The Awakened Prince

by Elise Marion

  Only when the door had closed behind the bodyguard did Serge release her arm. He began pacing with his hands clenched behind his back and his jaw clenched. Isabelle sank down onto her cot and waited patiently for him to speak. He’d come all this way, so he must have something he wished to say to her. She would let him say his piece before defending her own position.

  “I want you to put yourself in my position,” he said, voice quavering with barely contained anger. “Imagine my immediate horror the other day, when I looked up to see one of your bodyguards riding into Ulas as if his horse’s arse was on fire. Do you have any idea the kinds of thoughts that ran through my mind at the sight of him? I thought you hurt, maimed, dead …”

  “Serge—”

  “I left them for your protection! And to see that one of them had come to find me … I assumed the worst.”

  “I am perfectly fine, as you can see.”

  He scoffed, halting and turning to face her. “Yes. Though I wonder if there could possibly be something wrong with your head. We’re leaving this instant. I will return you to Guthrie Hall where you belong before I return to Ulas, and you had damn well better remain there. You might not want me for your husband, but you chose me. You stood there while I recited vows that said I would protect you, and that is just what I’m going to do, even when it’s from your own foolish notions.”

  Serge found her valise in the corner, and tossed it onto Vernon’s cot before going to the armoire. He flung it open and began tossing her things inside.

  Isabelle clenched her hands in her lap and glared at his back, finally finding her voice.

  “I won’t leave with you.”

  Serge stiffened, then turn to face her, the heat of his anger scorching her from across the room. A vein in his temple had begun to pulse and he looked fit to tear the entire cabin down around them. Yet, she held her ground, slowly coming to her feet.

  “What did you say?” he asked, his voice a low, ominous growl.

  She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “I said I won’t leave with you. I am learning so much here, Serge. These women have invested a great deal of their time into training me, and I have to see it through. Don’t you see? I chose to begin this, and I must finish it.”

  “You don’t have any say in this,” he replied, striding toward her and leaning down until they were nearly nose to nose. “I left you at Guthrie Hall under guard for your protection.”

  “I am protected here,” she protested. “I’m in the middle of a military compound for God’s sake … and if you’d bothered to ask, you would know that I’ve become quite proficient with a bow and arrow so I can be capable of protecting myself.”

  “The rebels are on the offensive,” he reminded her, arms crossed over his chest. “They’ve been attacking villages every chance they get, and they aren’t being polite about it. What do you think will happen if they discover that the queen is in Gladstone playing at being a soldier?”

  His disdain toward what she was doing stung, and her eyes began to prickle with tears. It seemed this would be just one more thing driving them apart.

  “There is nothing playful about what I am doing,” she managed, trying to keep her voice from betraying her hurt. “And if the rebels attack, then of course we will fight.”

  Serge shook his head with a heavy sigh. “And the rebels would not hesitate to burn this entire village to the ground and slay every man, woman, and child within it to get to you. Lucius Winthrop wants to finish what his father began with your parents, and finding you outside the castle walls would give him his chance. Use your head, Isabelle … you are smarter than this. Would you allow the people of Gladstone—these women you’ve become friends with—to die for your foolishness?”

  “It’s not foolish to want to be a part of something! I am sick to death of sitting around waiting for things to happen. I am tired of feeling helpless. Barony is my home. These are my people! I am just as responsible for them as you are, and I will not stand by and watch while everyone else goes off to fight and leaves me behind.”

  He reached out for her, taking hold of her shoulders and giving her a little shake as if to try injecting some sense into her. “Do you honestly think a few months of training are enough? Do you think you can hold your own in the heat of battle? Soldiers die, Isabelle! Some of these women could be killed right before your eyes. When you close your eyes at night, your dreams will be filled with the cries of the dying and the sights of blood and gore. Never in your life could you imagine anything more tragic. Have you even thought of how horrific it will be to face that when the time comes?

  Isabelle forced back the wave of apprehension that struck her at his words. She had not given much thought to how she would conduct herself in a real life or death situation. She’d only known that her dreams and Akira’s words had driven her forward, toward some destiny she believed in but could not fully see. Remembering her dream gave her the strength to hold her head high even in the face of the fear his words inspired.

  “I may not have the experience of some of the others, but I am willing to do whatever it takes to learn and improve. Even the women within this compound weren’t born with swords in their hands. They had to begin somewhere, just as I have, and I refuse to be made to feel as if being born a princess somehow disqualifies me from being willing to give my life for Barony. Oh, and I have seen death, Serge. Lionus died right in front of me, and I sat at your bedside every day for a year with you in a state so near death I thought we would lose you at any moment. So, do not try to lecture me about loss as if I do not know what that feels like. I know loss in a way you never have.”

  Serge’s gaze burned into hers, his expression inscrutable as he seemed to digest her words. Her mention of Lionus had sparked something in his eyes, but he’d squelched it so quickly she did not have a chance to make sense of it. She wanted to tell him that watching him fight for his life had been the thing that had kept her from wanting to follow Lionus into the grave … that being there when he awakened had filled her with so much hope for the future.

  She wanted to tell him how useless she’d felt watching him fight to save her in the attack that had ultimately cost him his brother and her a husband.

  Most of all, she wanted to tell him how important it was for him to believe in her, to love her even though she didn’t deserve it.

  But, she simply stared up at him and waited for him to come to whatever conclusion he’d drawn from her words.

  Closing his eyes with a pained sigh, he then turned away as if he could barely stand the sight of her.

  “I wash my hands of this entire thing. If you want to get yourself hurt or killed, then you go right ahead. I cannot do this.”

  Shock rippled through her as he exited the cabin, slamming the door shut behind him. She had hardly expected him to just walk away after he’d come all this way to take her home. Shaking off the numbness that had fallen over her, she gave chase, throwing the door open and running after him,

  “Wait!” she cried, reaching out to grab his arm.

  He turned and looked down at her, and for a brief moment she could have sworn she saw hope in his eyes. It lasted only a moment before he was closed off from her again, retreating into himself in a way that left her feeling cold. He was a stranger to her now, so unlike the man she’d always thought of as her friend.

  Had she truly ruined everything with her ill-timed words?

  “That’s it?” she blurted.

  “What do you want from me, Isabelle? I’ve done everything I could for you, given everything I have. You don’t want my affection, you’ve made it clear you don’t need my protection, and you don’t want my love. So, what else is there?”

  Her mouth fell open but no words were forthcoming as she realized he’d taken her need to remain in Gladstone as another rejection. He wanted to keep her safe, and by running off on her own she’d made him think she had no confidence in his ability to do that.

  “Serge, I don’t mean to keep hurti
ng you,” she whispered, reaching up to touch his face with one hand. “But I need you to understand … I’ve gone through so many years of my life letting others make my choices for me. This is something I truly want, and I want it for me. I need you to understand.”

  His hand came up over hers and he turned his face for the briefest of moments, his lips lightly brushing her palm. Then, he pulled her hand away and let it fall to her side.

  “I understand,” he murmured. “Far be it from me to stand between you and the thing you want most. You need not worry that I will interfere again.”

  Something inside her crumbled as he mounted his horse and rode away, leaving her standing alone in the snow. She felt as if he’d snatched away a part of her and taken it with him, leaving a hollow emptiness. The more distance he put between them, his mount guiding him out of the compound, the worse she felt. But, it was too late to go after him. She’d chased her husband away, likely for the last time.

  Blinking back the tears threatening to fall, she marched back to where Ava and Hanako waited, pretending as if they hadn’t just witnessed that moment between her and Serge.

  Ignoring their pitying gazes, she cast a glare at Hanako and raised her hands to continue their lesson. She threw herself into the exercise, giving as good as she got, putting all of her energy into expelling her pent up emotions. The future of her marriage may as yet be uncertain, but she was determined that the future of Barony would not be.

  * * *

  That night, as Isabelle prepared for bed, a letter arrived from Esmeralda. Glad for the distraction, she tore it open and sat at the small table across from Vernon, who had busied himself with a book. He’d asked her only once about the confrontation with her husband, but after telling him they would be staying in Gladstone she’d ordered him to cease questioning her about it. He was to remain for her protection and keep his mouth shut. He seemed content to do that, though he also appeared concerned over her dour mood. If he worried for her, he did not express it, keeping quiet as she’d asked.

  She held the letter close to the light spilling from the lamp between them and began to read.

  Dear Isabelle,

  I hope this letter finds well. Grandmother tells me I shouldn’t worry about you, that this quest of yours is necessary in order for you to reach your full potential. I trust in her wisdom, of course, but cannot help but be concerned whenever I think of you. Nevertheless, I cannot wait until your return, so that we may hear about your many adventures in Gladstone and the things you’ve learned.

  Life here is not quite the same without you, Serge, and Damien. Guthrie Hall is too quiet, and I will certainly be glad when you all return for Christmas. That ought to liven things up quite a bit.

  It seems that I am soon to embark upon a new adventure of my own. I tell you this in the strictest confidence, as I am not altogether certain yet. But, I suspect I may be with child again. The signs are all there, and Grandmother has been dreaming of a baby boy. Damien is not yet aware and I would like to wait until I am sure before telling him.

  Aside from that, I find myself growing increasingly worried about Tatiana. She claims to be in love with a courtier named Lord Andrew Forsyth. They spend quite a lot of time together, and there has even been talk of marriage. I cannot explain it, but something about the man puts me on edge. Tatiana has always craved adventure, and coming to Barony has fulfilled her desire for a new and exciting exploration. On the other hand, I have seen her willful and adventurous nature get her into trouble countless times. I fear she has become too attached to this Lord Andrew, and that no good can come of their relationship. I could be making something out of nothing, worrying and seeing things that aren’t really there. I suppose only time will tell.

  Do write back to let us know how you are faring. I look forward to receiving your letter.

  Your friend,

  Esmeralda

  Smiling, she set Esmeralda’s letter aside and went to the armoire for fresh parchment. Once settled back at the table, she penned her response.

  November 16, 1866

  Gladstone, Barony

  Dearest Esmeralda,

  Do not worry for me, my friend. This experience has not been an easy one, but the rewards have been great. I finally feel as if I have a purpose, like I really belong among these women. Akira is right, there is no need to fret on my behalf. Along with learning about how to fight, I’ve also come to discover so much about myself. I am changed in the best of ways. I cannot wait to come home and tell you everything.

  As for Tatiana, I think you should leave her be. It wasn’t so long ago that you were willing to defy all criticism and logic for a certain prince, and look how nicely things turned out for you. I am not well acquainted with Lord Forsyth, but perhaps someone at court can tell you more about him. It might put your mind at ease to know more about him. Tatiana is young and adventurous, but she is also intelligent. I am certain she would not allow herself to fall into a compromising position.

  It will be Christmastime before we know it, and what a wonderful occasion it will be. The moment I arrive home, we will put our plans into motion for the celebration and ball. I can hardly wait!

  Your faithful friend,

  Isabelle

  * * *

  Another few weeks under Hanako’s tutelage honedIsabelle’s fighting skills. She became quicker on her feet and sharper within her mind, and carried the bruises upon her person to prove it. Her teacher had assured her that time and experience would hone her skills, along with constant, daily practice. She exercised her new skills daily, spending hours at the archery range, or seeking out other recruits to spar with

  In the time that had passed since her arrival in Gladstone, she had undergone a gradual but dramatic transformation.

  Gone was the princess who hated mornings. She now found she could not sleep past dawn, even on the days when she was given a break from training. She’d learned to love watching the sunrise as much as she did the sunset, and to appreciate that instant just before the sun broke the horizon and filled the sky with brilliant color.

  The constant activity helped her sleep soundly at night, and she even noticed the difference it had made in her body. Her breeches fit better, and she’d had to tighten her belt a few notches over the past several weeks. She was faster, lighter on her feet, her body making her aware of muscles she’d never been aware of until she’d been forced to use them.

  Entering the armory on the morning she was to begin training at swordplay, she found Ava waiting for her. Giving Isabelle a pointed look, the captain gestured toward a wall where dozens of blunted practice swords hung.

  “Take your pick,” she said, stepping aside so Isabelle could inspect the weapons.

  There were quite a variety of them, but she could not quite distinguish one from the other. However, she could tell by the way Ava watched her that this must be some sort of test. The captain wanted to see which blade she would choose.

  Deciding on one, she grasped its hilt to pull it down from the wall. The weight of it almost dragged her to the floor. Her shoulders protested as the heavy weapon fell, jerking her arms with it.

  “Why that one?” Ava asked, watching Isabelle with amusement dancing in her eyes.

  “Because it looked to be one of the deadliest.”

  “Because of its size?” the captain prodded.

  Isabelle nodded, face growing warm as she realized she had chosen wrong. Her first time doing something remotely similar to a thing she already knew, and she was already failing.

  With a shake of her head, Ava took the heavy sword and hung it back on the wall before pulling down a slimmer, lighter blade.

  “Better?” she asked after placing it in Isabelle’s hand.

  She held the sword up and inspected its narrower blade, slender hilt, and the blunted edges ensuring she could spar without hurting her opponent.

  “Yes,” she replied. “It doesn’t look quite as menacing as the other sword, but it feels much lighter.”

&
nbsp; “The first sword is made for a man’s grip,” Ava explained as she offered Isabelle a sword belt and sheath. She took a second weapon from the wall and slid it into the sheath at her hip. “It is bulky … a clumsy weapon in the smaller hand of a woman. That blade you are holding and the one I chose were made especially for a woman’s grip. The hilt is narrower. Now that you have honed your reflexes learning to fight hand-to-hand, you will apply those impulses to the sword. With your fencing practice, I’d say you are already more equipped than most to learn.”

  Following the captain out into the training yard, Isabelle smiled. This was her chance to finally attempt something that would not throw her completely off balance from the beginning.

  Ava spent the rest of the day teaching Isabelle the basics of swordplay. Of all her lessons she liked this one the best, because it built upon what she’d already learned with Vernon as a fencing tutor. She learned the slashing motions of the sword and combined them with the thrust of the foil she was accustomed to, and found a rhythm that suited her. The captain declared her a natural, accelerating the pace of their lessons to better match Isabelle’s skill set.

  Each day she looked forward to learning more, and every day she improved until finally, she was ready to put her skills to use.

  “Are you certain?” Ava asked when Isabelle asked her for sparring match. “You have not been practicing with me for very long. I don’t mean to sound arrogant, but I am one of the best with a sword in this compound. You will not find me an easy opponent.”

  She shrugged, not at all daunted by Ava’s warning. “Hanako taught me how to fight by attacking me, and I found that to be the best way to learn. I latched onto the concepts quicker because I needed them to defend myself. I would like to think that applying what you’ve taught me to a real fight will only make me better.”

  Ava’s grin grew wide, the gleam in her stormy eyes menacing as she drew her sword and led Isabelle out into the yard. Snow crunched beneath their boots as they took to the deserted training field. The archery range and endurance courses were deserted, the other women gone in to dinner. Alone with weapons at the ready, the two women faced off for the fight.