Felix’s breath caught in his throat, and his eyes locked with those of the other prince. Aethelbald’s gaze was unreadable, and his eyes seemed to look not at Felix but inside him. They penetrated deeply, behind whatever masks he wore, down into his soul.
Felix looked away.
“You should have tried the maneuver I taught you,” Aethelbald said. “In combat it would have saved your life. Again, Felix.”
This time when Aethelbald lunged, Felix’s feet seemed to move on their own, performing the steps he’d been practicing all morning. His reaction was imperfect, but it was good enough, and he knocked Aethelbald’s sword from his hand. No whoop of victory escaped his lips this time. His sword whipped through the air, and its point rested just before Aethelbald’s heart. They stood like statues for a long moment.
“Good,” Aethelbald said at last.
Clattering hooves drew their attention. Both turned to look toward Westgate across the yard. A troop of horsemen stood just outside the gate, all astride sorrel horses but for their leader, who rode a black charger taller and more powerful than the rest. The leader exchanged a few words with the captain at the gate, and a moment later he and his men were waved inside. They were at least twenty strong.
“I know who that is.” Felix wiped sweat from his brow as he watched the horsemen enter the courtyard and dismount. “Word arrived a few days ago of their coming. That’s the emblem of Beauclair on their cloaks, and their livery is of the royal house.” He turned to Aethelbald, a wicked grin spreading across his face, and waved his sword at him. “I think you have a little competition now. That’s Gervais, Crown Prince of Beauclair.”
Aethelbald said nothing but watched as stableboys came out to take the horses, and as the palace steward appeared at the great front door to greet the newcomers. The tall leader, whose cloak was blue and shot with silver threads, did not return the steward’s bow but allowed himself to be escorted inside.
Aethelbald quietly stepped over to pick up his sword. Then he turned to Felix. “On guard, friend.”
“What? No!” Felix watched his own sword spin through the air once more.
6
A certain amount of whispering and Nurse’s exclamation of “What?” in the nearby hall were not enough to distract Una’s attention from the work at hand. She knelt beside a basin brimful of sudsy bubbles, holding Monster in a death grip by the back of the neck with one hand, wielding a scrub brush with the other, which was difficult to manage while wearing heavy leather gauntlets. Her tongue poked into her cheek in concentration. Monster’s caterwauls had diminished into low, seditious growls that boded ill for the future. She scrubbed for her life while she had a chance.
“Princess!”
“Oi, wait! Bad kitty, no – ”
Una screamed, lost her hold, and watched her flailing cat escape her erstwhile paralyzing grasp. Monster’s claws found several exposed places, including the tip of Una’s nose, and the next moment he disappeared under the bed, leaving a trail of bubbles behind. Una sat back on the floor with a thump, wiped blood from the end of her nose, and fixed an irritable eye on Nurse. “If you don’t – ”
“Get yourself up off that floor, girl!” Nurse cried, her hands flying in flustered gestures. “What in the moon’s name do you think you’re doing?”
“I was bathing my cat, just like I told you,” the princess said coldly, watching her nurse dart across the room to the wardrobe, yank the door open, and start rummaging. “I can’t remember the last time Monster had a – What are you doing? Why are you . . . Oh, Nurse, no!”
Nurse pulled the much-hated best dress from the closet and flung it across Una’s bed, then returned to the closet to dig out a pair of awful pinching shoes.
Una clambered to her feet, putting her arm in the basin of water up to her elbow in her haste. The gauntlet filled with dirty bubbles. “I’m not wearing that dress, Nurse. I don’t care if Prince Aethelbald dines with us tonight, I will not – ”
“None of your smart talk, Miss Princess.” Nurse tossed the shoes out over her shoulder and emerged herself a moment later. Her ruddy face was a shade redder than usual. “Prince Gervais of Beauclair arrived not ten minutes ago. He’s come to pay his respects!”
Una’s mouth dropped open, closed, and opened again wordlessly.
“Gervais?” she managed at last. “Prince Gervais?”
Her mind danced over a hundred different thoughts at once. None other in all the kingdoms on this side of the Continent had a reputation half so exciting as that of Prince Gervais. The kingdom of Beauclair was located just south of Parumvir and famed far and wide for its music and for the splendorous balls and entertainments hosted in Amaury Palace, whereat King Grosveneur held court. The prince, rumor had it, was the most brilliant dancer and singer in the kingdom, a great favorite with the ladies, young and old alike. His very name conjured up notions of romance wherever it was mentioned.
Una snatched off the gauntlets and the kerchief she had tied over her hair and rushed to the vanity to inspect the scratch on her nose. It was still bleeding. “Bother it all, why didn’t Father tell me he was expected?”
“Probably to prevent an entire week of the nervous tizzy you’re now working yourself into – ”
“Did you see him, Nurse?” Una dabbed her scratch with the handkerchief. “What’s he like?”
“I only just glimpsed him in the hall downstairs. Oh, he’s grand, very grand!” Nurse flung panniers and petticoats about with unprecedented abandon. “They say he rode up with a retinue of twenty, all bedecked in blue, with bells on the horses’ bridles. I do believe he winked at me.”
“Winked at you? Nurse!” Una fumbled with a petticoat, trying to do up the buttons at her waist, but her fingers, wrinkled with hot water, shook too much to manage them.
Nurse blushed like a schoolgirl. “I could be mistaken. Here, let me fasten that for you. Gracious, you’ve put it on inside out! Turn around.”
“Did he say anything?” Una asked.
“I heard him ask to be presented to His Majesty, and your father’s steward asked if he would wish to wash and rest himself first, and he just laughed. ’Twas such a musical laugh.”
“Nurse!”
“Well, it was, and I don’t mind saying it. I may be old enough to be your grandmother, but I’m not dead yet, Miss Princess. There. Now put this on.” Nurse helped Una step into the voluminous skirts of her dress, chattering all the while. “You’re to go to the receiving hall immediately and be introduced to the prince. Then the king has ordered a supper for him, a fine one, to which all his most powerful nobles will be invited – Beauclair being our strongest ally, you understand. Not even Prince Aethelbald received such a welcome as this! Sit and let me do something with your hair; you’re not half presentable. Can you not stop that bleeding?”
A quarter of an hour later, once again powdered and tweaked into the height of Parumvir fashion, Una descended the staircase, one hand trembling on the stair rail, the other desperately attempting to lift her heavy skirts so that she could walk.
“Prince Gervais,” she murmured to herself. “Now that’s a fine name, I must say. Nurse didn’t say whether or not he’s handsome. But he must be, by all accounts. I wonder if he’ll think me pretty. Oh, Monster, you goblin cat, why’d you have to nick my nose?”
She touched the developing scab and sighed ruefully just outside the receiving hall door. Taking a deep breath and lifting her chin, she nodded to the herald to announce her.
Prince Gervais was not a handsome man.
But it did not matter. He possessed an air of graciousness with perhaps the smallest hint of disdain about the corners of his mouth, which was altogether alluring. And when he smiled, one forgot any flaws in his face or figure.
He turned a glittering smile on Una as she entered the receiving hall, for he stood already before Fidel, having been presented a few moments before. Una blinked under his gaze and felt suddenly dizzy. The curious stares of all the courtiers around
her withered away in the light of Prince Gervais’s brilliant grin.
“Princess Una,” Gervais said after Fidel had made the introductions and everyone who was supposed to had bowed or curtsied. His accent was thick and smooth as velvet. “I had heard rumor of your loveliness long before now, which incited my curiosity to meet you. But no rumor, however extravagant, came close to touching the true radiance of your presence!”
Una knew that whatever Gervais meant by that remark, it probably wasn’t entirely honest – her best dress added about thirty pounds to her frame in unflattering places – and she felt the onslaught of red blotches on her cheeks. Princess Una was a pretty girl, but few would have guessed it at that moment. Still, Prince Gervais’s face expressed pure dazzlement, and how could Una know better? Her heart thudded not unpleasantly in her breast.
“Crown Prince Felix and Prince Aethelbald,” the herald boomed across the hall.
Una felt the blotches multiplying. She turned and saw her first suitor crossing the room in company with her younger brother. Both looked flushed from exercise, though their clothing was fresh.
“Ah, there you are,” Fidel said, waving a hand in greeting. “Gervais, allow me to present my heir, Felix. And this is Prince Aethelbald of Farthestshore, newly arrived from afar.”
“Ah! Delighted.” Gervais flashed another brilliant smile and bowed.
“Good day, sir,” Aethelbald quietly replied.
It was just as Una had expected – standing beside the shining prince of Beauclair, Aethelbald disappeared into obscurity.
–––––––
King Fidel rarely hosted meals for his court. Once in a great while, for holiday feasts, tables would be set in the great dining hall, courtiers and dignitaries would be invited to join, and the royal family would display themselves in proper pomp. But these occasions were few and therefore much more impressive when held.
Magnificent banquets two nights in a row without a holiday in sight were enough to try the patience of all the cooks and servers in the king’s service. But in honor of Prince Gervais’s arrival, no extravagance could be spared. After all, as Fidel encouraged his staff, they would not wish the Crown Prince of Beauclair to compare the hospitality of Oriana Palace to that of Amaury and find it wanting, would they? No – no Parumvir cook would see those trifle-making dandies from Beauclair held up as his superiors. So the feast was one of special eminence, outdoing even the dinner served in Prince Aethelbald’s honor the evening before.
The great dining hall was opened up, and all those counted of any note in Parumvir sat at long tables with golden placeware before them and dined in the presence of the king. The men from Beauclair and Farthest-shore mingled with the counts and barons of Parumvir, and at the king’s table in the center of the room sat Fidel, his two children, and Princess Una’s two suitors, along with a handful of dukes and noblemen.
Una found herself beside Gervais, which both delighted and distressed her. She found it difficult to eat with his gaze constantly sliding to rest upon her, and she desperately hoped the red blotches faded under candlelight. She spent most of the meal rearranging the food on her plate, unable to transport any of it to her mouth. A subtly scented Monster sat at her feet under the table, grooming himself and sometimes touching her leg with one paw to beg, but she resisted slipping him tidbits in the present company.
To make matters worse, Prince Aethelbald was seated on her other side. He did not speak to Una, nor did she bother looking his way. But consciousness of his every movement made it difficult at times to focus her attention on the Prince of Beauclair.
Gervais was infinitely charming. He spoke in a voice clear enough to carry across the room, and many of those who did not sit at the royal table turned to listen to whatever he might say. One could hear the singing voice behind his speaking voice, Una thought, and both must be equally pleasant to hear.
Felix, who sat beside Gervais and just to the right of his father, asked around a mouthful of bread, “What sport do you find in Beauclair, Prince Gervais?”
Sport! Una thought with disgust. Surely the musical, talented prince before her wouldn’t find time for such boyish games. She rolled her eyes at her brother, who covertly made a face back. But Gervais leaned back in his chair, raising his wine goblet, and declared, “Sport in Beauclair is as fine as any in all the world. In season I hunt deer, bear, even wild boar.”
“Boar?” Felix asked, impressed. Boar hunting had not been practiced in Parumvir for several generations now.
“Indeed,” Gervais said. “You’ll rarely find a beast fiercer or more satisfying to chase.” He tossed his head back in a short laugh, and Una found she agreed with Nurse; his laugh was musical. “But that is nothing,”
he said, “compared to the quarry I pursued just this last autumn.”
Felix leaned forward in his seat, eager as a puppy. “What is fiercer than a boar?”
“Dragon, young Felix,” Gervais said.
A hush settled around the hall at his words, and people from all the surrounding tables looked up.
“Dragon?” Felix breathed.
“Dragon, my boy.” Gervais adjusted his seat so that he could cross his legs off to one side, his wine goblet still cradled in one hand. “One day last autumn – late afternoon, I believe it was – I hunted with my men on the borders of Gris Fen. We gave chase to a boar, an ancient and grizzled old thing, but wily with age. It had killed two of my dogs already and maimed one of my men. But I was determined that I should not be put off, that I should not rest until I saw the creature’s head mounted on my wall. Such was not to be its fate, however.”
He paused and sipped his wine while Una and Felix both leaned forward, their faces eager. Gervais set his cup down. “As I came under the shadow of the swamp trees, intent upon the trail of this boar, my attention was suddenly arrested by a great and hideous roar!”
His eyes flared, and in the candlelight his face looked frightening and at the same time terribly fascinating. “A roar so vicious,” said he, “so bloodcurdling that I and my men froze in place, too frightened for the moment to go on.
“But that moment passed for me, and while my men yet stood in mortal terror, I cried, ‘Wait here!’ for I did not wish to put them at risk. I rode on ahead, following that gruesome bellowing, which sounded again and again at regular intervals. I told myself as I went that nothing in this world could make a sound so terrible save a dragon.”
Una nodded solemnly, her lips parted, and Prince Gervais flashed another smile her way before continuing.
“All afternoon I hunted deep into the swamp, on foot after a time, for my good horse could not carry me into the deeper mires. Snakes swam past my feet, poisonous and deadly, but I pressed on, determined to find and rid my lands of the beast, wherever it may be. The sound swelled to so mighty a roar that I knew the monster must be near.”
The warm lump of fur sitting at Una’s feet growled when Gervais said “monster.” Una nudged her cat, and he slipped out from under the table and skulked from the dining hall.
“At last,” Prince Gervais said, “I felt certain the beast was just beyond the next rise. I thought it odd that no smoke or flame or scorch marks came into view, but I comforted myself that it must be a young dragon . . . though I would have hunted it no matter the size! I drew my sword.” He picked up the knife beside his plate and raised it dramatically in the air. “With a mighty cry, I sprang over that final rise!”
He clanged his fist down on the table, causing those seated around him to jump and the glasses and silver to rattle. The courtiers at the next tables strained their ears to listen, waiting in breathless silence.
“Well, what did you find?” Felix demanded at last.
“Nothing.” Gervais flung up his hands and leaned back in his chair with a laugh. “There I stood, ankle-deep in swamp muck, surrounded by miles of nothing. Disgusted, I turned to go, when I heard that great bellow again. ‘GRAAAAAUP! GRAAAAAUP!’ ” He opened and closed his mouth comically
. “I looked down at my feet, and what did I find?” He held up a fist. “A bullfrog, no bigger than my hand, puffed up like a child’s balloon!”
Nearly everyone burst into laughter, and Gervais, shaking his head, finished with, “Of course, I tried to step on it, but the fell beast hopped away, and all my heroic efforts were for nothing. No bounty for that dragon’s head!”
“Oh, but you were brave,” Una said and blushed at her audacity, quickly looking down at her plate. “I mean, well, you didn’t know what it was, yet you hunted it anyway. Alone too! That takes courage.” She boldly raised her eyes and received a wink that knocked the breath right out of her.
Gervais leaned back so that his chair balanced on two legs, and took up his wine goblet. “How about you, sir?” He turned to Aethelbald, who sat quietly cutting his meat. Una had forgotten he was there. “I have heard stories of your kingdom since I was a small boy no higher than my nursemaid’s knee. Surely you have had your adventures as well. Have you hunted dragons before?”
Aethelbald went on cutting. “I have,” he said.
“Indeed?” Gervais paused and sipped his wine, a line appearing over his brow. But he smoothed it out with another smile directed briefly toward Una. “Do tell, good Prince,” he said. “Is it a tale of might and daring comparable to my own?” He laughed.
Aethelbald paused and looked up from his plate, his fork halfway to his mouth. “No,” he said and took a bite.
“What? Come, man, there must be a story here somewhere. Did you lead a band of thirty strong? Did your sword taste dragon blood?” Gervais placed an elbow on the table and leaned closer to Aethelbald. “We’re all eager to hear the tale, Prince of Farthestshore.”
Gervais’s eyes were bright and intent upon the other prince, so Una tried to put an expression of interest on her own face. Inside, however, she wished Gervais would stop trying to draw conversation from a block of wood and go on talking.
Aethelbald glanced at Una. Candlelight cast strange shadows across his face. His expression, Una realized, was sad, deeply sad. She felt a pang in her heart and looked away. Is it my fault? she wondered. He knows I don’t want him. It is my choice. I have every right to fall in love with whomever I choose.
Heartless Page 7
