as husband. Perhaps there was more fun to be had. But for now, it was time to meet Prince Zialni and the other candidates. Time to see the competition.
As Benae turned from shutting her chamber door, she almost ran into a tall, fair-haired woman in an exquisite pale green gown. The woman's grey eyes held no warmth but Benae smiled anyway. âHello.'
âYou must be Lady Benae Branasar,' the woman said, unblinking.
Benae couldn't help the tension that entered her shoulders.
Talk about a welcoming committee.
âThat's right . . . and you are?'
âWell, Princess Avalin of Amar, of course.'
Benae made a small curtsey as befit her rank. âI am pleased to meet you, Princess Avalin. You must call me Benae. Have you been in Brightcastle long?' Benae took in the frown lines that were already etched into Avalin's face despite the fact that she looked to be similar in age, a mere twenty-six years old. Her straight, almost-white hair was pulled into a severe bun, held by a silver tiara studded with pale green gems. Avalin's face was too long to be pretty and the picture she presented was, all in all, one lacking colour.
âIt is two weeks since I arrived. The prince and I have spent many moments together and I have become quite fond of him. This is a magical place and Jiseve is truly a wonderful man. But he needs a woman who will bring a cool and practical head to the union.'
âHe is of fiery temperament then?' Benae asked, a ripple of interest coursing through her. Fiery she could appreciate. She had hoped and prayed the prince would not be a cold fish of a man.
âOh yes, he has a temper at times.' Avalin turned to walk along the hall to the staircase and Benae had to hurry to match the stride of the taller woman.
âHas he lost his temper with you?' Benae said.
âNo, but I try to stick to safe topics,' Avalin said, flicking Benae a superior look.
âSuch as?'
âHe loves to talk about his family and he is very proud of this marvellous castle.' Avalin looked Benae up and down. âI suppose you and he would have horses in common.'
Benae smiled, thinking of her stallion, Flaire, and she silently sent the horse a message of love. In answer, a picture of them galloping over a grassy meadow appeared in her head. How could he be bored already when they had arrived just hours ago? Distracted, she realised Avalin was waiting for her outside a gilded door inlaid with quartz.
âAre you well, Lady Benae?'
âOf course, sorry.'
A page opened the door and Avalin swept through ahead of Benae, who stopped to thank the boy. She crossed the threshold of the room and paused. All the princesses were in attendance. The two women she had not met moved towards her.
A comely-looking young woman with red locks and pale blue eyes was the first to speak. âI am the Princess Lella of Brevisten, Lady Benae,' she said, giggling. âMight I say you have the most glorious green eyes? I so wish I had
your
colouring.' She sighed and stepped aside so that Benae could meet the last princess.
âAnd I'm Marey of Issian,' the blonde princess with rich brown eyes said. She could not have been more than eighteen years old. Benae wondered at her parents sending their daughter to be a candidate for an arranged marriage with someone old enough to be her father.
âI am pleased to make your acquaintance, Princess Lella and Princess Marey.' Benae bobbed a brief curtsey. These two girls would be no competition for her in the prince's affections, though if he wanted an heir, it paid to select a young woman.
Benae cast her gaze around the room. It was a small parlour with crackling fireplaces at each end and wall hangings depicting horses, dogs and huntsmen. The floor rugs were woven in rose and pale blue. She detected a woman's touch in the decorations. âWhat a lovely chamber,' she murmured.
âYes, decorated by Prince Zialni's daughter Alecia, I believe,' Avalin said. âNot to my taste. I'd pull those ghastly hangings down and put up portraits and paintings instead. Surely there must be local artists whose work would be polished enough to grace these walls?'
âYou have been here some time, Princess Avalin,' Benae said. âWhat do you know of Princess Alecia and her disappearance?'
âI think you should really ask Prince Zialni about his daughter, Lady Benae,' Avalin said, the intensity of her gaze sending a warning tingle down Benae's spine. âI do so hate gossip.'
âWell, I don't,' Princess Lella said. âI heard from the servants that Alecia and her father had a falling-out. He chose some old lord as her fiancé and she couldn't bear the thought of it. Then about a month ago, the prince had Alecia locked up in this very castle but no one knows why. Fancy a father locking up his grown daughter. It is unheard of.'
The thought of Prince Zialni incarcerating his daughter rang an alarm within Benae. It did not seem possible and yet Lella was convinced. âAnd what of the kidnapping?'
âOh, yes, Lady Benae,' Lella continued, her blue eyes wide, âthe official word is that Alecia was abducted by her protector, Captain Vard Anton, but my sources say she went willingly and that it was more of a rescue than an abduction.'
âThat indeed is an intriguing and disturbing tale,' Benae said, beginning to wonder about the true state of affairs in Brightcastle.
â
If
you believe the gossip,' Avalin said. âI have not seen or heard a word that convinces me our host is anything but a loving father. His dealings with the common folk, however, are said to be harsh. Mind you, it is my experience that the
peasants
will always complain about their betters. It is their nature.'
âIndeed, Princess Avalin,' a deep, masculine voice said from the door.
Benae turned to see a strikingly handsome man in his middle years. He had dark wavy hair, a sensuous mouth and thick eyelashes framing sharp blue eyes. He walked towards her with the grace of a swordsman and reached for her hand.
âThe Lady Benae Branasar, I presume,' he said, his voice like warm honey. âI am Jiseve Zialni and I am delighted that you would visit me in my humble home.' He raised her hand for a kiss.
Benae smiled and curtseyed, dipping low and in no hurry to rise. Let him believe he was all that mattered in that moment. âYour Highness, you honour me by inviting me to your court.'
âIt is I who am honoured, lady,' Jiseve Zialni said. Warm his voice might be, but his smile was wintry, his features cloaked in sadness; understandable when his daughter had been kidnapped. Having lost his wife to consumption some time past, the prince was without any loved ones.at Brightcastle. Would Benae be the one to return sunny days to this battered man?
The prince turned and pulled on a rope beside the door. A bell echoed in the halls of the castle and moments later the blond god Benae had seen earlier slipped through the door into the chamber.
âLady Benae, I want you to meet Squire Ramón. He will be in charge of your care while you are here.'
The squire had changed in the short time since she had first seen him. His breeches and tunic were midnight blue and he wore a ruffled white shirt. His shoulders and arms strained at the fabric that encased them, as if he had recently come into his size. His golden hair glowed like none she had ever seen and was tied back from his clean-shaven face, but his eyes were what drew her attention. Deep blue they might be but, even more, they showed the heart of this man and Benae suspected that heart was pure gold.
He bowed over her hand and rose, his sweet citrus cologne swirling around her.
âRamón Zorba at your service, Lady Benae,' the squire said, his polished tones sliding down her spine. âI trust you had a pleasant journey.'
Benae gazed at his mouth as he spoke and imagined those lips on her skin. A sigh escaped her lips and she became aware that silence had fallen. All eyes were upon her. What had he asked her?
âYes, squire, thank you, a very pleasant journey indeed.' Benae turned to the prince, who wore a frown. If she did not take care, she would spoil her chances with Jiseve before her bid began. She gave herself a mental shake.
You are here to win the hand of the prince, not make eyes at his squire. Remember your people. Their future depends on you.
Benae gazed up into the shadowy eyes of the prince. âI know I will enjoy my stay here.'
Jiseve smiled. âI will ensure that you do, lady.' He looped his arm through hers. âNow let us adjourn to the dining room. Squire, see to the other ladies.'
Jiseve guided Benae out the door and down a wood-panelled passage. The princesses and the squire followed.
âI hear you are an excellent horsewoman,' the prince said. âYour mount is a fine creature; such a perfect dappled grey.'
Benae just managed to control her gasp of surprise. Just how much did this man already know of her? Not too much, she hoped. It was wise to keep some mystery. âYes indeed. I love to ride and Flaire is one of the deepest joys of my life. I trained him, you see.'
Jiseve smiled. âI will show you my horses tomorrow, ladyâ'
His words were interrupted by a ripping sound and Benae felt her skirt snag at the back. She gasped and swung around in time to see Princess Avalin's slippered foot resting on the delicate emerald lace bordering her gown. The skirt pulled away, exposing her underskirt.
âOh dear, Lady Benae,' Avalin gasped. âI am so sorry about your dress.' She stepped back and Benae gathered the sagging fabric, trying to hold it in place. Anger replaced shock as Benae realised her competitor for the prince's hand had trodden on her skirt with just this outcome in mind.
So this is how it is to be!
Her impression was confirmed when Avalin's lips curved in a tiny smile that was gone as soon as it appeared.
âYou must go to your room and change, Lady Benae,' Avalin said, stepping past Benae and grasping the prince's hand. âWe will wait for you in the dining room.'
The prince, who had been silent, frowned as Avalin took over. âYes, lady, it will take only moments to change. I will save you a seat next to mine.' His voice purred with a subtle appeal that was not lost on Avalin, whose mouth twisted in a grimace. Benae was sure Avalin would take full advantage of her absence to woo the prince. But Avalin had already had two weeks with Jiseve. If he were not convinced of her suitability yet, then he never would be. Benae was sure she still had a chance to win the race to be his bride. He was stunningly handsome and vital for an older man. It would not be such a bad thing for her to devote her life to him, even if she could not love him. There were things more important than love. Benae tried not to think of what her sainted father would think of such a union. She had to believe he would at least understand her need to secure the estate, both financially and from the threat of the dark elves. The prince turned to Ramón. âShow my guest to her chambers, squire, so she can change, and then escort her back to the dining room.'
