Island in the Forest (Shrouded Thrones Book 1)

by Jeanne Hardt

  “I know,” she whispered. “I shall dream of our children.”

  Sebastian lifted his head. “What did you say?”

  “I love you.” She laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes.

  Chapter 39

  Sebastian wanted nothing more than to get the potential unpleasantness with his mother behind him and move on in his life with Olivia. Because of the slow movement of the carriage, their journey was taking longer than it should.

  He had been allowing numerous stops along the way, which also inhibited their progress. Even so, he would not deny Olivia her pleasure. She showed no signs of impatience, and the excited spark had not diminished from her eyes, yet she had grown weary.

  She lay across the carriage seat curled slightly into a ball. Her body had finally stilled after tossing about all night. The carriage was comfortable for riding in the daylight hours, but lacked room for sufficient sleep.

  The sun had barely risen, so he decided to allow her more rest before moving on.

  He crept out the door as quietly as he could and made his way to the campfire. Most of the men were awake and sat on the grass encircling the fire. Jonah was perched on a stump and looked up as he approached.

  “Are you hungry, sire?” Jonah waved a stick in the air.

  Yes, he was, but he had no appetite for the lump of charred whatever it might be on the end of Jonah’s stick. “What is that?” He pointed at the ugly mass.

  “Bread.” Jonah grinned and moved to the grass. “Have a seat.” He gestured to the stump.

  Sebastian gladly took it.

  Jonah passed over the roasted concoction, which Sebastian finally recognized as dough. The end closest to him appeared uncooked, but the tip had been burnt to a crisp. Nothing like Rosalie’s cinnamon bread. At least he had high hopes that by tomorrow night they would be feasting in Basilia.

  Jonah scooted closer. “Is the princess still sleeping?”

  “Yes.” Sebastian poked at the dough and managed to find a cooked, uncharred portion in the center. He popped it into his mouth.

  Jonah glanced around the circle of men. “A private word, Highness?”

  His wary eyes prompted Sebastian to stand. He nodded away from the campfire and Jonah followed.

  “Regarding Roderick,” Jonah whispered.

  Sebastian observed the men. Roderick seemed comfortable enough, leaning back on his elbows and talking to the man beside him. “Yes?” They were far enough away from them not to be heard, but Sebastian chose to keep his voice low, just as Jonah had.

  “You should know about the other day—when we left Padrida.”

  Since Jonah had given no report indicating something out of the ordinary, Sebastian had assumed everything had gone smoothly. Yet this was the first time he had not been with Olivia, allowing Jonah to speak freely. “Was there trouble?”

  “No. However, it took me a while to find him. He had strayed from the main road.”

  “Why? I assumed all Padridans feared Black Wood.”

  “As did I. When I finally came upon him, he was alone. Then, from the corner of my eye I caught movement in the trees.”

  Sebastian’s stomach knotted. “And . . .?”

  “He claimed to have been following a deer.”

  “Did you see any sign of it?”

  “No. He acted nervous, and I assumed I had caught him in a lie. He would not look me in the eyes. And then, he mounted his horse and apologized for lagging behind. I thought he had fallen from the animal. He has never been trained to ride and had difficulty from the start keeping his seat.”

  Sebastian considered everything Jonah said, and the worst of all possibilities hung at the forefront of his mind. He chose not to speak his thoughts, hating to think they might be true.

  “I know you well, Sebastian,” Jonah said. “You believe he spoke to Donovan.”

  Sebastian cringed, simply hearing the name. “Yes.” He guided Jonah even farther away from the campfire. “I swear Roderick killed Wittek to keep him from revealing Donovan’s plan. Wittek’s final words haunt me. I interpreted them to mean I should not trust Roderick—which, of course, I do not. Olivia saw Wittek standing solemnly at the baker’s funeral pyre. I feel he regretted freeing Donovan.”

  “And now that Roderick is in your service, perhaps he will lead you to him.”

  “I am counting on it.”

  Jonah placed his hand on Sebastian’s arm. “What if Donovan comes to Basilia?”

  “He would not dare. He knows the moment I see him, he is as good as dead.”

  Jonah’s brows rose to his hairline. “Your princess is awake.”

  Sebastian spun toward the carriage. Olivia stretched and yawned, and when she caught sight of him, she lit up with her infectious smile.

  “I will not allow him near her again,” Sebastian said under his breath.

  Jonah grunted. “Neither will I.”

  * * *

  Another beautiful day.

  Olivia reveled in the warmth of the morning sun. In a few short hours, they would approach Basilia. Though pleased their journey neared its end—and hopefully the wrench in her back along with it—fear of facing the queen offset her relief.

  In their final hours, Sebastian related descriptions of his sisters. All were fair-skinned, light-haired, and blue-eyed, and they all resembled their mother.

  Olivia poked Sebastian in the side. “So, what happened to you? Where are your fair features?”

  He grinned and shook his head. “I took after my father. You have seen him. Do you not agree?”

  “Yes, but I find it odd none of your sisters look like him.”

  “I assure you, we all have the same parents. Mother is no bedswerver and would never stray from my father.” He glanced out the window and smiled. “We are close.”

  Her resident butterflies returned. “Please tell me once more the names and ages of your sisters.”

  He held up one hand and pointed to each finger in turn. “Estelle is the eldest and is one and twenty. She is promised to Prince Eural of Oros. They will wed soon after you and I.”

  “Please. Only names and ages. I cannot begin to remember everything else with my nerves as they are.”

  “Very well. Becca is eighteen, and she too is promised—”

  Olivia laughed and held up her hand. “Names and ages.”

  He cleared his throat. “Allana, as you know, is thirteen. Delana is ten, and Catrice is seven.”

  “I am proud of you. You failed to mention Allana is the one who holds Jonah’s interest.”

  “You would have scolded me.” He pulled her hand toward his lips. “My family will love you, just as I do.” Tenderly, he kissed each knuckle.

  She nestled into his body, comforted by his warmth and strength. As many times she had prayed they would accept her, soon her answer would come.

  Their carriage held a new scent. After days of passing through pleasant-smelling fields full of flowers, this aroma was much different, yet familiar. It smelled like the courtyard in Padrida when filled to capacity with men and women. It emanated body odors both pleasant and not, and an earthy smell kicked into the air from feet scuffling across the ground.

  The sounds were no longer from nature, they came from a kingdom filled with people. Loud chatter and laughter, the distant sound of crying babies, and the clopping of horse’s hooves, accompanied by an occasional whinny.

  Basilia.

  Trumpets blew and her heart jumped.

  Sebastian gestured out the window. “They have announced our arrival.”

  She let out a nervous giggle and clung to his arm. When she peered out the window, she gasped. The houses she beheld were nothing like those in Padrida. They were constructed from stone and brick and rose two floors tall. “Are there no cottages?”

  “Some. In the farmlands.”

  “Where is your castle?”

  “On the far side of the kingdom. At one time, our people built their lodging behind it within the safety of the castle
walls. After years of peace, they moved farther out and built what you see now.”

  “It is fantastic.” She could not take her eyes from the window.

  “The princess is within!” a woman yelled.

  People streamed from their dwellings and gathered in the road. Soon, they were surrounded. People gaped at her and pushed past one another, attempting to get close.

  “Please.” Sebastian spoke in a kind but firm tone. “Part so we may pass.” He waved them away, yet they scarcely moved.

  Jonah rode up beside the carriage and lifted his sword in the air. “Your prince returns with his beloved! Show them respect and clear the road!”

  To Olivia’s relief, the people smiled, bowed, and backed away. Some women even cast flowers onto the ground by the carriage and curtsied.

  Olivia spied someone familiar—one of the women who had taken a Basilian husband. “Lily!” She waved to her and received an enthusiastic one in return. Olivia turned to Sebastian. “She looks well. And happy.” Without waiting for a reply, she faced the open air again.

  “Oh, my . . .” She tugged on Sebastian’s arm and pulled him close to the window. “That man is not one bit happy.” He looked like a man no one would dare cross. Tall and muscular with a thick scruffy beard and hardened features. Honestly, it seemed his deep frown had been there for a great while—chiseled into his skin.

  Sebastian chuckled. “Do not concern yourself with him. His name is Darius, and he is Princess Angeline’s cousin. Considering your warm welcome, we can assume he realizes she will not be sitting on a Basilian throne.”

  Word must have spread quickly through the kingdom upon the return of the bridge builders and the king. “You believe your people will accept me?”

  “Is it not obvious?” He kissed her cheek. “They already have.”

  Her heart danced, and in her mind’s eye, her trepidation flew out the window and smacked Darius in the face. She intended to come before the queen with confidence.

  They passed through a stone archway that connected to a high wall similar to the one in Padrida. It should not surprise her. After all, the people who had built them lived near one another long ago. They likely shared many similar skills.

  “The castle is near,” Sebastian whispered in her ear.

  Shivers cascaded down her back. Excitement? Fear?

  Both.

  She fully stuck her head out the window, then twisted her neck and peered upward. Sebastian had said it stood seven floors tall, but the idea of such a structure had been beyond her comprehension.

  King Roland’s banner fluttered in the wind from the tallest turret. She had seen his emblem before, but nothing this large. Colored with a background of green and white squares, it bore the image of a majestic black horse reared up on its hind legs, its mane flowing behind it. No doubt a battle horse.

  The castle itself was three times the size of hers in Padrida.

  “You have not uttered a word about our dwelling.” Sebastian gently rubbed her arm. “Are you disappointed?”

  She swallowed hard and shifted on the seat toward him. “Disappointed?” She shook her head. “There are no words to describe my feelings. I need to touch it, to be certain it is real.”

  “Then, you shall.”

  The carriage eased to a halt.

  Sebastian sprang from the seat, opened the door, then waited on the ground, hand extended.

  She appreciated his enthusiasm, but her legs shook as she stood. “Whatever you do, do not release me.” She took his hand and eased out of the carriage. “My legs are weak.”

  “I shall hold you up.” He circled her with his arm.

  They faced the enormous structure, yet she was even more astonished at the oddity that encircled it. “You have your own river.”

  “It is called a moat and meant for added protection. If ever the castle is besieged, the bridge would rise and seal the castle doors.” He guided her to the bridge, then gestured at some large rusted chains. “It has not been lifted in a great while.”

  “I can see that. Are you certain it will work if needed?”

  “I pray I shall never have to know. It would be wise to test it now and then, in the event of war.” He stepped onto the bridge.

  Olivia placed her foot on the wood plank and held his arm a bit tighter. A foul odor arose from the water as they crossed. “What is that smell?” She pressed a hand over her nose.

  “Our moat threatens our enemies in more ways than one. If they dared swim across, they could die from disease. The stagnant water tends to reek. Rain sometimes lessens the smell, yet it does not last long.”

  “I shan’t place even a toe in that water. Truthfully, it smells of . . . waste.”

  He hurried her along. “We purposefully discard the castle sewage into it. As I said, it is a great deterrent.”

  “Oh, my. In times of peace such as this, can you not find another means of disposal?”

  “It has never been considered. Trust me, it is not easy to change the ways of the people once they have become accustomed.”

  If Olivia were in charge, she would see to it that this particular custom changed immediately.

  The entryway opened into a large stone-floored courtyard. Once free of the fetid water, she breathed deeply. “Much better.”

  Sebastian chuckled. “You have a sensitive nose.”

  “Do your mother and sisters not find it offensive?”

  “They make a point not to tarry there.” He jerked his head toward an arched corridor. “This way.”

  She happily followed. She would be certain not to tarry anywhere close to the moat again. Hopefully, the rest of the castle offered more pleasantries. “Where are you taking me now?”

  “To the queen.”

  “What? Can I not freshen myself first?” She glanced downward at her wrinkled dress, and a quick sniff of herself affirmed she needed to wash.

  “You are perfect.” He hastened her along the hallway.

  He had not lied when he told her they would make a brief stop in Basilia and be on their way. However, she had not expected anything this brief.

  She took in everything that rushed by her. The interior castle walls were similar to hers. Of course, a stone was a stone. Why should she expect anything finer?

  They passed intricate hanging tapestries she intended to eventually examine further. Sebastian’s eagerness kept her flying through the corridors.

  He tightened his grasp on her hand. “When I exited our carriage, a sentry told me Mother and Father are waiting for us in the great hall.”

  “Heavens . . . I fear my nerves have risen again. Will your sisters be there?”

  “No. You shall meet them later.” He flashed a grin, but it helped not.

  The confidence she had felt in the carriage vanished. Perhaps these new surroundings intimidated her.

  He stopped short of a large domed passageway, then turned and took her hands, facing her squarely. “Mother is no different than any other woman you have met.”

  “Yes, she is. We have been through this before. A similar discussion regarding your father.”

  “And that went well. So, you have nothing to fear.”

  She huffed a breath. “It went well after a heated shouting match.”

  “This should help.” He drew her close, then kissed her long and deep.

  When he stopped, she gasped. He had taken her breath. “Yes,” she rasped. “I do believe I am ready.”

  No rhus berries and beeswax. No silk dress or shoes to match. Olivia would be presented to the queen in her blue cotton day dress, with her hair loosely hanging. She had secured her crown, but felt completely underdressed.

  She pressed her hand to the wall and gulped. “Yes, it is real. All of it.”

  Sebastian chuckled, but made no remark.

  They stepped into the great hall. Much larger than her own. The ceiling reached a full two floors. They, too, had an enormous stone fireplace. In addition, large candles in iron stands lined the perimeter. An
abundant fire blazed, bringing heat to her already warm body. Her hands dampened with sweat.

  The king and queen sat on the far side of the room in high-back chairs, dressed in clothing finer than that of her parents. The queen’s gown had multiple layers of silk fabric in several shades of blue, sparkling with embedded stones. A gold chain—boasting a huge ruby—circled her neck. Her crown matched that of the king, yet was daintier and balanced on her perfectly upright head, while her long, blonde hair flowed over both shoulders.

  Yes, she was a woman, but not like any other. Her beauty rivaled that of Olivia’s own mother.

  As she and Sebastian approached them, they remained seated. Once they reached the dais, Sebastian bowed at the waist and Olivia curtsied.

  “Welcome,” King Roland said, nodding his head.

  “Your Majesty.” Olivia returned a polite dip of her head, then shifted her eyes to the queen who happened to be taking her in from top to bottom.

  The queen slowly blinked. “You are indeed lovely.”

  “Mother.” Sebastian placed a hand in the curve of Olivia’s back. “I would like to present, Princess Olivia of Padrida.”

  “Have you no kiss for your mother?”

  He moved away from Olivia and took the two small steps up to the thrones, then gave his mother the requested kiss.

  The queen smiled. A warm, generous, genuine smile that calmed a portion of Olivia’s nerves.

  “I have been terribly worried about you.” His mother took his hand and gave it a loving pat. “I see why you were in no hurry to return home.”

  He stepped back and returned to Olivia. “I told you I ventured out to seek a bride. I have accomplished what I vowed. I love her, Mother.”

  Olivia grasped his hand and squeezed it.

  The queen tipped her head to one side. “Come closer, my dear.”

  Sebastian gave her a gentle nudge, and she managed a couple steps forward.

  “Your Majesty.” To save herself the worry of stumbling up to the platform, she stood firm at the base of the dais and politely curtsied.