by C. A. Szarek
Elissa shook her head and squared her shoulders. If even she didn’t end up desiring to marry Lord Lenore, she owed him the courtesy of meeting the man.
Duty. She had one. Might as well get it over with.
“That’s not fair to him, really.” Despite the words, she suddenly had a hard time caring.
Gracious had always been a trait of hers, but damn it all. The harsh word didn’t shock her. She wasn’t like Lady Cera, she’d never say it aloud, but she could damn well say the words in her own damn head. Although damn was mild compared to her earlier thoughts.
Elissa wanted to stomp her foot like Mallyn still did from time to time.
Was this situation fair to her? Lady Cera didn’t seem to think so.
Don’t despair. Prove to the king—and yourself—you can do this.
“Aye. I’m stronger than this.” Elissa made a fist and sucked in a breath.
She couldn’t dally in her room any longer, no matter how she wanted to. Elissa forced one slippered foot in front of the other, but her stomach tightened more with every step that brought her closer to the door. Her hand shook as she reached for the handle, and she couldn’t even hide it. Or stop it.
The corridor was empty.
She’d expected Sir Alasdair. He’d told her he’d be with her shortly. His room was right next to hers.
Should I knock on his door or wait?
When Elissa realized she was pacing, she planted her feet to the stone floor and swore—again. That made her smile. So far, she’d declared four very unladylike curses.
Perhaps the duchess had rubbed off on her.
Waiting on an errant knight had her twisted up in even more knots. Her palms were clammy, her forehead felt damp. She made a fist and knocked on the door next to hers.
Nothing.
With a final shake of her head, Elissa started off down the corridor. She’d just escort herself. The great hall wasn’t far, after all. It was rude to keep a suitor waiting.
The word made her tummy somersault all over again.
She’d made the two required turns, and the corridor widened. One more hallway and she’d be standing outside the huge double doors that led into Castle Aldern’s great hall.
Elissa heard male voices and her gaze shot to the right. A door was ajar, but only by a few inches. Whoever was inside the room probably didn’t realize it wasn’t sealed tight.
The king’s northern accent—not so different than her own—caught her attention first. Then the duke’s, as he responded. His voice was deep, though not as much as King Nathal’s, and his accent was a mixture of the mountainous far north, and a slight lilt that had to be from his elfin side. Lord Aldern’s mother was an elf, if she remembered correctly.
Though she couldn’t speak it, she’d heard people—and elves—speaking Aramourian, the language of the elves. It was a beautiful, flowing dialect that sounded almost musical.
A third male she didn’t recognize said something, then the king spoke again.
She stilled. King Nathal said my name.
Elissa scanned the corridor. She was alone, so she risked scooting closer, almost against the wall. She didn’t touch the stone, but leaned in, straining her ears. Then she straightened. Didn’t want to be obvious to any passerby that she was eavesdropping.
She heard three—no, four—male voices in what had to be Lord Jorrin’s ledger room.
Guilt churned over her body, but she shut it down. If they were discussing her, she had every right to know. After all, the king hadn’t been wholly forthcoming. He’d not told her she would be staying in Greenwald, and hadn’t even apologized when Lady Cera had mentioned it to him in front of her.
Aye, Elissa had every right to know what the men were talking about.
“…is not to know.”
She only caught the tail end of King Nathal’s statement, so she hazarded one more step, suddenly thankful for her decorative lady’s footwear. The soft sole masked her movements.
“What does she know?” the unfamiliar voice asked.
“That I want her to marry.”
“Is this not true?”
“Aye, Everett, ‘tis true. No worries. I want the lass good and wed. Safe. Far from Terraquist.”
Safe? Far from Terraquist?
Why?
“Good.”
Everett. The man had to be Lord Everett Lenore, the Duke of Tarvis. Her suitor, Lord Avery’s, father.
“The lass is sweet, but stubborn. Lack of knowledge is to protect her, as it has always been.”
Always been?
What does that mean?
“She knows not that her parents were murdered? That the fire never happened?”
“Nay.”
A cold flush rolled over her form, and her heart plummeted to her toes. Magic made her spine tingle, then a slow burn that heated, not hurt. She needed to get control before she flooded the corridor with water.
Murdered? No fire at Castle Durroc?
Her parents didn’t die in a fire which had also taken the life of her older brother? Her father’s heir had been four turns to her almost two. She didn’t remember Emery—or their parents.
Anger replaced her shock and hurt, creeping up from her gut. Elissa made tight fists at her sides and restrained herself from bursting into the duke’s ledger room.
Not telling her she would remain in Greenwald was one thing. Keeping something as important as the death of her family secret was betrayal.
Her powers made her skin hum, but she pushed it all way, grasping for calm. Tears stung her eyes and she fought the shudders that racked her frame. She wouldn’t cry.
Wouldn’t let it affect her. Or her elemental magic. Elissa couldn’t.
What was she supposed to do now?
Act like nothing had changed?
Like she hadn’t heard the horrible word. The word that was currently floating around in her mind. Taunting. Causing crippling agony.
What else is he keeping from me?
Elissa swiped at her face, but her cheeks weren’t damp. Good. She swallowed.
“There you are, lass.”
She jumped, her heart skipping, her mouth dry. The distraction was what she need. Her magic receded, the pressure in her spine and shoulders loosening. Her thoughts scattered, but for this, she was grateful as well.
Elissa cleared her throat and scrambled to act normal for the knight. Hopefully the blue that glowed from her eyes when she called water had faded. “Sir Alasdair. I waited for you.” The statement came out as accusation. She chided herself for it. Hadn’t meant to be harsh.
The smile he wore faded a bit. Sir Alasdair bowed at the waist. “I apologize, my lady. I had to take care of something and was gone longer than anticipated. I knocked on your door.”
“I knocked on yours.” She wanted to demand what’d kept him, though it was none of her business.
Stop. You’re acting like a haughty brat. Something she’d always despised in other females at court. Her eyes raked his tall frame as she chided herself and prayed for the beating of her heart to slow.
He was dressed in earth tones today, dark brown breeches and a matching doublet. His long-sleeved tunic beneath was olive green. Dark hair loose, like she’d seen it most often, and his blue eyes were bright, warm, despite her surliness.
The sword at his waist somehow made him look even stronger. Perfect. The knight was so handsome it took her breath away.
Sir Alasdair bowed again. “I won’t make you wait on me again.” He flashed a smile that made her belly tingle. He was teasing, something she was coming to know was a part of who he was.
“See that you don’t.” She’d meant to be light, to tease back, but Elissa’s words came out breathy. She bit back the urge to wince.
He gave her a once-over and sobered. “Are you well?”
She nodded, forbidding her gaze to dart to the ajar door. The men were still talking, making no indication that they could hear her and Sir Alasdair conversing in the corridor. “
I am. Eager to meet Lord Avery.”
Something flashed in his eyes, but he offered a curt nod.
Elissa took a step toward her chaperone. “Shall we go?”
“Aye.” Sir Alasdair offered his arm, like always.
She tucked her hand into his elbow and they were silent the rest of the way to the great hall. Elissa wanted to speak, but couldn’t. Her nerves were back, making a mess of her stomach, and she wavered between worries about Lord Avery and what she’d overheard from the duke’s ledger room.
What am I going to do?
It wasn’t like she could barge into Lord Aldern’s private space and petition the men—King Nathal in particular—to tell her what she wanted to hear.
What happened to my parents? What happened to Emery?
Why?
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Sir Alasdair asked when they were right outside the huge double doors that lead into the great hall.
“I am, thank you.” She forced a smile. “Perhaps my nerves are showing?”
“There’s nothing to be nervous about. Lord Avery Lenore is a fine lad.” The knight smiled.
Her heart tripped and it had nothing to do with the kind words Sir Alasdair had just said about her suitor. “Let us not keep him waiting then.”
“Aye, my lady.”
Chapter Nine
He couldn’t stop looking at her. And he really needed to.
Posthaste.
Alasdair was escorting her to meet a suitor. A possible match.
A possible husband.
His mouth was dry, and his tongue was plastered to the roof of it. He couldn’t have spoken at the moment if ordered by swordpoint.
At least he’d managed not to compliment her when they’d found each other in the corridor. Lady Elissa looked lovely in the shiny silver gown. More than lovely.
Radiant, because beautiful was too weak a word.
The bodice hugged her forbidden body, with a low neckline that placed her breasts high for the visual taking. It was tight enough to make her slender waist look even more streamlined, yet still hinted at the hips he’d felt when they’d danced. The skirt was overlaid with intricate silver lace that drew the eye and flowed perfectly as she walked.
Young Lucan had snagged him while he’d waited for her. They’d stepped into the closest sitting room for privacy. The knighted mage had wanted to assure him his spell was cast, and every magical precaution taken—including the fact that Lady Elissa wouldn’t be able to sense the protection enveloping her.
Too bad when he’d asked the lad about the ride out to the murdered Greenwald lass’ holding the first expression in Lucan’s eyes was regret. Even putting his head together with the king’s twin mages hadn’t shed any light on the killers—except the confirmation that the bastards had strong magic on their side and an inconvenient level of intelligence. They’d covered their tracks—magically and physically, leaving no clues to what direction they’d gone. Lucan had told him his gut said they were up against a tracker—one who was skilled in vast tracking and masking magic.
Alasdair hated to think they wouldn’t know anything more unless—or until—another young blonde woman was killed. No more should die, especially because of mistaken identity.
The conversation had taken longer than Alasdair had expected, but he’d also not expected Lady Elissa to be so cross with him when he’d finally returned to her.
She’d snapped and demanded. Reminding him of her station. Yet…from what he knew about his charge over the past two days, that was unusual behavior.
A part of him liked the fire that rode beneath the surface. There was more to Lady Elissa Durroc than a pretty face and coveted magic, and Alasdair wanted to be the one to discover it.
He studied her profile as they walked. The same feeling of unease settled over him as before. Something was off about her, and he wasn’t wholly convinced it was nerves regarding meeting Lord Lenore. Then again, he’d never been a lass meeting her possible mate for the first time.
He wanted to growl for some reason.
Her grip on his arm tightened when the lord came into view, jarring him from his thoughts—thank the Blessed Spirit.
Alasdair glanced down at her again, but Lady Elissa was looking at the tall, redheaded man with his back toward them, not at him.
Evidently, Lord Avery heard their footsteps, for the lad stopped studying the tapestry hanging above the dais. It depicted a battle, and was quite intricate in its display. Every time Alasdair took a long gander at it, he noticed something he’d missed before. No matter how many times he’d studied it.
They closed the distance and Alasdair released the lass so he could bow to the heir to the Province of Tarvis. “Lord Lenore, it’s nice to see you again.”
Lord Avery smiled. “You as well, Alas.” He stepped forward and clasped Alasdair’s forearm.
He returned the physical greeting, though they’d never been more than acquaintances. Alasdair had always liked the shy lad who knew more about magic than anyone he’d ever met—save Lucan.
Lord Avery was taller than the last time he’d seen him—just about equal to his own six-foot-three—but he was still lean. The muscles on his frame weren’t those of a bulky knight.
“How was your journey, my lord?”
Gray eyes like his duchess cousin’s met his eyes. “It was good, thank you. We made adequate time.”
“Good to hear.”
Lady Elissa hovered. She hadn’t said anything yet, and part of Alasdair didn’t want to introduce her.
Lord Avery glanced at her and the apple of his throat bobbed. No doubt the lad knew the why of the meeting, and also he’d noticed how lovely she was. He might be young, but the lordling was still a man.
Alasdair wanted to growl. Again.
Lady Elissa smiled and stepped forward. Her eyes were locked onto her suitor.
His face was clean-shaven, and now his cheeks were the same color as his hair. Ruddy and bright.
Alasdair tried not to smirk.
The lord bowed at the waist and smiled. “Hello.” The word was a croak, and he cleared his throat as he straightened. He reached for her hand.
She inclined her head and set her fingertips against Lord Avery’s palm. “Hello, Lord Avery.”
His cheeks stained an even deeper red.
Alasdair tried not to blow out a breath. If the lad wasn’t going to do anything but blush all morning, and the lass wasn’t going to say much beyond polite conversation, this day was going to be more torturous than he could’ve imagined.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Elissa. Lady Elissa Durroc.” She spoke gently, as if she would to a child, and Alasdair wanted to roll his eyes.
But it worked.
Lord Avery seemed to regain his composure. “I’m very glad to meet you, too, my lady.”
When she glanced his way, Alasdair didn’t know what to make of her gaze. She looked him up and down, then did the same to her suitor. Their eyes locked. He arched an eyebrow and her cheeks pinkened.
She couldn’t be…comparing him to the lad?
If it wouldn’t have shamed Lord Avery—and if Alasdair didn’t like him—he would’ve assured the lass there was no comparison.
Lady Elissa cleared her throat and put those hazel orbs of hers back where they belonged—on Lord Avery Lenore. “Shall we walk in the gardens, my lord? It’s a nice day out. The sun is warm.”
The lad jumped and nodded. “Of course. What a wonderful idea.”
“Aye, a good plan.” Alasdair made himself agree. He’d shown her the gardens in their vast entirety the afternoon before.
Satisfaction that he’d taken her there first washed over him before he screamed at himself for being ridiculous. First of all, she wasn’t for him. Which was exactly how he wanted things.
Pin that to your brain.
Secondly, Lord Avery was a lad of twenty.
Alasdair hadn’t been a lad for turns. He was all man, and when it came to pursing a lass, he alway
s got what he wanted. They’d never complained, either.
Lord Avery couldn’t compete.
He doubted the heir to Tarvis had ever had a woman in his bed. His bashfulness all but shouted his virtue.
Still, aggression raced down Alasdair’s spine when the lord offered his arm to Lady Elissa and she slid her petite hand onto his sleeve.
They turned to leave without a word.
He groaned. Was he supposed to follow like some lost wolf cub?
It was going to be a long day.
* * * *
She tried to concentrate on the sweet, shy young man whose arm her hand was tucked into, she really did. Lord Avery’s blush was charming, and he was handsome.
His face lit up when he talked, especially about magic tomes. Lord Avery’s gray eyes were just like the duchess’. So much so, it was like looking into hers. His red hair was cropped short, and was also like his cousin’s, yet his was a few shades lighter than Lady Cera’s.
At least meeting him is out of the way.
It’d gone well, too. But Elissa’s mind kept wandering back to what she’d overheard in the duke’s ledger room.
How dare King Nathal keep the truth from her?
Her parents were murdered. Her brother, too, she assumed. The king hadn’t mentioned Emery specifically, but nothing else made sense. They’d died together.
Murdered.
The word bounced around in her head, commanding all her attention.
I need to get out of here.
But she couldn’t. Not right now, and maybe not even later. The holding of her birth wasn’t far from the center of Greenwald. Perhaps an hours’ ride. She wanted to go to it.
Elissa needed to see Castle Durroc with her own eyes.
Why? It wasn’t like she could do anything about what’d happened so long ago.
Still…
Something felt like it was missing. Had for a long time. Maybe if she went there, the place where she’d lived at the start of her life, she could find it.
Maybe she could remember her parents and her brother.
She swallowed and made her stride match her suitor’s. He was talking again. Elissa chided herself to pay attention to him, for the fifth or sixth time.
