Stellan frowned. “By losing his trust? By placing yourself in a position where he will likely never be open to the encroaching Pestilence threat–or us?”
Clarysa bit her lip. “I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Her eyes burned. “I’m stupid that way.” Scalding tears ran down her cheeks.
The prince nudged his horse alongside hers. He coaxed her chin upward with his fingertips. “Look at me.”
As she did, he smiled. “I fear you’re going to be in dire straits, but I’m glad you risked it.” Cupping her cheek, he leaned forward and gently brushed her lips with his.
Clarysa sighed and pulled back. “I’d better go before I make matters even worse.” She brushed his cheek with her fingers. “Come to the next hunt–but don’t let Edward see you! I’ll send word to Lionel. He’ll help us arrange a meeting.”
Stellan nodded, his expression turning stony.
Clarysa stared resolutely ahead as she guided her horse from the forest. If she looked back upon Stellan’s face again she might never return home. She spurred the horse down the road. Within minutes, the company of Aldebaran royal guards surrounded her. Despite the warm sun shining upon her, Clarysa shivered. She knew what was to come only too well.
* * * *
The King berated Clarysa long and loudly. Blustery words castigated her for hours. All of her family gathered to watch, their faces congested with disapproval. Clarysa stood with arms crossed. Let them stew in their righteous indignation. She may not have made the safest decision, but at least she’d tried to do the right thing. Why couldn’t her father understand the stakes?
Edward in particular looked as if plagued by a constantly foul smell. Clarysa groaned inwardly as her brother waxed ad infinitum about her “deceitful,” “irresponsible,” and “delinquent” behavior. He even offered to ride immediately to Vandeborg to strike a verbal reprisal against Stellan. Edward and her father argued over the proposal for some time, with the King eventually ruling it would be quite unnecessary.
“Now, Clarysa,” her father said, “Before I declare my final thoughts on the matter, do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“I love him,” was all she would say.
Sharp intakes of breath echoed about the court.
“So be it. My decision is this: you will never leave the Kingdom of Aldebaran or see Prince Stellan again.”
* * * *
“I don’t know.” Lionel sifted through a pile of tunics in his bedroom. “It sounds too risky, even for one who thrives on the edge such as myself.”
He and Clarysa had recently returned from a local bazaar. The room lay buried under an assortment of shirts, pants, and hats–a veritable rainbow of accessories. Presently he stood before a full-length mirror evaluating different combinations of colors and fabrics. “What do you think of this? Too outré, perhaps?”
Clarysa groaned, languishing away on his bed among a number of his purchases. It was the first time in three months that the King had let her out of the castle. Three long torturous months, according to his cousin. No letters. No verbal communications to be passed on or received. No anything. In fact, she had been allowed to visit Lionel only under the stipulation that he would maintain constant supervision. She was forbidden to leave his sight, except to sleep or bathe.
“But I have to see him! We won’t get caught, I promise. You’re too smart for that.”
“Perhaps,” Lionel said with a grin. He tossed a shirt aside purposefully so it fell on her head. “But I’m afraid flattery will get you nowhere in this particular instance. Besides, I’m keen to avoid any kind of royal punishment right now. Nothing must come between me and my bazaars.”
Clarysa threw the garment aside. “Lionel, be serious. I love him. Haven’t you ever been in love before, truly and deeply?”
Lionel mulled the question over for a moment. Looking at her through the mirror, he noted her pale face and grieved expression. It pained him to watch her deteriorate like this. Hair that had once outshined the sun now appeared listless and dull. Her appearance was sickly and thin from lack of appetite. Tears welled constantly in her eyes, especially when she thought no one was looking. I know the King’s been hard on you, but, well, he’s the King, as well as your father. What would you have me do? I can hardly fault him for trying to protect you, especially from yourself!
He gestured at her plain gown. “Well, if this is what it does to a person, you’re welcome to it.” He held up two pairs of pants. “Blue or magenta?”
Clarysa eyed him tiredly. “Blue.”
Lionel tossed the rejected pair onto a corner chair. “Be gone magenta, thou art cast aside by the command of her royal highness, Princess Clarysa.”
How he adored the bazaar! It had been a delightful morning, except when Clarysa would sniffle or lose her focus and stay endlessly rooted to one spot, staring off into space. Her morose display wouldn’t have been so bad if it she hadn’t repeated the show every five feet. Not so delightful. Even her favorite strawberry pastry puffs hadn’t been enough to lift her spirits.
“I’ll take all the blame if something goes wrong, I swear.” Clarysa changed to a kneeling position. Her voice trembled. “Please, Lionel! I’ve no one else to turn to.”
Lionel slowed as he tried on another shirt. Should he tell her he saw Stellan at all of the last three hunts? He had caught glimpses of the Dark Prince among the trees, but had not acknowledged him for fear Edward would find out–and possibly kill him.
Clarysa wiped away yet more tears. He couldn’t imagine what she was experiencing because this kind of heartbreak was so foreign to them, privileged as they were. But if she were anything like him–and she was–her emotions ran deep and strong. Clarysa may have had the disposition of a silly little foal more often than not, but she knew a good person when she saw one.
And she was attempting to protect Aldebaran by aligning herself with a sorcerer in a position to do something about it, even if her choice was an unpopular one.
The clothes and shiny trinkets lost their appeal for the moment. Lionel began to fold and put everything away. “Even if I arranged a meeting, Clarysa, what then? What about the future?”
She leaped off the bed and embraced him, leaning hard into his chest. “One meeting would be enough. I’ll figure out the rest later.”
“Yes, well,” he said, extricating himself from her grasp, “it’s still not going to happen overnight.” Hands resting on her shoulders, he regarded her solemnly. “Return home for now. Mope about as you have been. I’ll send word after everything is ready.” He paused for a moment, then added, “I hope you realize the position you’re placing me in, cousin–and the danger.”
Clarysa lowered her gaze and gave a quick nod.
Lionel continued softly, “Good. Because I’m not quite sure I fully understand the ramifications myself, although I don’t imagine they will be pleasant at all!”
Chapter 20
Stellan waited in a grove thick with birch trees, his obsidian cape billowing softly in the breeze. Nearby, a low-slung stone fence sloped toward the ground and disappeared beneath it, a remnant, perhaps, of a dwelling long ago. He stood in the shadows while Midnight grazed a few feet away. Wolfe paced in the woods around him, the only bodyguard he’d ever needed.
Glossy leaves covered the ground, still damp from a recent rainfall. In the horizon, fog crept across the hills of northern Aldebaran, effectively covering them in syrupy blankets.
Over three hours had passed while he waited, hoping Clarysa would come. Lionel had brokered the meeting weeks ago. Perhaps he had forgotten? Worse still, had Clarysa placed Stellan entirely out of her mind? She’d been absent from the hunts. Either she was being kept under lock and key, or she’d found a more interesting suitor. No doubt, a “normal” prince from one of the other kingdoms would be far easier to put up with than him. Stellan gritted his teeth, once again wondering why he’d placed such an unprecedented amount of trust in her.
Still, he wanted to believe.
He risked his life by lurking in Aldebaran’s woods, but he didn’t care. Clarysa was all he thought about, even at the expense of the growing Pestilence threat.
His companions had noticed. Patrulha, for one, had been intensely vocal about her displeasure regarding his…preoccupation of late. “You had better focus your mind on what’s needed soon, oh lordly prince, or everyone around here will wind up dead–or worse!”
She only used her favorite reproach, “oh lordly prince” when something deeply upset her. She might have had a point, he conceded. Perhaps Stellan would best serve everyone if he forgot about Clarysa and concentrated on the issue at hand–eliminating Pestilence. He had to be ready for whatever his father planned to throw at him.
But a hunger he struggled to understand propelled him to gain his fill of the youngest Aldebaran princess. What if he never saw her again? Could he continue on as he had been, a bitter hermit with a heart rotting from disuse? When he probed inwardly for an answer to resolve his confusion, none came.
A snapping twig yanked Stellan from his reverie. He turned his head in the direction of the noise. Two riders approached. Lionel was one. The other was some kind of servant, cloaked and hooded.
Stellan revealed himself. They exchanged hushed greetings.
“Wait here,” Lionel instructed. He turned his horse around. “My squire will wait on you until the time of your meeting.”
Stellan grabbed Lionel’s arm and lowered his voice. “Are you sure he can be trusted?”
Lionel glanced over his shoulder, smiling faintly. “Oh, most certainly. Been with me for years.”
They clasped hands. “Thank you,” Stellan said.
He watched Lionel ride off. Turning back around, Stellan found himself in the tight grip of the squire, the servant’s arms locked around his torso. Cold dread invaded his chest. Squire…or soldier? What deceit is this? Stellan broke the hold and pushed against his chest with a powerful thrust of his hand. The squire flew through the air and landed on the ground with a loud cry.
Stellan glanced down at his hand. Something hadn’t felt right. He looked up. Or sounded right.
Whimpering softly, the figure struggled to sit up. The hood fell back, revealing a head of wavy, golden hair.
Stellan rushed over, his heart in his mouth. “Clarysa! Why didn’t you say something?” He kneeled down, slipping an arm behind her back.
Slightly dazed, she stared at him, her eyes moistening. “I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to surprise you.”
“I understand, but you shouldn’t startle me like that.”
Clarysa moaned, clinging to his neck. “You can’t begin to imagine how much I’ve missed you.”
Stellan pressed his cheek to hers, delighting in the touch of her soft, dewy skin. Then he kissed her, hard, feeling breathless and consumed with hunger. She eagerly returned the gesture, her mouth cleaving to his so yearningly it was all he could do to not tear off the rough-spun clothing she wore. It was a long time before either of them used their lips to speak.
* * * *
Next to the remains of a meal, Clarysa nestled against Stellan beneath a makeshift canopy. She described the long confrontation with her father and resulting punishment. Stellan listened attentively, his furrowed brow darkening his roguish features. She feared he thought the worst of her, but what could she have done differently? Her every move was watched; truly she was a bird in a gilded cage.
“Our time is running out,” Stellan said. Sighing, he stroked her arm. “I want to see you again, but how we can arrange it without discovery eludes me. And we shouldn’t have to sneak around like wayward children.”
“You could see me every day if we were married.” Clarysa gasped and covered her lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”
Stellan dropped his gaze.
Clarysa looked askance. Now look at what you’ve done. You’ve either angered or embarrassed him. Probably both.
An awkward silence ticked by. A warm breeze ruffled the damp grass. Then a light rain began to fall.
“Clarysa, are you sure that’s what you’d want?”
Clarysa stared at him in shock. “What do you mean?”
He jabbed at his chest. “This–me! This life of mine. There’s not much I can offer you. I have no wealth to speak of. No royal treasury.”
“There are more important things than wealth.”
“I have no friends. You’re accustomed to–”
“Lionel’s your friend. He adores you. And, uh–” Her gaze flicked to the canine snoozing nearby. “–and Wolfe.”
“My castle is frigid, even in the summer.”
“Well, then, I’ll put on a cloak!”
“I hate crowds.”
“People are overrated.”
“My family despises me. I’m surprised they even let me live this long.”
Clarysa knelt and faced him squarely, her nose less than an inch from his. “I’d be your family,” she whispered. “And if all this is some attempt to scare me away, Mr. Big Bad Dark Prince, you’ve failed miserably.”
“Clarysa!” Stellan caressed her cheek. “Such fearlessness!” He dropped his hand and grasped hers. A wistful expression softened his features. “You’re the best person who’s ever come into my life.”
“And you’re the most exciting person who’s ever come into mine.”
They kissed again, knocking the canopy to the ground with their wild frolicking.
Clarysa sucked in a breath as Stellan lay atop her. He covered her face with urgent kisses and pushed his hips between her thighs. “Stellan, I don’t want to stop, but we haven’t much time. We must think of something before Lionel returns.”
Undeterred, Stellan gently squeezed her right breast. “Think of what?” His hot breath washed over her ear.
Clarysa arched into his heavenly touch despite the risk. “How we can be together and give you unrestricted access to Aldebaran. Oh yes, keep your hand there–that’s lovely.” Clarysa sighed happily as Stellan placed a searing kiss on her neck. She grasped the back of his head and pulled him closer. “Pestilence…Pestilence uprisings have been reported more times than I can count. I don’t think the campaigns against it have been very successful, either.”
The way Stellan moved his pelvis against hers caused a rush of pulsing warmth between her legs. One of his hands tunneled under her shirt. His fingers skimmed the underside of a bare breast. What was I saying?
No matter how seductive his touch, she had to stay focused. “Not only that, but Lionel said he heard the King was considering canceling future hunts because of the outbreaks.”
Stellan pulled abruptly away and sat up, cursing under his breath.
Clarysa scrambled into a sitting position. She understood his frustration–she hadn’t wanted to stop either. But time was running out. “And I have a guard now at all times. I can’t help you properly with so much scrutiny.” When he didn’t respond, Clarysa tugged at his collar. “Do you know any magick that will help?”
Stellan scowled. “You don’t understand what you’re asking.”
“Oh there must be some kind of potion or something that will change my parents’ minds. I could slip it into their wine. Isn’t that how it’s done?”
“Oh, gods!” With a vehement shake of his head, Stellan stood. Gazing downward, his face reminded her of his castle, icy and rigid. “Just as I’m beginning to think you understand my predicament, you go and spout something completely ignorant! ‘Slip it into their wine’, she says.” His voice mocked without restraint. “Damn it, Clarysa, your parents aren’t puppets. I can’t just pull their strings when it’s convenient for you.”
Anger flared as if he had slapped her. “Convenient for me? That’s uncalled for! I’m only trying to figure out a way to achieve this alliance.”
He threw up his hands. “So manipulating the King and Queen is your brilliant strategy? Which will last for exactly how long, Princess? Well, I’ll tell you–for as long as the potion lasts, which is no
time at all, because nothing like it exists! What kind of sorcerer do you think I am, that I can possess people? Or do you believe I can control the sun and the moon as well?”
Who was this man spitting such vitriol? Didn’t he appreciate anything she had done? “Perhaps I misspoke about your abilities, but at least I’m not giving up!”
Stellan scowled. “Is that what you think of me, Clarysa?” His voice sounded low and dangerous. “That I’m a coward?” He continued before she could respond. “You don’t have to say it. I know that suspicion has been lurking in your spoiled little head for some time.” His features contorted, grew more cold and hard. He slammed a fist against the nearest tree. A handful of leaves fluttered to the ground. Then he turned away, clenched fists by his sides.
Spoiled little head? Was that how she came across to him, a spoiled princess? Tears pricked her eyes as she stood. “Your life has been awful. Living through that kind of horror must make it difficult to face the day. That’s what I meant. I know you’re not afraid.”
Despite her attempt to regain a civilized exchange, no comforting words came from the guarded man before her. The rain had stopped, but clouds hid the sun. She shivered in the cool breeze as it sifted through the trees. How could she have been so stupid? Or rather, so idealistic. Part of her didn’t want to believe the astronomical obstacles between her and a life of bliss with Stellan. But she couldn’t be as cynical as he appeared to be. It wasn’t in her nature.
Clarysa couldn’t stand the dreadful silence. Wanting to reach him but not knowing how, her frustration only grew. “I apologize for offending you. Why don’t you say something?” Stepping closer, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you care about what happens to us?”
He stiffened under her touch. “Should I? We’ve spent what–all of five days together? Hardly enough time to build a proper foundation.”
“But Stellan, I…I love you.”
He turned and glared. “Don’t confuse infatuation with love. You’re in love with my reputation, not me.”
Clarysa stared at him in shock. Tears coursed down her cheeks. “Then I must mean nothing to you. Is that what you’re trying to say?”
Lord of Snow and Ice Page 16
