by Jeanne Hardt
Burning their bodies was wise. I have been told fire destroys the illness.
I am scolding myself as I write these words. I should tell you of the good of the world, not fill your mind with unpleasantness.
So, let me leave you with this:
My kingdom is great. Like the mountain range you imagined, it spreads across the land. We have lived in peace for generations. Our people thrive and are happy. That being said, they must see me wed. Although my first quest to Black Wood was not in search of a bride, seeing you prompted me to ask of the possibility of a princess in your realm. If she is only half as beautiful as you and can compose a letter half as interesting, then she must be magnificent.
Your candor regarding her bloodline is appreciated. I would still very much like to meet her. I ask again that you take my letter to the king. The first letter, that is. The words written on these pages are for you alone.
Please do not fear me. I am not evil, and my intentions are pure.
Your queen is blessed to have a lady of your quality. My mother would appreciate your excellence. I am certain your queen does as well.
With heartfelt sincerity,
Sebastian, Prince of Basilia
Olivia’s eyes returned to the words, if she is only half as beautiful as you and can compose a letter half as interesting, then she must be magnificent.
She read them over and over again. Her throat dried, yet her eyes once again filled with moisture.
She clutched the letter to her bosom. Sebastian considered her beautiful and interesting. Perhaps it had been wrong to mislead him about her identity, but it had seemed like a wise idea. After all, he was a stranger and presumably an evil thing from the outside world.
Neither her heart, nor her mind could rest. She dreamed of the ocean he described and the beautiful setting sun sparkling on the water.
His words painted such a beautiful picture that she easily imagined it. Her vision went beyond the waning day. She envisioned Sebastian holding her hand, and the two of them walking along the ocean’s edge, cooling their feet in the salty water.
Her feelings for Donovan never came close to those currently residing within her. Somehow, she and Sebastian were tied together.
Like minds—like hearts.
It made little sense that he still wished to meet the princess—her—after knowing of her poor bloodline. Would he consider a bride of such low degree?
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Her heart rested in her parched throat.
She hopped from the bed, crossed the cold floor, and poured a glass of water. She could have called for Daisy, but wanted to be alone. Besides, Daisy was a heavy sleeper. A sign of her immaturity and the poor judgment on the part of Olivia’s mother for selecting her to serve in such a capacity.
The sun would rise again soon enough. Olivia would make another attempt to speak to her father, and if he remained too ill—as much as she dreaded it—she would go to her mother.
If Sebastian’s words were true, then Olivia had nothing to fear regarding the exchange of arrows.
A burst of energy overwhelmed her. She hurried to her writing table to compose another letter.
Sebastian had mentioned God. She hoped he believed in the same God she worshipped. If so, he might prove to be trustworthy. She closed her eyes, said a prayer, then dipped her quill.
* * *
Another rainy day. Worse than the previous one.
Olivia woke to rumbling thunder. It shook the entire castle.
“Your Highness!” Daisy beat on the door.
Olivia jerked upright. “Enter.”
Daisy had a tendency to stare at the floor, but when Olivia cleared her throat, the girl’s head popped right up. She nervously wrung her hands. “The queen wants to see you.”
“Is it Father?” Olivia threw back her covers and jumped from the bed.
“I—I don’t know. She said for you to come to her at once.” Daisy took Olivia in from head to foot, then, with reddened cheeks, shifted her eyes downward again.
Olivia’s sheer nightgown left little to one’s imagination, but being female herself, it should not have mattered to Daisy. Another indication of her immaturity.
“Go to the queen and tell her I will be there momentarily.” Olivia dismissed Daisy with a wave of her hand, then froze. Her stomach twisted. Was she becoming like her mother?
“Daisy,” she said as the girl placed her hand on the door latch, “thank you for your message.”
Daisy turned and smiled. “Yes, Your Highness.”
Olivia smiled in return, then the girl scampered away. Something had to be done about this situation. Daisy needed to be returned to her family.
“Why are there so many matters to tend?” Olivia muttered as she dressed. Her small kingdom should not harbor such great troubles.
She glanced at the writing table, and her heart skipped a beat. She had left the letter out to fully dry before rolling and fastening it to the arrow. This letter was much bolder than the first, and she hoped this time he would listen to her and follow her instructions. Yet, from her short span of experience with him, she knew he was not a man accustomed to being told what to do.
After securing the letter, she placed it safely under her blankets, then hurried down the corridor to her mother’s chamber.
Olivia found her lying in bed with her three ladies by her side. Only Lady Eloise managed a fan. Lady Margaret dipped a cloth into a water basin. She handed it to Rosalie, who placed it over the queen’s forehead.
“Keep your distance, Your Highness,” Rosalie said. “As you can see, the queen lies ill.”
“Mother?” Olivia held back tears. She took a step closer, but Rosalie held up her hand.
“Please, Highness.” Rosalie’s brows dipped together. “We cannot risk your life as well.”
Dutifully, Rosalie and the other ladies stood right beside Olivia’s mother, endangering their lives for the sake of tending her needs. Being with child made matters worse for Rosalie. Not only did she threaten her own life but that of the unborn baby.
“Olivia,” her mother rasped. “Sit at the foot of my bed so we might speak.”
Her mother made no effort to dismiss the ladies. Olivia would not consider talking to her in regard to Donovan and Dane in their presence. This situation had become dire in more ways than one.
Olivia moved a chair to the base of the royal bed and sat. “How did this happen, Mother?”
Lady Margaret wiped tears from her eyes. “She lay with the king last night.”
“Silence.” Olivia’s mother spoke firmly, even in her weakened condition.
Lady Margaret nodded and pinched her lips shut.
Olivia looked from one to the other. She pitied Lady Margaret for being scolded, but needed to focus her attention on her mother. “How did you get past the guards?”
“I threatened them.” Her mother breathed heavily and closed her eyes. “I am their queen. They know well not to cross me.”
Olivia did not possess the same ability. Perhaps she would never be respected as queen.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “How is Father?”
Her mother’s eyes inched open. “The same. We shall likely perish.”
Olivia stared at her. “Do not say such a thing. I have no doubt your illness shall pass.”
“Are you now a healer?”
“No.” Olivia folded her hands on her lap. “We have seen fever before. Death is not always imminent.”
“I fear evil has returned to Padrida. When we pass, you will be queen. My dying wish is for you to name a suitor.”
Tempted to scream, Olivia tightened her hands into fists. “You are not going to die!”
“Stop acting like a child and obey my commands.” Her mother eased upright in her bed and motioned for Rosalie to place pillows behind her back.
It took several deep breaths for Olivia to regain her composure. “Yes, Mother.”
She refused to believe her mother’s illne
ss could be fatal. And it did not appear to be the same sickness that nearly destroyed Padrida long ago. If it were, her mother would be in horrible pain and acting crazed. Though occasionally her behavior could be considered such, yet that particular fault in her character was typical. Not something brought on by disease.
Olivia mustered some courage. “What would you have me do, Mother?”
The woman’s eyes drooped, but she managed to meet Olivia’s gaze. “Name Donovan as your suitor.”
Had she heard her mother correctly? Maybe she had indeed gone mad. Why else would she make such a request?
Olivia looked up at Rosalie, whose eyes widened, horror stricken. Her head shook back and forth, out of the queen’s view.
Olivia would not entertain the idea. “Mother, you are not thinking clearly.” She tried to keep calm. “Have you so easily forgotten how he shamed me? Father sent him away—”
“Hush.” Her mother silenced her with a hand in the air. “Donovan will not soon forget your father’s heavy hand. Yes, you were shamed, as was he. He was not the first man Justine led to her bed. I should have dismissed the harlot years ago. You must not blame him for the indiscretion. It was all her doing.”
Olivia knew better. And if the Lady Margaret was allowed to speak, the truth would be made known. Her downcast eyes were evidence of her disapproval. Rosalie appeared as if she might be sick, but Eloise remained expressionless, fanning all the while.
“But. Mother . . .”
“Stop.” Again, the hand. “Grant my request. I was justly angry with him, but that has passed. He paid for his indiscretion. Name him.”
Rosalie took a step back and vigorously shook her head.
“Name him,” her mother repeated, rising up even higher in the bed. Her eyes pierced Olivia like a dagger to the heart.
Her mind whirled. Though naming him as suitor did not guarantee she would choose to marry him, however, everyone in the kingdom would expect them to unite. Naming him could very well lead to her accidental death. Perhaps, once she became queen, she could find the means to put him in his place before he ever harmed her. Even so, marrying him would allow him in her bed. Something she doubted she could endure.
Rosalie’s chin quivered and she placed her hands protectively over her belly.
“He loves me not,” Olivia whispered.
“Oh, but he does.” Her mother blinked several times. Slower than ever.
Perhaps her thoughts were on the feelings shared between herself and the baker, not those between Olivia and Donovan. The relationship between their parents surely had something to do with her mother’s reasoning.
Olivia fumbled over what to say. “But—”
“Enough!” The outburst from her mother made her jump. “Name him and let me die in peace!”
Olivia lowered her head, then placed both hands over her heart. “On one condition.”
“What?” The hateful way she asked, knotted Olivia’s belly.
“If I name him . . .” The air thickened around them, and it was all Olivia could do to continue speaking. “Allow Rosalie to leave your service and marry Dane. It was their intention prior to your summons.”
More wide-eyed than ever, Rosalie silently waved her hands and shook her head.
“Hmm . . .” Olivia’s mother shifted her body and looked at Rosalie, who immediately froze. “I know not what she sees in him. He is too much like his mother. A simpleton.” She faced Olivia again. “However, I agree to your terms. Now, name him.”
Olivia shut her eyes and pictured Sebastian. Her mind revisited his letters and their beautiful words. She could never have him, and it appeared she had no choice whatsoever in whom she would be allowed to love. Yet, she would gladly sacrifice herself for Rosalie and her unborn child.
“Your Majesty.” Olivia stood and pulled her shoulders back. “I wish to name Donovan as my suitor. I shall go to the scribe to draft the documents.”
Rosalie whimpered and Lady Margaret slapped a hand to her mouth.
“Very well.” Olivia’s mother smiled and scooted down under her covers. “Now, leave me and carry out your task. Tell the guards Donovan is to be allowed in the castle.”
“And Dane?”
With a curled upper lip, her mother waved a hand at Rosalie. “Go to him. I release you. You are certain to have an abundance of unintelligent offspring.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Rosalie blubbered, then curtsied and sped toward the door.
As she passed Olivia, Rosalie whispered, “I’m sorry,” but vanished before Olivia could reply.
At least someone would be happy.
Not so for Olivia. She had made a pledge that could not be broken. And though she doubted her mother would die, the words had been spoken. Pledges were not taken lightly, especially when made by a royal.
Her mother’s anger toward Donovan had been short-lived. Olivia knew her father would disapprove. She believed her mother had used his illness to overstep him. While he lay ill, she made an act of atonement to her true love. The baker.
After a respectful curtsy, Olivia followed in Rosalie’s footsteps. She would wait until the evening meal had ended, then go to the wall and shoot her arrow, praying Sebastian could help.
Now, more than ever, he alone gave her hope.
Chapter 16
Olivia sat alone once again at the head table.
Nervous whispers arose from every corner of the room. Her people needed reassurance, so she sat tall and proud, bearing an air of confidence. Never again would she allow herself to think they spoke poorly of her. Even if they did, she knew the truth and had nothing to be ashamed of.
For the first time in her life, she felt a bit like a queen. Her people needed to know they were not without leadership, regardless that her parents lay ill.
When a wary eye caught hers, she smiled as if nothing was amiss. Their expression instantly softened, lifting her self-assurance even more.
Lady Eloise and Lady Margaret remained with the queen. At the end of the long table to Olivia’s right, Rosalie took a seat, and Dane sat beside her. Though he beamed, when Rosalie met Olivia’s gaze, she smiled briefly, nodded, then frowned.
Olivia would make a point to arrange a private meeting. As a friend, she would reassure her that she did not regret her choice, and insist Rosalie and Dane live a long happy life together with many gifted children.
All eyes in the room turned when Donovan strutted in. He held his head high and kept one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
Olivia held her breath as he crossed the floor and stood before her.
He bowed low, then rose up and grinned. From beneath his cloak, he produced a rose. “With all my love.” He stepped forward and laid it on the table in front of her.
She forced a smile, but could not bring herself to pick it up. Even so, uproarious applause filled the room.
He dipped his head, then pivoted toward the crowd and splayed his arms. Once the hand clapping died down, he took a seat beside Dane.
Her people blindly loved Donovan, just as she once had.
She could not eat a bite, focused only on leaving the room and getting her letter to Sebastian. Unless she could find another way to right all the wrongs in her kingdom, Sebastian might be her only means of help.
At least this time, with her father absent, he could not insist she stay in the dining hall. She pushed aside her plate and walked out of the room. No one would stop her, and the sooner she got to the wall, the better.
Rain beat down from above, instantly dampening her gown. She held her bow in one hand, lifted her skirt with the other, and ran across the courtyard. The slick ground nearly caused her to lose her footing, but she made it through the field and to the wall.
The sun would not set for another full hour, yet the sky had grown dark, covered in clouds. Lightning flashed far off and thunderous rumbles reverberated in her ears. She doubted Sebastian would be out in the rain, but when she peered over the canyon, she saw him.
“Sebastian!” she screamed with all her might.
He waved, then looked upward, raised his hands to the sky and shrugged. He, too, was soaked to the skin.
Since she had his attention, she raised her bow. He hastened into the trees. If his friend was anywhere close, Olivia believed he would stay well hidden, but would watch every move she made.
The letter had to make it across. Hopefully, the rain would not ruin it.
She drew back hard and let the arrow fly.
“Olivia?”
She gasped.
Her heart stopped.
Donovan’s hand rested on her shoulder.
She whipped around and faced him, making every attempt to keep his eyes from Sebastian.
“Donovan?” She smiled warmly. “What are you doing out here?”
“I should ask the same of you. Archery in the rain? Not wise, my love.” He lightly touched her cheek and stepped closer. His words of endearment sickened her.
“I . . . I wanted to see if I could . . . shoot it to the other side.” She stumbled over her words.
“And did you?” He peeked around her shoulder.
Her heart thumped. She prayed Sebastian had seen she was not alone and remained hidden in the trees.
She followed Donovan’s gaze.
“Hmm . . .” he muttered. “I believe your arrow pierced the side of the cliff.”
Having not brought her spyglass, she squinted toward where he pointed. The arrow protruded from the ledge about three feet below the edge.
Her heart sank.
Donovan placed a hand on her side. “It was an exceptional shot, though the waste of a good arrow. What compelled you to come out in the rain?” He kept looking across the canyon.
She needed to get him away from the wall. “You always said I was a foolish girl,” she whispered in his ear.
He faced her and grinned, then looked away, brows weaving. “I swear I saw movement in the trees.”
“Who is being foolish now?” she cooed.
She took his face in her hands and kissed him, drawing him close.
He responded with fervor and deepened the kiss. His hands circled her waist and the heat of his body made her forget the rain.
“Olivia,” he rasped. “I can give you pleasure beyond your finest dreams.”
