by Elise Marion
Love always,
Esmeralda.
* * *
Tatiana glanced over her shoulder to ensure no one had followed her before slipping out into the garden. Her feet moved swiftly and silently on the snow-covered ground, and her heart fluttered as she ran. Its cadence seemed to call the name of her beloved.
Andrew, it sang as she rounded a hedge blanketed with snow. Andrew, it cried as she spotted him standing right where he had promised to meet her. Andrew, it screamed as he pulled her into his arms for a kiss.
She threw her arms around him and raised up on tiptoe to meet his lips. She sighed in wonder at the thrilling sensation that traveled down her spine at his nearness. His mouth was pleasant and warm against hers, his hands gentle but firm at her back as he held her.
“Oh, how I’ve missed you, my sweet Tatiana,” he murmured as his hands found their way beneath her cloak. Heat pooled low in her belly as his insistent fingers found their way to the top of her bodice. He softly caressed the bare skin of her cleavage before dipping inside to tease the already hardening nipple.
“I missed you too, Andrew,” she moaned as he continued kneading her breasts. “I came away as soon as I knew I wouldn’t be spotted.”
“These secret meetings aren’t enough for me anymore, my love,” he whispered, pulling her tighter against him.
Tatiana’s eyes widened when she felt the undeniable proof of his desire pressed hard against her.
“I know,” she managed to choke out as his lips lowered to her neck. She shivered and clung to him, her knees growing weak.
“I wish you would let me make love to you,” he murmured, pulling away to peer into her eyes. “The desire I feel for you is unlike anything I’ve ever known. Can you say that you do not feel the same?”
Heat rose in Tatiana’s cheeks and she looked away. Youth and inexperience had her uncertain of what to do. Esmeralda’s marriage had elevated her status in the world, and she now stood in the position to make a good match. Lord Forsyth was just the sort of man she’d hoped might ask for her hand—handsome, titled, wealthy, and most importantly, in love with her. She had been warned that indiscretion could ruin her reputation amongst the royal court, which in turn would make finding a marriage match all the more difficult.
But they were in love, and the tingling awareness she felt when he fixed his heated gaze on her was now nearly unbearable.
“I want to,” she murmured. “It’s just that—”
“I know,” he interjected. “I understand that you are afraid, and the shortness of our time together might cause others to doubt what we have. But I cannot deny the depth of my feelings any longer. I love you, Tatiana. You must know that it is true.”
She looked up into his warm brown eyes and knew he spoke the truth. Lord Andrew was too much of a gentleman to lie, so it must be true that he cared for her. She felt it deep inside.
“I love you, too,” she said before pressing another kiss to his lips. “I wish I could be with you always.”
“You can,” he replied, taking one of her hands in his. “We could be together forever if you agree to be my wife.”
Every fantasy she had ever dreamed of came to life, as Lord Forsyth dropped to one knee in the snow. This was not the first time a man had asked Tatiana for her hand in marriage. Gypsy men of her fathers’ acquaintance had been after her most of her life, but all had been rejected due to being unable to meet her father’s steep brideprice. As well, she’d never wanted to marry any of them. This was the first time she had ever wanted to say yes, and her father’s control over her marriage prospects had ended the day she’d decided to leave his home and join her cousin in the royal palace. As she looked down at the handsome lord kneeling gallantly before her, she could deny him nothing.
“Oh, Andrew,” she whispered, tears springing to her eyes.
“Marry me, Tatiana,” he urged. “Please.”
“But, my family will never approve. My cousin seems to think I am only imagining my feelings for you, and that they will pass. If she tells King Damien this, he will not allow us to wed.”
It was true that her cousin and the king would try to prevent the union, though she could not blame them for their concern. They were only thinking of her best interest, and meant well. But they did not know Andrew like she did … they did not understand how deeply she’d come to love him.
Andrew’s hold on her hand tightened. “Then run away with me. By the time they find out, it will already be done. Once we’ve sealed our marriage they will not be able to part us. We’ll prove to them that we are meant to be.”
Tatiana’s smile widened and she threw herself into his arms. Her passion for adventure and intrigue won out over the nagging doubts lingering in the corner of her mind. What was there to be afraid of? Andrew loved her, and if there was anything she had learned from watching Esmeralda with her husband, it was that love conquered all.
“Yes,” she told him with a boisterous laugh. “I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.”
Chapter 15
Isabelle entered the dark, humid smithy and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark before trying to go any further than the doorway. When she made out the silhouette of Ava in the corner, she motioned for her bodyguards to await her outside and closed the door behind her. The captain, who sat using a whetstone to sharpen one of her battle-axes, glanced up as Isabelle approached and smiled.
“What a coincidence that you are here, Your Highness,” she said. “I had a very strange dream about you last night.”
Isabelle’s heart leaped at the other woman’s words. This could not be a coincidence. If Ava’s dream had been anything like hers, and Akira had insisted that she place herself in the captain’s hands, she must be doing the right thing.
“Oh?” Isabelle responded. “How strange, indeed.”
“If you’ve come to ask about that sword for His Highness, I have begun work on it already. She’s going to be a beauty.”
“That’s good to hear, but I have not come to inquire about the sword.”
Ava set her axe and whetstone aside, then stood. “Then, what can I help you with?”
She paused, anxious over how to proceed. Her palms began to sweat inside her fur muff, and her mouth went dry. What would Ava think of what she was about to ask? Should she describe her dream and risk the other woman thinking she was touched in the head?
“I was wondering if you’ve had lunch this afternoon,” she blurted. “After the long ride from Guthrie Hall, I am famished.”
Ava seemed shocked and slightly confused by the invitation, but Isabelle could think of no other way to go about this. If they were going to discuss this matter, they’d need time to sit and hash it out.
“I suppose I could take a break. I usually don’t eat during the day. There is far too much work to be done, but luckily I have some time on my hands.”
Isabelle followed her out into the cold winter afternoon, pulling the hood of her cloak back over her head. Her bodyguards followed at a discreet distance as they walked.
“I know of an inn not far from here that serves hearty food and the best ale in the village,” said Ava as she led Isabelle along.
Just as the last time she’d been in Gladstone, the villagers were busy, bustling about on their way to and from their homes and shops. A few of their buildings had been burned down, but as far as she could see, they stood strong. They were a far cry from what she’d heard and seen of the realm’s other villages.
“How is Gladstone still thriving?” she asked as they neared the inn. “This place seems practically untouched by the rebellion.”
Ava held the door open for Isabelle and ushered her inside.
“Gladstone is home to my soldiers—the women’s regiment,” she explained. “Unlike many of Barony’s other towns, it is adequately protected, our presence ensuring no attack goes unchecked. The rebels have tried to bring their violence and greed here, but have not been able to take much from us. The fact that Gladstone is whe
re most people come to buy food and supplies helps us as well. As a town we have a good economy, although we are stretched to our limits at the moment. We provide as much food as we can to those who need it, but with winter growing harsher that will soon come to an end.”
The innkeeper appeared to greet them and, noticing the queen had arrived, had the best table prepared for them. They sat nestled in a cozy corner of the establishment, close to the warm hearth. The heat of the blaze thawed Isabelle’s hands and feet, and cast an orange glow over rough wooden tables, and walls draped with flags bearing Barony’s coat of arms. The modest establishment appeared clean and orderly, and the smells of food made her stomach howl.
The innkeeper herself served them—bowls of a thick, steaming stew, hunks of crusty bread, and mugs of honeyed ale. They ate in silence for a short time, but after a while, Ava seemed ready to get on with things.
“I think it’s time I asked some questions now,” she said between bites of bread. “What is it that you want from me, Your Highness?”
Taking a deep breath, she let her spoon drop into her bowl. Her stomach churned as she fought to find the words to express what she needed.
“I want you to teach me to fight,” she blurted
There. Now that the words were out, she felt slightly better.
“Why didn’t you just say so?” Ava said with a smile. “I would be more than happy to teach you how to use a sword. Your fencing skill should offer a nice foundation upon which we can build your skill.”
“No,” said Isabelle, clenching her hands together in her lap. “Not just the sword. I want you to teach me everything that you and your unit know how to do. I want to become your student. Train me for battle.”
Ava’s grin broadened, her shoulders shaking as she seemed to try not to laugh. The captain lost the fight, her head falling forward as deep chuckles came pouring out, causing Isabelle’s cheeks to flame hot.
“I assure you this is no laughing matter,” she snapped. “I meant every word I just said. Will you do it or not?”
Ava sobered, her smile melting away.
“Forgive me, Your Highness, but surely you realize how ridiculous your request must sound. Most of the women in my unit have been fighting their entire lives. They are seasoned warriors. This is a skill to be cultivated over time. You are asking me to take you on as a student while Barony is in the midst of war. It would be difficult for you, dangerous as well.”
Her fingers began to ache from how tight she clenched her hands, irritation making her clench of teeth.
“I am not a nitwit,” she ground out. “I am not asking on a lark, and am willing to work as hard as anyone else you might train. I’ll pay you if I must. Name your price.
Ava wrinkled her brow and she tilted her head, studying Isabelle as if trying to understand.
“What is this about, Your Highness?” she asked. “You married a trained general. He now leads our country toward stability, and we are prepared to follow him into battle with the rebels when the time has come. There is no need—”
“I am tired of sitting back and waiting for others to save my people!” Isabelle bellowed, her palms slamming down on the rough wooden table. It vibrated beneath her, and the broth in her bowl sloshed over the sides. “All my life I’ve been told what to do. I was told who I would marry and how to conduct myself. I was told that a man would be the deliverer of Barony, and all I had to do was marry him, sit back, and watch him become the savior of all.”
“Your Majesty, I didn’t mean to...”
“I am tired of letting others decide my fate,” Isabelle said, lowering her voice but stripping it of none of his conviction. “I refuse to stand aside a moment longer. I am taking my fate into my own hands, and I am asking you to help me. I could command you to do it, but I won’t. I only urge you to consider this. The dream you had about me was not a coincidence. This is destiny we’re discussing Ava, both mine and Barony’s.”
The captain sat staring at her in stunned silence. Then, her gaze became probing as she looked Isabelle over, looking at her as if peeling away all her layers to see into her very soul. Isabelle sat still and raised her chin, allowing the scrutiny without flinching.
After a while, the captain must have decided that whatever she’d seen met her approval, because she gave a curt nod.
“Very well. We’ll begin tomorrow. But be advised, Your Majesty, when you put yourself in my hands you will no longer be my queen and I will no longer be your faithful subject. As of that moment, you are under my tutelage and will obey and respect me as your teacher. You will leave behind everything you are accustomed to, and put yourself completely at my command. I will treat you as I would any new recruit. There is nothing luxurious or privileged about the life of a soldier. If you are expecting anything other than what I have just described, now would be the time to cry off.”
The clear challenge in the other woman’s words couldn’t be missed. She might give the same warning to anyone else before their training, but Isabelle got the sense the words had held a heavier warning in her case. The other woman knew her to be a soft, pampered princess. She did not know how determined Isabelle was to see this through, how firmly she believed that this was the course her life must take.
She would not back down, nor would she fail.
Squaring her shoulders, Isabelle grinned. “You’ve got yourself a new recruit, Captain.”
* * *
November 7, 1866
Ulas, Barony
Dear Isabelle,
I know that we did not part on the best of terms. When I think of how I left you alone in that drawing room, I feel nothing but remorse. I allowed jealousy and pride to guide my actions, and for that, I can only beg your forgiveness.
I hope we can start anew when I return home. I want nothing more than for us to be friends again. Perhaps someday you will come to love me as I love you. If you knew how much my heart aches when I think about…
Serge pulled his pen away from the paper and stared down at it with unseeing eyes. He stared for so long without blinking the letters began to swim about on the page, blurring into obscurity. With a blink, he shook his head and gave a disdainful snort. The words he’d just penned were the truth, but sending them, allowing her to read them … he could not do it.
He’d been open and honest with Isabelle from the beginning—perhaps too honest considering the way confessing his love had blown up in his face. Why would he do that to himself again—open his heart so that she could crush it for good this time?
Tearing the parchment to pieces, he tossed it into the campfire.
He sat enclosed by a circle of tents, where he and his men had been living for weeks. Ulas had been so terrorized that most of the people here lived in wagons or makeshift shelters. There was nowhere else for them to sleep. The rebuilding process had been tedious due to rebel attacks and the sheer enormity of their mission in the ravaged town, but their persistence had begun to pay off. Here and there, newly built homes and shops started taking shape, the little village resurrecting from the ashes of their losses.
He watched the tiny scraps of paper burn until they were nothing more than ash, then retrieved a fresh sheet of parchment. His new letter was formal to a fault, every heartfelt word he had written in the first message stifled. Instead of pouring his emotions onto the page, he filled her in on the mundane details of the rebuilding efforts in Ulas. After assuring her he was safe, he signed the letter Regards, Serge, before stuffing it into an envelope and affixing it with his seal.
In all the time he had been away, not one letter had passed between them. If he did not write her something—anything—she was sure to worry. Satisfied that he had prevented any undue stress, he handed the letter off to the messenger and left the comfort of the large fire in search of some task he might apply himself to.
* * *
Isabelle arrived at the smithy in Gladstone just as the sun had begun to set. Ava had finished her day’s work and was bolting the heavy door as I
sabelle, Gayle, and her guards approached. She quirked an eyebrow as they approached.
“I see you’ve brought your entourage,” she said, eying Gayle and the guards with disdain. “They leave now.”
Isabelle frowned, and the lady’s maid gasped as if horrified by such a suggestion. She’d never passed a day of her life without the presence of Gayle. When agreeing to submit to the captain’s training she’d never thought she’d have to leave behind the woman who’d become like a mother to her.
“Gayle stays,” she stated, her jaw firm and her chin high.
Ava rolled her eyes and issued an indignant huff. “All right … let us get this out of the way now, shall we? You will come with me to the barracks where you’ll be given your own living quarters. Anything you might need will be provided for you. You’ve already promised to put yourself completely in my care, and agreed to be treated like any other new recruit. None of my recruits have personal maids or bodyguards, so neither will you.”
Vernon, who had stood seething at her side the entire time, pushed Isabelle gently aside and stepped toward the lady captain. “I knew this was a bad idea. You dare to speak to your queen this way?”
“She has agreed to the terms,” Ava argued, squaring her shoulders. “She may take them or leave them … it makes no difference to me.”
“I can speak for myself, Vernon,” Isabelle barked, annoyed with them both. “The bodyguards are here under the command of the king. They go where I go.”
“Choose one,” said Ava, crossing her arms over her chest. “The rest must leave, but you may select one to stay. You’ll be safe with my regiment surrounding you at all times.”
