by E. D. Walker
The food table was mobbed, which was no surprise after the austerity they’d all been living under. Violette’s belly groaned, her mouth watering, but the princess had not dismissed her yet.
Even more ostentatious than the food were the attendees. Many among the nobility had been trapped in Aratum, and every last one of them seemed to be in attendance that night. A few of the high-ranking Tiochene, and even one Jerdic lord who’d been in the city for decades, had married among the Tiochene that displayed no gender, the ves, and Violette caught sight of several. She recalled the proper title for a ves was ‘Honorable’, instead of lord or lady. The ves wore intricate tunics embroidered in gold and silver, with billowy silk leggings underneath. And they moved freely in the company of the ball, eating, flirting, chatting. Most would dance tonight too. It seemed a remarkable, admirable society that chose to embrace those who were different. She hoped this was one of the lessons King Thomas and Princess Aliénor took back to the north with them: not just tolerance but acceptance.
Some of the Northmen, especially the Jerdic, seemed a little discomfited by the presence of the ves in their company. They avoided talking to them or formed up in little clumps to watch and shake their heads darkly. Their behavior reminded Violette of the gossip she’d sometimes inspired when she’d traveled to different cities. It was all ignorance and fear.
She was also heartened to see so many of the nobility with Tiochene blood, like her, were in attendance. The governor’s curfew had been lifted, it seemed—at least for this one night. Indeed, most of the ladies—and all of the ves in attendance—were dark complexioned like her. Not many women of the North had traveled to these southern colonies, and so the past few generations of Northmen to settle had married local people. Violette’s own father had gone on a quest to help settle the Southern colonies then returned with her mother, a Tiochene noblewoman, as his wife. With Violette as the happy result.
As lovely as the arrangements were at the ball and the glittering throng of fine clothes, there was still a clear divide in the room. Not between Northmen and those of Tiochene blood, though. No, the divide was between the Lyondi and the Jerdic. Those allied with the Lyondi cause stuck to one side of the room and Jerdic to another. And a giant gulf in the room lay between the two factions that no one dared cross.
Except the princess. Of course. As soon as their party entered the ballroom, she was scanning the Lyondi side of the room for her love, King Thomas. He was easy to spot, the center of a social whirl as every Lyondi noble jostled to pay their respects to him.
Fortunately, Princess Aliénor was not so far gone to good sense as to immediately seek King Thomas out. Her first stop was to say a polite hello to Lord Guillaume and Lord Jean, the governor of Aratum. Lord Jean begged the honor of leading her out for the first dance, and she graciously accepted.
Which left Lord Guillaume without a partner. He smiled at Noémi, offering his hand as if he’d wanted to dance with her all along. Violette ended up partnered with one of the other high-ranking Jerdic nobles in attendance, a red-faced older man whose gaze kept falling to her bosom. After the first dance, the partners shuffled, and Violette danced with Lord Jean while Princess Aliénor did a lively jig with Lord Guillaume. Noémi, wisely, begged off dancing and went to eat before all the food had been picked clean. Violette wished she’d had the wit to follow her.
By the third dance, the princess clearly felt she had done her duty. As the music ceased, Lord Guillaume released her hands, and she stepped away. Violette figured the lovers must have worked things out beforehand, because King Thomas was already at the princess’s elbow, asking her for the next dance.
A ripple went about the room. Bafflement at first, then some anger. And the whole tenor of the evening seemed to change as the assembled crowd watched the Lyondi king take the Jerdic princess onto the dance floor. They weren’t the only mixed couple, though. Noémi and Master Llewellyn, the king’s second in command, arranged themselves in the set beside the princess and King Thomas. A bubble of hope bloomed in Violette’s chest, and she looked about for Ned.
“May I have this dance?”
Struggling to hide her disappointment, Violette pinned a smile onto her face and turned to see Lord Guillaume holding his hand out to her. “I should be delighted, my lord.”
“As am I, Lady Violette.” One dimple pierced Lord Guillaume’s cheek as he smiled.
This dance was slower paced than the others, lots of turning steps and graceful arches of the arms. A perfect dance to speak intimately with your partner.
Damn Ned for being slow off the mark. And where was that troublesome squire? Instead of searching for him, Violette kept her eyes focused on Lord Guillaume. He, unfortunately, did not return the favor but watched the princess circle and twist in King Thomas’s embrace.
Violette found her gaze drawn there too, her stomach knotting. The princess was doing a good job controlling her face. She looked serious, her glances at King Thomas polite but distant. But all the acting in the world couldn’t hide the light of her eyes when she looked at him. It wasn’t something the general public might notice, but a muscle had begun to tic in Lord Guillaume’s jaw.
“I recall now you’ve been tutoring that Lyondi squire in his reading. Very kind of you, Lady Violette.” Lord Guillaume lifted one of his arms, and she twirled, following his lead.
She kept her face impassive. “He helped save my life on our journey after the battle. This seems the least I can do.”
“The princess’s women seem to feel themselves much indebted to King Thomas and his knights.” His brows knotted together. “One wonders…”
The knot in Violette’s stomach had turned to solid stone, and she worried she might collapse with the weight of it. “I can’t think what you mean, Lord Guillaume.”
He snorted, and when he looked at her again, his smile was lop-sided, his expression wry. “The princess is very careful. And you ladies are very loyal, but I have eyes to see, my dear.”
Violette blinked up at him as if in confusion. “I don’t understand, my lord.”
He continued speaking, though, as if she’d not said a thing. “I only wonder how she thinks she can pull it off. Her brother-in-law King Fernand would never allow such a match.”
Violette pursed her lips and watched him, wondering if he noticed how her hands had gone clammy in his grip.
He must have, for he took a firmer hold, mashing her finger bones together a little. “I need your help, Lady Violette. I very much object to a match between our princess and King Thomas.”
Violette tried to pull away, but he held her tighter. When he looked down at her, his eyes were hard, his mouth stern.
She swallowed. “There’s nothing I can do to help you.”
He chuckled. “Oh, but there is. I know you’ve been delivering letters for her. I want to know what they say. I want to know what her plans are.”
“Why would I help you?”
“Why indeed, my little witch?”
“What?” She froze, and another couple collided with her back.
But Guillaume was sure on his feet, and he used the collision as an excuse to crush her close so he could whisper in her ear, “Witch.”
Panic tightened her chest. “No.”
He shrugged and swept her out of the way of the dancers. “Sorceress. Magic user. The term matters not. And I don’t care what you do as long as you help me.” Grim lines bracketed his mouth. “But if you don’t…well, you don’t want to find out what’s happened to all the other witches, do you?”
Sick, dizzy, Violette could only shake her head.
He reached up to chuck her under the chin, and the look in his eyes brightened, like clouds blowing away after a storm. “Good girl.”
Even though the song wasn’t over yet, Violette tore herself out of his arms. He let her go but gave her a mocking wave as she fled.
Violette hugged her arms around her gut and blundered through the crowd. After knocking into two people in a row, she
realized how much attention she was drawing, and she forced herself to stop. Her arms tingled, and her breath was coming too fast. Feeling the prickle all along her body sped her pulse with alarm. She was very close to losing her grip on her magic.
calm easy easy slow
She took one breath in through her nose then let it out through her teeth.
slow
The dangerous moment passed, and Violette finally allowed herself to look around. She didn’t have time to dither and panic.
Her heart twitched in reflexive happiness when she saw Ned making his careful way through the crowd. His gaze fastened on her, his face pinched with anger and worry. As heedless as she’d been tripping through the crowd, Ned moved with deliberate care. The room was heavily packed, but the nimble-footed squire managed to reach her without so much as brushing another nobleman’s sleeve.
He caught her by the arm, giving her a comforting squeeze. “My lady, what happened?”
“Oh, Ned, I wish you hadn’t dawdled. We’ll never get a dance together now.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s no time. We have to find our friends. Now. Go, get him and meet us in the garden. Be quick, but be careful.”
Ned was watching her still, not moving.
She huffed in exasperation and gave him a push. “Go.”
Slowly, reluctantly, as if they were held together by thick molasses, Ned peeled himself away and drove back through the crowd to find his king.
She eased back from him, and though it felt like she was leaving part of herself behind…well, that was only her heart being silly. Biting her lip, she stood on tiptoe and scanned the crowd for her princess. They didn’t have much time.
Chapter Eleven
Extracting her princess from the crush of the ball was a careful process with a very uncareful tactic. As soon as Violette caught sight of the princess chatting with a group of Jerdic noblemen, Violette took up a familiar spot at the princess’s shoulder, set her foot precisely down, and waited.
The conversation continued, although the princess said very little. The noblemen around her were more concerned with talking themselves up and tearing each other down. They gave the princess warm condolences on the loss of her husband Prince Philippe. Yet at the same time, each man was clearly angling to see what time frame King Fernand might allow before he let her marry some other worthy gentleman.
Finally, another nobleman approached and asked the princess for the dance she’d promised him. Violette kept her foot flat and waited.
The princess stepped forward to join her new dance partner, and a great rip sounded. She froze and turned to find Violette firmly planted on her hem. Princess Aliénor’s eyebrows climbed to her hairline, but Violette jumped into action before she could say anything.
“Oh, my princess,” Violette gasped. “Oh, how clumsy of me. Come away to a side chamber and let me help you pin that tear up at once. Oh, I’ll never forgive myself.”
Princess Aliénor’s mouth flattened. Someone who didn’t know her might have thought it was with displeasure, but Violette recognized that the princess was very close to laughing. “Of course. Let us go, Violette. Forgive me,” she said to her dance partner, and then she swept away. Violette scurried behind her, holding the torn hem above the ground so no one else would trip over it and make the tear worse.
They passed out of the main ballroom and through the large central courtyard at the heart of the governor’s villa. Torches lit the area, but the courtyard was still full of shadows and hidden alcoves.
Ned stepped out of one of them, making Violette and the princess both jump.
“The maze,” Ned breathed.
Without saying anything in response, Princess Aliénor hurried to a set of steps off the courtyard that led down to a large garden with an ornamental hedge maze. Ned snorted and trotted after her, but he held his hand back for Violette.
She gathered her skirts and caught up to him, sliding her hand into his. He pressed her palm, a warm reassurance.
They’d all been to the governor’s palace before, and they “solved” the hedge maze in quick order. As Violette rounded the last turn toward the center, she found Princess Aliénor and King Thomas locked together in an ardent kiss. He cradled her face in his hands like some precious jewel, but he kissed her hard. The princess’s hands trembled as she gripped his forearms and stood on tiptoe to kiss him back just as passionately.
Violette tugged on her sleeves, antsy with worry. Indiscreet. Instinctively, she found herself turning toward the sounds from the ballroom.
Ned tugged her hand. “It’s been months for them, you know,” he whispered. “Months since they’ve been alone.”
Violette’s cheeks heated with mortification. Right, Princess Aliénor had been closely watched, closely chaperoned. She’d been able to steal visits with her lover, but never alone. How could Violette begrudge her this kiss?
Unfortunately, she didn’t think they had the time for it. “My lady, I’m sorry.” She released Ned’s hand and stepped forward.
King Thomas and Princess Aliénor parted but only a hand span. They still clung to each other, and the princess snuggled herself against his side as the king gathered her close.
Another pang touched Violette as she watched this. She wanted that kind of closeness, that sort of comfort for herself. And I’m going to do everything I can to make sure my princess gets to keep her king. She clenched her fists and quickly told them of Lord Guillaume’s demands. “He knows you are lovers, and I’m sure he’s going to take steps to keep you apart. I think we must get out of the city. Soon.”
The king turned to Princess Aliénor and traced the line of her jaw. “I think there is something else we must do without delay.”
A shy, tender smile quirked Princess Aliénor’s mouth. “Oh yes?”
“Yes, marry me. Tonight. That way, even if he manages to separate us, he can’t win.”
“King Fernand will be furious.”
King Thomas laughed. “Better to beg forgiveness…”
The princess patted at her own neck with restless fingers, but she was smiling. “You don’t need to convince me, my love. I surrender to you.”
The king cradled her hand against his chest and dropped a kiss on her knuckles. “And I surrender to you.” He turned to look at Ned and then Violette. “Will you two stand as witnesses?”
Ned drew himself up straight and tall. “Of course, my king.”
King Thomas stepped away from the princess to grasp Ned’s shoulders. “You know what it will mean if you do. Your life could be forfeit.” He turned to Violette, his eyes glittering with torchlight, and as his gaze roamed over her, he shook his head. “No, this is mad.”
Violette frowned. She’d spoken to the king maybe three times, and at least one of those times, she’d been impertinent. She wet her lips and forced them to move. “What…what do you mean our lives could be forfeit?”
The princess caught Violette’s hands and squeezed them. “Our marriage will be hotly disputed by people on both sides of the conflict. If you two are the only witnesses to our marriage, then…”
“Then killing us could make the marriage void.” Coldness settled into Violette’s gut, a heavy dread that left her limbs chilled by more than the crisp night air.
Princess Aliénor nodded, her brows furrowed together. “Yes. I’m sorry.” Her eyes glittered with tears. “Thomas is right. I can’t ask this of you.”
Violette met the princess’s gaze. “I am your lady, and I am loyal. You can’t demand it of me, Your Highness, but you are welcome to ask. I think Noémi would do this for you if she were here. Please don’t think I’m less loyal only because I have not yet been tested.”
Princess Aliénor tilted her head to the side and studied Violette as if she’d never quite seen her before. A slow smile bloomed on her face. “Violette, will you stand maid of honor and witness as I marry King Thomas of Lyond?”
Violette grinned. “Yes, my lady.”
&
nbsp; Without warning, the princess bent and kissed her hand. She did the same to Ned. “Thank you. Both of you.” With that, she crossed back and knit her hands together with King Thomas’s.
Violette glanced over at Ned to find him staring wide-eyed back at her. Probably startled by the princess’s affectionate gesture. With a little smile, Violette tapped Ned’s cheek with her fingers. His expression cleared, and he tweaked her nose teasingly before they both turned to watch the princess and her king.
The marriage was quickly done without the usual pomp and circumstance of a clergyman droning on. Princess Aliénor and King Thomas held each other’s hands, gripping each other so hard both their knuckles had gone white.
“I do marry you,” King Thomas said.
“I do marry you,” Princess Aliénor replied.
The four of them lingered in the silence of that moment for several heartbeats, and Violette’s arms prickled with a strange electricity. Such a simple ceremony, so few words, and yet she’d probably just witnessed the shifting tide of nations. Was this good or ill? Who might be hurt with this hasty ceremony uniting Jerdun and Lyond?
But before the tide of dread could drag her under, Ned broke the solemn moment with a whisper of, “Now kiss!”
“A fine suggestion, my lad.” King Thomas tossed his squire a grin then gathered his princess bride close in his arms. “Well, wife. Kiss me, and the thing is done—”
He didn’t even finish the sentence before Princess Aliénor had pushed onto her tiptoes to smash her lips against his.
Violette stifled a giggle behind her hand. Ned shot her a glance, his eyes brimming with mischief, and he tugged her into the curves of the hedge maze. “We’ll give them a moment?”
She nodded.
The princess and the king didn’t notice them slipping away at all.
The hedge maze grew high, well over their heads, but it wasn’t truly a maze. Every path led to the center eventually. The bushes were a verdant dark green with a sharp, bitter smell when she picked one of the leaves and rubbed it thoughtfully between thumb and forefinger.
