Beyond the Four Kingdoms Box Set 1: Three Fairytale Retellings (Four Kingdoms and Beyond Box Sets Book 3)

by Melanie Cellier

  “Got it in one,” said Celine.

  “But…your ankle,” said Sophie in a whisper.

  “The doctors have bound the splint in starched bandages to keep the ankle as immobile as possible.” Celine shifted on the bed uncomfortably. “And they have promised to make me a pair of crutches. But, one way or another, I must be in that room when the time comes.”

  We all stared at her with varying degrees of discomfort.

  “Have you tried calling for your godmother?” I asked. “This Tourney is putting you at serious risk.”

  She winced. “I tried. She didn’t come.”

  Sophie grimaced. “I tried, too.” I stared at her in surprise, and she shrugged. “Nothing happened.”

  Why didn’t you tell me?

  It was first thing after I woke up. You were still sleeping. When she didn’t come, there didn’t seem any point mentioning it. I would have told you later, it just didn’t seem like cheery morning news.

  “I wish I had a godmother.” Millie sighed.

  “It wouldn’t do you much good given they seem to have an aversion to this land,” said Celine. She forced a small smile and shrugged. “The doctors still believe the prognosis is good. But they have warned me to place as little stress on it as possible.”

  “I don’t understand!” Sophie burst out. “Who would set up such a competition? What sort of way is this to pick a bride?”

  Instinctively, I reached out for her in my mind. The warm companionship of her presence washed over me, neither of us able to change the situation but glad to be in it together.

  “I don’t think that it was like this in the past,” said Millie, finally speaking up. “I’ve heard people say that the Tourney changes depending on who called it. Its purpose is to find the perfect wife and queen for that specific ruler, after all. They say each Tourney reflects the man behind it.” She looked at us with wide eyes. “The rumors must be true. Prince Dominic is a monster.” She shuddered. “Perhaps the Tourney is only fulfilling its role—perhaps only the strongest of us has a chance of surviving the Beast.”

  The fear that shone in her eyes also roiled in my gut. I pushed it aside. “It’s no good thinking about the end of the Tourney yet. After what happened to Celine, we need to focus on the competition itself. For the collaborative phase, at least, our one goal has to be to keep everyone alive.”

  For a moment there was silence, and then Sophie took a deep breath and nodded. “The younger girls, especially Pearl and Opal, aren’t going to make it without us. They need to be our focus.” Her eyes met mine, and she didn’t need to project any words for me to understand her thoughts.

  We had once felt young and alone, and an older girl had put herself at risk to protect us. Alyssa was our sister-in-law now, a beloved family member, but she had owed us nothing back then. And when I looked at tiny Pearl and Opal, still children, really—and even Marigold and Giselle—I saw our younger selves. Sophie might think I had taken my sense of responsibility too far, but I knew she saw us in these young girls, too.

  Celine, unaware of our silent memories, nodded. “And I’m afraid I’m not going to be much help. I’ll be worse than dead weight, in fact. I’m going to need your assistance just to get up and down that blasted ladder. Which means it’s all on the three of you. Lilac should be some help, but I didn’t notice that Emmeline putting herself out too much.”

  “Try not to worry too much, Celine,” I said. “You’ll go crazy cooped up in here, if you do. We’ll have to lead them, certainly, but you saw Marigold last night. Just because they’re young doesn’t mean they can’t help themselves, too. Remember when you were fourteen.”

  The ghost of a smile crossed her lips. Celine was proud of her own adventures at fourteen. I remembered her complaining at the time about her older sister shutting her out of the action. Perhaps she understood her sister’s perspective better now.

  A knock sounded on the door, and the Duchess of Sessily entered without waiting for an answer. “Princess Celine needs her rest, Your Highnesses. The doctors have left strict instructions.”

  “Of course.” Sophie rose from where she had been sitting on the edge of Celine’s bed. She looked down at our friend. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”

  Celine managed a smile. “I don’t envy you sitting through all those boring meetings.” As Sophie began to move away, she reached out and grabbed her arm. “Make sure you do come back to visit me.” I could read panic in her eyes. “I don’t cope well with inactivity.”

  I suppressed a smile. After spending weeks on a sailing ship with her, the admission hardly came as a surprise.

  “Of course we will,” said Millie. “And I’ll let the other girls know, too. They can bring some books and games for you. It will be good for them to have something to focus on other than fear for the next event.”

  The duchess glanced at her sharply but didn’t say anything. I didn’t know her well enough to guess if she was reacting to the prospect of an invasion of her sick room, or to the mention of the Tourney. As someone used to always being one step ahead, it must gall her not to have access to any information about the events. But, for once, she could do nothing about it.

  While the diplomatic meetings the next day weren’t as boring as Celine had feared, I did find it hard to focus. Thoughts of the following evening with its ball and its Tourney event kept looming. And I clearly wasn’t the only one obsessing over the Tourney. It lingered in the background of every meeting, affecting every discussion, every proposed alliance. In the end, only one kingdom would be affected by the Tourney’s outcome, but until we knew who, everyone was affected.

  Some of the other young royals hadn’t bothered to attend the meetings at all. And, of those who did, only the direct heirs had seats at the table. The rest of us were relegated to ‘seats of honor’ against the walls. Such conduct hardly surprised me. Seventeen-year-old girls had never been highly prized as negotiators or diplomats, regardless of our royal standing. At least I knew the baron and baroness respected Sophie and me enough to consult us and keep us informed between sessions.

  The meetings between the various rulers and delegation heads from the represented kingdoms were followed by a series of meetings with important Marinese merchants, craftsmen and nobles. Each group proved eager to know more of life in Arcadia and Lanover and, in particular, what trade might usefully be established and what skills and knowledge we might possess that they did not. And, of course, our own delegations were eager to know the same information from them.

  The final session broke off in time for the evening meal, with promises to resume the next day. I resolved not to attend. Though unspoken, it was clear that no firm agreements would be made until the end of the Tourney, so I no longer felt guilty about devoting my energy to the competition.

  Prince Jonathan had attended every meeting. He participated actively, showing respect for all, regardless of station, and a keen sense of diplomacy. My eyes were continually drawn back to him during the discussions, and I had to keep reminding myself that he actually held a junior position compared to many of those present. I found it easy to forget given his confidence and intelligence. A couple of times his eyes met mine across the room, and I wished I had something useful to contribute, instead of being relegated to the wall in an honorary position.

  But some of those present seemed to dismiss Jon because of his age. One man in particular, a merchant, spoke to him with barely-concealed contempt. Jon maintained his calm and his diplomatic smile, but I fumed on his behalf. How could anyone fail to see the value Jon brought to the discussions? And that was without taking into consideration the respect that was due him as a member of the host royal family.

  Listen to that man! I projected to Sophie. You would think Jon was ten, not nineteen, from the way that merchant is talking.

  Sophie seemed calmer about the whole thing. Yes, but that particular merchant seems to talk to everyone that way. At least everyone from his own duchy. He’s respectful enough to our pe
ople.

  Ugh. I shivered slightly. Listen to him now, oozing charm all over the baron and baroness. Do you know who he is? I don’t want Arcadia making any deals with him, but I didn’t catch his name.

  Of course you didn’t, was there any chance you would? Sophie seemed to find this more humorous than it warranted.

  Well, did you? And don’t say ‘Of course, I did’!

  Of course I did! Sophie’s placid reply almost made me laugh out loud.

  Well, then? I prompted her.

  Sir Oswald. Apparently he was recently knighted for his services to the duchy.

  I sent her a mental grimace. Why do I get the feeling that means he made a large financial contribution to some project or other?

  Maybe because he seems like that type?

  “An excellent point, Your Grace,” said Sir Oswald to the Duchess of Sessily. “I myself have frequently recommended to our own duke that we adopt such a system. I have great hopes to see it implemented yet.”

  There you go, projected Sophie, he isn’t just disrespectful to your Prince Jon. He’s even disrespectful to Jon’s father.

  Pompous idiot. I frowned at him. And he’s not my prince.

  The Lanoverian duchess had responded civilly, if a little dampeningly, and the conversation moved on. I had my eye on Sir Oswald after that, though, and I didn’t like what I saw. It only made me more determined not to attend the next day.

  As it turned out, I had less free time than I had hoped. The traditions of this land had once again reared their heads and insisted that we attend the ball that evening in full formal attire. The only thing I could think was that Millie must have been right and that previous Tourneys had been a great deal less physically demanding. But we could hardly explain the true situation to those insisting tradition be maintained.

  “The duke seems determined to ensure that his duchy cannot be faulted on any aspect of their running of the Tourney,” said the baroness in our rooms that afternoon.

  “It must be costing him a lot, hosting so many visitors and festivities.” I glanced across at Helena, and the baroness nodded her agreement. “I wonder if it’s a problem for them? If we’re right about their lack of finances, that is.”

  “Never mind finances or their lack,” said Sophie, her head buried in one of our wardrobes, “whatever are we going to wear tonight?” She pulled herself out and turned to glare at me. “That’s a far more immediate question.”

  The dancing slippers were an unfortunate requirement, but we could do nothing about them. “If you continue to wear them through at such a rate, we shall have to ask the duchy to supply more,” said Helena.

  I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Surely every night could not be as demanding as the first had been? I just didn’t see how we could survive an endless run of such events.

  “What about this one?” asked Sophie, holding up a dress.

  Helena and I both considered it.

  “The skirt is a little on the large side.” I frowned at it.

  “Yes, but I thought it would give me freedom of movement,” Sophie replied.

  It took a great deal more such conversation before we settled on a dress for each of us, and Helena left with a large pile of gowns and promises to find the palace seamstresses. If we were to attend a ball and a Tourney event every three days, we would need some adjustments made to our wardrobe.

  As we entered the ballroom, I glanced across at Sophie. She looked stunning in pale gold, the tight bodice blossoming into a full skirt. I matched her perfectly in pale blue, our favorite colors.

  Who were we fooling? We didn’t pick the most practical dresses after all, did we? I shook my head at our foolishness. We just picked our favorites.

  Perhaps our greatest need was for a little extra courage? Sophie suggested. That has its own practicality.

  Impulsively I reached over and squeezed her tight. Thank goodness you’re here, Soph. I don’t think I could do it on my own.

  No, you probably couldn’t. She grinned at me. And I’m glad you occasionally remember it. Don’t think I don’t know you’re trying to protect me still, even after all these years.

  A tall figure called our attention back to the ballroom. Prince Jonathan stood in front of us, his wide-eyed gaze moving between us before settling on me. “Dance with me?”

  Chapter 11

  What was that about him not being your prince again? asked Sophie as Jon led me into the dance.

  That’s called a lucky guess, I told her. It could just as easily be you dancing with him right now.

  She just laughed at me.

  Jon spun me around, still raptly gazing at me. “You look stunning, Lily.”

  I blinked. Was it possible it hadn’t been just a guess? “You really can tell us apart?” He had said he’d chosen me specifically last time we danced, but I now realized that I hadn’t fully believed him. “Most people find that difficult, unless they know us well.”

  “Maybe that means I know you well.”

  I raised both eyebrows at him.

  He laughed. “Fine, I’ll tell you my secret…Sophie has brighter hair than yours. It’s more gold.”

  He was right, but I was a little surprised he had picked up on the subtle distinction. Apparently Jon can tell us apart, he’s noticed that your hair is brighter, I projected to Sophie across the dance floor.

  A moment later she whirled past in the arms of Gabe, giving me a stern look when our eyes met. Don’t read too much into it, Lil. I’m sure he doesn’t mean to insult your hair.

  As usual Sophie had seen straight through me. I sternly reprimanded myself for the disappointed pang. I had already decided I had no time for flirting, and now my heart needed to fall into line. What did it matter that there were two small differences between us—one more flattering to each of us, and that Jon had noticed the less-flattering difference to me? It really made no difference at all.

  “Very observant,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “I award you all the points.”

  He smiled at my attempted Tourney humor, but his eyes looked all too knowing. He leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “That and your eyes are deeper. Bluer.”

  Heat crept up my cheeks, and I told myself I did not feel a thrill shooting through me at his closeness and the feel of his warm breath against my face. But I didn’t seem to be listening.

  When the music changed, neither of us pulled away, and I let him draw me into a second dance. And somehow the second became a third. But I retained enough sense to remove myself from the dance floor after that.

  Jon left to find me a drink, and I positioned myself near one of the tall windows, fanning my face. The main Marinese ballroom was the largest I had ever seen. I imagined size was a necessity when you hosted combined events for six kingdoms. The large crystal and gold chandeliers reminded me of the wealth I had expected to find in this duchy. If Marin were struggling now, it had certainly not always been so.

  “I suppose you have much finer chandeliers at home,” said an unfamiliar voice beside my elbow. I turned and my mind went blank. I scrambled to place the vaguely familiar face but came up empty.

  Sophie! I called in a panic. I’ve got nothing. I’m against the windows.

  A pause that felt like forever, but probably only lasted a couple of seconds ensued.

  Oh, I see you. But I can’t recall a name either. I don’t think we’ve met her.

  But she looks familiar.

  Probably because she spent a large part of the last ball glaring at us, if I remember correctly. Sophie sounded less than pleased. Watch your step.

  “Oh no,” I said, keeping my face neutral, “these are quite the finest examples of chandeliers I’ve ever seen.”

  The girl looked torn between pride and disgust. She was tall and willowy, pretty although her features were too thin for classical beauty.

  “Lanover might have something similar, though,” I suggested, “they’re wealthier than Arcadia.” I couldn’t immediately call to mind the l
ighting in the Lanoverian ballroom, so the statement was true enough. And Lanover was the wealthiest of the Four Kingdoms. I merely failed to mention that my kingdom was also enjoying a time of heightened prosperity. Given her apparent preoccupation with fancy decorations, I hoped the insinuation that Arcadia was poor might drive the girl away.

  I felt a little guilty for sending her in Celine’s direction. But the other princess, who had just made an appearance hobbling on two wooden crutches, was flanked by the formidable figure of the Duchess of Sessily, so I figured she was safe.

  The disgust on the girl’s face grew at my words and then quickly fell away. I turned to follow her gaze and saw Jon returning with two drinks. The girl dipped into a deep curtsey, but something about the way her eyes lingered on the prince seemed less respectful. If I had to put a name to it, I would have labeled it as hunger.

  I shifted slightly, and Jon seemed to pick up on my discomfort. He gave the girl a small bow and a smile. “A pleasure to see you, Corinna, but I’m afraid I must steal Princess Lily away. State business, you understand.”

  The girl, Corinna, looked disappointed, but she could hardly protest. I took Jon’s arm, and we hurried away.

  “State business, is it?” I raised an eyebrow at him, a smile lurking on my lips.

  “I’m the prince, remember.” He directed an unrepentant grin at me. “Anything I do is state business.”

  “I could almost feel sorry for her,” I said, but he quickly shook his head.

  “There’s no need, I assure you. Corinna is Sir Oswald’s daughter, and he’s the second richest merchant in Marin. And now a knight as well.” He sighed. “I shouldn’t be so harsh, perhaps, but the whole family is rather insufferable.”

  “From the little I’ve seen, I recommend you stay far away,” I agreed promptly. “Unless you have a particular interest in chandeliers.”

  “Chandeliers?” He looked adorably confused.