The old woman had told him nothing last evening, just as on their first meeting. She could be a force for good or evil, just as he could. Hell, sometimes the boundaries were blurred when it came to taking sides. More importantly, did she know what he was? He couldn’t afford for her to expose him. He had a job to do, and the note had urged him to move ahead with all speed on the mission that had brought him to Brightcastle.
Vard swore and rose from the bed, pacing from one side of the room to the other. He could see no immediate end to his quandary. Something stayed his hand against Zialni -- was it his concern for Alecia or the even deeper instincts of the Defender? Had he got it wrong when he accepted this mission? What would happen to the princess if he killed Zialni? Alecia was not the heir to the throne. If Zialni were to die, Alecia’s cousin Piotr would take his place -- and where would that leave her? Was that the whole point of this task, to move Piotr one step closer to the throne? It was Vard’s sworn duty to protect the princess, and the responsibility lay heavily upon him. Honor and his very essence might prevent him from leaving her, prevent him from destroying her father; would they keep her safe from him? From a transformation he couldn’t control? He punched the wall, plaster crumbling to the stone floor. I need to act! A bold plan would carry him forward from this quagmire, but might it also destroy him…or the princess?
Chapter 9
Alecia’s resolve to act, to be her own woman, faltered before it could solidify. For three days her waking dreams and nightmares were plagued by visions of the Devil as he bled all over her and breathed his last. Her appetite dwindled to portions that would not have kept a sparrow from hunger and she kept to her room, though that had more to do with her fear of confronting a certain man.
When her mind didn’t torture her with visions of the dead mercenary, it haunted her with the lips and hands of Vard Anton. Her moods alternated between frantic weeping and furious curses at the injustice of it all. How could he awaken her womanhood and then reject her? Had their stolen moment meant nothing to him? Did he not know that she woke in the night with the heat of his hands on her body, certain he was in her bed? She did not want to hear the voice of common sense that told her over and over that a mere kiss had no power to change the life of a man such as Vard Anton.
Her attempts to distract herself with plans for revenge against the remaining mercenaries resulted in further frustration. The self-appointed champion of her people could not even set foot outside her apartments. She was her worst nightmare come to life -- a good-for-nothing princess.
Prince Zialni had visited her the previous day. He seemed content to think her withdrawal was a result of their discussion regarding her upcoming betrothal. On that topic he had no more to add. Alecia was certain she would know the identity of her bridegroom before long. She dreaded the day.
Vard appeared to welcome the respite from her company. She could the weapons practice ground from her chamber windows and his figure was a regular sight. She was exhausted just watching him. Did the other combatants tire of being beaten on a twice daily basis? There was a sullen set to their shoulders as they faced up to him. If Vard did not find some other activity to occupy himself soon, there would be trouble. In her sillier moments, she fantasized that the purpose of his weapons practice was to distract himself from thoughts of her.
On the afternoon of the third day after the kiss, Alecia sat on her sill as Vard stalked towards the stables. Eyes glued to his form like a starving man would view a pie on a window ledge, her fingers itched to caress the hard muscles of his chest. As if he knew someone observed him, he raised his head and their eyes met. He stopped and Alecia held her breath, her heart turning back flips.
He frowned and strode past the front gates and into the garden, stopping abruptly to retrieve something from the base of a huge old oak. Alecia’s breath caught in her throat. It is a baby hawk! Vard tucked the tiny bird into his tunic and began to climb. Alecia clutched the windowsill, hardly daring to breathe as Vard climbed higher and higher. He never slipped, never hesitated for a hand or foothold. Just short of the top branches, a misshapen pile of sticks blocked his way, and Vard gently placed the baby hawk beside its two siblings.
Alecia knees suddenly felt weak and she slumped against the windowsill, heart pounding as if she had climbed the tree. Though he had made the task appear simple, she knew from painful experience that it was not. And all for a baby hawk… When she sought the nest again, Vard was gone. Abruptly, her world seemed duller.
Alecia snorted and began pacing the room. What ailed her? She hungered for a glimpse of the man but feared to come into his presence. It makes no sense. Perhaps she should talk to him -- her stomach lurched at the thought -- so that they might clear the air. It could not be quite so bad to confront Vard as she imagined. What if it is worse?
There was a knock at the door and Millie entered. The maid carried an embossed envelope on a silver tray.
“Excuse me, Princess. I have an invitation from His Highness.”
Alecia’s hand shook as she picked up the missive. “Does my father wish for a reply, Millie?”
“He said to tell you that your presence was required, Princess. He didn’t mention a reply.”
Alecia flinched at the prince’s choice of words. Now she was even more nervous of its contents. “That will be all, Millie.”
The maid dropped a curtsy and left.
Alecia ran her fingers over her name, written in flowing silver script on the envelope. Why had her father not spoken of this yesterday? Were the contents so dire that he could not talk to her face to face on the subject? She removed the stiff parchment from the envelope and took a deep breath before unfolding it.
Princess Alecia Zialni’s presence is requested at a ball to honor His Majesty, King Beniel, to be held in Brightcastle audience hall on the morrow at dusk. The princess is to be accompanied by Captain Vard Anton on this auspicious occasion.
The note was signed “His Highness, Prince Jiseve Uinnis Zialni, heir to the throne of Thorius”.
The paper dropped onto the amethyst and gold-patterned rug that lay between the bed and the fireplace. Her escort would be Vard! She would have to dance the first and last dances with him as tradition dictated. Perhaps there would be other dances as well. Alecia rubbed her stomach in a vain attempt to quiet the butterflies as she anticipated the strength of his arms, hard body moulded to hers, his lips… Heat suffused her. Do I have the courage to look him in the eyes after he rejected me so completely? There was nothing for it but to bear up as best she could.
She focused on the other news contained within the missive: King Beniel was to visit. Alecia had only seen him twice in the past six years, most recently at her mother’s funeral and before that at her debut when she was eighteen. She and her parents and Squire Jorge had traveled to the King’s seat at Wildecoast where she had been presented at court with other royal young ladies. Jorge was her escort on that occasion and she smiled as she remembered his nerves. She, of course, had not been at all uneasy. After all, coming-of-age ceremonies were only important to young women who had nothing better to do than pose and preen themselves before the men of the court.
A niggling worry dragged her back to the present. The King was to attend a ball here tomorrow -- and she was just learning of it. What did it mean? Nothing good, Alecia was sure. True, it paid to keep state visits a secret, even from those closest to the throne, but this was ludicrous. How long had it been planned?
Alecia smoothed her skirt where sweaty fingers had gripped the fabric moments before. She contemplated the guest list. Ramón was certain to attend. There were not so many nobles in Brightcastle that her father could afford to leave the squire off the invitation list. Perhaps the prince would need to invite several of the more influential merchants and the heads of the guilds as well. And King Beniel would bring along his own contingent of lords and ladies.
Lord Finus would be there, of course. Alecia’s lip curled at the thought of her father’s advisor. After s
he had removed the mercenaries, she would dispose of the manipulator. Now there was the man Ramón should be warning her against. She shuddered. Finus’ eyes were always cold and cunning when they rested upon her, as if the man calculated how Alecia could best be used in his schemes.
She forced the lord from her thoughts and removed a dress wrapped in a silk sheet from her wardrobe. It had been her coming-of-age gown, and wearing it would honor the King. He would remember the gown, or someone would mention its significance. She sighed. If only her father were more like dear Uncle Beniel.
Alecia laid the bundle on her bed and removed the sheet. The cream satin gown, with pearl beading and gold thread embroidery on the bodice, was even more beautiful than she remembered. She retrieved the cream satin slippers from the chest at the end of her bed and opened her jewellery box. The amethyst necklace and earrings that had belonged to her mother would be perfect. She would leave her fingers bare, as her mother had always done, no matter how much the prince wished for her hands to be cluttered with gaudy baubles.
As for Prince Zialni, Alecia could imagine his excitement as he prepared for the occasion of the King’s visit. How had he kept the event from Millie’s ears? Surely he had an army of servants working on the audience hall right at this minute. If this had been an event long in the planning the hall might have been readied quietly and with little fuss. If Alecia had not hidden away in her chambers the past three days, she might know more of the goings-on in the castle.
But all this preoccupation with the King and her gown and how long the event had been planned was merely a distraction to avoid thinking about the serious problem the ball posed. Her escort for the evening was the man she had avoided for the last three days.
A sharp knock at the door made Alecia jump, but it was only Millie who bustled back into the room.
“Princess, I’ve come to see if there’s anything you need prepared for the ball.” She gazed upon the cream dress. “Is that the gown you’ll wear?”
Alecia laid the amethyst necklace beside the ball gown. “Yes. It will need a steam.”
Millie rewrapped the garment and lifted it from the bed, taking the slippers as well. “I must go and deliver the captain’s dress uniform.” Her eyes unfocused as if she saw something Alecia did not. “Now there’s a man to marvel at. I hear tell he can’t be beaten at arms. The men are angry but you won’t hear me say anything against him, not when he’s taken young Billy under his wing.”
The maid bobbed a curtsy and left. Alecia barely noticed so distracted was she by Millie’s words. Vard Anton was an enigma, a hard fighting man with hidden demons, who still cared for the least fortunate creatures in his domain. How was she to prepare for an entire night in his company? And how could she possibly resist the lure of this unfathomable man?
Vard’s boots crunched on the autumn leaves as he leaped the last few paces to the ground. The reality of his current dilemma came crashing back in as the Defender drive to protect left him. His best-laid plans to avoid Alecia had not been sufficient to evade escorting her tomorrow evening. He was trapped but didn’t need to be so, if only he could deal with Zialni. The man was like a wound that wouldn’t heal, sapping the strength from good people who deserved better. Vard couldn’t even take the simple steps that would rid Brightcastle of the tyrant. The prince should now lay dead after a hunting accident but Vard’s fingers had frozen on the arrow, doubt over his purpose crippling his resolve.
As he sat upon a stone bench under the huge oak tree, frustration boiled up within him. He pushed his face into his hands while images of sharp fangs tearing flesh bombarded him. Never before had he had so little control: of himself, of his life and especially of his emotions. He spent too many of his waking hours fighting the transformation. Twice he’d had to pull himself back from the brink, forcing himself into the hawk, a shape he could control and one from which he knew he could return. The last two evenings, he’d dreamed of transformation, waking in a cold sweat moments before the change. He had no idea what would happen if the change were completed in a dream, but he feared it could lead to a waking transformation that would be impossible to reverse.
He slammed his fist into the stone of the bench and watched as the edge crumbled under the force. His body was changing. He shouldn’t be strong enough to cause such damage. Fear lay like a cold stone in his stomach. He had to find another Defender, someone who could give him the guidance he needed. He couldn’t afford to leave Brightcastle yet, though that would be much the safest course for himself and those around him.
Vard’s thoughts turned again to Alecia. He hadn’t seen the princess face to face for three days -- except just now, as she stared at him from her window. She had hidden herself away since that day in the meadow and he couldn’t blame her. At least she’d be safe in her chambers, but the niggling worry over how she had eluded him the morning of her ride with the squire persisted. Now, the advent of the ball presented further difficulties. He must put this obsession with her body and her lips aside. At least in public, she’d be protected from him.
He rubbed the stone that lay on the leather thong around his neck. The solidity of the talisman beneath his fingers grounded him. His breathing slowed and he let his fingers drop back to the bench. He had work to do in preparation for the King’s visit and not much time to complete it. Security arrangements would be a welcome distraction from his troubles.
Chapter 10
The following morning dawned bright and clear. Alecia breakfasted in her chambers, the drapes drawn back to reveal Brightcastle town and the Southern Alps. Her father had crossed the mountains in his youth and often spoke of the marvellous cities and people from far off. The stories had ended with the death of Princess Iona. Smiles had given way to dark moods, benevolence to hoarding and an obsession with the trappings of his office.
Why did his loss mean suffering for the people of Brightcastle? Were Alecia’s efforts to restore the balance of right and wrong having the desired effect? Should she be trying to influence her father and counter the evil advice of Lord Finus rather than rescuing individuals and exacting revenge? Would the prince listen to her? Probably not. His entire focus seemed to be securing the throne for his line, and that meant a husband for Alecia and male children as soon as possible.
The King had so far produced no heirs, and royal watchers muttered about the Queen’ s miscarriages. Alecia knew how her aunt longed for children and was only too well aware that a son for the King would make her father’s need for an heir less pressing. Perhaps this trip would be the tonic the Queen craved and there would be good news in the spring. It would not come soon enough to save Alecia.
She sighed and dropped her napkin on her plate. Those were problems for another day. It was time to dress so that she could greet King Beniel and Queen Adriana on their arrival. It would be good to see them again.
Vard buttoned his shirt and met his eyes in the mirror. His black dress uniform was spotless, as were his boots. The sword at his right hip was freshly sharpened and the silver tassels on the scabbard washed and combed. The prince would not find fault and neither would Alecia.
He frowned at the thought. Alecia’s opinion of him wasn’t important. Her safety was the only thing that mattered. The prince had been adamant about that, declaring that Vard must not let the princess from his sight. The man was paranoid and possibly mad. That would explain many of his actions.
Vard’s frown deepened and he turned from the mirror in disgust. He had been responsible for all the security arrangements for the King’s visit until he had reported to the prince this morning. Now the security of the King rested in Lord Finus’ hands. Vard didn’t understand the reason for the change, and anything he didn’t understand made him nervous. Vard had met Finus’ type before and they couldn’t be trusted.
Alecia’s safety remained with Vard and that made him edgy too -- for several reasons, not the least of which was the kiss they had shared. His mind wouldn’t leave it alone and his treacherous body wanted mo
re. Perhaps the princess would be better off escorted by Finus. He snarled at the thought of the lord’s hands on Alecia and gripped the stone until his heart slowed to its normal rhythm.
The King would be arriving soon. Time to take one more ride along the route the monarch would travel just to be certain all was in order.
Alecia sighed as Vard cantered his brown gelding back through the main entrance. He did look striking in his uniform, dark hair curling over his collar and white gloves gripping the reins with practised ease. Even on the nondescript gelding, he had a presence that could not be disregarded. A gorgeous black destrier or a dappled gray charger would have suited his nature so much better. Her father had many horses, more than he could ever hope to ride. Perhaps she could convince him to give Vard a mount that suited his station.
She turned back to the gilt-edged full-length mirror that hung on the wall beside the window. The striking cobalt-blue satin gown was embellished with silver embroidery on the strapless bodice and on the hem of the organza overskirt. The lacing at the back accentuated her small waist and generous cleavage, and the color made her eyes appear blue. She reached for the silver tiara and placed it in her hair, then donned the sapphire necklace and earrings that her mother had always said were her favorite adornment. It seemed to Alecia that jewellery was the only item of her mother’s that she had to remember her by. Still, it was an enduring monument to the woman who had left her life much too soon. She pushed the sad thoughts from her mind and turned her attention to her makeup.
As she applied the last stroke of blusher to her cheeks, there was a knock. She opened the door to Vard. Her heart raced as his eyes ran over her finery and then rose to meet hers.
Princess Avenger - Brightcastle Saga Book 1 Page 9
