“Perhaps you can help me make the best of the dreary situation in which I find myself, Highness,” the baron said, finishing off his wine and waving a servant over to take the empty glass. “Would you be so gracious as to honor me with a dance?” He inclined his head and extended his hand to her.
“I don’t dance well, my lord,” she answered quickly. “And my father said I should stay here out of the way.”
“Nonsense, Your Highness. There is no need for a beautiful young woman like you to hide back here like a servant. Come dance with me. I assure you the king won’t mind.”
Not knowing what else to do, Pepca reluctantly took the baron’s hand. It was cold and dry, but softer than she imagined. He led her to the center of the dance floor. She saw that her mother and father had caught sight of her dance partner, and both wore disapproving frowns.
Another waltz began, and the baron took hold of her in the traditional manner. As they began to move, Pepca felt her feet leave the floor. The baron gracefully whirled around the ballroom floor holding her just high enough that her toes couldn’t touch the floor. Pepca found herself staring into his eyes. Descending into his gaze, she felt as if she had been stripped bare and plunged into a cold dark lake. Growing lightheaded, she started to tremble as Baron Serban spun her round and round. The people in the room became brightly-colored blurs as they gracefully twirled among the other dancers.
He began to whisper in her ear. His voice was soft and level, but she could feel the power in it. “I know no one in the palace pays attention to you. They let you flutter around the grounds, never caring about how you spend your days, giving no relevance to what you might be doing or who your speaking with. Let me assure you that I’m not as indifferent as the king and queen to your activities. I have taken a great interest in how you’ve been spending your time, Princess Pepca.”
She wanted to stop dancing, but her body would not move, and she could not take her eyes away from the baron’s knowing gaze.
“Tell me what you know of the rebels, Highness?”
“I know nothing,” she heard herself say in a very small voice.
“Don’t be afraid. I already know you have been a very naughty girl. I won’t hold it against you if you just tell me the names of those who are disloyal to the throne of Trimenia. It will feel good to unburden your soul.”
She tried to hold it in, but she could feel the truth being torn from her throat. “Julian,” she choked out.
“This Julian, does he work in the palace?”
She tried to bit her lip to keep from saying the words, but it was useless.
“He is a groom in the royal stables.”
“His full name, Pepca. Quickly now, child.”
“Julian Krislav,” she whimpered.
“Are there any others, my dear?”
“I don’t know.” Her head was about to explode. Sharp pain stabbed through her brow as she struggled to resist. He squeezed her hard and the pain grew worse. “Do you know the names of any other rebels? Answer me, Princess.”
“Julian is the only one,” she said, tears dripping from her eyes.
“And what do they plan to do?”
“Kill you, I think.”
“Ah, I see, and when is this assassination to take place?”
“Tonight,” she moaned, nearly throwing up her dinner.
He pushed her head against his chest and stroked her hair. “There, there, don’t you feel better now?”
The music stopped and he spun her to a stop. Releasing her, he began to clap along with the rest of the guests. “Thank you for the dance, Your Highness. It was quite informative.”
Pepca swayed and put her hand to her head. Staggering off the dance floor, she found herself leaning against the wall. What had she said? Pepca tried to remember, but she was dizzy and her thoughts were jumbled. Had she just betrayed Julian? She thought she heard someone calling her name, then her vision grew dark.
For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. Pepca’s head was still foggy and there was a nagging pressure behind her eyes. The ball, the baron…what had happened? It flooded back to her, from the accident with the servant to the dance with Baron Serban. Casting a glance around the room, her eyes settled on Dimitri. He was sitting in the chair at her dressing table across from her, half-hidden by the shadow of her wardrobe. When he saw she had awoken, he moved to her bedside and sat down next to her. “How’s your head?”
She reached up and felt a large, egg-shaped knot on the back of her head. “It hurts. What happened? The last thing I remember was getting dizzy and trying to find a place to sit down.”
Dimitri took a deep breath and moved to the window near the head of her bed, pulling the drapes back and flooding the room with sunlight. “Well, after you and the baron dazzled everyone with your waltz, you passed out,” he said, staring blankly out the window. “Mother insisted that you had been sampling the wine, and while everyone was engrossed with your loss of consciousness, there was an attempt on the baron’s life.”
Pepca blinked and sat up higher in bed. Julian and the rebels had really done it. “Were they successful? Is Serban dead?”
Dimitri shook his head with a frown. “No, they failed. While everyone was involved with you, three rebels dressed as servants attacked him. The baron killed one of them himself with a quick dagger thrust. The royal guard subdued the other two. Father has the survivors locked up in the upper dungeon.”
She frantically threw her blankets off and awkwardly scooted out of bed. “Who was it? Who did they kill?”
Her brother gave her an uneasy look. “I don’t know the name of the rebel who was killed. The only one I recognized was that groom Julian, you know, the orphan boy father hired four or five years ago. He was one of them.”
“Was he hurt?” she blurted out.
Dimitri’s eyes narrowed. “Pepca, did you have something to do with this? Serban all but accused you before he left the palace last night, and it sounds as if he might be right. Father is speaking with King Mayson downstairs in the private chambers right now. He has bid me to bring you to him. Tell me you aren’t in league with the rebels?”
“I… I…” She couldn’t think of an answer and she had always been a terrible liar.
Dimitri scowled. “How could you do this, Pepca? I know Baron Serban is a scourge on Trimenia, but to help the rebels? They are just as much a menace to the sovereignty of the kingdom as he is. You can’t trade one foe for another.”
Tears formed in her eyes, more from frustration than being caught. “Someone has to do something, Dimitri. The kingdom will be lost if we don’t try to stop him. If Serban was gone, there would be no rebellion.”
“You don’t know that.” The prince slapped the windowsill. “I have been pressing Father to put the baron in his place, even if he has to do it by force of arms, but using the rebels to do it is out of the question. They are traitors.”
She pulled on her pants and worn boots. Slipping an old white shirt over her head, Pepca shook out her long curls. “They are our people and they suffer unjustly, and I was trying to help father. I think he is afraid of Baron Serban. Julian and the other rebels aren’t. Maybe they are who you should be talking to.”
Dimitri waved his hands to stop her assertions. “Let’s say you’re right and they just want Serban gone. The rebels still should have thought of another way besides involving a princess of Trimenia. Their hasty actions only succeeded in getting them captured and you accused of treason.”
“They didn’t involve me; I volunteered. The people hate us and they blame Father for their plight as much as Serban. Everyone thinks the rebellion is over but it’s not. This must end before more of our people are killed for one man’s evil.”
Dimitri’s brow furrowed as he paced her room until he slammed his fist down on her big dresser, shaking its beveled mirror. “My God, Pepca, I understand why you did this, but Father and Mother won’t. They have been made to look like fools, in front of the king and queen of Warmark no less. Fo
r the love of Heaven, when you go before Father, deny everything. Serban has no proof unless he can make one of the rebels talk. If the renegades keep your secret, the baron’s accusations will carry no weight. Father will not have you interrogated any further and drop the matter, if you keep your mouth shut.”
“What about the Julian?” Pepca said angrily. “He and the others do not deserve to be punished for trying to rid Trimenia of that snake.”
“I don’t give a damn about them,” Dimitri said, taking her face between his hands. “I am trying to save you. Besides, they have already been condemned. They are to be executed after dark.”
“Why after dark?” Pepca asked, pushing the prince’s hands off her cheeks.
“Serban said he wanted to be there when they were put to death but had pressing business to attend to till the evening, so Father set the execution to take place just after sundown. They are beyond helping now, even if I wanted to. It is you I am worried about, sister. You are in a great deal of trouble.”
She knew Dimitri was worried and was doing his best to help, though she didn’t think her father would hurt her, even to please the baron. Maybe this was her chance. If she forced her father’s hand to choose between her and the baron, he would finally have no choice but to stand up to the dreadful nobleman. “Everyone should know that devil for what he is. Father is a good man. Maybe if I admit to what I have done with no shame, he will stop being afraid of the tyrant. I don’t believe if he was put to the test, Father would ever find me guilty of treason.”
Dmitri took her by the shoulders. “Don’t be a fool, he won’t make that decision. It will be Serban who decides your fate. He holds some power over Father. I’m not even sure who truly rules the kingdom anymore.” The prince sighed and gently squeezed her shoulders. “Trimenia doesn’t need a martyr, Pepca. Just do what I say and claim you know nothing.”
“You think Father would let him execute me?” Hand shaking, Pepca pushed the hair out of her eyes.
“I don’t know and that’s enough reason to keep silent about what you have done. Now finish getting ready. It would be better if you face Father before Serban returns tonight.”
She nodded, fear and sadness slowly sinking into her heart. Did her father care so little for her that he would order her death? Pepca tucked in her shirt and quickly brushed her hair. “I’m ready,” she heard herself say with a shaky voice.
“Then let us go. Remember, say nothing.” Dimitri shook a finger at her.
She grabbed his arm, stopping him before he could open the door. “What if…?”
Her brother patted her cheek and gave her a forced smile. “I won’t let that happen. Now come.”
She took a deep breath and followed him out the door.
Once downstairs, the pair moved quickly. Passing through the great hall, Pepca caught sight of her mother speaking with Danika and Prince Henry. It was easy to see that Danika and Zaria were mother and daughter when they stood together. Danika had inherited her mother’s soft feature and light completion, even their height was similar.
When she spotted them, Queen Zaria hurried to cut them off. Danika followed, leading Henry by the hand and flanking their mother. “I hope you are pleased with yourself, wretched girl.” Her mother put her hands on her hips and sneered down at her. “Not only have you betrayed your country and your father, you have frightened Queen Breeda so badly, she no longer thinks it’s safe to have Danika and Henry’s wedding here. She wants to move it to Thessa, and with all the trouble here, your father and I would not even be able to attend the ceremony if it took place in Warmark’s capital.”
“Let Father find out what she has done before you place any blame. I’m sure Pepca is innocent of the wild accusations that have been hurled against her,” Dimitri said, giving Pepca a knowing look.
The queen’s eyes narrowed and her mouth turned into a snarl. “There is no doubt of her guilt after that little fainting spell she had last night. It was clearly a diversion to aid the rebels, and I don’t need to have your father’s permission to speak my mind. She has been a disgrace since the day I birthed her, and now she helps those who would destroy our house and usurp this very kingdom away from our family.”
Pepca shook her head feverishly. “That’s not true. I love you and Father. I would never do anything to hurt any of you.”
Zaria’s face twisted into a mask of rage and she slapped Pepca as hard a she could across the face. Her large, ornate rings busted her youngest daughter’s lip open. Pepca’s hand went to her cheek. The queen’s blow stung her face like fire, but her words hurt Pepca far worse.
“Your father and Baron Serban would be well disposed to lock you away forever, and I hope that’s just what they do,” the queen said, storming away with tears of anger streaming down her face.
Pepca wiped her bloody mouth with the back of her hand, tears rolling down her cheeks and stinging the cut on her lip.
Danika’s lip curled back and she wrinkled her nose. “I can’t believe you did this to Mother and Father, Pepca. You have hurt them terribly, not to mention what you’ve done to Henry and me.” She glanced at her prince. “I never would have believed you capable of treason.”
“You have a trusting nature, dear. It’s not your fault,” Henry remarked, patting Danika’s hand.
Danika politely ignored Henry’s observation and straightened her shoulders. “You’re not my sister anymore and I want nothing to ever do with you again.”
Pepca choked back a sob, feeling as if she was going to be sick.
“By God, that is enough,” Dimitri said. Her brother’s face had grown red with anger and his fists were clinched at his side. “Take your…prince and be off before I lose my temper.”
Danika ignored Dimitri’s threat and smirked at Pepca.
“I hope Father and Baron Serban decide to take off that ugly head of yours. It would do a great deal for the scenery around here.”
Dimitri put his finger on Henry’s chest. “Take your future wife from my sight or things will go bad for you.”
The Prince of Warmark looked down at Dimitri’s finger then at Danika. “Come, my dear, you have had enough of these people; I would not want you to belittle yourself by speaking to this traitor…or her defender,” Henry said with a note of disgust. Danika gave her one last contemptuous look and followed Henry out.
Unable to hold it in any longer, Pepca began to sob uncontrollably. Dimitri awkwardly put his arm around her and led her to one of the large tables in the great hall, gently sitting her down. “We will wait here till you are finished,” he whispered.
After she had her cry, Dimitri led her from the great hall and through the throne room. She brushed her hand across one of the four columns that helped to hold up the room’s vaulted ceiling and considered how regal the huge chamber was. The walls were covered in tapestries embroidered with the finest of thread by the queen’s own ladies, with a plush carpet of burgundy and black leading from the gilded doors to the dais. Rampant wolves had been woven into the rug’s design with golden thread and great care. Two beautiful chairs sat atop the small dais at the far side of the room. The centuries old pair of hand-carved thrones stood empty on the noble stage. Their high backs were topped with intricately shaped wolf heads, their faces fashioned into ferocious snarls by skilled craftsmen. The cushions were silk, dyed burgundy and stuffed with the softest down. Pepca remembered how the wild animal effigies of the king and queen’s thrones had frightened her as a small child. She stopped for a moment and looked up at the standard of Trimenia hanging above the dais—two rampant wolves in gold, one on each side of a black shield with a golden gauntlet in its center emblazoned on a field of burgundy. Her father had told her once that the banner symbolized the strength of the Trimenian people. Where was that strength now, she thought.
Dimitri motioned her through the door behind the dais and into a hall that led to the king’s private chamber. Two guardsmen stood outside its door, but said nothing as they passed inside.
> Much less ornate than the throne room, her father’s personal chamber was still lavish with its thick carpet and plastered walls. A large table dominated the room, surrounded by six heavy wooden chairs, and a pitcher of wine sat in the center of the table.
King Petru and King Mayson both sat with a goblet of the dark wine before them. Their conversation had ceased when she and Dimitri entered the room. Her father’s shoulders slumped and he lowered his gaze as Pepca came before him. King Mayson, on the other hand, wrinkled his nose and frowned as if something foul-smelling had been wafted beneath his large snout. The bald king rubbed his smooth head and rose from the table. “I’m sure you would like a bit of privacy, Petru, so I will excuse myself. We will speak again later.” Her father nodded his agreement. As King Mayson exited, the foreign monarch intentionally left a wide gap between himself and Pepca.
When the door closed, Pepca exhaled loudly. She hadn’t noticed she had been holding her breath.
“Dimitri, you may go,” the king said, waving his son away.
“I prefer to stay,” the prince declared.
“As you wish.” Their father frowned.
Glancing up at her brother, she gave him a guarded smile. She hoped Dimitri knew how grateful she was not to be alone.
“What happened to your lips?” the king asked, wagging his finger at her mouth.
“Mother slapped her,” Dimitri answered for her.
The king closed his eyes for a moment then sighed.
“Sit down, Pepca”
She sat and Dimitri stationed himself beside her. “I assume your brother told you what Baron Serban said about you?”
She nodded quickly.
“Good, then I want you to tell me the truth about last night. I will know if you are lying,” her father said calmly.
“I did nothing that would harm you or our country,” she said as sincerely as she could.
“That isn’t an answer, Pepca. I want to know if you had anything to do with the attempt on the baron’s life. Alexis’s account is quite clear; he said you admitted to him that you had been aiding the rebels. That is what I want an answer to.”
The Star Of Saree Page 4
