The Eldentimber Series: Books 1 - 3

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The Eldentimber Series: Books 1 - 3 Page 65

by Tapscott, Shari L.


  He motions to the meal, prompting me to eat. I study him. He doesn’t look as haggard as he did last night, but he has certainly aged. It’s disconcerting.

  “I have found the key to defeating the dragons,” Father says.

  I look up from the platter of food. Why is he telling me?

  “We will be indestructible,” he continues.

  “We?”

  Father rests his hands on the table. “Breaking your ties with Rigel and that family in the village has been good for you, Seirsha. I was too indulgent on that point. I should never have allowed your friendship with that maid.”

  My stomach ties itself in knots, but on the outside I am still.

  He meets my eyes. “A month ago you wished me dead. But last night…”

  I shake my head. “I never wished you dead.”

  He nods as if he’s accepting my words as truth. “I forget you are a girl, Seirsha—weaker than a male by nature. Perhaps I haven’t raised you in the way I should have.”

  “You almost died last night, and now you are regretting decisions you have made in your life.” I place my hands in my lap.

  He gives me a wry smile. “Something like that.”

  I pull apart a scone, unable to eat more than a few bites.

  Father leans forward. “I am naming you as my heir.”

  I blink. “But I am a girl.” Unable to keep the anger out of my voice, I finish, “And I am weak.”

  “That’s true.” He nods. “And you have much to learn.”

  I bite my tongue, knowing it’s wiser to stay silent. We eat, but our conversation is stilted.

  I’m relieved when he finally excuses me. Dryal leans against the wall, looking bored, but he straightens as I leave.

  “Are you all right?” he asks quietly.

  I glance at him. “Father is naming me as his heir.”

  The words are absurd. It will never come to pass.

  I expect Dryal to laugh at the idea, but instead his eyebrows knit. “He told you?”

  “I know. It’s ridiculous.”

  We reach my chambers. Instead of staying outside like he always does, he steps in and shuts the door behind him. “Your father will never make you heir with Rigel alive.”

  The conviction in his voice startles me.

  “But as far as he knows, I haven’t even seen him,” I say.

  Dryal gives me a chastising look. “You don’t really think your father is that blind, do you?”

  I remember all the things Father has known that he shouldn’t.

  “If there is any chance you’ll marry Rigel,” Dryal says. “Your father won’t name you as his heir.”

  I place my hands on my hips, irritated. “I don’t want to be his heir.”

  Dryal shakes his head, crossing the distance between us with two quick steps. “Seirsha, he’s going to kill Rigel.”

  “How could you possibly know that?”

  “How can’t you see it?”

  Irritated, I say, “And how do you propose I save him?”

  Dryal waits for a beat. “Marry someone else.”

  The knight crosses his arms and watches me. Disconcerted, I turn from him and wander to the window. He knows something I don’t.

  A thought has been nagging at me since I saw the look in Father’s eyes before the morning meal. Still looking away, I say, “Tell me about your family.”

  Dryal clears his throat. “I was orphaned as a child, Your Highness.”

  “Do you carry a title?”

  “A minor lordship.”

  Dread settles in my stomach, twisting and churning. “You’re working for Father as a spy.”

  “I was, yes.”

  I turn back at his abrupt—and startlingly honest—answer.

  “He promised me to you in return for information!” I hiss.

  His slight hesitation is all it takes to confirm my suspicions.

  “Get out!”

  The guilty look drops from his face, and now he’s irritated. “Surely I’m not that terrible of an option.” He takes a step forward, a small smile playing on his lips. He motions to himself. “You could do worse, you know.”

  Yes, he’s handsome. Strong and tall, blond-haired and blue-eyed—I’m sure most of the kitchen-maids have swooned over him at some point. It’s why Father chose him.

  “I love Rigel.”

  Dryal takes another step forward. “Then keep him safe. Be with me. You’re the threat to him, Seirsha. If you choose Rigel, your Father loses—and he will retaliate.”

  He’s close now. I shove against his chest, but it’s like pressing against a stone wall.

  “You’re a traitor,” I say. “Rigel trusted you. I trusted you.”

  “I want what’s best for Errinton. I truly mean that.”

  He looks hurt, and for a moment I’m sorry for my words. He has been kind to me, and I don’t resent his presence as much as I did at first.

  “Go.” I motion to the door, my heart weary of the intrigue.

  Seeing me softening, the knight gives me a crooked smile. “I could kiss you and see if you change your mind.”

  I shove him, hard this time. “Out!”

  He shrugs, that irritating smile still on his face.

  “You can’t blame a man for trying,” he says as he turns and strides across the room. Just before the door, he glances over his shoulder and grins. “It would be worth it to try.”

  I shriek at him in anger, grab the first thing I see—a vase—and then heave it at him. The door quickly shuts behind him, and the porcelain shatters against the wood and falls to the floor.

  “I’ll send for a maid to clean that up,” Dryal calls from the hall.

  ***

  “We’ll watch Dryal,” Pippa says, keeping her voice low. “Don’t give him any more information.”

  He already has too much.

  I nod, grateful Pippa’s here. She’s become a good friend.

  “Should I tell Rigel what Father has planned for Dryal?” I move a piece on the board between us.

  “Do you want Rigel to murder him?”

  “No…yes.” I wrinkle my nose. “Oh, probably not.”

  She laughs. “It’s best to tell him, but wait for the right time.”

  “Exactly when would that be?”

  She shrugs. “I have no idea.”

  I breathe out a groan but decide to ignore the situation for now.

  Pippa moves a game piece and glances at me. She frowns and then moves it to a different square.

  She and Archer have been keeping low, trying not to stir up any more of Father’s ire. Archer has yet to be punished, but with what happened to Bea, we know it may only be a matter of time.

  I move my piece forward. “I heard there was an uprising in Lorgan.”

  Pippa stares at the game. “And in Obergard, Wyer, and Thernrow.”

  I glance up. “You don’t suppose Kendal led the last do you?”

  “The king had his wife put to death. What do you think?”

  My stomach clenches, as it always does, at the mention of Bea, and my heart mourns for her husband. It’s difficult, but I push the thoughts away. I swore I would be happy.

  Idly, I toy with the chain at my neck. Pippa finally moves her piece, but she keeps her fingers on the tiny figure until she’s sure it’s safely placed. With a satisfied flick of her wrist, she removes her hand.

  I shake my head, move my own piece, and seize hers.

  She lets out a disgusted noise. “I just knew it was safe there.”

  I smile. “You haven’t played this much, have you?”

  Part of me—a larger part than I may like—is elated I can best Pippa at something. She’s too headstrong for games of strategy. She acts and then thinks. Thank goodness she’ll never lead an army into battle.

  “I’ve played Archer a few times.” She smirks. “He usually wins, but he’s not difficult to distract when I want to.”

  I shake my head, and we continue the game. My door opens. Uneasy,
I look over my shoulder, expecting Dryal. Instead, Rigel enters, shutting the door softly behind him.

  My skirts brush against the board, and I knock a few pieces askew as I rush to him. “Rigel!”

  “Careful,” he says, his eyes bright. “Pippa may move your pieces behind your back.”

  I look over my shoulder and grin at the princess. “She’ll still lose.”

  Pippa laughs and then gives us a pointed look. “I think I’ve had enough sitting. I’ll take my leave now.”

  She quirks an eyebrow at me as she slips out the door.

  “I’ve missed you,” I say once Pippa’s gone. “I’m tired of hiding, of always meeting behind closed doors.”

  My fingers knead his tight shoulders. He pulls me to him, and I relax—but only for a moment. For Rigel to be here, my guard allowed him entry.

  I glance at the door and whisper, “It’s not wise to trust Dryal.”

  Rigel wraps a strand of my hair around his finger. “I didn’t have a choice. I had to see you.” His expression is warm, excited.

  He has news.

  I freeze, thoughts of my guard forgotten. “Have you found another bishop?”

  I don’t dare hope for it.

  “I spoke with Bishop Anderson, and he has agreed. After we wed, we will publicly announce our marriage, and I will take you to my lands. If it angers the king, let him start the war.”

  “What are you saying?” I breathe.

  His lips brush mine, not yet quite a kiss. “The time to act is now. I will not let him destroy Errinton.”

  I pull back, shocked. “You will fight for the throne?”

  “I will fight to keep Errinton free from darkness. I will fight to give the people a future.” He meets my eyes and kneels before me, a knight pledging his honor. “I will fight for my princess and future queen.”

  A sharp thrill runs through me at his words, at his confidence. There’s nothing proud in his face. He doesn’t crave power. He simply knows what’s right for Errinton, and he’s willing to fight to make it so.

  “Get up.” I yank his hands even as I fall into him.

  In one swift movement, he rises from the floor and lifts me in his arms. I toss my hands around his neck, and then our lips meet. He kisses me while he murmurs promises for our future. The moment is so exquisite; I will surely die. His lips travel to my jaw and then my neck. Perhaps we’re going too far, but I can’t bring myself to care.

  Then the doors swing open.

  Two knights enter the room followed by Father and Dryal. Rigel curses, but he doesn’t push me away. Instead, he nudges me behind him, his hand on my arm. He stands tall, protective.

  “This is more convenient than I could have hoped for.” Father turns to Dryal. “Well done.”

  My eyes bore into my guard’s. His gaze softens with remorse, but then he hardens. I look away.

  He betrayed us.

  “Not only did you speak of treason,” Father says to Rigel as a spiteful smile stretches across his face. “But you were caught seducing the heir to my throne as well.”

  Rigel looks back at me, startled. “Heir?”

  “Seirsha hasn’t told you?” Father clicks his tongue as if he’s disappointed in me. “So many things she’s kept from you.”

  My heart freezes.

  Father smiles at me and then looks back to Rigel. “Apparently you aren’t as close as you thought.” He turns to Dryal. “I believe she told her guard, though.” He looks back, a satisfied look on his face when Rigel’s confidence momentarily falters. “Interesting.”

  “I didn’t think to,” I whisper to Rigel. “He only mentioned it this morning—”

  “Seize Rigel,” Father says to his knights, who have both raised their crossbows. “If he resists, shoot Seirsha.”

  Rigel’s hand freezes on his sword. He glances at me, silently asking me to forgive him for backing down. He was defeated the moment Father uttered the threat.

  I wrestle away from him and step forward. “Father, please don’t do this.”

  “I have no choice. I can’t have you make this man king.”

  Rigel offers himself to the knights, letting them take him so they won’t harm me. Desperate, I go to my father, dropping on the ground in front of him. “I beg you—don’t do this.”

  Father turns to Dryal. “Lock her in here. Do not let her leave, and let no one in. Do you understand?”

  The knights pull Rigel from the room.

  I rush to the door, trying to go after them, but it slams in my face.

  “Dryal, let me out!” He doesn’t answer, and I beat on the door. “Dryal, you traitor!”

  I’m answered with silence.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dryal moves his pawn and then sits back in his chair, watching me. I cross my arms and stare back at him.

  “You played with Pippa.” Dryal matches my posture. “Surely you’re bored all alone in this room. You’ve been here for almost a week now.”

  I raise an eyebrow but say nothing.

  “Your father was watching me. He expected information. What did you want me to do?”

  I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes. “You say ‘no.’”

  “This was the only way.”

  “Why didn’t you fetch the king the first time you admitted Rigel to my room?”

  Dryal shakes his head, leans over the board, and moves my queen. I watch him, unamused.

  After he takes my turn, he sits back, taps the table as if thinking, and then moves his own pawn. “You were broken, torn apart by Bea’s death.”

  I glare at him.

  “Contrary to what you think, it is not my intention to hurt you.” Again he moves my queen and then looks up. “It had to be this way.”

  “Why?” I demand.

  He leans forward, his forearms resting on either side of the wooden board. “Because the people were angry—they were scared, but they were not yet mutinous. We needed to push them over the edge. The king locking Rigel in the stocks and announcing his execution accomplished that.” He smirks like he thinks he’s clever.

  “But who will lead them when Rigel is dead!”

  Tomorrow Rigel will be put to death by public beheading. Father has commanded I attend.

  Dryal points to my queen. “She is in danger, what are you going to do about it?”

  Whether I want to or not, my mind is already working. I look up, irritated. “There is no escape for her in the position you put her in. She will die.”

  “Wrong.” With a swift movement, one of his black knights knocks over the other black knight, which was putting my queen in peril.

  “You can’t save my queen with your knight.”

  “I don’t play by the rules, Princess. I’m Errintonian; I do whatever I want.”

  With pieces of both black and white, he surrounds the players that threaten my king. One by one he takes them out.

  “You judge people by their colors,” he says. “But you have more allies than you believe.”

  From his pocket, Dryal pulls a small silver container and offers it to me.

  “What is it?” I ask, my voice wary. I flip it open and find a fine white powder. I hold my hand away, careful not to breathe in the dust. “Poison?”

  “Sleeping draught.” He flashes me a grin. “You’ve been invited to dinner in your father’s chambers.”

  ***

  My hands tremble. I clench the napkin in my lap to still them.

  Somehow, I must slip the draught not only in Father’s drink, but Zander and Rovert’s as well.

  “How is your meal, Seirsha?” Father asks.

  I meet his eyes.

  “You won’t speak with me? That’s fine. Silence is an admirable trait in a woman.”

  I bite my tongue. I will not rise to the bait.

  “I released Rigel from the stocks this afternoon.” He dabs his mouth with a napkin. “That should make you happy.” He watches me, waiting for an answer. “Don’t you want to know where I’ve placed him?”
>
  I already know Father has taken him to the dungeons, so I don’t answer.

  “Very well.” He smiles, emptying the last of his wine. He turns to Rovert and asks if the draft is almost complete for the final regiment up north.

  I eye Father’s empty chalice. Rovert’s is nearly empty, and Zander’s is as well.

  “More wine?” I ask, rising.

  Father looks at me sharply. “That’s uncharacteristically charitable of you.”

  “Fine.” I fix a haughty expression on my face. “Fetch your own.”

  “It’s too late for charming. No matter what you do or say, Rigel dies in the morning.”

  “And you think, after that, I will do as you say? That his death will curb my defiance?”

  Irritation crosses his face. “You will do as I say because you are my daughter—and my heir.”

  “I didn’t choose to be either.”

  Father leans forward. “I had hoped you were ready to be reasonable. I see, however, you are not. Perhaps spending a little time in the dungeons will improve your mood.”

  I pause, unsure. Father can’t send me to the dungeons—not tonight. My hesitation brings him satisfaction. He holds out his chalice and flicks his head toward the pitcher of wine on the sidebar.

  It’s too perfect. I glance at the chalice and then look back at him.

  “Well?” he says.

  I snatch it out of his grasp and turn away. My back is toward him, but I can feel his scrutinizing gaze. Somehow I must slip the draught in his wine while he watches. I set the chalice on the sidebar, careful to place half of it off the edge. It tumbles to the floor with a horrible clatter.

  I glance over my shoulder, knowing he will be furious at my clumsiness. Quickly, keeping my back to Father and his men, I stoop down for the cup. At the same time, I slip the silver pot from my bodice. I attempt to open the catch with my thumb, but it’s not as easy as I had hoped. Finally, the latch gives, and the top pops open. Instead of sprinkling a little of the powder in each cup as I had planned, I add the whole thing to the entire pitcher of wine.

  With a shaking hand, I fill the chalice. While hiding the pot in my palm, I turn back to Father and offer him the wine.

  His gaze drops to my hand. “You’re shaking.”

 

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