Courtly Masquerade

by Terry Spear

  Then a hand grasped my arm, and I swallowed a mouthful of water as I cried out in fright.

  CHAPTER 21

  When I opened my eyes, I was resting comfortably in my bedchambers at Foxmoor Castle—sick once again. I’d barely been sick a day in my life and now that I was a royal mage? I coughed heard movement beyond the curtained bed

  Cesil yanked the blue satin curtains aside and stared at me.

  “Cesil, what happened?” I croaked, barely without a voice.

  “Oh, my lady,” she said, frantically. “You are awake.” Then she dashed out of the bedchambers.

  I raised my brows as she disappeared.

  Moravia rushed in with a mug of hot tea and honey as the steam rose from it. “You have come to. Conlan is waiting desperately to see you.”

  “What happened?”

  Conlan tore into the room. For a second, he looked at me with respect, and didn’t move any closer. A gentleman wasn’t to visit a lady in her bedchambers when she wasn’t properly attired.

  He crossed the floor and took my hand, then kissed it. So much for being a gentleman.

  His blue eyes gazed at mine, the whole time with admiration. “Arabella,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. He glanced back at the doorway. When no one intruded, he leaned over and hugged me to his chest and kissed my eyes, cheeks, forehead, and then my lips with possessiveness and passion.

  I instantly worried I’d make him sick, but I couldn’t get a word out to warn him.

  A man cleared his throat at the doorway all of a sudden. Conlan quickly stepped away from the bed. He bowed low to King Leonid.

  My whole body warmed to know the man who had been my uncle, now my father, had seen Conlan affectionately kissing me, when the king would have forbidden it.

  Conlan’s cheeks colored slightly, embarrassed to get caught in the act.

  “Have you asked my daughter if she will marry you yet?”

  The tips of Conlan’s ears reddened. “I was about to, sire.”

  “You might do so before you get further carried away,” the king said. His voice sounded serious, but a hint of humor softened his dark brown eyes.

  “What has become of Duke Farthington?” I asked, my voice only a half a whisper. My mind was a bit foggy, too, and I wondered then why I didn’t ask first about the Dark One.

  “You have lost your voice with the chill you received from the Dark One’s lake,” the king said. “The duke has turned his army over to me and offered his allegiance.”

  “The Dark One,” I whispered.

  “Dead, my daughter. He drowned at your hand, and Prince Renault pulled you from the water.”

  “Conlan.” I reached my hand out to him.

  He smiled, then stepped forward and took my hand in his.

  I raised a brow. “You have something to say to me?”

  He knelt on one knee. “Would you be my bride, Princess Arabella?”

  “You do not ask this of me because I am ‘the one,’ do you?”

  His blue eyes sparkled with delight. “I indeed ask this because you are ‘the one,’ as in the one and only one for me. If I’m to have a pretty royal steal my purse I want her to be my wife so it will be hers to have in the first place.”

  “Only after you took mine,” I reminded him.

  He smiled. “For safekeeping.”

  “Did you pay for Dorian’s sacks of goose-down feathers?” I asked.

  “Most assuredly. You see, my dear lady, you have created a problem for me.” He stood, his face gravely serious. “We will have the most well defended kingdom of all time, but these people will need to be quartered. The feathers will make mattresses for their bedding.”

  I puzzled over his words, having not a clue as to what he was talking about.

  “Your illusionary army, Princess. They’re not illusionary at all. They’re very much real, like you or me. And as you are their commander, they await your orders. They won’t even let me back into my castle unless you say it is all right.”

  I chuckled, then tried to rise.

  “No, the king’s physician says you must stay in bed for another day or so. We’ll wed on the morrow and return to Crondor if you’re feeling well enough. Then you can take care of the army.”

  “And Prince Sumaria?”

  “My brother has turned over all of the mage’s artifacts to Benjorian and has vowed to live in peace.”

  “Duke Yalovon?”

  “Killed in battle. The Baroness DeChamplainet took her own life. Until the duke’s twin daughters can be wed, your father asked that you tutor them at Crondor.”

  So I would be their governess in a manner of speaking, after all. Only I would not have to live in hiding from Duke Farthington.

  I looked over at the king. “Father?” It felt odd calling the king that.

  “Yes, Daughter.”

  “Do you know who was behind my leaving here?”

  He nodded, his face grave. “Your sister, Lynet.”

  “And her punishment?”

  His lips turned up as crinkles appeared beneath his eyes. “She will become Duke Farthington’s wife. And she will ensure he doesn’t attempt to take up arms against me again.”

  I nodded, satisfied, wishing I could have heard what she’d said when the king, my father, and hers, had told her what she had to do. I smiled.

  “And for four years, she will wear your ‘favorite’ color of brown,” the king added, “so she will not be confused with you, Arabella, while you wear her favorite colors.”

  Only then did I notice I wore my mother’s lavender bed gown. Yet she hadn’t really been my mother, but my aunt. Still, she’d raised me like a daughter, and I would always remember her fondly as my mother. I sighed deeply.

  “Lynet didn’t want you, Conlan.” I smiled at him. “I’m so glad I was able to change your mind about wanting her.”

  “I’d only desired her to ensure King Leonid didn’t conduct war against us. But with you, I’d never expected to gain a tremendous army.”

  “So all I am to you is power? I knew it would come down to that.” I mockingly pouted.

  He leaned over and kissed me. “Indeed I desire your strength. Together...together, we shall rule.”

  “Do we have to wait until tomorrow to wed?” I squeaked as my traitorous voice dipped and dove, audible, then inaudible at times.

  “Yes,” Moravia, Conlan, and my father said unanimously.

  I smiled. “Then tomorrow shall be the beginning of the rest of my life.”

  I drew the cup of tea from Moravia’s hands with a grasp spell as everyone watched. Not only would I learn all about being Conlan’s wife, I had tons of spells I was itching to try out.

  But for now, I wished Conlan and I could be alone together. I twisted my brass ring and instantly, the room was cleared.

  Conlan looked down at my hand as I did. “A wishing ring? Hmmm, I can see how handy that can be.” Conlan drew close again. “Extremely handy when we want some time alone.”

  Why I had avoided wanting to be kissed before failed me now. But maybe...just maybe, it was that no one would have measured up to Conlan’s sweet touch.

  And now, it was time to make up for lost time.

  “I love you, Arabella.”

  “And I you, prince of my fairy tales, prince of my dreams,” I whispered back, just before he sealed my lips with one more kiss.

  ###

  About the Author:

  Award-winning author of urban fantasy and medieval historical romantic suspense, Heart of the Wolf named in Publishers Weekly's BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR, NOR Reader Choice for BEST PARANORMAL ROMANCE.

  Terry Spear also writes true stories for adult and young adult audiences. She’s a retired lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Army Reserves and has an MBA from Monmouth University and a Bachelors in Business and Distinguished Military Graduate of West Texas A & M. She also creates award-winning teddy bears, Wilde & Woolly Bears, to include personalized bears designed to commemorate authors’ books.
When she’s not writing or making bears, she’s teaching online writing courses.

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  http://www.terryspear.com/