by Serena Chase
“It is my great pleasure to meet the final member of the Regent’s family. Thank you for your service to me and to the Kingdom of E’veria.”
He bowed, took a step back, and sheathed his sword. I turned to the second knight, took his sword, and repeated the acceptance of fealty I’d given Gerrias.
When the second knight took his sword back and met my eyes I found it even more difficult to retain the formality of the moment than I had with Julien’s brother.
“Kinley?” I squealed. My hand flew to my mouth, reminding me to finish the little ceremony. “ThankyouforyourservicetomeandtotheKingdomofE’veria!” I gushed in a most un-princess-like fashion.
I waited just long enough for him to sheath his sword and then I threw my arms around his neck.
“Kinley!” I buried my face in the shoulder of the eldest of my three Veetrish “brothers.” After a moment of hesitation, his arms went around me and his posture relaxed. I lifted my head, not at all ashamed of the moisture in my eyes. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” Kinley’s voice was thick with emotion, but his Veetrish brogue rang like a song in my heart. His lips quirked. “So would you break my neck instead of bruise my arm, now that you’re a princess?”
I loosened my hold. “If I did, it would be only because you deserved it!” I planted a quick kiss on his cheek.
He gave me a slight squeeze. “Ah, Rose. You’ve no idea how I’ve worried about you these past few years.”
“Rose?” I wrinkled my nose. “Who is this ‘Rose’ of whom you speak?”
“My deepest apologies, Princess Rynnaia. I once had a sister named Rose and your face quite reminds me of her.” He let go of me and took the tiniest step back. Warmth lit his smile as he fingered a lock of my now-copper-colored hair. “My sister was a right little scamp, she was, with hair the color of a raven’s wing.”
“A right little scamp? Continue your flattery, knight, and I may yet bruise your arm.” I lifted my fist and drew it back in a mocking threat.
“You’ve an odd definition of flattery, Princess,” he said with a chuckle. “But I’m glad to see the raven has flown and brought us a flame in her place. I must admit I struggled a bit to try and imagine you thus after I learned the truth. But,” he paused, “I find that it suits you, Princess.”
“Thank you, Kinley.” I leaned over and placed another quick kiss on his cheek.
“The King could have entrusted your care to no better knight.” Kinley looked up. “Julien de Gladiel! I’ve missed you, friend.” My brother stepped forward and clapped Julien on the shoulder. “Thank you for watching over Ro—Rynnaia, I mean—these past months. She tends to invite risk, that one.” He shot me a lopsided grin before turning back to Julien. “It was a comfort to know my sister was safe in your care.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Kinley.” The nature of Julien’s grin was so genuine that the Veetrish part of my heart, the corner that prized family, hearth, and home above all else, warmed to know that my brother already considered Julien a friend.
Julien turned to me. “Perhaps you would like to be shown to your chambers to ready for your meeting with your father?”
“I’ll take you,” Erielle spoke up.
When I glanced her way, her eyes sparkled as if she’d just played an immense prank on someone. Or that she was about to. I hesitated.
“Come on, Princess.” She grabbed my hand. “This way.”
“You’ll still be here, Kinley?” I asked, unable to hide the quiver in my voice. Until that moment I hadn’t admitted to myself how intimidated I had felt on the road up to Holiday Palace. Having my brother near made it a little less so. “You’ll still be here after I’ve met my father?”
He nodded. “I am ever at your service, Princess Rynnaia.” He winked. “And your father’s, of course.”
“Good.” With a last grin in his direction, I let Erielle pull me toward the wide marble staircase.
After a seemingly endless stream of wide corridors lined in the green-veined marble that was the hallmark of Holiday Palace, Erielle finally stopped at a set of guarded double doors. She introduced me to the knight at guard and I went through the whole sword-taking ceremony again. Finally, he opened the door.
A series of tall but narrow arching windows graced the far wall, and rich beige curtains with a golden sheen hung at intervals between them. The walls were a deep pinkish color and the upholstery matched the curtains. The room contained a large white-stone fireplace and enough seating for several guests. I wandered past several interior doors, only one of which held a bed. But it was a massive, canopied structure the likes of which I had never imagined.
When I turned to Erielle, the wonder of it must have shown on my face. I had expected to be led to a bedchamber. But Erielle had taken me to an entire suite of rooms.
“This is all . . . mine?”
“All yours,” she confirmed with a nod, but then her shoulders shuddered. A little laugh escaped her and she brought her hand to her mouth.
“What’s so funny?” I asked. “Other than the shock that must be written all over my face?”
“That’s not it at all,” she said. And then a real laugh broke through. “Not at all.”
She walked over to an enormous upholstered chair and plopped ungracefully into it, throwing her legs over one of the chair’s arms.
“Well?” I moved toward her, abandoning one curiosity for another. “What’s so funny, then?”
“First, I have to ask you something. Woman-to-woman.”
Woman-to-woman? I was nineteen, but Erielle was more than two years younger. Even though the rest of the world would likely call us such, I wasn’t sure either of us qualified for that sort of label. I waved my hand. “Well? Get on with it, then!”
“Have you and Julien come to an understanding?” She interrupted herself with a laugh. “Oh, Rynnaia. In all my life, I’ve never seen Julien so—” She had to stop speaking because a laugh built from her abdomen and slowly took over her body. Her shoulders shook with it. Finally she took a breath. “So raptly attentive to,” she gasped out a giggle, “a young lady.”
Her laughter was the sort that was infectious, and even though I didn’t know why I was joining her in it, I couldn’t help myself.
“What do you mean?” I asked between breaths.
In a flash of movement she righted herself in the chair. “Oh, it was glorious! He could barely take his eyes off you!” Erielle paused and cocked her head. “But may I be so bold as to ask . . . how do you feel about my brother, Princess?”
I let out a heavy breath and fell into a neighboring chair in much the same fashion as Erielle had moments earlier. Heaving a sigh, I leaned my head back and looked up at the ceiling. Could I say the words aloud?
“I love him.”
With a squeal, Erielle jumped from her chair and proceeded to pull me from mine. “I knew it! I knew you were meant for each other! Are you to be my sister, then?”
“Whoa, now, Squire de Bruin.” I called her by the male alias she had assumed on our ride from Mynissbyr to Port Dyn. “Julien hasn’t even spoken to my father yet! We haven’t even courted!”
“Oh!” Erielle’s hand flew to her mouth. “Your father! He’s waiting for you, remember?”
“Did my clothes arrive? I’d like to freshen up a bit.”
“Yes. They’ve been pressed and are already hanging in your dressing room. It’s just through here. Come on.”
I followed Erielle through the beautiful bedchamber, past the giant bed, and into a dressing room that was as big as the bedchamber I had occupied on Tirandov Isle.
I had given quite a bit of thought to what gown I wanted to wear when I first met my father, and although I had many beautiful choices, when I ran a hand through them, it still seemed the best. I pulled it down.
“Oooh. That’s lovely,” Erielle breathed as she reached out to touch the luxurious folds of bronze. “I’ve never seen such fabric!”
�
��It’s from Tirandov. Would you help me with the buttons?”
With Erielle’s help I quickly changed and decided, upon her request, to let my hair flow freely down my back. A familiar box sat on the vanity table. Inside was a silver circlet, fashioned to resemble vining roses. I gingerly lifted out the crown that had once been my mother’s and placed it on my head. The flowering vines met on my forehead at a gleaming piece of tirandite stone, which was carved in the diamond-in-a-circle design know as the Emblem of the First. When it touched my forehead, the tirandite stone glowed orange for a moment before settling back down to a slighter glow.
“You really are the princess.”
“Yes.” I winked at her. “But I’m sure Rozen will have to visit every now and then just to keep things interesting.” She laughed at the mention of the name I had taken when posing as Julien’s young Veetrish squire on our journey to Port Dyn.
I checked my reflection one last time. “How do I look?”
“Perfect. Come along, Your Highness. We’ve kept the King waiting long enough, and I need to stay in his good graces—at least until we leave to find the Remedy!”
“Do you often fall out of them? His good graces, I mean?”
“Not that he’s mentioned, but . . .” Erielle thought about it. “My father and brothers often chide me for being too free with my speech around the King. And with my actions as well, to be honest. But your father doesn’t seem to mind. He’s always been rather indulgent of me.” She tilted her head. “Perhaps because he missed you so much?”
I swallowed the sour taste of jealousy that formed at the mention of their closeness. “Perhaps.”
“But he won’t have to miss you anymore. Come along then, Princess! We can’t keep His Majesty waiting!”
I followed Erielle back out into the corridor. Once outside my new suite of rooms, she led me only a bit farther down the hall to another guarded door. We repeated the fealty ceremony, and even though I was indeed grateful for the sacrifice and service each of these men made for the Kingdom, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was some way I could gather them all together and get all the formalities out of the way at once.
Once I had given the knight back his sword, the guard bowed to me and knocked lightly on the door. A second later the word “Enter” came from within.
The guard pushed the door open and stood just inside.
Erielle smiled and patted my arm. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “King Jarryn is my father’s best friend. I’ve known him my whole life. You will like him. I know it.” She gave me a small curtsey and then turned and walked back down the long corridor.
“Your Majesty,” the guard spoke in a formal tone. “Princess Rynnaia is here to see you.”
As he stepped aside, my breath caught. This was it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The King rose the moment I crossed the threshold and the guard slipped back into the hall.
My father’s dark brown hair took on a russet glow where the light hit it, especially near the gold circlet that rested across his forehead, and a few silver hairs peeked out at his temples and dusted the triangular beard that surrounded his mouth.
He wore a long moss-green tunic over a linen shirt and fawn breeches. Brown boots reached to just below his knees. His attire was of simple design, but richly tailored, and he stood straight. Tall. His tunic was belted with a scabbard the same brown as his boots and his right hand rested on the golden hilt of his sword, not out of threat, but from habit. Comfort. Despite everything about his authoritative presence, the warm expression in his eyes—almost as deep a blue as mine—bade me approach.
We stood like that for an elongated moment. But just as I stepped toward him, he moved out from behind the desk and closed the space between us. His arms encircled me.
“Rynnaia.”
His tone was caught somewhere between a whisper and a groan. It overflowed with emotion that now poured out of his mind and into my heart.
“My daughter,” he whispered. “My daughter!” He crushed me against his chest and I opened my mind wide to allow him to see what I could not put into words.
A rush of color hit me with a force so strong it felt as if my feet had left the floor. He must have felt it, too, because he released me and looked down into my face.
“I love you.” His voice was tender, but fierce, slamming the words into my heart, and his cheeks were as wet as mine. “I love you, Rynnaia. Never doubt my love. Never.”
For years I had thought of myself as abandoned and betrayed by a man whose name I wasn’t even allowed to know. But his love cradled me now, surrounding and carrying me, it gave me the strength to stand before him, confident that his love had always been this strong, this full, and that it always would be.
“I love you, too, Father.” The words were simple, but they held a deep truth I had only recently uncovered. My heart had made room for him, expanding to hold what he so freely offered. Indeed, what he had always given, but unknown to me and from a distance.
“So often I feared you would hate me for sending you away. And when I found out what that woman in Veetri had done to you, what she had led you to believe . . .” He took a shuddering breath. “I was often tempted to reach past the protections we put on your abilities and check in on you. But the guards on your mind were stronger than my abilities could conquer.”
“You tried?”
His smile was a tad sheepish. “More than once, I’m afraid. It never worked. Dyfnel and your mother worked with me to create that protection, you see, and their abilities far surpass my own. My efforts only produced frustration and exhaustion.” He smiled. “But it is just as well. Had I accidentally revealed myself to you that way, it might have put you in greater danger than even that woman could conjure.”
“Mrs. Scyles was cruel, but she was ignorant and prejudiced by her own misfortune.” Lord Whittier’s housekeeper had never liked me. When she discovered I colored my hair black with ebonswarth root powder, an illegal substance, she used that knowledge to threaten me. “Over the past several weeks I’ve come to believe that even her betrayal was for my good. Had she not betrayed me to the Cobelds, I might very well still be in Veetri, completely unaware of who I am. And the Remedy would be even farther from our grasp.”
“Your mother told me you had been changed. I see that she is right.”
“How often do you speak to her?”
“As often as possible.” His smile warmed my heart. “Until recently, we spoke every day.” He didn’t have to tell me that my mother’s deteriorating health made that impossible now. “But I haven’t been to Tirandov Isle in three years.”
“Why not?”
“It was roughly four years ago that the Dwonsil clans allied with the Cobelds. Since then, the Kingdom has required my presence here on the mainland.”
“I’m sorry the blessing she gave me was so costly.” And truly I was. Even the mention of my mother brought a light to my father’s eyes.
“Her sacrifice was willingly made, as was mine.” He smiled. “It’s not the way I would have chosen to spend the last nineteen years of our marriage, but it’s enough to know that she is still with me and that we still have hope.”
He motioned me to a seat. When I had finished adjusting my skirts, I raised my eyes to the King sitting across from me.
“You remind me so much of your mother,” he said with a sigh. “But you are a remarkable young woman in your own right. You’ve even impressed your great-grandfather. And believe me, that is not an easy task.” He chuckled. “Lindsor has spoken with me daily since he arrived at Tirandov. You’ve made quite a favorable impression on him.”
I smiled at the thought of my great-grandfather. “I’m quite fond of him, as well. It was at his urging that I finally overcame my fear and contacted you.”
My father’s smile dimmed. “You were . . . afraid of me?”
I hesitated, wanting to choose my words carefully. “I didn’t grow up in a palace. Away from royalty, a common person g
ets something of an idea of a . . . a stern perfection of sorts when you think of the King. I wasn’t afraid of my father—well . . . maybe a little,” I admitted with a smile. “But I was most certainly afraid of being a disappointment to the King.”
His eyes filled with compassion. “And now?”
“The first time we spoke, while I was on Tirandov Isle, something shifted. I felt . . . connected to you. Were we not Andoven, the truth of your feelings, of why you sent me away, would be harder to reconcile with what we’ve been through. But being able to see into your mind, into your motives, and into your heart . . . ?” I shrugged. “I saw love. And I knew it was real. Now I don’t care that you’re the King. I’m simply glad to know my father.”
A bit of Veetri stirred inside me, aching to be set free. “Besides,” I added with the cheekiest grin I could muster, “by the look of my rooms it would appear that there are some benefits to being a princess, even if I am getting a rather late start at it.”
The King’s chuckle began like a deep rumble, but it glimmered somehow as it made its way to the surface. The sound was like fresh, dark honey drizzled in a warm cup of wine.
“I regret every moment we’ve been apart, Rynnaia.” His voice grew suddenly wistful. “And never have I felt it as poignantly as now. I must admit, it is difficult to know how to be a father to a grown woman without having seen to your upbringing myself.” A smile broke through. “I am glad you look so much like your mother,” he said. “Otherwise the people might not as easily accept that their Ryn speaks with a Veetrish brogue when her parents do not.”
I bit my lip. “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder to sound . . . correct.”
“No, no. That’s not what I meant at all. Your accent is charming. And it comes as no surprise to me. I placed you in that particular home, Rynnaia. Even though they didn’t know it at the time, and even though I used Drinius as an intermediary, Lord Whittier’s family was chosen for you specifically by me.”
