Return of the Prince_Medieval Romance

by Elise de Sallier

  Her whole body shaking, she was about to withdraw her statement when Destrian gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

  “I thought an individual’s ability to tell the truth was not determined by their station, but by their character.” He eyed his father pointedly, and another round of murmuring rose from the crowd.

  The court was comprised almost entirely of individuals who had benefited from Althelos’ rule. Well established in their perceived superiority, rumour had it they were unsettled by the changes Cedric was instigating and feared an uprising amongst the ‘common folk’ they had long exploited. To give weight to the testimony of mere market sellers against those of a higher station would seriously challenge the status quo.

  Before the king could respond, Destrian continued, “But since, as Lady Sommerville so eloquently put it, a member of the court requires special treatment, should not all avenues be explored in Eloise’s defence? She is also a lady, after all.”

  “Her status is irrelevant.” Gloria raised her voice, a hint of alarm infusing her tone. “I am her guardian. You would question a child’s word over the parent’s?”

  “When the step-parent doesn’t deserve the title of ‘guardian’, then yes.” Destrian sent her a look of pure disdain, but before Gloria could counter, the king gestured them both to silence. A deep frown etching his brow, he sat back and stroked his well-trimmed beard. Taking advantage of the much-needed reprieve, Eloise looked to Destrian, hope and fear entwining to form a knot in her stomach. It had been so long, she had all but forgotten she was entitled to be treated like a lady, but Gloria still seemed to hold the upper hand.

  “It is all right,” he murmured while they awaited his father’s response. “Whatever happens, you and I know the truth. I shall not let us be separated by your stepmother’s lies.”

  “What I don’t understand is that we were wed by a priest. What does it matter what she says about me?”

  “It matters, young lady,” King Gorvenal interjected, his voice booming loudly despite his failing health, “because it proves you acted rebelliously, ensnaring Destrian in your web of deceit. Under the circumstances, the marriage can be easily annulled, freeing the prince you are clinging to so inappropriately, to do what he should have done in the first place and marry my daughter!”

  Eloise swayed on her feet and Destrian’s grip on her tightened. He didn’t want to marry Seraphina, of that she was certain, but with no way to combat Gloria’s lies, she feared they would be torn apart regardless.

  Or maybe not.

  There was a way to prove her innocence, one that wouldn’t put her friends in the village at risk, but a niggling fear had her questioning whether she should pursue it. When she had first realised she cared for Destrian, she had considered acting on their attraction for one another. But all she had hoped for was to know the touch of a gentle lover before she was required to submit to whomever her stepmother chose to be her husband. When that opportunity was lost, she had dared to dream of freedom, never imagining a life spent at Destrian’s side. In the three days they had spent together, she had experienced more joy than she had ever believed possible. Was it fair to want more?

  Glancing around, Eloise didn’t doubt their audience thought the honourable thing would be for her to sacrifice her future for the greater good of the kingdom. But it wasn’t just her happiness at stake. Looking to Destrian, at the grim determination etched on his features, she knew what she had to do.

  Destrian loved her. He would fight for her, something she dared not risk. If they were separated, he would be equally destroyed. She had to trust that his earlier assurances were correct and that, despite his threats and bluster, King Gorvenal wanted peace as much as King Cedric. If it was true, then surely the two sovereigns could find some other way to form an alliance than by forcing a marriage between their children.

  Taking a deep breath, Eloise stepped towards the dais. “Trust me?” she asked when Destrian would have pulled her back.

  “Always.”

  His expression softening, they shared a smile. Then she turned to face his father, her knees quaking beneath her skirt.

  “May I approach, Your Highness?”

  “To what end?” the king asked, raising a brow.

  “To show you something that will prove I am not the person my stepmother is making me out to be.”

  The king didn’t answer straight away, and she feared he would refuse her, but then he gave a sharp nod. Ignoring Gloria’s complaints and the whispers of the crowd, Eloise carefully lifted her skirts and ascended the carpet-covered steps to the dais.

  Before this very public denouncement, she would have been mortified by the mere thought of what she was about to do. But with Destrian’s and her futures at stake, no degree of humiliation was too much to bear. Once standing before his father’s throne, she took a deep breath and began to tug on the fingers of her long, white gloves.

  “What’s this all about?” King Gorvenal grumbled. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense and more than enough of this chit of a girl spoiling my plans. It’s a travesty, I tell you.”

  “Please, Your Highness, give the young lady a moment.”

  Queen Emeline surprised Eloise with her support, and she sent the queen a grateful smile.

  When her gloves were removed, she laid them over her arm then stretched her shaking hands out for Destrian’s parents to see.

  “Are these the hands of a lady, Your Highnesses, a spoiled, pampered lady?”

  The king recoiled, his wife’s intake of breath clearly audible in the hush that had fallen over their audience.

  “It is her own fault.” Gloria waved a hand in dismissal. “She has ridiculous habits. Likes digging in the dirt . . . for the fun of it. She does it to spite me, as she knows it will discourage suitors.”

  “Silence, madam!” King Cedric ordered, and Eloise took courage from the softening of his expression as he beckoned her to come nearer. Gently taking hold of her wrists, he looked closely at the back of her scarred and battered hands before turning them over to study the palms. Three days was nowhere near long enough for her torn nails to regrow, blisters and cuts to heal, or calluses to fade. The break from having her hands almost constantly in water meant the rash that split the skin along her fingers and extended partway up her wrists wasn’t as angry looking as usual. But there was no denying hers were the hands of a servant . . . the lowliest of servants at that. At least, Eloise hoped that was the inference he would make. If the king chose to believe Gloria’s latest accusations, ridiculous though they were, she would be left with no recourse but to fall to her knees and beg.

  King Cedric’s silvery head remained bent over her hands for a long, fraught moment while Eloise held her breath. Destrian’s father was a handsome man despite his advanced years, but when he finally met Eloise’s worried gaze, he seemed to have aged another ten. She was even more shocked to see the watery sheen covering his blue grey eyes.

  “My dear child.” His broad shoulders, so like his son’s, rose and fell with a sigh. “It appears that a travesty has, indeed, occurred, one that began many years ago. It also appears I have been grievously misled.” His voice hardening, he looked to Gloria, Millicent and Winifred, who stood not far from their mother’s side. His gaze then shifted to Rulf and Festerly, who had begun to edge their way through the crowd.

  “Detain them all!” the king ordered, and the guards quickly herded the prisoners into a circle. Festerly made a half-hearted attempt to escape, but finding himself at the pointy end of several spears, he was quickly subdued. Rulf stood his ground, his eyes glowing with hate, while Eloise’s stepmother screeched, and her stepsisters dissolved into tears.

  Ignoring the uproar, Eloise turned to Destrian, relieved when he came to join her. First linking their arms, he waited for the noise to abate before addressing his father. “Does this mean you shall acknowledge our union?”

  The king rubbed his face with his hands then glanced to King Gorvenal.

  “I shall not gi
ve her up,” Destrian added, his jaw clenched. “I’ll accept banishment if you decree it, though I had hoped to continue working at your side.”

  The king’s eyes widened. “Of course, you’ll continue by my side . . . you’re my son and heir. I shall hear no more talk of banishment.”

  “As long as you stop this talk of an annulment.” Destrian pulled Eloise closer to his side, his tone brooking no argument. “I will do whatever it takes to see peace restored to the realm, but Eloise is my wife. I will not stand by and allow her to be disrespected in this manner ever again.”

  The alarm that had appeared in the king’s eyes was replaced with respect, and he gave a thoughtful nod. “Agreed,” he said, before looking to Eloise, his expression softening once more. “I accept your choice of bride, Destrian. I am also coming to understand why you made it. Sir Charles’ was a brave man, a trait his daughter appears to share. He would be appalled to know how she has suffered at the hands of his widow—” He turned to Gloria. “—who is about to experience some suffering of her own.”

  “Me? Suffer? You can’t be serious!” Gloria’s gaze darted from side to side. “This is all a misunderstanding, Your Highness. It’s not Eloise who suffered but me! I was married to a man who was nowhere near as wealthy as I’d been led to believe and who died and left me to raise his daughter. I kept her fed and clothed. What more could have been asked of me, Your Highness?”

  “Common decency, madam, of which you appear to have none.”

  Gloria began to curse, struggling to free herself from the guards who had taken hold of her arms. Millicent and Winifred began to wail again, and Eloise flinched at the sound of her stepsisters’ weeping.

  “Your Highness, what will become of them?” she asked after the king had ordered them silent.

  “I would say a period of incarceration is in order, wouldn’t you?”

  Eloise swallowed, the sound of her heartbeat pounding loudly in her ears. She couldn’t count the number of times she had dreamed of seeing her stepmother and sisters held accountable for their actions, but the dungeon? Fearful stories of Althelos’ torture chambers had circulated the village for as long as she could recall, and a shudder ran through her.

  “You won’t hurt them, will you?” she whispered,

  The king tilted his head to the side, his brow furrowing. “You are advocating clemency?”

  “Eloise, your stepmother treated you like a slave,” Destrian interjected. “She neglected you, tried to sell you. And from what you’ve told me, your stepsisters were little better.”

  “Not to mention all three of them lied to their sovereign, their testimony contributing significantly to this fiasco,” the king scowled, pointing to Rulf, “one instigated by this man who will not be extended any kindness.”

  “I understand they must be punished.” Eloise looked first to Destrian then his father, her gaze entreating them to be merciful. “But I couldn’t live with myself if they were tortured because of me.”

  “Tortured?” The king sat back. “I don’t torture females. I was thinking more along the lines of a few years spent in a dreary cell for your stepmother after which she can live out her days as an indentured servant . . . a fitting punishment for her crimes, I believe. As for your stepsisters, I am prepared to show mercy if you wish it, but keep in mind that they didn’t hesitate to speak ill of you.” Glancing down at Eloise’s hands, he grimaced. “What would you say to their spending a stint working in the palace laundry?”

  Eloise blinked, stunned by the turnaround in events. The king appeared to have had a complete change of heart, but she could hardly countenance that he was asking her opinion. She glanced to Queen Emeline, who graced her with a kind smile. Then she looked to her tormentors.

  Gloria’s chin was raised in defiance, and Eloise felt little pity for her stepmother. But Millicent and Winifred were still young, and it might not be too late for them to learn the error of their ways. Eloise didn’t imagine change would come easily, as even shaking with terror and their fates in her hands, they stared daggers at her. Thinking back to all the hours she had spent scrubbing their clothes and linen, the years of insult and complaint, and worst of all, the way they had gloated over her betrothal to Mr Festerly, Eloise came to a decision. She wouldn’t turn her back on her stepsisters completely, but a taste of their own medicine wouldn’t go astray.

  Facing the king, she nodded. “Yes . . . the laundry and maybe some time spent as chamber maids.”

  “What? No!” Millicent screeched. “We are ladies. We can’t be expected to scrub clothing and mop floors. This was all our mother’s doing. Punish her, not us!”

  “This isn’t fair,” Winifred added between hysterical sobs. “We were to have new gowns, and proper ladies’ maids, and generous dowries from the money Mama got for selling Eloise to Mr Festerly. She promised!”

  “Oh, shut up!” Gloria slapped Winifred’s face before rounding on Millicent, but before she could strike her other daughter, the guards intervened. With a nod from the king, Eloise’s stepmother and stepsisters were dragged, screaming and cursing, from the hall.

  In the silence that followed, Eloise struggled to catch her breath. Her nerves felt like they had been frayed to the last fibre by the scene that had just unfolded and the feeling of a hundred sets of eyes trained upon her. She wasn’t used to being the centre of attention, having perfected the art of fading into the background in order to avoid Gloria’s ire. But as Destrian’s wife, that would need to change. Taking strength from the feel of his arm still linked with hers, she addressed his father.

  “Thank you for believing me, Your Majesty. I realise I am not your first choice of daughter-in-law, but I care sincerely for Destrian and promise to do my utmost to support both him and the needs of the kingdom.”

  “I am sure you will, Eloise, as it appears my son has excellent taste.” The king eyed Destrian ruefully. “It also appears that I owe him a rather large apology, several actually, but now isn’t the time or place. What say we adjourn to somewhere more private to continue this discussion?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Queen Emeline stood. “You were the one who insisted we make this a public spectacle, so I would like to take the opportunity to publicly welcome Eloise into the family.” She opened her arms, but before Eloise could step into her new mother-in-law’s embrace, they were interrupted.

  “Now, wait just one minute!” King Gorvenal shook off his wife’s arm and stood. “You told me you were getting rid of the girl, so Destrian could marry my daughter. Do you want my support to end this war with Carac or not? I could always side with him, you know. He has plenty of sons who would like a chance to rule in their own right, and I’m betting they’d not hesitate to bed her. She’s a comely enough lass, even if your Destrian is too blind to notice.”

  “Father!” Seraphina, who had sat quietly throughout, stood to her feet. Her implacable mask had slipped, and tears welled in her eyes.

  “Oh, don’t ‘father’ me,” Gorvenal growled. “I know you think you can rule alone, but a woman needs a man to guide her just as my kingdom needs a king, a strong king. We all know I am not long for this earth, and I’m determined to see you wed before I die. If you can’t marry Destrian, what else am I supposed to do?”

  “Let me marry your daughter.” Prince Merek rose from his seat and came and stood beside Seraphina. “I shall take care of both her and your kingdom.”

  “Merek, this is no time for one of your jests,” Destrian growled, and his brother faced him, the smirk Eloise had noticed him wearing earlier replaced by a determined look.

  “I have never been more serious in my life,” Merek said, though his lip twitched at Destrian before he turned back to King Gorvenal. “My brother might not have wanted to marry Princess Seraphina, but I do.”

  The visiting sovereign’s expression turned calculating, while his wife looked on with obvious concern. Seraphina opened her mouth, to protest Eloise suspected, but then Merek lowered his head and murmured something cl
ose to her ear. Her eyes grew wide, and she stared at him for a moment before giving a sharp nod. Emmet’s smile was triumphant, but his demeanour sobered when he turned to address her father.

  “The princess is willing, Your Majesty. I might not be your first choice for a successor, but you have to admit I’m a sight better candidate than any of Carac’s sons. Unless, of course, you would prefer your kingdom was absorbed by our enemy? You would be handing it to him on a platter . . . along with your daughter.”

  His words were harsh, almost provocative, and Destrian hissed his brother’s name. Ignoring him this time, Merek looked to Seraphina, a flash of vulnerability in his expression catching Eloise’s attention. He wasn’t nearly as sure of himself as he portrayed, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he might even be smitten by Gorvenal’s beautiful daughter. He was protective of her, at the very least, although how Seraphina felt, she couldn’t say.

  Eloise’s heart went out to the regal princess, standing with her head proudly aloft despite the embarrassment she must feel at being spoken about so callously by her father. Merek had virtually cornered her into accepting his proposal, but what choice did she have? He couldn’t possibly be a worse husband than an enemy prince . . . not that Eloise thought King Gorvenal would go through with his threat. It would be madness. Then again, the man did seem a little unhinged.

  Coming to a quick decision, she signalled for Destrian to come closer. “You should endorse your brother,” she whispered in his ear, and he reared back.

  “But Merek—”

  “Cares for the princess. He won’t let her down.”

  Destrian looked unconvinced, and Eloise squeezed his hands. “Trust me,” she whispered, and he looked to his brother. They shared a long look, Merek’s expression unwavering and Destrian’s slowly turning from disapproval to grudging respect.