by Finley Aaron
To her relief, the men agreed, and she left them in the grotto, where the afternoon light poured through the hole in the rock above.
I flew just ahead of her, lighting the path through the tunnel to the wine cellar, and then up the stairs to the kitchen.
She had to wait some time at the kitchen before she could get through without being seen. Even then, I wasn’t sure if she’d be able to find the stairs up to the throne room, but they were, as Jerome had said, next to the wine cellar stairs, and she darted away without being seen.
The next step was far more precarious. Here, instead of kitchen girls and cooks who might wonder at the stranger in their midst, there were armed guards, trained to question, detain, or attack anyone who they didn’t recognize as being authorized to be there.
Ella would have to be even more careful.
She reached the top of the stairs and silently pushed the door outward just far enough that she could hear sounds from the hallway beyond her, and peek out enough to glimpse the backs of the guards who stood at the pillars.
A deep drone, the echo of distant voices, reverberated through the hall beyond. Ella pushed the door open a bit further and turned her ear to the sound.
Men’s voices. Two of them, deep in heated discussion.
“…that’s not what I’m hearing, Father. Not what I’ve heard at all. If you’d talk to people—”
“I’ve spoken with my advisors on the matter.”
“Yes, but real people, Father. People on the streets—”
“My advisors are real people. Are you suggesting your uncle Richard is not a real person? What does that make you?” A throaty chuckle followed.
Uncle Richard?
It could only be King Henry and his son speaking, then.
And King Henry only had one son.
Ella’s heart thundered inside her. Henry was out there, close enough she could hear his voice. Close enough she could run to him and embrace him, were it not for the guards and the fact that he probably hated her for lying to him.
“Uncle Richard,” the prince began, choosing his words cautiously, “does not always share your best interests.”
“Nonsense. He wants what’s best for this kingdom.”
“He wants what’s best for him,” the younger Henry countered. “All I’m saying is that, if we don’t stop the trade blockade, there will be an uprising.”
“And you think Richard is behind it?” The king’s tone was more accusational than questioning.
“Whether he’s behind it or simply taking advantage of it, the end result will be the same. We’ve got to lift the blockade and restore trade—”
“I understand that as well as anyone, but what you don’t seem to appreciate is the complexity of doing so. The situation to the east is delicate. Some might say, precarious. If you go storming in there and ignite a war, what will happen? Something far worse than a shortage of spices and silks, I can assure you.”
“But if we wait until the people hate us for waiting, then when the war starts, it will be everyone against us.”
Ella swallowed hard. She wanted to stay and listen to every word Henry and his father had to say, but as intriguing as it was, and highly relevant to her own father’s situation, she had a mission to accomplish. None of what happened in the east would matter if Ella couldn’t stamp the permits that might allow her father to reclaim is goods, and the conversation between the Henrys in the throne room gave her the opportunity she needed to sneak into the king’s office.
Jerome had indicated clearly on the map that the office would be to her right. The throne room was ahead to her left, past the majority of the guards—the direction from which the king’s and prince’s voices echoed.
Carefully, silently, Ella pushed the door open further.
“We’re not waiting on anything,” the king continued. “I’ve sent half the Committee of Commerce to work out a trade agreement.”
“Half the committee? Why didn’t you go yourself?”
As Henry questioned his father, Ella took her first careful step out from the shelter of the doorway.
“Honestly, Son.” The king’s voice grew deeper. He sounded regretful, even pained. “They told me it wouldn’t be safe. If it’s not safe for me, it’s most certainly not safe for you, either.”
As they spoke, Ella tiptoed carefully to the open doorway on her right.
“If it’s not safe for us, how do you think our merchants feel? They’re the ones being captured, fined, their goods impounded, their horses confiscated.”
“Those are only nasty rumors, circulated to arouse anger.”
“No, Father, it’s all true. I’ve talked to men myself. If it were otherwise, then where are the goods?”
Ella reached the office while the men argued. She found the seal and pulled it down from the shelf, carefully removing the permits from inside her vest. She imprinted each one with care, taking time to make sure everything was properly aligned. No doubt the permits would be scrutinized by the border officials.
They had to be perfect.
“They’re just—being held,” the king protested, sputtering.
“Held? Against their will, impounded, confiscated—”
“It’s not as bad as you say. My advisors keep me informed—”
“And my advisors say otherwise. So who do we trust?”
“I trust my men.” The king’s voice hardened. “And I trust you to do your duty, which at this time, is to prove yourself on the tournament circuit—the western circuit.”
“I don’t believe—” Henry began.
But his father cut him off. “That is your duty. I am done discussing it. My position remains unchanged. You may join me for dinner in half an hour, but I expect you to be on your way west by morning.”
A cacophony of footsteps echoed through the marble hall as the king and his guards walked toward the door of the throne room.
Ella froze, her hand hovered over the press of the seal.
Were they coming to the king’s office?
No one entered, and the sound of footsteps faded into the distance. They’d gone down the hall in the other direction, then.
Ella sealed the last of the permits, tucked them safely into her vest, and set the press silently back on its shelf, just as she had found it.
Then she slipped to the doorway and crept stealthily toward the small door.
She was halfway there—eight steps out, eight remaining, when she heard another set of footsteps coming from the throne room.
The king and his guards had already left. Who had remained behind?
Ella froze like a rabbit, her only hope that whoever walked past wouldn’t noticed her as long as she didn’t move.
“Guards?” It was Prince Henry’s voice. “There’s someone behind you. Attend to him,” he said, and continued on his way down the hall.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The guards turned on Ella in an instant, blocking her way with their spears.
She had less than a second to decide whether to fight, run, or call for help.
“Henry,” she called, not bothering to disguise her voice.
“Cinderella?” He turned back, hurried closer, and recognized her in spite of the cap that hid her hair.
“I’m sorry,” he told the guards. “My mistake. This is a guest of mine. Back to your stations.”
He cupped Ella’s elbow and led her into his father’s office, closing the heavy doors after them.
“What are you doing here? How did you get in? May I remove your cap?” Henry’s questions ran together without any pause in between for Ella to answer.
She tugged off her cap herself, and Henry’s fingers swept back over her hair, clasping her head, pulling her close against his chest.
“Cinderella,” he whispered, her name precious on his lips. “What are you doing here, really?”
“Borrowing your seal,” Ella admitted, pointing to the device before pulling the permits from her vest.
�
�Whatever for?”
“My father is a merchant. I assure you, your advisors are far better informed than your father’s. My father’s entire caravan—the goods of a full year’s journey—has been impounded by the customs officials, on the claim that we don’t possess the right paperwork to travel.” She set the paperwork on the shelf as she spoke.
Henry winced as though in pain. “I hate being right. What are you going to do?”
“Reclaim them.”
“You know they’ll never let you through.”
“We have no choice but to attempt to find a way. We’ll lose our estate otherwise.”
Henry leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers. “Don’t go. I’ll send anyone else in your stead, but you cannot go.”
“My father and brother are going. I’m needed at home.”
Henry’s sigh of relief washed over her in a warm breath scented faintly with apples.
She glanced at his lips, and remembered that she’d once thought he might have been going to kiss her.
“I should go with them,” Henry murmured, his eyes smoldering.
“Your father forbade it. He wants you back on the circuit, and you know if you don’t arrive by the weekend, he’ll hear of it, guess precisely where you’ve gone, and send men after you.”
Henry closed his eyes and groaned. “There’s no way around it.”
Ella gave him a tiny smile. “I hate being right.” She quoted his earlier statement back to him.
He grinned at her. “It’s so very good to see you. You’ve no idea how worried I was for your safety after you rode off. I second guessed sending you away, not that I had any choice.”
“I was fine.” Her voice broke as she remembered that journey home, and the news she received when she arrived there.
“Are you sure?” he studied her face, his brow knit with concern, one hand clasping her waist. “You’ve lost weight. I can feel it, even through this padded disguise. Have you been ill?”
“I’ve been working.”
“Training?”
“Not much, just working,” Ella didn’t want to confess to him how awful her life had become. She’d die of embarrassment if he looked at her with pity. She hastened to change the subject. “Listen, you’re exactly right about the kingdoms to the east. They want our people to be dissatisfied with your father’s rule.”
“Do you know anything more about what they’re plotting?” Henry asked.
Ella shook her head. “Very little.”
“I’ll tell you what I know. My cousin Richard has been winning at the tournaments there. The people are calling him a great hero.”
“A hero? For winning tournaments?”
“It’s only swordplay now, but can you guess what they’re building up to?”
“If the people are dissatisfied with your father, and if they can be made to view Richard as a hero…” Ella put the pieces together haltingly, aware of how close Henry held her against him, and of how much she’d missed his presence and the sound of his voice.
He finished the puzzle for her. “They’ll overthrow us and crown Richard or his father in my father’s place.”
“No. They can’t—do you know what happens to overthrown kings?”
“The best case scenario is that they’re locked away in a tower somewhere, but I’ve no doubt Richard would happily behead me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What can I do? If I try to resolve the issues in the east, my father will send men to bring me home, like a recalcitrant child. My best hope, really my only hope, is that merchants like your father will find a way through the blockade. If we can restore trade, the people will have nothing to grumble about. They’re otherwise well provided for.”
“Taxes have been a bit steep,” Ella noted.
“Have they?” Henry looked concerned. “They’re not supposed to be. Father was going to lower them.”
“They’re higher, and not only for us. I’ve heard others talk. They’re at wartime levels”
Henry scowled. “I will look into that. Thank you for the tip.” He smiled at her. “I could always trust you.”
Ella bit her lower lip. “Even when I pretended to be someone else?”
Henry’s sudden burst of laughter surprised her.
“What?” she asked.
“How could Hugo of Adalaard ever judge Allard of Caprese for claiming to be someone he wasn’t?”
A blush rose to Ella’s cheeks, and she looked down, realizing for the first time that her crime hadn’t been any worse than his. Not really.
Henry cupped her cheek with his hand, and lifted her chin so that she looked back up at him. “I have one grave regret about our parting, which I have lamented time and again since that day.”
“What?” Ella asked.
“I never got to kiss you.” He leaned down and touched his lips to hers, at first lightly. He pulled away just far enough to look into her eyes.
Ella wanted to beg him to kiss her again, but she didn’t have to. Henry made a small moaning noise and leaned in closer, pulling her tighter against him as he did so.
She clutched his shoulders, aware on some vague level that he was bigger and stronger than when she’d last seen him. But mostly she was just aware of him, of the fact that his usually-scruffy chin was close-shaved (probably out of deference to his father), of the way he held her as though he’d wanted nothing more in forever.
Something echoed in the distance down the hallway, and the two of them broke instantly apart.
“I should be going,” she whispered, and carefully picked up the permits, tucking them away inside her vest, while Henry placed her cap back upon her head.
He nodded. “I’ll go first. Stay tight behind me. Were you headed for the little door to the kitchen?”
“From there I can leave by way of the wine cellar and the mineral springs.”
“Smart girl.” Henry grinned. “Alright, here we go.”
He opened the doors wide. Ella stayed close behind him as he stepped toward the small door. Once he’d nearly reached it, she darted behind it.
As she did so, she heard a voice speaking from further down the hall.
“Henry?”
“Uncle Richard.”
“Is someone with you?”
“No, I’m quite alone. Do you need something?”
“I was looking for your father.”
“I believe he was headed to dinner shortly.”
“Yes, of course.” Richard’s footsteps faded away, followed moments later by those of Prince Henry.
Only then did Ella slip away reluctantly down the stairs, though her heart begged her to go after Henry and kiss him again.
No, the very best thing she could do for him was to fulfill the hope he’d expressed—restoring free passage in the eastern trade routes again.
Because until that happened, Henry and his father, and indeed, the entire kingdom, were in danger.
*
Once again, Ella had to wait behind the door in the kitchen until the room was clear for her to proceed. But in spite of that delay, she eventually made her way safely down the tunnel and back to her father and brother, who were relaxing in the mineral springs.
“I’m back,” she announced once she reached them. The sun had not even set, though the light that reached through the gap in the rock was greatly faded from what it had been earlier in the day.
“Did you have any trouble?”
“Nothing serious.” She’d debated whether she should tell them what she’d learned, and decided it would be in their best interest to know everything she knew. So, skipping over the part where Henry embraced her and kissed her, she filled them in on every little bit she’d learned.
The two of them dressed while she kept her back turned to them.
“The king knows about it, and he’s choosing to do nothing?” Robert clarified once Ella had told the bulk of what she’d overheard.
“It is a delicate situation,” she acknowledge
d in the king’s defense. “Trade routes have always existed at the expense of the countries they pass through.”
“The countries benefit from the trade routes,” Robert argued. “They get their duties and tariffs and import fees. They profit by feeding and lodging merchants, and charging tolls for the use of roads and bridges.”
But Bertie scowled. “I think she’s on to something, Father.”
“What do you mean?” Ella asked, surprised that he’d suggested she’d hinted at a larger plan, since she was too distracted thinking about Henry’s kiss to contemplate conspiracy theories.
“You’ve been on enough trade routes to have seen it yourself,” Bertie explained. “Trade routes equal power. Those who control the trade routes have power.”
“Are you suggesting the kingdoms to our east are forbidding the passage of merchants as a way to increase their power?” Robert grunted. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Exactly,” Bertie pressed. “It doesn’t make sense for them to suppress trade. No, there’s a power struggle at play. Those who control the trade routes have power. Who wants to control the trade routes?”
Ella pictured the trade route maps. “We know our kingdom isn’t doing it, and neither are our neighbors. That leaves—the Saracens?”
“They’ve got the most to gain,” Bertie pointed out.
“But it wasn’t the Saracens who impounded our carts and questioned our permits,” Robert argued. “It was the kingdoms to the east of us.”
“But why?” Bertie pressed. “They’ve got no motive for doing that, not unless someone else, someone powerful, had infiltrated their governments.”
“You think they’ve taken over the kingdoms?” Ella asked, unsure how such a thing could be accomplished without the rest of the world finding out.
“Not officially,” Bertie said. “But on some level, somehow, they’re exerting their will.”
“But how?” Robert asked. “And why?”
