Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Sneak Peek: Princess Avenger
Dedicated to my mother, Patricia Garton, my first teacher.
Chapter 1
Benae smiled to herself as her maid fussed with the tiara that adorned her dark hair. Finally something in her life was going to plan. In moments, she would descend the grand central staircase to meet her host, Prince Jiseve Zialni, next in line to the throne of Thorius, Lord and Master of Brightcastle. If her scheme worked, she need not be all alone in the world. Being solely responsible for her people wore her down. Just like her maid Merel, the five hundred citizens of her estate relied on Benae for their jobs and security. Despite being surrounded by people, with her parents and brother gone, hers was a solitary existence.
She shook her head and dragged her thoughts back to the present. Now was not the time to be dwelling on difficulties. Her project was well in hand. Tonight at dinner, she would shine in comparison to the other ladies, the princesses. She did not deceive herself that her task to win the hand of the prince would be simple. The princesses had arrived some time ago while Benae had been delayed by the myriad problems that accompanied the running of her estate. But now she was in residence and determined to make it impossible for Prince Jiseve Zialni to resist her. Benae met Merel’s eyes in the mirror.
‘You look lovelier than I’ve ever seen you before, my lady,’ Merel said. ‘That emerald silk makes you look a princess. His Highness won’t be able to take his eyes from you.’
‘You are kind to say so.’
‘Everyone agrees you’re the greatest beauty in all the land. Now that I’ve travelled outside Tylevia, I think they must be right. I’ve seen no other to rival you.’
‘It is said that the prince is rather vain so I am hoping he prizes beauty over royalty,’ Benae said, spraying jasmine perfume on her neck and wrists. ‘I have no title or fortune to offer as the other ladies have, but I can give him what he desperately seeks and that is a son.’ She smiled at Merel. ‘I must go. Do not wait up for me.’
Merel bobbed a curtsey and withdrew. Benae checked her reflection one last time, sending a silent plea to the Goddess to watch over her that evening. She gathered her skirts and was preparing to leave the chamber when a commotion drew her to the window.
Below, in the castle forecourt, two men were arguing. She recognised the lieutenant who had welcomed her on her arrival earlier. Vorasava was tall, thin and dark with tilted eyes in a rakish face, but it was the other man who held her attention. He was immaculately turned out, his dark blue tunic snug across shoulders and hips, his cream breeches accentuating the powerful muscles of his backside and thighs. Long blond hair was tied at his nape and he had an air of calm control. As he stabbed his hand towards the stables, the blond god’s blue, blue eyes found Benae’s and her heart stuttered. Oh my! Whatever he had been saying was lost, for the lieutenant also turned her way. Vorasava snapped a comment and strode off through the front gates.
The blond man broke eye contact and headed towards the castle entry. It was only then that Benae noticed the sword at his hip and the cat-like grace with which he walked. He was soon gone from view but it took Benae’s heart much longer to cease its pounding. There was something about the man that resonated with her, drew her, compelled her. He looked to be about her age or perhaps a little younger and he obviously held an important position. She could not wait to make his acquaintance. Oh yes, this visit was turning out to be more than just a chance to claim the prince as husband. Perhaps there was more fun to be had. But for now, it was time to meet Prince Zialni and the other candidates. Time to see the competition.
As Benae turned from shutting her chamber door, she almost ran into a tall, fair-haired woman in an exquisite pale green gown. The woman’s grey eyes held no warmth but Benae smiled anyway. ‘Hello.’
‘You must be Lady Benae Branasar,’ the woman said, unblinking.
Benae couldn’t help the tension that entered her shoulders. Talk about a welcoming committee. ‘That’s right . . . and you are?’
‘Well, Princess Avalin of Amar, of course.’
Benae made a small curtsey as befit her rank. ‘I am pleased to meet you, Princess Avalin. You must call me Benae. Have you been in Brightcastle long?’ Benae took in the frown lines that were already etched into Avalin’s face despite the fact that she looked to be similar in age, a mere twenty-six years old. Her straight, almost-white hair was pulled into a severe bun, held by a silver tiara studded with pale green gems. Avalin’s face was too long to be pretty and the picture she presented was, all in all, one lacking colour.
‘It is two weeks since I arrived. The prince and I have spent many moments together and I have become quite fond of him. This is a magical place and Jiseve is truly a wonderful man. But he needs a woman who will bring a cool and practical head to the union.’
‘He is of fiery temperament then?’ Benae asked, a ripple of interest coursing through her. Fiery she could appreciate. She had hoped and prayed the prince would not be a cold fish of a man.
‘Oh yes, he has a temper at times.’ Avalin turned to walk along the hall to the staircase and Benae had to hurry to match the stride of the taller woman.
‘Has he lost his temper with you?’ Benae said.
‘No, but I try to stick to safe topics,’ Avalin said, flicking Benae a superior look.
‘Such as?’
‘He loves to talk about his family and he is very proud of this marvellous castle.’ Avalin looked Benae up and down. ‘I suppose you and he would have horses in common.’
Benae smiled, thinking of her stallion, Flaire, and she silently sent the horse a message of love. In answer, a picture of them galloping over a grassy meadow appeared in her head. How could he be bored already when they had arrived just hours ago? Distracted, she realised Avalin was waiting for her outside a gilded door inlaid with quartz.
‘Are you well, Lady Benae?’
‘Of course, sorry.’
A page opened the door and Avalin swept through ahead of Benae, who stopped to thank the boy. She crossed the threshold of the room and paused. All the princesses were in attendance. The two women she had not met moved towards her.
A comely-looking young woman with red locks and pale blue eyes was the first to speak. ‘I am the Princess Lella of Brevisten, Lady Benae,’ she said, giggling. ‘Might I say you have the most glorious green eyes? I so wish I had your colouring.’ She sighed and stepped aside so that Benae could meet the last princess.
‘And I’m Marey of Issian,’ the blonde princess with rich brown eyes said. She could not have been more than eighteen years old. Benae wondered at her parents sending their daughter to be a candidate for an arranged marriage with someone old enough to be her father.
‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Princess Lella and Princess Marey.’ Benae bobbed a brief curtsey. These two girls would be no competition for her in the prince’s affections, though if he wanted an heir, it paid to select a young woman.
Benae cast her gaze around the room. It was a small parlour with crackling fireplaces at each end and wall hangings depicting
horses, dogs and huntsmen. The floor rugs were woven in rose and pale blue. She detected a woman’s touch in the decorations. ‘What a lovely chamber,’ she murmured.
‘Yes, decorated by Prince Zialni’s daughter Alecia, I believe,’ Avalin said. ‘Not to my taste. I’d pull those ghastly hangings down and put up portraits and paintings instead. Surely there must be local artists whose work would be polished enough to grace these walls?’
‘You have been here some time, Princess Avalin,’ Benae said. ‘What do you know of Princess Alecia and her disappearance?’
‘I think you should really ask Prince Zialni about his daughter, Lady Benae,’ Avalin said, the intensity of her gaze sending a warning tingle down Benae’s spine. ‘I do so hate gossip.’
‘Well, I don’t,’ Princess Lella said. ‘I heard from the servants that Alecia and her father had a falling-out. He chose some old lord as her fiancé and she couldn’t bear the thought of it. Then about a month ago, the prince had Alecia locked up in this very castle but no one knows why. Fancy a father locking up his grown daughter. It is unheard of.’
The thought of Prince Zialni incarcerating his daughter rang an alarm within Benae. It did not seem possible and yet Lella was convinced. ‘And what of the kidnapping?’
‘Oh, yes, Lady Benae,’ Lella continued, her blue eyes wide, ‘the official word is that Alecia was abducted by her protector, Captain Vard Anton, but my sources say she went willingly and that it was more of a rescue than an abduction.’
‘That indeed is an intriguing and disturbing tale,’ Benae said, beginning to wonder about the true state of affairs in Brightcastle.
‘If you believe the gossip,’ Avalin said. ‘I have not seen or heard a word that convinces me our host is anything but a loving father. His dealings with the common folk, however, are said to be harsh. Mind you, it is my experience that the peasants will always complain about their betters. It is their nature.’
‘Indeed, Princess Avalin,’ a deep, masculine voice said from the door.
Benae turned to see a strikingly handsome man in his middle years. He had dark wavy hair, a sensuous mouth and thick eyelashes framing sharp blue eyes. He walked towards her with the grace of a swordsman and reached for her hand.
‘The Lady Benae Branasar, I presume,’ he said, his voice like warm honey. ‘I am Jiseve Zialni and I am delighted that you would visit me in my humble home.’ He raised her hand for a kiss.
Benae smiled and curtseyed, dipping low and in no hurry to rise. Let him believe he was all that mattered in that moment. ‘Your Highness, you honour me by inviting me to your court.’
‘It is I who am honoured, lady,’ Jiseve Zialni said. Warm his voice might be, but his smile was wintry, his features cloaked in sadness; understandable when his daughter had been kidnapped. Having lost his wife to consumption some time past, the prince was without any loved ones.at Brightcastle. Would Benae be the one to return sunny days to this battered man?
The prince turned and pulled on a rope beside the door. A bell echoed in the halls of the castle and moments later the blond god Benae had seen earlier slipped through the door into the chamber.
‘Lady Benae, I want you to meet Squire Ramón. He will be in charge of your care while you are here.’
The squire had changed in the short time since she had first seen him. His breeches and tunic were midnight blue and he wore a ruffled white shirt. His shoulders and arms strained at the fabric that encased them, as if he had recently come into his size. His golden hair glowed like none she had ever seen and was tied back from his clean-shaven face, but his eyes were what drew her attention. Deep blue they might be but, even more, they showed the heart of this man and Benae suspected that heart was pure gold.
He bowed over her hand and rose, his sweet citrus cologne swirling around her.
‘Ramón Zorba at your service, Lady Benae,’ the squire said, his polished tones sliding down her spine. ‘I trust you had a pleasant journey.’
Benae gazed at his mouth as he spoke and imagined those lips on her skin. A sigh escaped her lips and she became aware that silence had fallen. All eyes were upon her. What had he asked her?
‘Yes, squire, thank you, a very pleasant journey indeed.’ Benae turned to the prince, who wore a frown. If she did not take care, she would spoil her chances with Jiseve before her bid began. She gave herself a mental shake. You are here to win the hand of the prince, not make eyes at his squire. Remember your people. Their future depends on you.
Benae gazed up into the shadowy eyes of the prince. ‘I know I will enjoy my stay here.’
Jiseve smiled. ‘I will ensure that you do, lady.’ He looped his arm through hers. ‘Now let us adjourn to the dining room. Squire, see to the other ladies.’
Jiseve guided Benae out the door and down a wood-panelled passage. The princesses and the squire followed.
‘I hear you are an excellent horsewoman,’ the prince said. ‘Your mount is a fine creature; such a perfect dappled grey.’
Benae just managed to control her gasp of surprise. Just how much did this man already know of her? Not too much, she hoped. It was wise to keep some mystery. ‘Yes indeed. I love to ride and Flaire is one of the deepest joys of my life. I trained him, you see.’
Jiseve smiled. ‘I will show you my horses tomorrow, lady—’
His words were interrupted by a ripping sound and Benae felt her skirt snag at the back. She gasped and swung around in time to see Princess Avalin’s slippered foot resting on the delicate emerald lace bordering her gown. The skirt pulled away, exposing her underskirt.
‘Oh dear, Lady Benae,’ Avalin gasped. ‘I am so sorry about your dress.’ She stepped back and Benae gathered the sagging fabric, trying to hold it in place. Anger replaced shock as Benae realised her competitor for the prince’s hand had trodden on her skirt with just this outcome in mind. So this is how it is to be! Her impression was confirmed when Avalin’s lips curved in a tiny smile that was gone as soon as it appeared.
‘You must go to your room and change, Lady Benae,’ Avalin said, stepping past Benae and grasping the prince’s hand. ‘We will wait for you in the dining room.’
The prince, who had been silent, frowned as Avalin took over. ‘Yes, lady, it will take only moments to change. I will save you a seat next to mine.’ His voice purred with a subtle appeal that was not lost on Avalin, whose mouth twisted in a grimace. Benae was sure Avalin would take full advantage of her absence to woo the prince. But Avalin had already had two weeks with Jiseve. If he were not convinced of her suitability yet, then he never would be. Benae was sure she still had a chance to win the race to be his bride. He was stunningly handsome and vital for an older man. It would not be such a bad thing for her to devote her life to him, even if she could not love him. There were things more important than love. Benae tried not to think of what her sainted father would think of such a union. She had to believe he would at least understand her need to secure the estate, both financially and from the threat of the dark elves. The prince turned to Ramón. ‘Show my guest to her chambers, squire, so she can change, and then escort her back to the dining room.’
Benae’s head snapped up at the prince’s words and she spied a muscle tighten along the squire’s jaw. It seemed the handsome squire was not best pleased to be escorting Benae to her room and that annoyed Benae all over again. Since when did a handsome man not seek her company? Since never! Benae determined that the delectable Ramón Zorba would not be the first.
Ramón walked in silence beside the beautiful, dark-haired woman who was the latest of the candidates for his master’s marriage. Had she no shame? For a moment, Lady Branasar’s sparkling, emerald eyes and commanding demeanour had spoken of a different type of woman to the three princesses who had arrived before her. But she was just like the rest. Willing to prostitute herself for the sake of money. Where was love? Where was the sanctity of a union between two souls who spoke to each other?
The thought of love drew his mind to Princess Alecia, thoug
h it had been one-way with her: his love and admiration against her worship of Vard Anton. The two times they had kissed stood large in his memory. Alecia could have loved Ramón in the right circumstances. She had professed to love the previous squire, Jorge, but he had been killed by mercenaries. Ramon had his suspicions that the murderers had been hired by Prince Zialni, but he would never have said so to Alecia. Of course, she had her own way of dealing with the killers, tracking them down one by one and dispatching them. Awe-inspiring! No wonder I love her.
Anger boiled in his gut that he was cooped up in the castle tending to the needs of spoilt princesses while the cur Anton made free with the woman who should have been his. If only he had stopped them from escaping when he had the power, but he had allowed the pleading lilac eyes of the princess to sway him and now it was too late. No! It was not too late. Somehow he would shake off the duty that kept him tied to Brightcastle and by then his sword skills would be equal to those of the infamous Captain Vard Anton. Calm descended upon him as he imagined the kidnapper breathing his gurgling last.
‘Are you well, squire?’ Benae asked. The man who escorted her made no attempt to converse and the silence grew wearying.
‘Yes, lady, I am quite all right.’ He frowned. ‘I must apologise for the behaviour of Princess Avalin. The damage to your dress was deliberate.’
‘Of that I am well aware, squire, but you are not responsible for her actions.’
‘Still, you are under my care.’
‘At least I know what I can expect from her now.’
The squire’s jaw tensed. What was eating at him?
‘Forgive me if I pry, Squire Ramón, but you seem out of sorts. Have I done something to offend you?’
‘No, lady.’ He averted his gaze but there had been something, a flash of shadow that told her he hid deep feelings about something. It would be fun getting inside his head.
They reached the base of the central staircase and he grasped her elbow to usher her up the stairs. The touch sent a thrill right through her and she covered her gasp with a cough. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo and she concentrated on her breathing to bring her errant feelings back under control. This was all wrong. She was usually the cause of these feelings, not the sufferer, and this man seemed completely unaffected by her. Well, that would simply have to change.
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