Contents
Copyright
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
Fairy Tale Kingdoms
Newsletter
About the Author
Audette of Brookraven
The Eldentimber Series, Book 4
Copyright © 2016 by Shari L. Tapscott
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Editing by Patrick Hodges and Z.A. Sunday
Cover Design by Shari L. Tapscott
Cover Photography - © olenakucher/Fotolia
To Mom
Thank you for being my first and most devoted fan
CHAPTER ONE
Milly rushes through the chamber door and shuts it swiftly behind her. “I can’t find it, Audette. Not anywhere.”
Careful not to wrinkle my gown, I stand. “I must have it.”
My lady-in-waiting shrugs, looking both helpless and harried.
“If she can’t find it, Audette, there’s not much we can do,” Barowalt says. “Did you remember to bring it?”
“Of course I brought it!” I whirl toward my brother, and my long train catches around my ankles.
I remember packing the ring. I wrapped it and placed it in a leather pouch, and it went right in the trunk.
My brother places his hands on my wrists. “You’re working yourself up over this. But I wonder…is it the ring?” He pauses, uncomfortable. “Or something else?”
There’s a sadness burrowed in my core, a constant nagging ache that I’ve managed to lock away for the last six months. But Barowalt’s right. This day—my wedding, is causing it to rise to the surface.
“I miss them,” I whisper, feeling weak for saying it out loud. “She was supposed to be here for this.”
Barowalt’s face contorts, and he crushes me into a hug. Tears sting my eyes, but I fight them back.
“I’m here,” he says fiercely, and then he pulls back, his hands firm on my upper arms. “We’re strong, you and I. Our family is strong. With or without Mother’s ring, you will walk down that aisle, graceful and sure, and you will do credit to the family name.” Softer, he says, “They would be so proud of you.”
Gathering from his strength, I nod.
He’s right.
But I can’t help but think that if that idiot betrothed of mine could have found a bride of his own in a reasonable period of time, I wouldn’t be standing here today.
I haven’t seen Irving since we were children, but I’ve heard rumors. But then, who hasn’t heard rumors about the Prince of Primewood? They’re so numerous, a person is bound to stumble on at least one or two.
There’s a knock at the door, and I blink the last of my tears away. My lady’s maid, Ella, has been sitting quietly in the corner, calmly embroidering a handkerchief. Now she rushes to answer the door.
Her Majesty, the Queen of Primewood, sweeps into the room. Her eyes, too, are bright with tears.
“Audette,” she says, and then she pulls me into her arms.
I close my eyes, overcome again. Not only is the queen my future husband’s mother, but she was my mother’s dearest friend. Those memories threaten to take me over the edge.
“You are beautiful,” she whispers. When she draws back, she hastily dabs tears from her eyes. “You look so much like Calla.”
Drawing in a deep, fortifying breath, I smile. “Thank you.”
She brushes her hand over my hair. “Your mother and I dreamed of this day together, but I never dared hope it would truly come to pass.”
Guilt eats at me. She’s so happy, and I’m…less than happy.
After another embrace, she slips out the door.
I turn to Barowalt and Milly and wave my hand over my face, blinking back tears. “I’m never this emotional. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
Milly’s face softens, and she says, “It’s your wedding—”
“Self-pity,” Barowalt interrupts.
Scowling, Milly turns on my brother, not caring a bit that he’s her king. “What a heartless thing to say.”
I sit and let out a slow breath. “No, he’s right.”
This marriage alliance teetered on top of so many contingencies, it’s ridiculous that it’s come to pass. But it was a promise made between our mothers, something our overly indulgent fathers granted them. When I turned twenty, if Irving hadn’t found a bride, and if I hadn’t yet fallen in love, we would be wed.
My twentieth birthday was last week. Irving hasn’t chosen a bride, and, sadly, I’ve never been in love.
I can’t break my mother’s promise.
A sense of resolve settles over me, and the tears pass. I rise, already feeling stronger, and head toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Milly asks, aghast.
“To find my ring.”
She sets her hands on her hips, and she blinks at me with hazel eyes. “You can’t roam the halls in your wedding gown!”
I eye her. We’re just about the same size.
“You’re right,” I say. “Trade dresses with me.”
As Milly assaults me with a string of protests, Barowalt raises his hand to his temples, looking harried. Seeing my knightly, stoic brother overcome with wedding troubles finally makes me smile.
Barowalt gives me a wry look, but there’s relief in his eyes. I hate that he’s worried about me. He doesn’t like the rumors any more than I do.
“I’ll step out,” he says. “Milly, give her your dress.”
She meets his eyes, her expression calm, but fire brims just under the surface. “I will not put on Audette’s wedding gown.”
Barowalt steps toward her, and their eyes lock. “You will, my lady, because I have asked you to do so.”
Narrowing her eyes, she pokes him in the chest. “I liked you better before you became king.”
A knowing smile graces his face, and then he steps into the hall.
I grin at Milly’s irritation and motion to her gown. “All right. Hand it over.”
***
Primewood’s castle is much larger than Palace Brookraven, and I’m afraid I’ve lost my way. The wedding will begin any moment, and I have no idea where I am.
My mother’s ring is on my finger, though. That’s something.
Half-running, I turn a corne
r and smack right into someone. I yelp and try to step back. “I’m so sorry—” I begin, but the words die in my throat.
The man’s hands are on my shoulders, steadying me, and he laughs under his breath. “Don’t be. It’s the best thing that’s happened to me all day.”
I blink at him, flummoxed. The edge of his mouth quirks up in a smile that’s more than a little mischievous, and his dark brown eyes are bright with humor.
To my horror, my stomach flutters.
I yank away, irritated with myself and the shameful way I’m reacting to a stranger in the hall—a stranger who is not my intended. “Please, excuse me.”
The man gently catches me as I try to brush past him. “I’ve never seen you before. You must have come with the Brookraven court.”
His hair is fair and blond, and he has the look of a man who’s just leaped off a horse. Though he was in as much of a hurry as I, he lingers, holding my arm.
I raise my eyebrow. “Yes. I am, in fact, from the Brookraven court.”
“I’ve just seen your princess.” The light in his eyes morphs to boredom. “She’s lovely.”
Seen the princess? He must mean Milly.
I almost laugh.
“She is,” I agree, speaking of my friend and not myself. Then I pointedly look at his fingers, which are still on my arm.
He ignores me and absently shakes his head. “I thought it would be easier to have the decision made for me. But now I’m not sure.”
My stomach clenches at his words, and I tilt my head, studying him. “Who are you?”
Our eyes meet, and that smile returns.
“You don’t know me?” he asks.
“Should I?”
He seems to miss the chill in my voice, and he looks at the ornate ceiling as if studying it. “I’m Irving of Primewood. At your service, my lady.”
It’s him. The man I’m going to pledge my life and allegiance to in mere moments.
“Most men bow during an introduction,” I say, my thoughts jumbling and swirling.
He steps closer, and though the flutters increase, my irritation overwhelms the sensation.
“If I were to let you go,” he says. “You’d run away.”
I jerk my arm hard, and this time, he lets his hand drop. He gives me a mystified look as if he’s actually startled I don’t want his hands on me.
“The Princess of Brookraven would be most unpleased if she saw the way you are behaving right now,” I say. The anger grows, making my voice increasingly hard.
This man is supposed to be marrying me in moments, and yet he sees no harm in flirting with a random woman from his betrothed’s court.
Irving laughs and steps forward as if he thinks he can soothe my nerves. “I doubt she’ll hold a friendly conversation against me.”
Milly might not. I certainly will.
I push past him.
“Wait.” He jogs to catch up with me. “I’ve upset you. I’m sorry.”
Shaking my head, I ignore him and continue on. He catches my hand, and the contact startles me enough I stop.
There’s still a smile on his face, but his eyes are troubled. “Tell me, lovely-girl-wandering-the-halls, do you believe that everyone has one true love? That if you’ve fallen for someone, you’ll never find it again?”
“I don’t believe in love at all.”
It’s a lie, but he doesn’t question my answer.
He closes his eyes, and his mask of flippancy drops for just a moment, revealing turmoil underneath. “My love was married at the beginning of the summer. I don’t know how I’ll ever move past it.” He shakes his head. “How can I marry your princess when I don’t know if I’ll ever feel anything for her?”
“You had years to ask this girl to marry you,” I snarl, disconcerted that he’s this close. “Perhaps if you weren’t so busy flitting from one woman to another, you wouldn’t have missed your chance.”
Startled by my curt answer, Irving raises an eyebrow. “She’s a gypsy.” He meets my eyes again and steps closer. “And I did ask—she refused.”
He still has my hand, and I try to shift away. “Let me go.”
Irving studies me, and that glimmer of pain is forgotten, hidden now under sparkling eyes. “You know that moment you meet someone and your breath catches in your chest? You lay eyes on them, and your stomach twines itself in knots?”
My stomach is knotting right now.
“No,” I lie.
“I haven’t felt that for two years. Two.” He shakes his head. “Not since Rosie. And I had hoped…”
Despite my better judgment, I say, “Hoped what?”
He rubs his free hand over his temples, much like Barowalt did earlier. “That I would open that door, and the princess would be there…” He sighs. “And she’d be the one. The one to bring it back.”
“She wasn’t?” I whisper.
He shakes his head, torn, and then his eyes focus on mine. “But you…”
Overcome, I grow warm. My hand is still trapped in his, and for some illogical reason, I want to step closer.
But everything he’s saying is wrong. He’s promised to me, but he doesn’t know who I am.
I could be anyone.
And rumor has it he’s very good.
“Let me go,” I say again.
“Tell me your name, and I will,” he promises.
Shaking my head, I refuse.
A cocky smile spreads over his face, making him look more handsome, if possible. “Then leave me with the memory of what it feels like to kiss someone I want to kiss.”
I yank my hand from his, ready to slap him, but he catches it before I can raise it, and he twines his fingers through mine.
Something about the sensation makes me pause, and, momentarily, my reason flees.
“Beautiful-girl-in-the-hall-who-won’t-tell-me-her-name, grant me a kiss,” Irving says. “Leave me with one last fond memory.”
He leans in, that smile growing. When I don’t immediately resist, he backs me to the wall and pins me in. Gently, he holds our clasped hands next to my head against the stone.
“You don’t have to look so torn. I’m not married yet,” he murmurs, and his breath tickles my lips. Then he pauses, his eyes teasing. “You’re not married, right? I accidentally stumbled down that road once, and it didn’t end well.”
He’s such a scoundrel. I’ve never met anyone so awful, so detestable…so wrongly appealing.
“Not for another few minutes,” I breathe. My bottom lip brushes against his as I say the word, and I gulp.
Irving hesitates and pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes. “Another few…minutes?”
I’m about to answer, to admit who I am, when he’s suddenly ripped away.
Barowalt stands over Irving, seething. My brother towers over him, and though the prince of Primewood is built of strong, lean muscle, my brother is a mountain.
Irving’s eyes go wide as he takes in the crest stitched in white on my brother’s burgundy tunic—the Unicorn of Brookraven. He pulls away from Barowalt, indignant.
“I believe you have a wedding to get to,” Barowalt snarls, his anger only thinly veiled.
Ignoring my brother, Irving looks at me, a question in his eyes. His thoughts are displayed in his expression; his confusion is written plainly across his face. But what really makes my heart clench is the hope I see there. The hope that I might somehow be the princess. His betrothed.
Taking me by the arm, Barowalt leads me away. Unable to help myself, I glance back.
No one has ever looked at me like that before.
We round the corner, and I pull away from my brother. “Barowalt—” I’m cut off by a female voice coming from the hall we just exited.
“Irving!”
Unable to help myself, I peek back around the corner.
A pretty young blond woman with bouncing curls hollers again from the opposite end of the hall. She’s carrying a plump baby on her hip, but she runs toward Irving. She’s obvious
ly not happy.
“Where have you been?” the woman demands.
“Anwen,” Irving says, and a huge grin lights his face.
There’s so much affection in his voice when he says her name, a jolt of jealousy courses through me.
He takes the baby and coos at her. “How’s my beautiful girl?”
I go cold. Surely it’s not…it can’t be his…
They don’t keep mistresses in Primewood. Vernow, yes. Murin, possibly. But not here.
Do they?
The girl clasps her hands together. “You’re late. Your mother is frantic, and your father is speaking of disinheriting you.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “People are saying you’ve left the princess at the altar.”
He hands the baby back, and then, his voice reassuring, he says, “Father’s all bluff. It’s not the first time he’s threatened it, and I doubt it will be the last.”
“I know you don’t want to go through with this,” the woman says, “but there is a girl in there, waiting for you. Like it or not, you are getting married today.” She looks near livid. “Irving, for once in your life, you’re going to do the right thing.”
With my heart in my throat, I round the corner, stepping back into the hall where they’re speaking.
Startled, Irving jerks his eyes toward me. He looks…guilty.
Anwen glances our way. With a forced smile, she acknowledges me and my brother. Her eyes drift to Barowalt first, and then she pales when she sees the crest. Her eyes widen, and she looks like she might pass out.
“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice small. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Anwen of Glendon.” She gives a hesitant curtsy. “How do you do?”
Barowalt gives her a curt nod but otherwise ignores her. He casts a last, loathing glance at Irving, and then wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me back around the corner.
I feel strangely numb. I don’t want to marry Irving. What would make me think he’d want to marry me? And why do I care?
We reach the chambers that were given to me to prepare myself for the wedding, and Barowalt ushers me through the door.
“I don’t like that man,” Barowalt growls.
Still in my wedding gown, Milly stands. She’s relieved to see us, but at my brother’s harsh words, she freezes. “What’s happened?”
Audette of Brookraven (The Eldentimber Series Book 4) Page 1
